Inside the tent time ceased to exist. Let me be clearer about this. Time didn’t stop, per se, it simply did not exist – there was no slowing or speeding up, only a sense that time itself truly was and is an illusion. Black ran into black, light into light, second into second, and there was no indication of a felt past or felt future, only a Right Now. Hundreds of other entities joined me inside the tent, each one cramped into the sleeping bag.
“Why are there so many of you?” I yelled. All of them, I presume, were aspects of myself: the studious one, the fearful old woman, the abandoned child, the girl who tries too hard to impress, and many more, some of whom I’d never seen up close, others that I’d tried for years to ignore.
I put my fingers to my lips and whispered, “I release you.” I exhaled and released past lovers, personal failures, and the biological father who gave me up for adoption as a child. I released the shame I’d always felt for growing up poor and the shame I felt for not being good enough. All of it was nonsense and illusion, and I set it free. I came eye-to-eye with all of them, wished them freedom from suffering, and I wished them peace. Completely.
I release you.