I have replayed the very beginning of the game Zelda: Breath of the Wild more times than I can recall. There is a deliciousness to first entering this world I have come to love, especially the ethereal call to our hero — the character that, as player, I will become — to awaken: “Wake up, Link,” says the gentle, but insistent voice, “It is time.” And slowly he does, shaking away centuries, perhaps millennia, of frozen sleep. Because it is time to resume his journey, to fulfill a momentous destiny that has been idling patiently on the sidelines while he has been out cold. This awakening touches me every time. This reminder that all heroes’ quests, including my own, must begin by saying yes to the call to wake up. And, what is often overlooked, to have the rare persevering courage to remain awake rather than choosing to fall quickly back into the dumb bliss of unconsciousness.
Maybe you, like me, can recall times when deep syrupy slumber was so enveloping that to drag yourself to the shore of awareness felt impossible. I can remember some especially deep sleeps when I’d come up for air for a second or two, maybe, but then sink back down, lost in an oblivion in which I was not merely asleep, but not even “I” in any meaningful sense. Waking up was not a merely difficult task, say, like crawling from the sea in a full suit of chain mail, but was almost traumatizing, like being required to relive the journey from the womb to the cold delivery room table. I did not want to do it. Other than being born in the first place, is there any part of our life journey that would require more determination, stamina, and courage than coming to wakefulness and remaining there?
But here is something that must be said even if it is not pretty to hear, if it can be heard at all: That most of us are choosing to remain asleep to some degree. Even as we brush our teeth and feed our children. As we kiss our partner goodbye and drive to work. As we debate with co-workers about the best solution. As we drive home again and chop carrots to prepare dinner. As we talk to a friend on the phone, watch TV, and fall back into bed. Even as we read or write words like these. Some sleep is horizontal and some happens vertically. Some occurs in stillness and some in motion. But it is all sleep. The difficulty is that, even the fact that there are gradations of wakefulness is something that can only be seen from a position of relative wakefulness. The dreamer is unlikely to know that she has been lost in a dream unless and until she awakens, either into full consciousness or a higher level of dreaming, and even then, only if some part of her wishes to know.
Most of us, most of the time, probably are not capable of answering the imperative to awaken, then, because we do not even permit ourselves to know that we are asleep. Such a call, even if it could be heard, could not be recognized as relevant to oneself, any more than an alcoholic in the throes of denial can hear the call to stop drinking as being directed at them. Fortunately, there is sometimes a moment of grace, and a crack appears through which we can allow ourselves to hear the deeply personal nature of the call: “Wake up, Link.” Sometimes it is the resonance of an intense experience, an illness, death, a new baby. Sometimes the call comes in the form of an actual voice, a teacher or friend who may literally be holding out a hand as they speak, ready to pull us to shore.
One piece of good news is that, if waking up can sometimes be difficult, it is also among the most natural things we can do. Being born is a kind of waking up and it is surely our birthright to continue that process throughout our lives if we wish. And because wakefulness is a matter of degree, to stumble across a companion who is even one step ahead can be a life-altering blessing. To be sure, my own guides have never been of messianic proportions. Almost always, it has been someone who, on that day, simply happened to arrive a few minutes ahead of me. And sometimes, of course, it is I who have arrived before another. We need not be gurus, Buddhas, or the voice of Zelda, then, to help lead one another to a more wakeful life. But if we are to awaken, even a little, then we must have the discernment to hear the call and the courage to take the hand that reaches toward us. And we must, ultimately, want to stand in the bracing light of awareness —of truth itself — more than we want to fall back into the consoling cocoon of sleep and denial.
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OtherWise Philosophy 