Overheard

There are times in the life when the soul says, "ET, go home, I don't like it here, it's a terrible squalor nasty place, and I wanna go back to Heaven...I wanna go back to the Garden of Eden, and merge back into the Whole, and  God's eternal grace." But I can only have that I if I die, but I wanna live, so I choose not to do that. At that point we begin to look for something in this world of reality to take the place of connecting with GOD.

Lantern

I am a light, and I am pure, because I was created that way. I am brighter than any earthly thing any mortal being has ever seen.

I shine behind lenses fitted crudely about an awkward housing. There never used to be lenses, but their creation was a necessary part of Becoming. They are crafted from shards of others' lenses which have broken, handed to me by broken people so that I may construct my own, and as mine break along their various faults, so shall I hand out shards to those whose lives I am shaping. The housing is not awkward by definition; it has become so shaped by the many hands that have warped it throughout my years. It does not define me--it is merely a vessel--but it becomes the perception of who I am, both because that is part of its purpose, and because others who see me have only their own lenses through which to view me.

My light falls onto that background which is nearest at hand, into which I've carried myself, sometimes by folly. As my lenses shift, and the backgrounds change, those images which are created will become what others will come to define me by. And, though limited, my choice of lenses through which to shine, and screens on which to project, will become what others call my character.

(work in progress)

ET Go Home

Months ago, I overheard this statement:

"There are times in the life when the soul says, 'ET, go home, I don't like it here, it's a terrible squalor nasty place, and I wanna go back to Heaven...I wanna go back to the Garden of Eden, and merge back into the Whole, and  God's eternal grace.' But I can only have that I if I die, but I wanna live, so I choose not to do that. At that point we begin to look for something in this world of reality to take the place of connecting with GOD."

I was eavesdropping, I know, but it struck me, as if my own soul sought out these particular words as an opportunity to poke me and say, "See?! See what's been going on? Now maybe you'll understand what we've been going through!" Immediately, I wrote it down (hence the grammatically incorrect format; it was also a spoken statement, and so was made without the normal care a writer would take).

I've allowed this statement to rattle around in my head ever since, weighing its validity from time to time, and I've never found cause to reject it. In fact, I've found it's the key to understanding many of my behaviours and some of the situations I've found myself in.

Of course, this statement is based on the assumption that a body has our soul 'installed' at some point during conception. A reiki practitioner once said to me, "Your body is not who you are; it's just a vehicle." I remember those words very clearly, and when I heard the ET statement, this experience came rushing at me like one of those movie epiphanies that ends with the camera focused only on the character's eyes, leaving me a little dumbstruck.

The ET statement is also based on the idea that there is a separation between the spiritual world and the physical world, and that we as human beings have the unique capacity to inhabit both simultaneously. This is something C.S. Lewis first introduced me to while reading The Screwtape Letters. Unfortunately, our modern existence revolves mostly (completely, in most people's cases) around pursuits of worldly gains, and not entirely because we have a choice. Screwtape writes that inhabiting both worlds comes at a cost: we lose our understanding of the spiritual world. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try, though. It's true that I could choose to focus solely on tuning my spiritual radio back to the Divine Channel, but I've grown up in a life that requires some degree of material success to provide for and maintain the other gifts I've been given from God: notably this body here that sits typing, nourishment enough to keep it healthy, the means to become and remain employed, a warm bed to sleep in at night, and the people who love me. Ironic, I dare say, but I'm sure it's all just part of the Plan. Not knowing, and having no control anyway, makes faith so much easier.

A spiritual man (one of the few I've ever really trusted) once told me he believes babies have memories of God when they're born, which totally jives with the concept of soul 'installation.' Eventually, of course, these memories fade, due both to the enormous worldly experiences we have growing up, and also to the teachings of the people surrounding us who have become 'seasoned' (wearied) and therefore willing (though unknowing) agents of Pantheon of Worldly Pursuits. Even when a human being grows up knowing God, that knowledge is always subject to the interpretation of those human beings who raise him or her, which, in my experience, always seems to be some self-interested perversion of true faith based on exclusion of those who disagree or believe differently, or don't match some description of the thing one finds oneself to already be. Zappa was right when he said we are dumb all over.

It's a terrible, messed up world we live and grow up in, but we're not completely hopeless. The ET statement reminds us that we all have the secret decoder ring to make sense of it all: our soul, and that if we listen, we will have the knowledge we need to make it through. I don't just mean survival; I'm talking about actually thriving in both the physical and spiritual worlds. We were all put here for a reason and given a unique Gift with which we were intended to make the world a better place. As I teach my children, it is up to each one of us to discover what that gift is, develop it, and then make good on our end of the bargain by using it for the betterment of the world (and people) around us.

Easier said then done, I know...but I'm trying. Even if I hadn't spent years developing this philosophy, there's almost no chance I (or anyone) would get it right on the first attempt. I've held many jobs and had many successes and failures, all of which only contributed to my understanding of the whole ordeal. We are only blind, feeling our way around a huge room to find the thing that feels just right, occasionally bumping into others who are blind, sometimes believing we've found what we were looking for, sometimes giving up and settling down wherever it was we stopped searching last. Sometimes we get up from a place we've been resting and continue the search, much to the anger or disappointment of those around us.

And all of that is okay. I don't believe we are meant to know right away what our intended role is, and I also believe if we don't get it right this time around, we're given another chance, and in between times we do get to go back to where we came from, and have a moment of rest with our creator before we're dumped back into the maelstrom.

There will be no disclaimer with this post. Even if I was formally educated in theology or philosophy or psychology, I don't think any of these professional fields includes what I think I've learned in my brief time exploring my own space in both the physical and spritual worlds. I don't claim to know what works for others, only what has been working for me, and I'm not interested in anyone's judgment of that. If I'm completely off the mark, so be it, but even if I'm driving myself off a cliff, I know I'm at least providing for a few very important people along the way, raising them up with love, having fun and enjoying each other's company, and encouraging them to develop their minds, thereby enabling them to ask those same questions of themselves that led me to my own conclusions. Even if I'm wrong, maybe they'll get something a little more right, and that will make it all worth the struggle.

SCWA

BLJ: Big Life Journey (or Through the Fog)

An essay in three parts.

1. It happens often enough that we hear some trite phrase that compares life to a journey. Not trite because it's untrue, and surely not because it doesn't fit whatever context in which we may find it, but only because we've heard this comparison a million times before. But have we ever really considered the truth of it?

I'm sure everyone has, to some extent, though not all have pondered it long. I know many who've peeked above the rim of everyday life and been thoroughly frightened permanently back below, and a few who've been traumatized by their first glimpse beyond the daily grind, and therefore are loathe to ever look again. I don't blame anyone in either of these camps, and I both pity and envy anyone who's never had need to consider those forces behind the life that is projected, as if onto a screen, before their faces.

I've spent many thousands of words and hours considering my own journey, but like everyone else, my view is skewed because it's impossible to see it objectively since, well, I'm still on it. It happens often that I (we all?) am more able to say definitively what I'd do in any situation presented to another human on his/her own journey, but for some reason find myself stymied by my own, even simpler, circumstances.

So because there really is no other choice, I just keep on moving, making each decision with the wisdom at hand, and hoping I always see it as the good choice I believed it to be at the time. This happens to everyone... right? I know this is true of many whom I have surrounded myself with for years, but for some reason all of us, every one, believe we are the only people dealing with this or that trouble at any particular time. And because we either don't want to bother anyone else, or we're too embarassed by our inability to handle something (or the fact that we have to deal with it in the first place), or a bad memory of trusting the wrong person, or some other stupid reason, we fail to reach out to those who may be able to help, and thereby create for ourselves a perpetual lonliness.

2. When I drive from Detroit to Milwaukee, a trip of roughly 370 miles, I do so with such severe limitations I am surprised sometimes that I even get into the car. For one thing, when I'm driving, I can only see a few miles ahead on a flat, straight, relatively empty road, or less than 1% of the total distance. Wouldn't it be preferable if I could see the destination before starting the trip? Usually the road goes up and down hills, is curved, and is crowded, and this of course limits visibility even more.

If I happen to see trouble ahead, it's usually a good enough distance away that I can avoid a collision or any other bad news. It isn't always far ahead: sometimes it appears right in front of me, and I have to make a quick decision. And it isn't always apparent what the trouble is: sometimes I just see the orange barrels or slowed traffic and know something bad is up the road without actually knowing what it is or what to do about it.

What's worse, if I make the drive at night (which is most often the case), I have a maximum visibility of only a couple hundred feet with good headlights (or about 0.01% of the total distance), which is not much further than the minimum stopping distance at highway speeds with good tires and road conditions. If there is something ahead of me that would stop or slow me down, I don't know it's there until I very quickly need to make a decision about how to handle it, and though the roads are typically less crowded at night, I still have the other factors to make the situation even more complicated.

To make matters worse, there are occasions when conditions aren't favorable for travel. It's inevitable that there will be rain, or fog, or snow, or ice, or mud. I can also count on the chance that something from someone else's vehicle will fly into my path, or hit my windshield, or be left on the road for me to avoid. With other cars out there, this is just a given. Though it's many long years ago, I still remember the minor panic I felt when I realized that, although my driver training was complete and I was fully licensed and such, I would eventually have to contend with less-than-ideal travel conditions.

Why on earth would I want to even consider such a trip? First and foremost, because of the people I'm travelling to visit. A close second is that I've been a passenger on the trip enough times to believe I can do it on my own. (Still, the first solo attempt was nerve-racking.) Also, I have maps to guide me: I know which route is the most reliable. What's more, I have experience that will help me make decisions when something goes wrong, even with only seconds before disaster strikes. And finally, I know my vehicle is up to the trip: it's been maintained well enough that I don't have to worry much about the transmission, battery, tires, etc.

3. Every day when I get out of bed, shower, dress, breakfast, drive, work, lunch, work, drive, school, cook/help with dinner, do/help with homework, give kisses and hugs goodnight, rinse, and repeat, I'm on that Big Life Journey, and it's not much different than when I'm on westbound I-94. But beyond that basic similarity, things get very, very different.

For one thing, I have only a vague idea of what my destination is, and I've certainly never been there before. Therefore, I have only ideas about what the best route is. Consequently, I sometimes find myself on a road I suddenly realize I've traveled before, which is not always a good thing. Also, visibility is limited to days, or weeks, or until the next paycheck, or the end of a lease. At best, I can see only 1-2% ahead of myself on a trip that I hope will take in excess of 80 or 90 years. And this road is nothing like I-94. Crappy Michigan road conditions aside, the routes available to me are never straight, never wide. Though some appear to be, it's usually only they're toll roads, and I'd therefore be forced into conventions and directions that might not always suit me--that may, in fact, be detrimental.

Troubles are common and cruel on the BLJ. I never go a day without the need to circumnavigate some pothole or debris, sometimes left there by someone else, more often thrown into my path by my own ignorance or stubbornness. Usually I can see things coming, but this doesn't always mean they're unavoidable. When I can't anticipate them, they seem to come out of nowhere, and I end up not only trying to drive and navigate but clean up the mess I've made. Sometimes it even happens that I find something's been behind me a good while, trying to get my attention, and I've been ignoring it, and that makes the cleanup a bitter task. It's rare that failing to avoid or deal with some such hindrance does not have consequences that affect other people's BLJs. It's also true that making a hard choice to take the right path for any given leg of the trip has potential to hurt others.

Also, it's rare that a dry, sunny day presents itself along the BLJ. I've spent a majority of my own in considerably bad weather. Some people would say this is a matter attitude, and I wouldn't argue with them. That translates into where you choose to be traveling. Unlike a real road trip, if you don't like the current road conditions, the BLJ lets you consciously choose to "relocate" to a place with better weather. This of course, is not easy, and learning how is a journey in itself. And, you do always have to start out from where you currently are, which makes it difficult to realize relocation is possible in the first place.

Finally, I am never sure of my vehicle's travel-readiness. Each morning, I risk some kind of breakdown. I have known issues with particular things, which I treat, but they all have root causes that have yet to be fully diagnosed. Also, many parts and systems are either wearing out for lack (or ignorance) of replacements, or are completely untested, and therefore I have no idea how much they can take. I fear situations that will push them beyond their limits, and I won't see the failure until it's screwed everything up and I'm mired in the conquences. That has happened more often than not, and typically I'm not the only person who ends up screwed or mired. In fact, thinking about it now, I realize that every known issue has been discovered by an unexpected breakdown, usually with accoutremental embarrassment and/or shame.

So, why would I choose to make the BLJ? First and foremost because of the person at the end of the journey: ME. To be more specific, it's not just one single journey, but many smaller ones; and it's not one single person that is the goal, it's just some improvement on the version that began that particular leg. A close second is the chance to make a difference in other people's journeys. Large or small, anything I can do to help someone along their way puts me further ahead in my own. It's about filling buckets. There are some people in particular for whom I strive to be a positive influence, whose BLJs are a main focus in my own. It is for them that I choose not to turn off onto a road I know will end abruptly, when that is my inclination.

I know so little about how to conduct the BLJ it's a wonder I even stay on board, but what I have learned, or what I think I've learned, is that there is no 'end' destination. There are desirable ends, yes, but no Milwaukee in this trip. I've also learned that reaching some desirable end will require a lot of circular travel: many roads will be taken again and again as a necessity; indeed, the sub-goal of any day's travel may be just to reach a familiar road. Finally, I think I've learned to take risks: to take roads that are unfamiliar, or even unpaved, because when taking these roads, like a path in the forest, the point is not to get somewhere, but the experience you have along the way. Usually you end up right where you began, but as a better version of who you were at the first step. Sometimes, you end up somewhere different, and having found that place--somewhere you never would have seen if you hadn't taken a risk--always makes dealing with some other leg of the trip that much easier.

SCWA

This Shell

In this shell made of flesh and bone, my self-awareness is convoluted, every sensation and perception made through the veil of the flesh is suspect and subjective. "Real" feelings and expressions require exclusive in and out filtration via nerve endings and vocal chords and synaptic patterns. The Body is the Doorman of the Soul.

But I must remember that this is by design, this was done on purpose. We are wrapped in this shroud, which clouds a senseful experience, for what is likely a very good reason. I can only guess, but I'm sure it has something to do with protection of that Divine Gift which makes us unique beings. It certainly is meant as an interface, both through which to interact in this physical, material world and with each other. How else would we find any means of expression, either in or out, without these senses? To make a crude comparison, even the most powerful computer is useless without a monitor and keyboard.

I must also remember that this body and its limited duration is a gift: a gift which goes wasted and unappreciated by lamenting its limitations. We are simple and fragile creatures, yes, but capable of great civilization, art, language, culture, philosophy, and wonder, and we are learning through science that, simple and fragile though we may be, we are also fascinating and complex, so much so that we are beyond our own understanding--not just us as a species, but the whole world and universe that surrounds us.

We are given only a little while to discover ourselves, our world, and each other. Here's to hoping that I, and those around me, in my physical and spiritual worlds, are able to discover and share our gifts before our time is over, together.

(A bit esoteric, I know, but it was in there, and it had to come out. Do with it what you will.)

It's All in Your Head

Well, yes. Yes it is.

But if by "in your head" you mean a perception manufactured by interactions of brain chemicals and synaptic patterns, then I ask you: what isn't? Isn't what we as biological beings perceive through our traditional five senses truly nothing more than our brain's interpretation of electrical impulses sent via our optic nerves, eardrums, taste buds, receptors in the nasal passage, and nerve endings in our epidermis?

Ever seen The Matrix? There's an elaborate, entertaining, and brilliantly told story based solely on the idea that the whole world we live in is a lie, fed to us via biochemical cocktails administered in the right order to produce a tailored perception. Ever taken a philosophy course? For thousands of years, men and women from every culture on our world have asked fundamental questions about what we are, what our purpose is, whether any of the things we think we are surrounded by our whole lives are even real...and what "real" would even mean if the answer was yes. Even heard of psychology? There's a science based 100% on learning how our minds interpret input and feed us a reality that may or may not be the same as that experienced by those around us, and then figuring out ways to manipulate the reality of those whose are different and make theirs more like ours.

So when you give me that look to test whether I'm joking, or ask me if I'm serious, or comment about metaphysical bunk, I will indulge you, and smile. And then you will return the favor by seriously considering that while you think you have your two feet firmly on the ground, and tell me about the things that are truly important and real, you are merely experiencing a similar illusion, custom made for you by your brain and fed to you through a filter of social expectations, cultural influences, and interactions with the people you've surrounded yourself with.

And then we can begin to truly communicate.

Believe

There is more here than we can perceive. As humans, our tissue-synapse based senses are woefully limited in their abilities to detect the world around us. As members of a society ignorant of this fact, we are taught to ignore our other perceptive abilities, and therefore lose them.

If you've never considered this, don't dismiss it simply because it doesn't appear in scientific or medical journals. This isn't just mysterious metaphysical pseudoscience. Take magnetism, for instance: it cannot be seen, felt, heard, tasted, or smelled, yet as a scientific society we know full well that it not only exists, but is a defining force in world we live in. The structure of the atom and the interaction of molecules to form everything from the basic compounds that sustain the chemical systems in our bodies to the weather resistant properties of that stain you just put on your deck would all be considered fiction to a society less scientifically advanced than ours, all because of the attitude that something needs to be seen (heard, felt, tasted, smelled, etc.) to be believed.

Well, don't believe it. We were all given the ability to detect the world around us in more terms than the five senses afford. True, there are forces which are beyond both our perception and our understanding, but this isn't what I'm talking about. Every one of us has an internal antenna that picks up signals the people and things around us are broadcasting, absorbing, or reflecting. The mood in a room, the serenity of a hidden waterfall, the calm of a place deep in the earth, and the joy of a child are all examples of these signals. Can you think of any that you've experienced? Focus on them a moment, and you'll start reaching for the tuner knob on that antenna.

It is one of my greatest goals to broaden my ability to perceive the world around me, and therefore more fully appreciate the gifts I've been given in this lifetime, in this place, with these people around me. Please, join me.