The most common question from people I meet via the internet comes from their curiosity about where I get the material I write. For me, it’s not so much as looking for something to write, but what to write about. There’s much in here, as in life. There’s much in life – always – even when your filters blind you to the fact of reality… If you’re alive and bored, then you have committed a great sin, for even boredom is interesting if you bring the fresh light of a child’s wonder to it…
In the beginner’s mind there many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few…
* * *
-=[ Who Are You ]=-
“I’m going to make a seawall
with my small happiness…
I don’t want the sea to know
that pains go through my breast.”
— Julia de Burgos, Seawall
I once met a woman who worked mightily to convince me she loved me. She sent me messages everyday, assured my doubting heart. She spoke with such complete conviction and happy anticipation of what “our love” would lead to; she knew that whatever, we would somehow be a part of one another’s lives. She couldn’t wait for us to consummate our love! And though my practiced heart had reservations, I allowed it to fly on those wings of words and for a brief moment we soared.
This woman disappeared from my life and in actuality, never expended an ounce of energy to bring flesh to her words. I know practically nothing of her and she slowly faded from my life.
Did she get her claws in me?
She was in there – deep — because I let her in. The red flags and the alarm systems were going off and if her pronouncements were a terrorist threat we’d be in yellow or red alert or whatever dysfunctional response conservative buffoons running this country came up with.
Yet I allowed this woman into my heart. I was thinking to myself that I’m fortunate that I possess some measure of integration. For while she did manage to come inside Love and there is some measure of hurt, I had already learned that we cannot shield ourselves from pain. I have learned that every vulnerable moment is an opportunity to awaken to our true selves.
But I’m getting ahead of myself today. Let me begin again with the following advice. I almost never offer advice, for I find it disabling and condescending. But let me offer this if just this once:
Don’t allow life to harden your heart.
I know you have been heart – many times. I also know that you may despair of ever finding a true soul who will love and understand you. I’ve been there, I know what that feels like.
And sometimes your broken heart surrenders to anxiety, anger, resentment, and blame. And yes, I know there are sick people out there, Hungry Ghosts, who in their mad grab for emotional sustenance will do or say anything. Theirs is a painful hell.
But if you look under your hard-won armor, you will find a softness. My sad heart teaches me compassion. So, in a very real way, this woman taught me to love. She can’t really hurt me, whoever I am. Yes, she can hurt my self-concept and make me doubt my self-esteem, but that’s small. In truth, the divine spark of which I am made – of which we are all made of — can never be hurt. My Higher Self encompasses and embraces her madness. Truthfully, we are one. The ache of my heart is a profound blessing that I can turn into a tool for living my life as an offering. And, people? The only true prayer is to live your life as an offering of your deepest gifts.
Your ego is a thought borne of fear. The ego is merely a belief system we create to shield ourselves from the pain and hurt of life. It is but a fragment of your mind. It is such a small part, that if you would realize the larger whole, it would resemble the smallest sunbeam of a vast Sun, or like an almost imperceptible ripple that calls itself The Ocean.
It’s our seawall and we can no sooner hide our pain from the ocean as cover the sky with our hand.
Don’t accept this little, defended, fenced-off aspect as who you are. In fact, the sun and the ocean are nothing compared to your true Higher Self.
The sad thing is that you believe that without the ego all would be lost, while in reality without this clinging to ego all would be Love.