Monday, August 30, 2004

Only Human

God is my publisher, my editor, and my artistic director.
I write what I am told and revise as He sees fit.



I often wonder if I have really grown spiritually or if I am becoming a cold hearted cynic. Somehow those around me seem to be so much more in touch with their hopes and dreams, while I am left with only empty pursuits. Their emotions seemed to sky rocket and roller coaster though life, their souls are encased in nicer looking packages, and their manners appeared so much more sophisticated than mine. In comparison, I see myself as a round, slightly lumpy, and unassuming person, but I know I am destined for some kind of greatness. I know that there is a purpose for my life and that I will be recognised for the hard won truth that I so desperately need to express. After 40 years, I've begun to accept that. Timing is the key. My family and friends may be surprised at some of my insights. Not to question the faith and love they have for me, but the image I have always tried to project is one of a carefree, good-humoured person not a serious and somber woman. The last six years of my life have shown me that I am really both.

My good nature only exists as a result of many nights of despair. Living alone with only my twisted ego to tell me what to believe. Quietly and fearfully, I faced the darkness within. I learned to find the angry and neglected parts of my spirit there. Hovering in the corner, sulking around in pain and sleeping with one eye open, was the Beast that lurked within. The part of myself that I cut off (for its own protection) from the world outside. Lately though, the Beast has begun to cry out in a lonely, pitiful wail. Like a wounded animal in spiritual heat. An eerie sound of passion and pain waiting to be satisfied. Crying out for anything that would fill a need that I don't understand, while trying to put words to instincts I never knew I had. What do I need to do to comfort and befriend this Beast?

The answer seems to come from my Sunday school days. I found myself reflecting on the passage in the New Testament where Jesus says, "What you do to the least of My brothers you do unto Me." I mistakenly thought this passage was about obsessing about how I treated others until I realised that I was included in that statement. After a lifetime of treating people better than I treated myself, I began to feel the reality of Jesus' words. To gain love, I spent my early years trying desperately to be the one of the "least". My goal was to be the least needy, the least noticeable, and the least powerful. I faithfully followed the Golden Rule, but did not recognise that I could not give what I did not have. If I wanted to walk closer with God, I could not I continue to treat myself with contempt. Self pity and self hatred are easy habits to maintain. The excitement of suffering, the perceived nobility of pain, and the endless attempts to run from my true nature were sinful in light of this Revelation. If what I do to myself, I do to God, how could I justify continuing my self abuse? What do I do to replace it? I'm still not sure but I think its time to find out.

The only answer that seems to make any sense is that the only love you can really work on is the love you give yourself. The only trust that could ever be threatened, is the trust you lose in yourself. Therefore, if I lose love and trust in God, but continue to care for myself, I will maintain a loving, although distant, relationship with a Higher Power. This works regardless of the ideology, dogma, or spiritual path I may follow now or in the future.

I also know that I will feel love as much as I am prepared to feel love, and will suffer as much as I am prepared to suffer. What I give to others will be merely a reflection of what I give to myself. If I continue to feed the belief that "the love I give you is better than the love that you return to me," my relationships will spiral in endless circles of manipulation and shame. So where does the real power lie? With the one on the receiving end of my misguided feelings or with me who cannot truly understand the meaning of those feelings in the first place. You be the judge.

I have learned from Day One, to look outside myself to find out what to feel. I watched the faces of those around me and picked up clues as to what those expressions meant. The unfortunate part is that I usually got it wrong. The majority of what I thought were my "dysfunctional issues" are based on the conclusions I drew about the world years before I was capable of understanding it. Is it possible that as children we know about the greatness of our spirit? Could the obstacles that we overcome be nothing more than the soul's way of protecting us from learning the Truth too soon? So who is really to blame? Our parents for not teaching us a way to understand, what they themselves had long forgotten? Our world for not telling us that the thoughts we are thinking are not really true? The doctors, friends, clergy, and therapists that we lie to, out of fear of the Truth? So who is to blame? Most of the time, it's the one that suffers. The choice of how much to suffer and for what means or ends, my friends, is yours.
Human Beings

When did it become fashionable to stop being a human being? At the close of this year I wonder why we try so hard to be anything but what we really are - right here - right now. I see so many people looking for answers to life's questions in angels, new age workshops, the men's movement, the women's movement, the gay movement, 12 Step programs, Tony Robbins-type gurus and a whole host of other commercially inspired spiritual movements. We strive to become highly effective, time managed goddesses and giants.

We look for solace by connecting with others via our wounds, addictions and frailties. We constantly strive to be more than we are by working to become bigger, stronger, faster and more productive. We read the latest best seller, Oprah's book of the week, corporate mythologies and spiritual propaganda while looking for ways to keep up to the cutting edge of human potential.

Why do we feel we have to become more than what we are? Why isn't it enough to simply be all that we are?

When the lives of those I love have ended, I don't remember their cirriculum vitlae, list of achievements or performance reviews. I don't count the money they spent or how much they gave and to whom. I review mental snapshots of them in full array of their emotions - bedazzled, amused, pissed off and serene. I remember the times they saw the real me not the one I pretend to be. The gentle smiles. The wink of an eye. I remember the time when they saw through my smile and asked, "How are you really?" I remember the way their lives unfolded alongside with mine and I am grateful to call them friends.

This is it kids. Today is all that we have.

When we lay down to sleep at night what thoughts creep into the darkness? Chances are we either feel good about the way we have treated the world or we worry about what the world thinks of the way we have treated it. We either sleep in peace or in restless discontent.

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