Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Moving away from the train and eating peanut butter and jelly :-)
I realize women continue to run back to horrible dudes that are always doggin’ them. Because it’s easier. Or at least in theory or in their mind its easier. Why easier? Bad relationships are like trains going full speed ahead straight for our hearts. We keep getting hit because it’s easier to brace for a train that you know is coming than to get hit out of no where. If she truly believes that most relationships won’t workout for her or that she will always be hit by a train, she might as well face the train that she can see coming since she will be standing on the tracks anyway. But why doesn’t she just get off the tracks and step into the patch of grass to the left of the train track? Because that’s unknown territory. All kinds of vehicles can drive on grass (cars, trucks, motorcycles, buses, four-wheelers etc.) She doesn’t know how to brace for those. And they don’t have a stable course like the train tracks. In this patch of grass the other vehicles can come from any direction at any speed, or multiple vehicles at time. Her fear is that she might come out worse in this space that looks so unstable. Why is that? Standing on the train tracks you are guaranteed only one train in a certain spot at certain time. It’s like a false sense of control. Most people think “All she has to do is step off the tracks and she won’t get hit.” The train won’t follow her, it will just keep going to hit someone else. There are no trees or anything to block her view of the train so she saw it coming a mile away thus she prepared herself, (or so she thought) for this blow head on. But what she never realized or even thought about while she was preparing for the train was that this whole time (minutes… hours…years…) she has been on these tracks waiting for the train and scared of the grass, she never saw a bus, car, motorcycle, bicycle, or four wheeler pass by, and even if they were to come and hit her it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the train. And if they did enter that patch of grass, unlike the train, she could stop them; they could brake before they damaged her even more. She could have a chat with the driver and explain her fear of collision. He could then get off his bike and have a discussion about her past train wrecks because he could see her dismembered. They would discuss how he wasn’t trying to hit her while he was driving on the patch of grass but for some reason she made a point not to get out of his way. She would say, she was only trying to get back to feeling the way she most prepared for…collision. She would then stop seeing these vehicles as modes of repeated emotional destruction but rather as modes of secure transportation. Ways of getting her as far away from the train tracks a possible. I recognize the train tracks in my space and I recognize the grassy patch full of opportunity. Most would stay on the tracks in fear of what lie in store for them just to the left of the railroad. But I would consider myself more adventurous, optimistic, and logical than that. I have hesitantly walked to the grass with extreme caution. With eyes wide open looking for something fast to come out of no where and knock my heart out my chest again. The guy I’m dating is like that passer-by that came out of no where on his motorcycle. He stopped, turned his bike off, and just so happened to have a nice bagged lunch for two in his bike compartment. We sit eating all the while I’m looking to see if the bike is going to fall on my leg or if there is poison in the peanut butter and jelly sandwich (lol) instead of relaxing in the grass and taking in the spring air. And when the meal is finished he could either say “It was nice having lunch with you” and drive away or he could ask and I could agree to hop on the back of the bike and ride away with him. Either way I didn’t get hit and I got a nice meal out of the deal. More than I could say I got away from the train. I could be concerned with my appearance because maybe just maybe if I look nice then the train or anything else would be less likely to hit me. But that isn’t logical. As if pretty women don’t stand on railroad tracks and as if trains would magically be able to not be a train and stop on a dime. They would still be an on-coming train and that would be expecting the impossible (although I’m still checking for moldy bread on the sandwich he brought to the grassy patch). I am trying to …I am enjoying the sunny day and the nice breeze. I hope that he is patient with me as I try to get to a point where enjoying his presence, the food, and surroundings become natural. I’m not trying to get back on the tracks nor am I looking for another cyclist. I’m recognizing the environment and eating slowly :-)
The Prophet...intro to spiritual literature
I love to read. Always have for as long as I can remember. But I have never met a man who enjoys reading just as much or more than I do. So I have been dating someone for the past few months. The first time I went into his house I looked to see if he had books. Most men I’ve don’t have books (and if they did I think they were just for show because they couldn’t talk about them) but he had some. All of them I have never read and most of them I have never heard of. I have a decent number of books. He has a few, but I was interested still. Most of my books contain either fun fiction or intriguing information but never have I read anything that was intriguing thought-provoking fiction. It seems that I should have discovered this “genre” of literature since I tend to be a person who contemplates their life quite often in order to squeeze every ounce of understanding, growth and knowledge from it. So the guy I’m dating gave me a book to read. I must say this has got to be the sexiest thing a man can do. Well sexy isn’t an accurate adjective. It’s very shallow and doesn’t fully encompass what I mean. It’s more than appealing or attractive. It’s more than any “game” any man can spit. But he didn’t just give me an interesting book, he introduced me to a type of book that I never read before. Spiritual literature.
The book is called The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, a Middle Eastern writer born in the late 1800’s. The book begins with the Prophet preparing to leave Orphalese on his way to Almustafa, the place of his birth. The townspeople are so dependant on his knowledge to get them through everyday life that they bombard him with questions before his departure. You begin to wonder if they are trying their best to keep him there or just trying to get all the knowledge they can before he leaves but since he has been their for twelve years one would think that they… never have taken advantage of his knowledge and never asked him direct questions before, have always asked questions but didn’t commit the lessons to memory and put them into practice, and/or have yet to sit down and think about the answers to their questions themselves so that they may reach the level of contemplation and revelation that the Prophet has. And it’s not like he is actually prophesizing. No one’s particular future is being told. He has studied the progression of people and nature within their given environments and gave his opinion and I think he is right on the money. The townspeople offer a series of questions (“Prophet, speak of…) and he responds:
Speak to us of Love…
When love beckons to you, follow him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north winds lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning…So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked…All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart. But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor.
Many people say love isn’t easy and use that as a reason to withstand an abusive and/or unfulfilling marriage but the character is speaking to the opposite. Who ever claims to love us should be capable of making us better people. And if we understand that, then we should allow that growth, but with growth comes growing pains. It’s challenging to look at ourselves spiritually and emotionally naked, when we are with ourselves in the quietest of times and recognize our faults. Those who love us should be able to help us shed that skin in a gentle and loving way so that we may become the people God has intended for us to be. Many of us want to “fall in love” with a relentless amount of unbridled pleasure without the quest for a deeper sense of self and the world around them. The prophet is saying true love, real love crowns us as kings and queens but with that crown come obligations to the throne. But not until we are about to truly take a strong and honest inventory of ourselves are we able to fully enjoy and appreciate the throne we sit upon or the person we are suppose to share a kingdom with. Also nakedness takes a grade of courage rarely seen in our pleasure-seeking world. As Adam and Eve worked to hide their nakedness so do those in fear of exposing themselves and the world to the possible ugliness we harbor deep within us. That which is pretty is relatively easy to present for that is what we are taught to do, “put our best foot forward” implying that anything that isn’t spot-free isn’t worth consideration. And if we believe that it isn’t worth addressing then we won’t. As the character says, “then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor” and miss all that love has to teach us.
Speak to us of Children…
Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backwards nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and he bends you with his might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness; for even as he loves the arrow that flies, so he loves also the bow that is stable.
Something to be put in the ears of parents. As a parent myself I have grasped the fact that my child(ren) will be an entity within themselves apart from others but with an influence from me that I pray will guide them along the path to wholeness. I don’t want another me. Because if I create another me I’m only dooming them to make the same mistakes I have. Nor do I want to command this without explanation as a means to prevent them from repeating my past. Rather I hope to present myself with vulnerability and integrity so that my children will learn from me vicariously. And through my openness I pray that they will be able to be just as open with me. This openness set fort through dialogue will be the foundation of the beginning to the preparation of setting the arrow on the bow. But as God the Archer and me the bow prepare to launch my children the arrows it’s necessary that the wood of the bow is strong and thread of the bow is tight. For how far will an arrow travel if its only mechanism for distance isn’t prepared for the job, even with an expert and brawny archer?
Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow…
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was often times filled with your tears… The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into you heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful, look again in you heart and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some say joy is greater than sorrow and others say nay, sorrow is the greater. But I say …they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon you bed… you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joys or your sorrow rise or fall.
I believe that joy can be every-present and all feelings are experienced with joy but joy allows us to overcome all unpleasant feelings. Yet I do believe that many times if we think of things that have given us sorrow we could realize they have also allowed us to maneuver through life with new-found emotional agility. My son has brought me both pain and heartache but he is also what allowed me to find joy. Because I was hollowed out with the knife of insecurity and burned in the potter’s oven of adversity I am a woman on a journey of growth doing my best to make my bow as strong as I possibly can.
Speak to us of Houses…
Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of woods and stone to the holy mountain…Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy things that enters the house a guest, and then becomes host, and then a master? Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires…the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral. But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.
Many people see their places of residence as a symbol of social and financial status. As owners of these symbols many of us will do our best to give the allusion of stability, control, intellect, and luxury. These exhaustive efforts anchor us in a state of living for those who visit or look upon our homes rather than for us the home owners. These efforts in the shape of puppets are vain and unsuccessful attempts to achieve a since of peace and pleasantry through material wealth. In our efforts to reach internal tranquility through material symbols our inner selves will die of asphyxiation from lack of pensiveness.
* Only about half way through the book. More to come…
The book is called The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, a Middle Eastern writer born in the late 1800’s. The book begins with the Prophet preparing to leave Orphalese on his way to Almustafa, the place of his birth. The townspeople are so dependant on his knowledge to get them through everyday life that they bombard him with questions before his departure. You begin to wonder if they are trying their best to keep him there or just trying to get all the knowledge they can before he leaves but since he has been their for twelve years one would think that they… never have taken advantage of his knowledge and never asked him direct questions before, have always asked questions but didn’t commit the lessons to memory and put them into practice, and/or have yet to sit down and think about the answers to their questions themselves so that they may reach the level of contemplation and revelation that the Prophet has. And it’s not like he is actually prophesizing. No one’s particular future is being told. He has studied the progression of people and nature within their given environments and gave his opinion and I think he is right on the money. The townspeople offer a series of questions (“Prophet, speak of…) and he responds:
Speak to us of Love…
When love beckons to you, follow him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north winds lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning…So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked…All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart. But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor.
Many people say love isn’t easy and use that as a reason to withstand an abusive and/or unfulfilling marriage but the character is speaking to the opposite. Who ever claims to love us should be capable of making us better people. And if we understand that, then we should allow that growth, but with growth comes growing pains. It’s challenging to look at ourselves spiritually and emotionally naked, when we are with ourselves in the quietest of times and recognize our faults. Those who love us should be able to help us shed that skin in a gentle and loving way so that we may become the people God has intended for us to be. Many of us want to “fall in love” with a relentless amount of unbridled pleasure without the quest for a deeper sense of self and the world around them. The prophet is saying true love, real love crowns us as kings and queens but with that crown come obligations to the throne. But not until we are about to truly take a strong and honest inventory of ourselves are we able to fully enjoy and appreciate the throne we sit upon or the person we are suppose to share a kingdom with. Also nakedness takes a grade of courage rarely seen in our pleasure-seeking world. As Adam and Eve worked to hide their nakedness so do those in fear of exposing themselves and the world to the possible ugliness we harbor deep within us. That which is pretty is relatively easy to present for that is what we are taught to do, “put our best foot forward” implying that anything that isn’t spot-free isn’t worth consideration. And if we believe that it isn’t worth addressing then we won’t. As the character says, “then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor” and miss all that love has to teach us.
Speak to us of Children…
Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backwards nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and he bends you with his might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness; for even as he loves the arrow that flies, so he loves also the bow that is stable.
Something to be put in the ears of parents. As a parent myself I have grasped the fact that my child(ren) will be an entity within themselves apart from others but with an influence from me that I pray will guide them along the path to wholeness. I don’t want another me. Because if I create another me I’m only dooming them to make the same mistakes I have. Nor do I want to command this without explanation as a means to prevent them from repeating my past. Rather I hope to present myself with vulnerability and integrity so that my children will learn from me vicariously. And through my openness I pray that they will be able to be just as open with me. This openness set fort through dialogue will be the foundation of the beginning to the preparation of setting the arrow on the bow. But as God the Archer and me the bow prepare to launch my children the arrows it’s necessary that the wood of the bow is strong and thread of the bow is tight. For how far will an arrow travel if its only mechanism for distance isn’t prepared for the job, even with an expert and brawny archer?
Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow…
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was often times filled with your tears… The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into you heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful, look again in you heart and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some say joy is greater than sorrow and others say nay, sorrow is the greater. But I say …they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon you bed… you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joys or your sorrow rise or fall.
I believe that joy can be every-present and all feelings are experienced with joy but joy allows us to overcome all unpleasant feelings. Yet I do believe that many times if we think of things that have given us sorrow we could realize they have also allowed us to maneuver through life with new-found emotional agility. My son has brought me both pain and heartache but he is also what allowed me to find joy. Because I was hollowed out with the knife of insecurity and burned in the potter’s oven of adversity I am a woman on a journey of growth doing my best to make my bow as strong as I possibly can.
Speak to us of Houses…
Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of woods and stone to the holy mountain…Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy things that enters the house a guest, and then becomes host, and then a master? Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires…the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral. But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.
Many people see their places of residence as a symbol of social and financial status. As owners of these symbols many of us will do our best to give the allusion of stability, control, intellect, and luxury. These exhaustive efforts anchor us in a state of living for those who visit or look upon our homes rather than for us the home owners. These efforts in the shape of puppets are vain and unsuccessful attempts to achieve a since of peace and pleasantry through material wealth. In our efforts to reach internal tranquility through material symbols our inner selves will die of asphyxiation from lack of pensiveness.
* Only about half way through the book. More to come…
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