Tuesday, February 5, 2013

The Clock Metaphor

December 11, 2012

I woke up this morning to find out that the clock read 6:23 or something along those lines. I don’t use an alarm – haven’t since I was in junior high – and so I was shocked to learn that I had slept through the night, getting a full 8+ hours sleep. I felt tired, but knew I needed to get up to start my day. I showered, still feeling a bit groggy, then got dressed and headed out to the kitchen to start coffee. Imagine my surprise to learn it was 3:30am!
It hit me very strongly how this is a metaphor for my life. I trusted the clock in my bedroom. I ignored all of the other signs – the fact that I had regularly been waking up around that time for a bathroom break, the fact that the dog and cat (who both sleep in my bedroom) were not stirring, the awareness that my 17 year old was also not getting ready for her day. Then I remembered resetting my radio station last night since it wasn't on my regular station.
So, I trusted the clock. Who is the clock, then? My husband? All of my decisions about getting ready were based on that one thing – the time on the bedroom clock – being truth. I ignored MY inner clock; I ignored the animals and the other physical signs – it did seem a bit dark, after all. I moved in a direction, taking action based on a lie. Yes, I have believed his lies. I went about making decisions believing that his word was truth rather following my own instincts, noting others’ feedback on his behaviors, and the changes in my own behaviors responding to his. So the lie is revealed and now I can make adjustments and re-direct my path. But even those decisions aren't so easy. At 3:30am – I was awake and ready for the day. Do I really just go back to bed? Do I proceed with the day as if it isn't the middle of the night? When I found out about my husband’s lies, I had to face similar crossroads.  In both cases, the path I take now can be based on the truth since it is now revealed. I don’t have to go about the rest of the day – or my life – believing a lie. I make adjustments and move on. I'm not mad at myself for believing the lies; I'm thankful for the truth.
p.s. – I stayed up for a time, journaled, meditated on this very topic, and then returned to bed for a couple of hours. Not the greatest hair day…but I’m able to laugh at myself as I recall what facial expression I must have had as I discovered it was 3:30! 

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