Monday, February 12, 2018

Know Thyself To Be Love

This will be one of the most personal blogs I've ever written. I'm not writing it to be an exhibitionist, or to receive pity, or to gut myself in front of all the world as a testament to my "strength."
I've weighed the reasons of why I NEED to write this and they are pure. Those reasons being one simple objective:

Maybe, just maybe these words will find someone who is struggling to understand their place in the world and can feel like they aren't alone, aren't a freak, and are loved fully by someone they may not even know... like me. That's right. I love you. Whomever you are reading this, whatever your reasons for reading this, guess what... I love you. I do. I really do.

We are taught from the earliest of age that we should be careful about who we love. We are told to reserve saying "I love you," for only a select few people in our lives. We are scolded, shamed, and reprimanded by small minded people filled with fears that we had nothing to do with, all because we loved someone or something that they couldn't understand.

And that's okay.

We love them too. That's right. We love those small minded fear filled people because we allow what they say to affect us. We allow them to drive the needles into our heart. We allow them to penetrate our flesh with words. We let them have an outlet for their fear to take up arms with us. We do this because we are giants in this world of theirs.

We are huge, one hundred story tall giants with hearts the size of Texas. "What's a couple of knives in the heart to a giant," we say as we pluck them out one by one.

We have this gift they have forgotten they once had. The gift of self-healing, of being made of teflon, and of understanding how they may have come to the determination that our love of life bothers them.

They try different stabbing methods, different blades, different strategies to launch their assault on our giant hearts. We know this. On a very deep unsaid level we know this. If we could only yell at the top of our lungs to the whole world, "Be still! I love you," we think we might be able to shatter their small mirrored prisons of fear.

Yet we know that those three words could destroy more than their prison- faceted with their own reflection. We know that those three words are so powerful that they could crumble to their knees in a death blow of humility and remorse. We do not wish this death on them because we know what it feels like. We carry bags of guilt around our shoulders. We wear it without need of praise, or without a want for the encouraging acceptance of our like-minded tribe.

We are only doing our duty afterall.

I've found that in my most vulnerable states when I've wished to unload those bags of burden, I have met more vulchers than I have pack mules. I've met more wolves than eagles, more scorpions than I have butterflies. I've run through the valley of the shadow of my ego's death and I HAVE feared evil and no rod, nor shepherd's staff has comforted me. Yet I know the verse in its correct form and have faith in it's truth.

I have been lifted on the wings of earthly vices more than on the wings of angels. Yet I know where they fly and know they fly alongside me. When I have been in the middle of the ocean of doubt and said "be still, " the waves have crashed harder and more violently they have stolen my breath. Yet when I breathe, I know I will live for one more gulp of air until the storm subsides... leaving me wrecked with salt burning my eyes. Then the rain comes. Clearing the salt, gentler, leaving me enough room to breathe without gasping.

I have also read the sign, "Beware, Danger Ahead," and crossed without incident. I've studied the rules of law and broken them without repercussion.
How do we navigate such unpredictable terrain in life?
How do we know that the sea will be still, the scorpion won't sting, the valley can be crossed?

We use our love as a compass. We have met all forms of disaster, derelicts, deranged and malformed human personalities or entire systems and yet we press on. We still smile when we see innocence. We lighten our load with laughter. We speak for those who cannot speak. We help those who cannot be helped. Do we do all of this from weakness?

Do we do continue because we have failed? Are we lost because we cannot be found or because we are finding those who have been misplaced? Do we lack intelligence for doing these things? Do we need books, classes, or therapists to tell us that we are broken because we have chosen to love instead of fear?

Do we serve no higher purpose because we have allowed our hearts to be injured by our world that cannot be cured by anything other than our love? Does this make us weak? Does this make us lost? Does this make us disgusting and dysfunctional?

I have known many who wear the skins of snakes and their venomous bites have no antidote other than the eventual immunity to them. Yet I have met more who wear the garment of angels and were nothing more than a toxic parasite underneath their robes of light. And I prefer the snakes over these false helpers bathed in their artificial light- Powered by someone else's, "batteries."

These are the ones who take all that is precious, all that is sacred, all that is revealed in your most transparent moments and syphon off your vital essence to built a weapon designed to pierce your least guarded areas.

You may read the sign "Beware, Danger Ahead," regarding the wolves, spiders, snakes, mudslides, or icy turns and you may take a risk and tread there.

There is no warning sign with the ones draped in artificial light, wearing angel wings and speaking to you with empty understanding and words that tether you to the edge of a cliff.  "You must have faith dear one. Leap from here. You can fly like I can. See my beautiful wings. I got them from this light I carry. See this light? You could have this light too if you would only take a leap of faith in me and leave what you know in the shadows. You think you can help them? You can only help yourself dear one. You will never know how to get this light, these wings, if you carry on loving those who cannot carry themselves. Jump. Jump. Fly!"  

When you hang on the edge of this cliff by their words of smooth satin, you can only doubt the fall, or doubt the climb, you have not seen their wings in flight. You have not seen what their light is made of. You would hope for it to be true, real, and magnificent, yet you have no comparison.

Perhaps you could leap off the cliff by the words they tethered you to, the ideals they have claimed their expertise in knowing? You have said to the wind "be still," you have told the water to "stop raging," and you have gone to places that were forbidden and found diamonds sitting in mud.

Where was the winged light bearer then? Why were her words not found when you sat in darkness holding on to the light within? If her wings can fly, then why would I need to leap from the razors edge just to be saved by the very thing that saved me in the craggy narrow slivers of the deepest of caves?

No. I will climb back up to the edge of this cliff. I will stand and look at this person in her form, with my feet planted firmly on the ground.  I will see where her light was built, where her wings were formed. I will see with the same eyes that guided me through the terrifying places where fear creates monsters and shackles the hands of the ordinary.

When I see, I will see. When I look, I will see. When I listen, I will know. I will understand that there is no light brighter than the one hidden within. There are no wings capable of saving me from this fall other than the ones I have never had to use in vain. I stand on the razors edge. The arrival here on this cliff's edge did not require wings. I have found this place with the shifting steps, the eroded paths, and the light within which picked up many others who were lost, many who knew a better way, and some who had finished their journey too soon.

All that you were given, all that is guaranteed in this life is that you were made by the fabric of all of creation. Love. Do not be afraid of what you are. You are love. We are love. There is nothing more, nothing less, nothing hidden, nothing found, nothing that you need to know more to guide your way than love.

Love is the only tether that binds us all. It is the only truth that cannot be covered by lies. It is only lessened by the fear of expressing it fully. It IS who you are.

When all is in ruin, all has turned to ash, all has been forgotten, grown old and tired, lost its material form, there is only one energy that remains to rebuild and restore.
Love.

So.... if this finds you in these typed words, or in the smile of a stranger, or the laugh of a baby, or the wagging tail of a puppy, or a random act of compassion...it is love that caused these things to be. How can you be broken if you have offered or received even one of these moments created by love?
If you have recognized it in the shadows, seen it in the darkest of hours, then you have seen the wings of angels in flight next to you.

Know thyself. Know thyself to BE thyself and yet one with all of creation which was formed by love.
 -Edgar Cayce

1 comment:

  1. Well written. Thanks Mel. I have read it twice and will most likely read it several more times. Finding some new emotion each time.

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