Wolves and Dogs
So today, I'm helping someone work on themselves. The process is, for me, repugnant in this specific case. There is almost nothing about it that I like, except that this friend of mine that I care about may grow and benefit from our discussion, which was a bit of role play. I found myself watching myself, too, noticing my feelings as I tried not to let them cloud my judgement, trying to cultivate enough compassion to drown out the screaming disgust in my head.
It reminded me of a prompt I had lying around for the purposes of these journals.
I have a suspicion that most of the things we call mental illness are actually adaptations out of context. I say most, not all. I find it hard to imagine some things having a useful context but I am only a person with about thirty years on Earth, so my imagination is at least somewhat limited by my experience.
It occurred to me a while back during a sermon I was listening to that a Shepherd often has a dog, usually at least one if not more. Through science we know that all breeds of domestic dog are descended from wolves; which means that while they have some instinctive behaviors in common with wolves.
Wolves eat sheep.
Why don't the dogs?
The dogs have been mastered. Their instincts have been channeled into a context that serves them, and their domestic keepers. If the dogs went feral, believe me, they'd happily go back to their old ways of hunting in packs and so forth. But their communal instinct allows them to happily befriend us. Their instinct to chase is useful in herding, because herding is a natural part of their hunting process as well as a way that they deal with large numbers of puppies. I've seen welsh corgis attempt to herd packs of small children to great effect, as well as cats, to more interesting effect. We engage their playfulness, their loyalty. The dog's hunger and reward sensations for eating have been turned into means of teaching obedience and trained behavior. His intellect is engaged in complex tasks and in learning to communicate with humans.
Isn't spirituality much the same? Speaking from the christian perspective, I think just about anything about us can be converted to serve the ends of the Kingdom. Nothing we have is so terrible that it can't be used; no curse is so foul that in the right context, it might not be a blessing. Our burdens can become gifts. I have a fascination with puzzles, with problem solving, with manipulation. I have a violent temper, an intimidating manner, a loud voice. I never give up. I am ruthless, ambitious, exceedingly patient and am very good at thinking circles around others. I describe myself sometimes as a recovering supervillain. The longer I go, the more I'm noticing that all the things that scare me about myself are actually really, really handy. Even my traumas serve a purpose in comforting others with similar experiences. Jesus is sometimes called the good shepherd, and Christians often called his sheep or his lambs. For myself, I think some of us are wolves that the Christ within us is teaching how to be sheepdogs.
Or maybe he can turn a closet monster like me into a teacher and guardian.
"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." - Romans 8:28
It reminded me of a prompt I had lying around for the purposes of these journals.
I have a suspicion that most of the things we call mental illness are actually adaptations out of context. I say most, not all. I find it hard to imagine some things having a useful context but I am only a person with about thirty years on Earth, so my imagination is at least somewhat limited by my experience.
It occurred to me a while back during a sermon I was listening to that a Shepherd often has a dog, usually at least one if not more. Through science we know that all breeds of domestic dog are descended from wolves; which means that while they have some instinctive behaviors in common with wolves.
Wolves eat sheep.
Why don't the dogs?
The dogs have been mastered. Their instincts have been channeled into a context that serves them, and their domestic keepers. If the dogs went feral, believe me, they'd happily go back to their old ways of hunting in packs and so forth. But their communal instinct allows them to happily befriend us. Their instinct to chase is useful in herding, because herding is a natural part of their hunting process as well as a way that they deal with large numbers of puppies. I've seen welsh corgis attempt to herd packs of small children to great effect, as well as cats, to more interesting effect. We engage their playfulness, their loyalty. The dog's hunger and reward sensations for eating have been turned into means of teaching obedience and trained behavior. His intellect is engaged in complex tasks and in learning to communicate with humans.
Isn't spirituality much the same? Speaking from the christian perspective, I think just about anything about us can be converted to serve the ends of the Kingdom. Nothing we have is so terrible that it can't be used; no curse is so foul that in the right context, it might not be a blessing. Our burdens can become gifts. I have a fascination with puzzles, with problem solving, with manipulation. I have a violent temper, an intimidating manner, a loud voice. I never give up. I am ruthless, ambitious, exceedingly patient and am very good at thinking circles around others. I describe myself sometimes as a recovering supervillain. The longer I go, the more I'm noticing that all the things that scare me about myself are actually really, really handy. Even my traumas serve a purpose in comforting others with similar experiences. Jesus is sometimes called the good shepherd, and Christians often called his sheep or his lambs. For myself, I think some of us are wolves that the Christ within us is teaching how to be sheepdogs.
Or maybe he can turn a closet monster like me into a teacher and guardian.
"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." - Romans 8:28