It’s prom night, spring of 2002. I shave my legs for the third time ever and wear a decent black dress I found that’s not too frilly. Hair’s out of the ponytail and cascading down my neck. We had a soccer game this afternoon, so all my teammates are getting ready together. Someone puts a little makeup on me, and I say, “Not too much.” My boyfriend shows up all sweet and nice, even though I’m about to spend the whole night trying to avoid him. I take the prom pictures along with everyone else, playing a part in someone else’s movie. I’ve got a second skin on that dulls the void between the part I’m playing and what’s genuinely inside me. I’m trying my best to make it work, but it’s only a matter of time before this box shatters and my infinite light shines through the cracks.

Afraid of the unknown, of what people will think, of our infinite greatness, we spend huge chunks of our lives in small boxes, hiding from that piece of truth buried deep inside. But what happens if we find the courage to listen to that inner voice and break out? If that voice tells us to tear down the walls, and helps us see the light outside? Sometimes we can let go of these boxes with grace, often they crash or smash open, with tears and explosions. Sometimes we have to dive right into the fire to clear out space for our deeper Self to rise up.

I wore the female box for most of my life, but a few years ago, those walls started falling down. In moments of stillness, I could hear a deeper voice inside me shouting to me, getting louder and louder, screaming for me to listen until I couldn’t avoid it any more. It told me to question my body, to question my clothes, to question how I was relating to my then-partner, my family, my coworkers. It told me to question my gender and the whole idea of gender. That voice grew until its painful sound took over my whole stomach, like lightning coming to destroy the walls around me. It struck down my box with flames and burned up my nice little world of order and familiarity. It challenged me to rise up, break out, and join with that powerful force that created me. It was the voice of truth.

I see scars on my chest now. Two upside down T’s across my chest. I take my testosterone shots and listen to my voice change. Watch my muscles slowly grow—I can now do seven pull-ups instead of just one. Watch the hair slowly grow on my face. Two, four, six, hairs now on my chest. Watch my emotions stabilize slightly, watch the tears come more slowly. Watch the calm spread.

I can feel the calm coming from deep within. Having removed some of the layers between, my connection to Self is stronger. I can feel the connection as an airy sensation inside my chest, expanding slowly through breath. Breathe in, breathe out, feel the air inside connecting me to everything outside.

These changes to my body are symbols of a deeper shift within. They prove to me that my soul has the power to change this physical world we see as all-powerful. But our souls are bigger than these boxes would have us believe. We’re bigger than our bodies, bigger than any role we play. Deep down, each one of us carries the power of nature and the universe beyond.

As these walls drop, the barriers between me and other people disappear, too. The closer I get to my genuine nature, the more I can feel it in everyone else. That space outside the roles we play is where we all come together as one, with the same needs, the same desires, the same potential.

I believe that breaking out of our boxes gives us a taste of the infinite. When I faced the fear and finally let go, I found the universe holding me, carrying me through every moment. No matter what boxes we’re breaking out of or what unknown we’re entering, that space outside is the same for all of us. In this courageous vulnerability, we touch the infinite.

LOU BIGELOW ’06 has spent the last few years living at a yoga and meditation center. He does his best to be open to the wildness of the present moment.

April 23 2015

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