Dearly beloved…and I’ll end my Prince quote here. I’ve been thinking about life, whatever it is, exactly. What a privilege it is to interact with our environment in these bodies, with these senses, hormones, and sentience.
Whatever it means to be alive is a mystery, which we humans have come up with many ideologies, myths, belief systems, and science to try to explain. I’m one of those humans who think there is something we can’t perceive or comprehend that keeps our illusion of life, time, physics, and all that together. I’m not even sure that all life perceives the same things, not even individuals of the same species.
So, here we all are wandering around perceiving and judging, harboring the illusion that everyone else is living in the same “world” that we are. I contend that we’re wrong about that. I’m not positive that even folks we agree with are perceiving what we think we are.
It’s no wonder, then, that we keep hearing the same things said about members of our fractured culture in opposing “sides.” And they are sincerely baffled about why those “sheep” have “drunk the Kool Aid” and need to “wake up.”
Depending on how your brain chemistry is set up, you might see liberals, conservatives, Marxists, Greens, or Libertarians as making sense and everyone else is an idiot. Or worse. I’m so tired of this shit and how it’s affecting all life on this planet.
It’s making it harder and harder to keep placing one foot in front of the other and appreciate this amazing gift of LIFE, even though I’m going along with the Buddha in positing it’s an illusion.
The big illusion that I, and many of my generation, allowed ourselves to believe was that history was arcing toward peace, equality, and freedom to be and believe however we see fit and that we were all working towards these goals. I was pretty wrong about that!
But nonetheless, life is precious and I want to appreciate the opportunity to live as long as I’m allowed to. In this life I’m going to love deeply, cherish the planet and its inhabitants, and learn as much as I can, even though it may be unpleasant much of the time.
Mostly, I will accept with grace that a good portion of the people I share the world with want me eliminated. Yeah. People in my town who carry cards saying “Spay or Neuter Your Democrat” or post signs in their yard saying they have PTSD: Pretty Tired of Stupid Democrats.
Stuff like that is why I do not intend to engage in tit for tat with these folks. We live in different worlds, and they live in different worlds from many people of similar ideologies.
I’m glad some of our worlds overlap a bit. Not everyone who voted differently from you or practices a different religion is an extremist. So many of us just want to have an enjoyable life. Somehow.
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What a beautiful and lovely response! Thank you. I also receive Richard Rohr’s emails and today he talked about (here is part)
Using the language of the cosmic egg, author Felicia Murrell shares her experience of growing up with a strong sense of our story that was limited by the power of other stories:
I never questioned the world in which I grew up. I followed the rhythms set for me by those around me, understanding the world and how to situate myself in it through the lenses and lives of those in authority over me.… In the small rural North Carolina town of my youth, Blacks lived on one side of the tracks and Whites on the other…. Nothing about this life seemed abnormal. This was our story.…
No one talked about race. No one expressed discontent or named things aloud. No one mentioned the way things were. We didn’t buck the system. We kept our heads down and did what we were supposed to do. Success and advancement were others’ stories, for people across town on the other side of the tracks. We were to stay in our place and follow the natural order of things, which I did until I no longer could.
Like matryoshka dolls nesting within one another, my story as a small child was a fragmented, compartmentalized part of our story. In the shadow of dominant voices, my story felt less essential, even unnecessary. Without a clear understanding of the whole, my story was incomplete. But my story was all I knew until I was exposed to other stories.
Murrell highlights the importance of allowing other stories to draw us into intimacy with one another and into the union of the story. When we remain stuck in the loop of our story without consideration of other stories, particularly when “our” is framed in (or lived in response to) a Eurocentric, patriarchal, dominant paradigm as the standard of measurement for all other stories, we are left with an incomplete model. Exposure to other stories is an invitation, a gateway to knowing. But it’s merely that—an opportunity to know. A welcoming and acceptance of diversity may create familiarity, but it’s not the same as knowing. Deep, intimate knowing empowers agency, offers reciprocity, and, through mutuality, affords us the opportunity to be the custodians of our own story without being othered as an aside or a concession to dissent…. there was more. He has helped me realize I just have my story…. Blessings and Love, Louise
May you be kind and gentle with all you are offered today.
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Thank you so much for sharing these thoughts.
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