Writing the Wrong
Higher Ground
I believe in so much stuff that sometimes it clogs my spiritual pipes. Maybe it's because I am constantly searching for the heart of things. Pipes need to be free of obstructions, so everything can flow easily. Lately, I feel my spiritual and emotional arteries are quite constricted. And nothing throws one's limitations into mean relief more efficiently than a category three hurricane making landfall in one's town. I had a mini meltdown when a tiny burp of a rainstorm left me without power for two hours; I do not think I am mentally equipped to handle the present hurricane season, which might be worse than last year, when Sandy was unleashed upon us.
The experts at NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (as if humans can administrate Mother Nature!) have recently said that their ability to predict and track a storm has improved immensely, but that the public's ability to process, accept and then take the appropriate action has not caught up. Which is apparently why 22 people drowned last year when Sandy hit Staten Island, New York. When I heard this, I thought, that's me—in the spiritual sense! ALL the signs are there. I am being fed all the important information almost constantly and yet, I sometimes fail to take the hint or heed the warnings, which often leaves me treading murky emotional waters.
However, my quest to have it all out is becoming wearisome—not just to others, but to me as well. Like Hurricane Sandy pushing debris on to a beach, I tend to throw all my internal detritus on to the table and sift through it, trying to locate clues on how to “be”. Right after the storm blew out of town I went to the beach to view the damage. The water had surged well over ten feet and spilled into the parking lot, throwing up junk and all kinds of shells and rocks. The beautiful, new pavilion had been battered, shingles were missing. Picnic tables were buried almost to the top in sand. Someone's back deck—with the benches still intact had broken off and floated into the Long Island Sound. But it was calm and the sea was glassine and tranquil again. If it hadn't been for the visible physical damage, no one would have known that a storm had passed by—at least not by the gently lapping waves. I looked around and it occurred to me that I want to be that tranquil and not have any evidence of my internal storms etched on my face. My personal pavilion may have a few shingles missing and lord knows the surges of emotion I feel have knocked over both myself and poor souls in its path
I am losing interest in “the truth” according to me because my perspective, I am starting to realise is quite limited. I am too “young” in the spiritual sense, too new to this latest phase of my life—single mom to teenage son—trying to get my novel published and not lose my romantic notions about love or society or my faith in people. The latter I have to tell you is a constant battle but I think I have a remedy to it. It's not a good idea to have faith in anything outside yourself, i.e. Other People, and if you are religious this works perfectly well because we are (apparently) God. So there you go! This does not mean you do not invest in your community or marriages or meaningful partnerships with others. Here is the paradox: we must always continue to engage with the world at large but do so with an understanding and sense of our separate ness from it all.
Most people do not reveal themselves readily. It's not natural I suppose. Why do you think so many insects, reptiles and mammals have highly evolved and sometimes, ingenious camouflaging mechanisms? To protect them from being consumed, in other words, death. Human mammals are no different. So I search, hoping that in others' revelations my own will be unearthed and you can see: BIG mistake. The problem is, as we grow older our camouflaging mechanisms become more complex and sophisticated and keep mutating into strains that are more powerfully resistant to true intimacy and authenticity. This is what I am fighting against too, this fear of exposure, and the instinctive desire to duck and take cover. I don't think Mother Nature or my own Human Nature will allow me to continue struggling indefinitely and risk drowning. I have to actively improve my own internal hurricane prediction system, and learn to read the signs always available to all of us. I want to learn how to sway with the wind and bend without breaking. I want to eventually simply reside on Higher Ground, without having to always climb to it.
However, my quest to have it all out is becoming wearisome—not just to others, but to me as well. Like Hurricane Sandy pushing debris on to a beach, I tend to throw all my internal detritus on to the table and sift through it, trying to locate clues on how to “be”. Right after the storm blew out of town I went to the beach to view the damage. The water had surged well over ten feet and spilled into the parking lot, throwing up junk and all kinds of shells and rocks. The beautiful, new pavilion had been battered, shingles were missing. Picnic tables were buried almost to the top in sand. Someone's back deck—with the benches still intact had broken off and floated into the Long Island Sound. But it was calm and the sea was glassine and tranquil again. If it hadn't been for the visible physical damage, no one would have known that a storm had passed by—at least not by the gently lapping waves. I looked around and it occurred to me that I want to be that tranquil and not have any evidence of my internal storms etched on my face. My personal pavilion may have a few shingles missing and lord knows the surges of emotion I feel have knocked over both myself and poor souls in its path
I am losing interest in “the truth” according to me because my perspective, I am starting to realise is quite limited. I am too “young” in the spiritual sense, too new to this latest phase of my life—single mom to teenage son—trying to get my novel published and not lose my romantic notions about love or society or my faith in people. The latter I have to tell you is a constant battle but I think I have a remedy to it. It's not a good idea to have faith in anything outside yourself, i.e. Other People, and if you are religious this works perfectly well because we are (apparently) God. So there you go! This does not mean you do not invest in your community or marriages or meaningful partnerships with others. Here is the paradox: we must always continue to engage with the world at large but do so with an understanding and sense of our separate ness from it all.
Most people do not reveal themselves readily. It's not natural I suppose. Why do you think so many insects, reptiles and mammals have highly evolved and sometimes, ingenious camouflaging mechanisms? To protect them from being consumed, in other words, death. Human mammals are no different. So I search, hoping that in others' revelations my own will be unearthed and you can see: BIG mistake. The problem is, as we grow older our camouflaging mechanisms become more complex and sophisticated and keep mutating into strains that are more powerfully resistant to true intimacy and authenticity. This is what I am fighting against too, this fear of exposure, and the instinctive desire to duck and take cover. I don't think Mother Nature or my own Human Nature will allow me to continue struggling indefinitely and risk drowning. I have to actively improve my own internal hurricane prediction system, and learn to read the signs always available to all of us. I want to learn how to sway with the wind and bend without breaking. I want to eventually simply reside on Higher Ground, without having to always climb to it.
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