“ . . if I speak with the tongues of Angels and have not love . . “ I am a fraud!
Upon cats paws this dawn arose a simple truth. I was incapable of forgiving myself the pain, suffering and abandonment of those I professed to love. And who, in their way, and to the best of their ability, loved me. As for myself, until that moment, self-love was forbearance grudgingly given. Thus my “I love you” was actually greed begging them to love me. True love will let the beloved go, to return or not. Love is what you give, a verb not a noun, unconditionally.
In flesh and blood terms, how it works in real like, my relationships have been failures . . . in some cases attributable to me, or partially/mostly so. The forgiveness I sought and received seemed to lay the issue to rest. Add, I confess to a vanity, thinking in poetic terms, that I held those I’d hurt in my heart, mind and prayers.
Not good enough.
It didn’t work since I twirled, Dervish like, the nail not between my toes, but through my foot. The metaphor applies only to Sufi trainees. Think ‘spiritual training wheels.’
Gentle as a vagrant breeze, or Annie`s request for attention, flew in this realization. As I’ve pondered it through the hours since, with little rest, I became convicted the issue was justice. And that beneath it all I simmered, enraged, blaming that which I could not change either for those I loved, others close at hand or the world. But most of all I resented deeply the injustice of it all personally.
Ostensibly I’d transformed the process of “Being between a rock and hard place” to “Being between the hammer and anvil.’ As in swords transformed into plow shears.
My “Nothing is for Naught” -- “Nothing is for Nothing” implies to me, the sacrifice of Jesus, was pre or foreordained; purposeful, had value, meaning and consequence. And that I would, if called, lay down my life for another similarly without expectation of applause, gratitude or affirmation. Knowing that The Author of Us and Everything intended my death to serve, at the very least to save another’s life, and nothing more.
Another way of illustrating the same ideal is to say: “There are no accidents.”
However I’m still laughing over: “I have noticed even people who claim everything is predestined, and that we can do nothing to change it, look before they cross the road." --Stephen Hawking
Thank God for my sense of humor especially when applied to myself. And i do.
Farther. My reliance upon synchronicity, using the Jungian definition, equally implies that this morning‘s revelation was from the same source of love that all the rest came, and continues, even now, to come from. Add to which my first “conversion” experience centered in an Old Testament reading about a father losing multiple sons by execution.
Having read, yet unable at the moment to recall accurately “chapter & verse” either the Book of Jobe, or Jung's writing on its significance. I remember, and remain impaled up, Jobe’s lack of outrage; the injustice done to his children, estate and himself; his faith remanded immutable. . . . I’ve just crucified my Self!
