A man approached me to explain something important.

He had been experiencing reality on a different plane, where his ultimate self had been freed from the layers of identity that usually served as shelter. Earlier, some kids had been throwing rocks and one almost pelted his face. He had no reaction. So absorbed was he in his ultimate self that it was completely unfathomable that he should need to protect his body. He was shameless, and, in a way, he was free.

By the time he found me, shame was returning to him. Not guilt, not disgrace or remorse. Shame. Human shame. The awareness that others were perceiving him and this might have implications for how he should present himself. He realized he was naked in the garden.

Caught in the impossible frustration between a pure experience of self and resurgence of a frail identity, he cut himself off mid-sentence and uttered with distress–

“I’m halfway between myself!”