And God said, Let there be dark. And quiet. Let this serve to mark sacred moments. And so it was. For days, there was nothing. Then, a sound. Then, like a shot, power. And God saw that it was good. 

Well, He could’ve said it. Yeah, that sound, the light, the energy, would’ve all been miraculous. Or, would not having it all been the miracle? 

Did you know? Nearly a billion people today live with no electricity. Jolting, I know. For those of us in the electrified parts of the world, the idea of living “unplugged” is literally like peering into a cold, bleak, deathly quiet and desolate abyss. But the abyss I refer to is not what you think.

We might experience a blackout or power outage but knowing with certainty it will only be temporary, we take it for what it is: an “experience.” If/when our phones are charged during the experience, we might complain about the inconveniences and our distraught with neighbors, friends and family, but we know, eventually, it will drift far away into a distant memory in our abyssal minds. 

We lose power and suddenly we feel powerless. Like thunder, we’re bolted and jolted with a startling realization: our mental stability relies on external power sources. Only in the midst of a blackout do we realize all too well what power-out does to our wobbly Jenga state of mind. Our privileged world comes to a hard flop. And all at once, we’re stuck with ourselves. Oh no. 

Well, this, I wrote after 7 days of no power (3.5 months ago). I disclose my reflections:

The first reaction: physical disquiet. Listening to the violent whips and thwacks of the sound of winds, rain and bolts lashing at our home, our trees, our mind. I felt like the 1st of the Three Little Pigs, at Nature’s merciless mercy. Then, no light, no heat, no appliances, no technology, no cooling (dead smack in the infernal heat of Texan summer), and NO definitive answer as to WHEN all would go back to privileged normality.

As inhabitants of the electrified parts of the world, our most basic necessities and comforts quickly come to an impossible halt without power. Access to doctors’ offices, fresh milk, light!, a hot bath, Netflix, our iPhone, our trusty kitchen appliances. Poof!

Everything is turned off and we lose ourselves entirely. There I was, thinking how I can claim to be an independent spirit when I am so entangled in and dependent on everything but the primordial basics and my own mind. Yuhj.

Yes, the mental and physical strain during and immediately after the storm was heavy. But the hardest part was something else: Why is confronting the deep abyss of my head so hard? 

Time … moved … slowlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. At the beginning, I’d think to myself: the sooner I stop thinking about the power, the less restless I’ll be and when I least expect it, imagine my surprise and relief when the power gloriously returns! But it isn’t easy to stop thinking about the power when sweltering 105-degree heat weighs in and all you want is to desperately self-comfort with a decadently cold creamy matcha whipped lovingly by your trusty electric blender. Impossible to relax into it when consumed by the deathly quiet and disquietude, and no hope from my useless uncharged iPhone. Yes, I could have read a book or journal. But I was not “in that state of mind.”

Is it true, we’d rather have something to do—ANYTHING whatever—than to have nothing other than our own thoughts? Why was “just thinking” so hard? It wasn’t about lacking tasks to do. It was something else.

And so, I leaped. Into the abyss. A hesitant, but squealing, furtive, hyperactive, and finally free-thinking little beast. A primordial Alice in Wonderland into her alter-ego’s rabbit hole. 

Before, when my world was electrified—gleaming with the glossiness of new occurrences and things and social talk, charged with the buzz of every ticking moment—I was living in the world outside of me. But once I got inside, I perhaps was a sturdier presence. To my husband, daughter, shih tzu and myself. And they to me. We could better assist each other in all our little perplexities (and complexities). Who cared that we lost the perks of electrified life when we could enjoy our simpler and strangely raw human connection, for a moment?

It was then I realized. Sometimes we call upon a God or Higher Self when we feel lost, but sometimes it’s as though It is calling upon us—it’s Their turn. And there It turns up. Breathing on our neck, trying to speak to us. Whispering mysteries into our ear, trying to help us write our story better. We’re not always aware, but It’s always there, behind that dark corner of our temporarily jolted home, waiting for just the right moment to say: 

“Perhaps I might… ya know… just turn the volume down a little… ahh… good… that’s better.”

🌚

[I will confess, of our 7 unplugged days, we luckily stayed at a hotel for a majority of the time, and these reflections occurred the first days we tried being at home]