H,
In looking back at scenes from our past, there is a lot of cringing. I am
only getting used to not doing this automatically. There is nothing really
there. We must have thought we were better than we were. At least, further
along in the great evolution of the soul. The scenes play out in the mind and
heart like evidence of decay. We seek a consistency that is only accessible
as good PR or massive self-deception. The truth is in that scene or this scene,
we are simply who we have always been: pilgrims on the road to something more. In
need of a lot of forgiveness. In need of a lot of change. In search of the light
that created the galaxies.
That dark and dead state that our mythic stories speak of is the real
terror of the human soul. To not exist is the ultimate hell. In our “endless,
numbered days” lies a joy beyond happiness, beyond feeling, beyond triumph and
definitely beyond defeat. We do exist. The idea that we are not mirrored or
destined to or judged by one act or one scene or one part of our lives is the
water that keeps flowing throughout our abridged version of life. We can let go
of the fawning over broken things in us and through us knowing that the story
must be completed and in that completion lies the truth about everything.
This is simple in theory but harder in life. We have the old memory daemon.
We have the effect of our turns. We have constant moralizing around us; each soul and heart afraid to ascribe wrong to themselves, so we heap it on the
other and create chasms only the light can cure. Yet, the light will cure it. Cringing
is fine. It is just one more thing to forgive in ourselves. For we are not the
sum of our many scenes. We are the fulfilment in the last one.