Oneness

I had an experience with peace last night.
It passed all understanding, but I was aware of this inner peace, and I knew where it came from.

In a very large event center, I am considered the building tech. It’s a fancy title, but less than glorious on nights when we host galas. Last night was such a night — and I became the janitor.

Wearing latex gloves, I checked the garbage in the six large containers I had placed in the room earlier. There was a bar, there were cocktail tables, and there must have been around 150 people. Most of them were business owners, or at least presidents or branch managers of banks and credit unions.

As discreetly as possible, I would pull a filled can from the room and replace it with an empty one. I rolled the filled cans out to the back of the center, where I created a pile of black plastic bags filled with debris from the event.

Not one hand was extended to shake my blue, latex-covered hand. Not one person wanted to know who I was. And not one felt the need to make sure I knew who they were. I was incognito.

In + cognizance: not known.

I’ve been to many meetings like this. I’ve worn ties and jackets, and even had a name badge. I’ve carried plenty of business cards in my wallet. I’ve dined with dignitaries and laughed at their jokes. I’ve told them who I was and how I fit into the gala being thrown.

This is where I could drop names. I could tell you who I’ve had dinner with — and you’d recognize some of them. But this is not the version of myself I want to introduce here.

I would like for you to meet the janitor.

I doubt I can explain why, but I promise you: as the janitor, I have never felt more joy and peace than I did last night.

It was fun to see the collective unconscious represented in that room. The archetypes were there. The symbols were there. The images and patterns were there.

As for me, I felt like the humble shepherd — or the forgotten stepchild.

I wasn’t there to prove anything. I was there to serve.

I took plates from guests and disposed of them. I picked up cups that had been abandoned and forgotten. I wiped spills and swept up crumbs.

This event seemed perfectly timed to coincide with where I am in this drama.

I would not have traded places with anyone at that event.

My time at galas is far enough in the past to feel like a dreamlike vignette — but close enough for me to recognize the effort that goes into saving appearances. From where I stood, I could spot behaviors that revealed desperation.

There were beads of sweat here and there.

Of course, seasoned actors attend most of these events. They know how to play the part well enough to make it seem natural. They know that a few people will recognize their watch, their shoes, or their jewelry.

It’s not a simple task to discern the difference between a basic dress shoe and a brand that costs hundreds of dollars — but those in the know, somehow know.

I was delighted to be there, representing the awakened in the room.

It was glorious.

It wasn’t something I was enduring — it was something I was enjoying.

And it’s not as if I thought I might run to the nearest phone booth to change into my superhero costume.

The boon I am now ready to offer the community is the joy anyone can find by accepting the isness of the moment — and sharing as much as one can live without.

It’s not that I’m hiding gold ingots in a box and pretending to be broke.
It’s that I now place far more value in the ingots of Indra’s Net.

The most valuable jewels in this drama are the maskless characters in the greenroom.

“This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.”
— John 15:12, KJV

Where was the real value in that room?

It could only be found by going home with another — imaginatively speaking.

Imagine:
It’s when he gets home and places the valuable watch on his nightstand. It’s when he brushes his teeth and goes to bed, wondering if he said the right things.

It’s when he imagines being noticed for his accomplishments, and being able to afford the house that will impress others.

And it’s there, in that stillness — when he wonders if he is good enough — that the light of the lamp hits him just right.

And he glistens.
And listens.
For just a moment, he thinks about someone else and hopes they are okay.

We bring value to the community by recognizing our oneness.