(no subject)
It's been a long time. A hard time. Life certainly isn't what I expected it would be when I was little. Why didn't anyone prepare me for that? Well, that's a silly question. What my parents prepared me for was to carry the burden of their brokenness. They prepared me to carry it as best they could. Unfortunately, they did not prepare me to heal it. They didn't believe it was possible, and so what I learned was how to cope with it.
Of course this hasn't done me too many favors. Well fuck even that isn't entirely true. Coping. What a bitch. Coping has made my life into a living hell. And yet, it's saved my life too. I've done awful disgusting things in a heart set on coping, mostly unconsciously.
So many things are happening in my life right now. And at the same time, I feel I'm standing suffocatingly still. Nothing is changing. What is change in the face of hopelessness? I've been given such tremendous gifts, and yet it all feels as nothing. Pointless. If this brokenness cannot be healed, if my heart cannot change, there is no point. If I have any purpose on this planet, any responsibility, it's to heal this death-song. And yet, fucking how?! Years I've spent dancing with these skeletons. Am I any less insane and weak? Perhaps I am stronger, at least in some ways. But less insane? At best incidentally. The world makes more sense. I have a keener sense for truth, for grace. But am I much better for it? I can't say that I am. I can say that I'm stronger, but not necessarily better. When I fail now, I more often am conscious of my actions. I make the wrong choice, knowing it is wrong. Those are not the actions of a 'better' person. I'm stronger in that I can face the truth more often than I could as a young adult, I can endure the pain of staring into the face of the truth.
But, at what benefit to the world has all this learning come? At what cost? I am certain that the cost has been high; I'm not certain that the benefit outweighs it. In fact, I'm pretty convinced that the cost has outweighed the benefit. My sins have outweighed in significant measure my triumphs of character, my contributions to this world.
Is that where my hopelessness comes from? My sins? The hurt I cause people? Or do I fail and sin because of my hopelessness? Yes on all counts I'm sure. A snake eating it's tail.
I had a dream some months ago, before my car (Cleopatra) died, shortly before I went on The Encounter through TCCI. In the dream, I was getting ready to be picked up by church members, and I was hurriedly trying to get ready, but my room was a wreck, clothes strewn all over. As I was feeling that familiar panic, I looked down and noticed suddenly that there was a king cobra in my hands. Reflexively, I jumped and tossed the snake out of my hands, and it landed in the pile of clothes before me. In my head, a little thought played, also reflexively, "I don't have time for this - This is not my problem!" But immediately after I tossed the snake, and it slithered in among the clothes to an unseen place, I knew, "Shit! I just tossed a KING COBRA into my room, into my house, where my loved ones live. I can't just leave this! I have to deal with this! It's my responsibility now." Next thing the people arrived to pick me up. I was frantic. "I can't just look through all this to find the cobra - it's dangerous! I'll get bit!" and, "How do people pick up venomous snakes? They grab them very quickly just behind the head!" And also, "Oh no! I'm not ready! The pastor will be mad!" Sure enough, I ask the (female) members to help me find the snake, and the pastor walks up, all business and self-absorbed, "What's going on?! Let's go!" And I find myself speaking the truth, "I'm not ready." And then, as I most feared, he reacts, "I knew you'd be a pain in the ass". And eventhough I'm now realizing my big fear in the dream, I also know simultaneously, "Finding the cobra is more important. I have to."
That's the end of the dream. I've been sitting with it for awhile. And now that Slavik and I are over, and the darker side of my sex/love addiction is rearing it's head, the dream is coming back to life and speaking to me. Shortly after I first had it, I thought that the best course of action would be to sit calmly in my room and wait for the cobra to show itself. I mean, isn't that the best way to find it without getting bitten? But I was too laid back about it. Now when I think about it, more is coming to light. If a cobra were loose in my room, I would sit and wait for it, but I'd have to stay awake. I would need to remain calm, not be tensely on guard, and wait attentively. I would have to constantly keep in mind that the thing was present in my room, that I couldn't be entirely at ease, but on watch as it were. And when it eventually showed itself, it would be hard, but critical, that I don't get afraid. I would have to let it get fairly close, close enough to grab with my hand, and then what? Would I grab it by the back of it's head and then kill it? Or would I allow it to stay, tame it in some way. In the dream, I felt I would have to grab it very quickly by the back of it's head to avoid being bitten.
Once I learn how to let it get very close without being afraid (because then it will sense me and bite me), then and only then, can I grab it by the ear and be in control of it.
Another thing that has just occured to me is that, as I child, I was always so desperate to leave the house, both because of the cobra, which clearly came from my parents, and yet, also before I became aware of the cobra. I wanted to escape the whole fucked up situation. I was living in a house where my parents weren't dealing with this cobra, where they were just tossing it in amonst the mess of things in the house, and I was set to inherit it. I wanted nothing to do with any of it. Just like them...
And that brings me back to the vision I had during Vipassana, when I landed on the planet of blood and souls screaming and trying to escape, all looking and reaching up and out, and I intuitively knew I needed to do the opposite. I needed to dive in head first to the sea of blood, to swim down down down to the core, the center, and that transformation, transcendance, life itself, was to be found in that direction. And as I swam and swam and swam and swam, slowly, I began to be less material, less physically real, less coherent. "I" was being lost into some eternal and all-encompassing "I". The Godhead. And this was good. This was simply the only alternative to the screaming and thrashing and trying hopelessly to escape. It was The Answer.
And that beauty brings me right square to the work I did where I was so simply, clearly, succinctly told the meaning of life. The meaning of life is to create what you love. I just had trouble deciding whether to use the word "purpose" or "meaning." While there's a good chance it's both, it is certainly the meaning. Life is not a thing, but an action. Life is a becoming. And if we are not in the act of creating what we love, we are not living. If we are chasing pale shadows, skeletons, meaningless distrations, playing evil games, we are simply those thrashing souls screaming up at a black sky in the midst of slowly drowning in a sea of blood. If we are creating what we love, we are diving into the blood, moving toward our own source, and losing our egoic identity more and more along the way.
What a vision that was. I broke the rules to have it. But hey, we all have to find our own way to the truth. We have to work out our own salvation.
Of course this hasn't done me too many favors. Well fuck even that isn't entirely true. Coping. What a bitch. Coping has made my life into a living hell. And yet, it's saved my life too. I've done awful disgusting things in a heart set on coping, mostly unconsciously.
So many things are happening in my life right now. And at the same time, I feel I'm standing suffocatingly still. Nothing is changing. What is change in the face of hopelessness? I've been given such tremendous gifts, and yet it all feels as nothing. Pointless. If this brokenness cannot be healed, if my heart cannot change, there is no point. If I have any purpose on this planet, any responsibility, it's to heal this death-song. And yet, fucking how?! Years I've spent dancing with these skeletons. Am I any less insane and weak? Perhaps I am stronger, at least in some ways. But less insane? At best incidentally. The world makes more sense. I have a keener sense for truth, for grace. But am I much better for it? I can't say that I am. I can say that I'm stronger, but not necessarily better. When I fail now, I more often am conscious of my actions. I make the wrong choice, knowing it is wrong. Those are not the actions of a 'better' person. I'm stronger in that I can face the truth more often than I could as a young adult, I can endure the pain of staring into the face of the truth.
But, at what benefit to the world has all this learning come? At what cost? I am certain that the cost has been high; I'm not certain that the benefit outweighs it. In fact, I'm pretty convinced that the cost has outweighed the benefit. My sins have outweighed in significant measure my triumphs of character, my contributions to this world.
Is that where my hopelessness comes from? My sins? The hurt I cause people? Or do I fail and sin because of my hopelessness? Yes on all counts I'm sure. A snake eating it's tail.
I had a dream some months ago, before my car (Cleopatra) died, shortly before I went on The Encounter through TCCI. In the dream, I was getting ready to be picked up by church members, and I was hurriedly trying to get ready, but my room was a wreck, clothes strewn all over. As I was feeling that familiar panic, I looked down and noticed suddenly that there was a king cobra in my hands. Reflexively, I jumped and tossed the snake out of my hands, and it landed in the pile of clothes before me. In my head, a little thought played, also reflexively, "I don't have time for this - This is not my problem!" But immediately after I tossed the snake, and it slithered in among the clothes to an unseen place, I knew, "Shit! I just tossed a KING COBRA into my room, into my house, where my loved ones live. I can't just leave this! I have to deal with this! It's my responsibility now." Next thing the people arrived to pick me up. I was frantic. "I can't just look through all this to find the cobra - it's dangerous! I'll get bit!" and, "How do people pick up venomous snakes? They grab them very quickly just behind the head!" And also, "Oh no! I'm not ready! The pastor will be mad!" Sure enough, I ask the (female) members to help me find the snake, and the pastor walks up, all business and self-absorbed, "What's going on?! Let's go!" And I find myself speaking the truth, "I'm not ready." And then, as I most feared, he reacts, "I knew you'd be a pain in the ass". And eventhough I'm now realizing my big fear in the dream, I also know simultaneously, "Finding the cobra is more important. I have to."
That's the end of the dream. I've been sitting with it for awhile. And now that Slavik and I are over, and the darker side of my sex/love addiction is rearing it's head, the dream is coming back to life and speaking to me. Shortly after I first had it, I thought that the best course of action would be to sit calmly in my room and wait for the cobra to show itself. I mean, isn't that the best way to find it without getting bitten? But I was too laid back about it. Now when I think about it, more is coming to light. If a cobra were loose in my room, I would sit and wait for it, but I'd have to stay awake. I would need to remain calm, not be tensely on guard, and wait attentively. I would have to constantly keep in mind that the thing was present in my room, that I couldn't be entirely at ease, but on watch as it were. And when it eventually showed itself, it would be hard, but critical, that I don't get afraid. I would have to let it get fairly close, close enough to grab with my hand, and then what? Would I grab it by the back of it's head and then kill it? Or would I allow it to stay, tame it in some way. In the dream, I felt I would have to grab it very quickly by the back of it's head to avoid being bitten.
Once I learn how to let it get very close without being afraid (because then it will sense me and bite me), then and only then, can I grab it by the ear and be in control of it.
Another thing that has just occured to me is that, as I child, I was always so desperate to leave the house, both because of the cobra, which clearly came from my parents, and yet, also before I became aware of the cobra. I wanted to escape the whole fucked up situation. I was living in a house where my parents weren't dealing with this cobra, where they were just tossing it in amonst the mess of things in the house, and I was set to inherit it. I wanted nothing to do with any of it. Just like them...
And that brings me back to the vision I had during Vipassana, when I landed on the planet of blood and souls screaming and trying to escape, all looking and reaching up and out, and I intuitively knew I needed to do the opposite. I needed to dive in head first to the sea of blood, to swim down down down to the core, the center, and that transformation, transcendance, life itself, was to be found in that direction. And as I swam and swam and swam and swam, slowly, I began to be less material, less physically real, less coherent. "I" was being lost into some eternal and all-encompassing "I". The Godhead. And this was good. This was simply the only alternative to the screaming and thrashing and trying hopelessly to escape. It was The Answer.
And that beauty brings me right square to the work I did where I was so simply, clearly, succinctly told the meaning of life. The meaning of life is to create what you love. I just had trouble deciding whether to use the word "purpose" or "meaning." While there's a good chance it's both, it is certainly the meaning. Life is not a thing, but an action. Life is a becoming. And if we are not in the act of creating what we love, we are not living. If we are chasing pale shadows, skeletons, meaningless distrations, playing evil games, we are simply those thrashing souls screaming up at a black sky in the midst of slowly drowning in a sea of blood. If we are creating what we love, we are diving into the blood, moving toward our own source, and losing our egoic identity more and more along the way.
What a vision that was. I broke the rules to have it. But hey, we all have to find our own way to the truth. We have to work out our own salvation.