I have a friend…

….We’re not friendly anymore. But I still love her. I think.

Can I call it love if I want nothing more to do with her? If we are totally estranged because I want nothing more to do with her? If I chose to walk out of her life once and for all?

Of course I do look back from time to time…. How could I not?

She was such a huge part of my life! The laughs we shared over the years… genuine, rolling on the floor, gut wrenching, tear producing laughter! I swear I pulled more than one muscle in my life just laughing with her!

And then there were the tears – sobbing, hopeless, helpless tears. Situations we couldn’t control, and we couldn’t fix, and we couldn’t escape… She was always better at grieving anyway.

And there was everything in between. The raw honesty and the outright lies. The deep loyalty followed by the inconceivable betrayal. The white rage and the soothing azure of serenity. Moments of pure perfection. Years of separation. Collaboration. And isolation…

Trust me when I say I didn’t walk away without thinking about it. I spent years thinking about it. Finally planning it. After more than three decades, I’d finally had enough. I wanted to purge the toxin from my system. I needed to. And I needed to do it in a manner I wouldn’t regret…

Oh, I fantasized about it all the time in those last couple of years together. Building my case, justifying my decision, planning my good-byes. The things I wanted to say, the letters I would write… She needed to, or maybe deserved to know why. Right? But, in the end, I said nothing at all of consequence. The “issues” were all mine. She had told me to learn to live with them or walk away; I chose to walk away. I hugged her, I told her I loved her, and I left. End of story…

And I have not regretted it since…

She was one of those people that everybody loves. She was charming, sincere, warm and generous. But she was so much more than that. She never, for example, truly did anything for free. She got her hooks in, then called up favors when in need. But it always seemed like you wanted to help her! And if there was some nagging doubt, deep in your soul, it was nothing more than self-doubt I am sure. Because people honestly believed they loved her! And very likely did. Some went so far as to adore her, idolize her, revere her…. They freely offered up their lives while she manipulated them…

I know this because I helped her…

It’s almost like she wanted to do the “right” thing, and sometimes even knew what that was. She met many teachers along her path who seemed to recognize her soul and wanted to help guide her, no strings attached. And often she would let them try. But at the end of every such path was a choice, a test, and wise, well-taught or not, she could never commit to “right”. It eluded her, and she avoided it. And both were happier that way…

She spent most of her adulthood seeking “evil”. She wanted to know if it was real. Not horror scenes, or blood and gore, but “Evil” in its truest form. It fascinated her. Compelled her. Defined and punctuated every moment. I know that feeling; I sought Truth with the same fervor. No wonder we were drawn together…

Until, at last, her mantra, repeated endlessly, was this: “we’re either here to serve Others, or we’re here to serve our Selves”. There could be no in-between. Life had shown her, there simply wasn’t anything else. At least nothing else that mattered. She believed she was here serving others; but the truth was, she was only here serving her Self…

I feared I was only serving my Self, but I killed mySelf trying to serve Others…

Some might say we both found what we sought.

Others might question if the friend is really someone else…?

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From Whence IT Came…

Odd title having nothing whatsoever to do with what I planned on writing, but that’s what came to me, so I choose to see it through. Maybe it will lead me somewhere unexpected…

IT…. There it is again. Always. Stuck right in the middle of things, as if it belongs. So tiny and nondescript, and yet so crucial to making any sense…

IT…

I’ve been having revelations. Epiphanies, really. Those moments of indescribable joy when everything suddenly makes sense! Those moments that occur so rarely that you want to scream about them from every rooftop, but when you try, the magic is lost. Personal Truths, a lifetime spent learning, falling on deaf ears and absolute silence. And you know…. Nobody else seems to get it!

IT…

Maybe it’s not for them to know. Or maybe it’s just not time yet….

Maybe they will get there on their own someday. Or maybe no one else ever will…

After All, who am I to question IT?

As I dig deeper into Truth (my truth, at least), the pieces I understand get smaller and smaller. Like a bubble contracting around Me. Not constricting so much as refining. Purifying. Becoming tiny. But carrying significantly more weight than before…

I was alone for so long. Until I became more than one. Until I became All – the whole world living as One. I felt it. I knew it. I was it. Me, a tiny drop of rain absorbed into a vast and endless sea. Of me’s…. And then I lost it!

Evaporated into a cloud that rained upon the earth, or cast out of a wave and hurled recklessly upon the beach…. And then I was alone again, only this time I was aware of all those like me, around me, so very much alike while living separately. And there were only moments…. Flashes…. Lightning striking when I remembered IT.

IT…

Time passes, illusion or not. We grow old, frail…. Maybe wiser as we age. We learn to listen more than we speak, to give more than we take. We learn to wait. If strength and vigor are wasted on the young who know not how to use their power, so, too, is patience wasted on the elders who lack the will to wield it.

IT…

Tiny pieces, dense and heavy with promise… careening through my mind… smashing through what remains of my resistance. Leaving my heart light at last. Even if no one else understands. Ever. I, at least, feel complete…

By George, I think I’ve got IT!

Recalled…

Today the past came calling in a dreadfully (yet exciting) day, when I found myself, quite literally, a few decades astray. For a time (pun intended) it was so real that “surreal” meant something other than the exotic rush such words are meant to convey; it became an apt descriptor of the times I found my Way!

I saw myself, I felt myself exactly as I was then. And just as suddenly I knew my self exactly as I am. There was no awakening accompanying this moment, no reflection…. No epiphany at all. Just a lifetime of remembering in an instant of total recall!

There was joy and sorrow, grief and regret, a happiness I still haven’t experienced yet. There was laughter tainted with madness, and tears diluted with grins. And a sense of belonging so deep in my be-ing, it choked on my definition of One.

I heard Her voice, I claimed her rage; I understood it as my own. I passed it on to others because I sensed it could be done. And when the terror rushed in, seeking its attention, I tossed it aside quite easily; a flick of the wrist, a tiny twist, and… poof… instantaneously gone!

But wait! No no no no no no… Back up! Rewind! Slo mo! Before I forget, I must admit… I must admit….

What?! Or when? Or why (always why)?!

Who is She and how… am I?

Too late! Too late… It echoes… Reverberates.

…

Now. What was it I was trying to say? Hmm…. Sorry. So sorry. I think…

I forget.

And far away… in distance? In time? An emotionless voice in a vacuum, a void…

“Sorry. So sorry. But this model’s been recalled.”

“I see dead people…”

I am surrounded by dead people, both consciously and adrift in the dream world. I keep trying to avoid them, but they are everywhere and every when. I close my eyes and am assaulted in every setting I devise, even when aware enough to change venues and times. I open my eyes to discover the dead are not far behind…

Why???

And then I hear that tiny voice echoing through my mind…

“I see dead people…”

And I remember the twist that rhymes…

(“Are you sure you’re still alive??!”)

“Good question,” I reply…

“You’re Alive?!”

“You’re alive?!” are the words most often spoken when the silence first breaks in my shadowed nook.

“So it would seem…,” my auto-response, offered with less certainty and sincerity than it looks.

“Where have you been?,” is always the next logical question.

But if we’re being rational, you might better ask, “when?”

“When have I been spending my time?”

“Why I’ve been searching the timelines, every now and then.

“Looking for… Some… thing, I guess, I can’t even define.”

“Are you well?,” they inquire with all good intent.

“I am coping,” I respond; of this much I am certain.

“Coping?… Just coping? Is that the best you can say?”

“Coping…. Yes, coping. I think that’s enough for today.”

Were you expecting some wisdom? Some enlightenment? Some hope?

Of those I have little, so it’s best just to “cope.“

Too many voices screaming in outrage…

Too many hearts bleeding in pain…

Too many slaves trying to escape all at once…

Too many Masters clamping down in response!

The world is trembling and tilting too much

Routine is my goal despite wrenching my guts!

Do you suppose there is some sort of cosmic Dramamine?

To help ease this motion sickness of universal unraveling…

Not that I’ve found yet, and I’ve been every-when

Searching for… some…. thing beyond my limited perception.

For Truth? Or escape? More likely Relief…

Something to ease this perpetual grief.

But, alas, it eludes me, this means to end suffering.

And my Master is calling my name once again.

Best get up and go while the going is still possible

Let delusion be my guide in this sea of impass-ibles.

“See you later,” I toss over my shoulder when leaving.

“Or not…,” I whisper to myself, expecting nothing

“You’re alive?!,” echoes softly as the silence creeps in

“Am I really?,” I have to ask my Self once again.

“Is this reality…? This existence… all that there is?

Or is Life itself just a ghost in a mirror?

Opinions are like assholes…

Everybody has one. And everybody is one, especially if you disagree with me or mine. Including me, of course. I am an asshole, too. More so these days than ever before…

You know, I’ve spent these last few months trying to write my resignation letter for work. Not that I’m in a position financially where I can actually quit (of course not!). But I like to think about it, to fantasize about it, to plan for it… just in case, you know? But the letter gets larger and longer in my mind, every day, expanding with each new “injustice” I face. It’s so long, in fact, that I wouldn’t even read it all now. And I wrote it!

“Just say, ‘I quit!’,” I tell myself. “That’s all they truly need to know…”

“Yes, but…,” I answer myself. “… I have so much more to say!”

“I have feelings and thoughts. I have opinions! And if I don’t speak them now, I will never get another chance! I don’t need that kind of regret in my life today!“

“Nobody cares, Lisa. Nobody is listening. Nobody wants to be enlightened here. Not even you!”

And that much is true, I know. Nothing will change as a result of my sharing. Not even me. Because, in spite of everything I’ve learned and done in my life, it is still all about me, me, me, me… It has always been about me. All of it! Every choice I’ve ever made. Every goal I’ve ever sought. Every “gift” I’ve ever given or received. Every debt I’ve ever owned. Every mistake I’ve ever made. Every sorrow I’ve ever claimed. Every regret ever expressed…(deep breath)…me, me, me! I, I, I…

I am al-one in my world. I am, quite simply put, me. As I have always, eternally, been. Alone. And every reflection I see “out there” only reinforces my point of view.

And that viewing angle narrows every day…

I used to applaud myself for my ability to embrace multiple points of view. To get into an’other’s perspective. To walk a while in their shoes… But I can’t really do that anymore. People have gone so far off the deep end that I can’t reach them anymore. It’s like everyone around me is speaking an entirely made up language of their own, and without the verbal and facial clues (I live in a mask mandated state, you know), I don’t stand a chance of interpreting what they’re saying! I just stare at them blankly and let them speak, until, in their frustration at not being heard, they turn ugly and intimidating. And then I walk away. Because what else can I do? Listening while not hearing them is not helping either of us; nor is it improving any of our moods…

I’ve given up… There is no “saving” any of us. But that’s just my opinion, of course…

And I’m an asshole these days. Just like everyone else!

I’m watching my physical body deteriorate, day by day, while I’m still trapped within it. I’m watching my society crumble around me, so corrupted that it cannot be salvaged, while I’m still trapped within it. I’m watching the very planet that gave me life suffer and die slowly (suffer so greatly and for so long!), and I’m still trapped upon it. And there is nothing I can do about any of it! No-thing! But watch. And withdraw. Into my own little point of view…

And everyone I know, whom I still respect, are slowly coming to that same conclusion…

Yes, opinions are like assholes, restricting my point of view. And if I can clench my butt cheeks any tighter in the tension of this moment, maybe I will no longer be able to even see any of you. And then maybe, just maybe, I can finish writing this damn letter…

So I can finally say, “I quit!” And well and truly mean it. So there is no lingering regret…

… when I turn and walk away.

Cleansing the Palate…

Suppose I told you this was all a dream. That none of it was “real.” Would you believe me?

Would you take such a statement at face value, or look for some “deeper” meaning? Would you suppose I was creating some allegory, or perhaps that I was claiming some easy cop-out to the bizarre narrative we live in today? How would you react?

I’m actually asking here. Not telling. I’m curious to know how you think. And feel…

Because the stories we tell our selves tell us so much about our selves. And I want to know you a little better than I do. I want to know where your hearts truly live. Where your minds truly wander. I want a glimpse (just a glance) behind the human mask you wear…

This is not about your culture, or your color. It’s not about your beliefs. I’m not interested in your history. I don’t need the distraction of your experiences. I just want to know you in this endless, infinite Now…

Could you show me that?

Would you?

I remember, a few decades ago, developing workshops on this very topic. “Self-Myths” I called them, the stories we tell of, to, and about ourselves. The roles we instinctively adopt and perpetuate. The means to an end, but also an end to the means. Self-limiting, restricting, biased in the extreme. And so often unconsciously (or at least subconsciously) embraced.

Imagine “waking up” to read the writing on the wall, recognizing (finally) that there are only shadows there. And all you have to do to “end” it all is turn around.

And face the fire…

What would you do?

***********************************************

That’s okay, you don’t have to answer that. I think I already know.

The real question here is, do you?

The Reckoning…

Sirens wail as the city burns. All around me violence seeks its voice. I am surrounded, and there is nowhere left to go. Outsiders came among us, altering the narrative, realigning the rules of engagement, redefining the very purpose of the Gathering. What started as a peaceful, legal protest, a desperate attempt to unify hearts and minds in common cause has, instead, become a threat to our very existence…

Mobs roam the streets now, comprised of locals willing (even eager?) to be corrupted. They loot. Not just corporate white America, but local Mom and Pop stores, too, ripping out the very roots of our sense of community. Shots are fired at both ends of my street. One of the houses here burns. I have friends willing to come and evacuate us, but why bother? The hatred is everywhere; the sense of entitlement pervasive. There is nowhere safe in this city tonight. There is nowhere safe in this country tonight. There may be nowhere safe in this world anymore…

Yet I feel no fear…

The time of the Reckoning is Now. And I am as “prepared” as I will ever be. So bring it on, already. And let’s get this over with…

*** *** ***

Days later and my feelings haven’t changed. If anything, they have solidified. The sun rises and sets, commerce begins its slow grinding efforts toward reopening, the daily gristmill calls me from my home under dire threat of what might happen if I refuse to answer it. And yet none of it truly matters. It’s like background noise, static on the line… leaving your radio or tv on, but not really engaging in either. For I have seen my Self, have learned my truth, and I can no longer hide behind my ignorance. But can I explain it to you?

Hmm…

Why should I want to?

Because… because I want a record of this moment, even if I never get to review it. Because I want a chance to explain myself before I resort to silence. Because my Ego demands acknowledgment of its existence, before it gives up the reins. Because my heart cries out its final resistance before it submits to my purpose.

So be it, then… I will speak my truth and see where it leads, and where it follows…

I know two things now. I was young once. And now I’m not. I am a crone. And with that knowledge comes a knowing of its own…

Long, long ago, before I was even human, I made a decision. I stood for a cause. I chose a side. I decided to aid the humans I had been assigned to merely observe. And by doing so, I betrayed those to whom I owed some sense of fealty, if only by virtue of sharing some species-specific DNA. I turned my back on “my own kind” to support the underdog. It was a path taken of my own free will, with eyes open and heart heavy. It was a decision I hoped to never regret. Until I did…

Idealism is a luxury of the young, and young at heart. But with lifetimes between me and then, and with crone-hood firmly weighing down these all-too-human shoulders now, I realize that the “wisdom” of aging is really no more (or less) than the acceptance of Life on Life’s terms. There is no room for judgement left. There is no time for waffling between what I want to be true, and what is. In fact, time itself no longer exists when every moment is Now. It is, quite simply, what it is. Period…

Which is not the same as saying that Change cannot occur, because it most certainly can, and will! Of that I am quite sure! For Change has proven to be the only other constant I have found in my experience. But I will not be the one to direct its course. Not anymore.

The other constant I have come to recognize is Balance, for the Universe itself seeks it through all times. And through Time itself. For what is Time if not the greatest equalizer ever devised, devious and supreme, and triumphant always?! Time is the Great Delusion by which all “things” are measured. Time is what defines us in our separate realities, but Time itself is not real. The irony is both appalling and awe-inspiring. For it is Time that has brought me back to my own beginning, so that I may experience, first-hand my own ending.

And yet… I shall not end.

Stepping away from Time shall make me time-less, aka immortal. For that is my true destiny, as it is for each of you…

So how does any of this relate to the riots raging just beyond my line of sight? How does this understanding alter my course? How do I reconcile then and now?

Simple math really. Connecting the dots. If I chose a side before, then Now I must not!…

Sides and causes are for idealists, not realists. Balance teaches me what I always knew (and thought I understood), but never truly owned until the endless Now. Opposites not only support one an’Other in their mutual existence, but in fact, actually create each other! Shadow would not exist but for the light that gives it form; light would not be but for the darkness it can banish. Each contains within its self the seed and sustenance of its own destruction! And with Time having absolutely no relevance, it matters not which comes first. Or last. They come into existence together, like the splitting of an atom. Or the division of a cell in living form…

By choosing sides I become a mirror of, and for, my “enemy.” I manage to create an enemy of equal passion, equal power, equal determination. “Power up,” (advantage) may alter over time, but such changes are always temporary. For Balance will always assert itself, eventually, and Change will always occur. And Time… [laughing]… Time does not exist!

The only way to win this war is not to fight the battles!

I know this will not be a popular stand to take. I don’t truly expect any others to agree. Of course I have feelings about what is occurring! I have a sense of right and wrong, as well as a grasp of moral ambiguity. I know what I personally believe. But that is just opinion now, and there are way too many of those flailing violently about! This world doesn’t need mine. It likely never did, though the youthful One I identified with would not so easily admit that. What this world “needs” is less of Me, and significantly more Neutrality!

I am done with fighting my self…

So if you come to me, bloody and broken, I will not ask what politics you embrace before tending to your wounds. If you come to destroy me as a symbol of your strength, I will not oppose you. Nor will I martyr my Self. I am Nothing, no thing of consequence to you or any Other.

I am a crone. A grandmother. My role as such is simply to accept. And to love. Unconditionally. Without favor or expectation, but with a fierceness that defines who (or what) I have become!

My reckoning has arrived. And all my choices are behind me…

The Other…

I see you…

I see the struggle you undertake every day.

I see the smiles you fake along the way.

I see the haunted looks you hide

and the tears you haven’t cried.

I see you…

I hear you…

I hear the words you say

and the ones you’ll never speak

I hear the strength that’s gone,

your voice now tremulous and weak.

I hear you…

I feel you…

I feel your pain in the day to day

I feel the joy that slipped away.

I feel your fear that nothing will change

I feel the certainty that we’ve lost this game.

I feel you…

I know you…

I know what makes you different

I know what makes us the same.

I know where you are headed

I know because I’m going that way.

I know you…

My Other isn’t other

Any more than I’m my Self.

Interchangeable…

Unique…

Separate…

But together.

I am Me.

I am We.

I am…

Quite simply

Every thing.

Lie to me…?

Everybody lies…

Including me.

That being said, I have to wonder why it bothers me so much? Is it the kind of lie that gets to me, or the reason for lying? Or is it merely my pride balking at the idea that you think you’re “getting away” with something because I’m too naive or gullible to question it? I don’t know. Honestly…

I mean, there are simple “white lies,” usually meant to protect someone’s feelings. Unimportant in the larger scheme of things, or so we tell ourselves. And yet somehow they are “important” enough to justify themselves. Because not telling them would cause harm to someone. Or so we believe… (And that is quite likely the truth!)

There are “lies of omission,” when we could tell the truth, but we don’t. We imply things, tell half-truths, but shy away from telling the whole truth. And usually we do that to protect ourselves. Because we don’t want to be judged. Or because we fear the consequences of being judged.

Yeah, I could tell my boss I was late today because I was shopping online, but why bother? I told him I was going to be late, he didn’t ask why, so I gave no excuse at all. Would there have been work consequences if I told the whole truth? Probably not. But he would have thought less of me, perhaps felt disrespected because I thought shopping was more important than doing the job he hired me for. But it’s unlikely I would have faced any “real” consequences. So I left a blank slate between us; no harm done, to the relationship or my sense of integrity…

Lies of omission are good for avoiding embarrassment as well. Could my friend have told me she was headed out for a possible late night booty call with a stranger? Of course! Not my place to judge her, and there’s nothing “wrong” with her wanting such, but still… Is that something she wants to openly admit? Apparently not. Better to say she’s “going out to coffee with a friend.” That way, regardless of how it turns out, there are no awkward follow-up questions, no voicing of concerns or friendly warnings, no attempts at explaining desires, and no fear of “I told you so” if it goes poorly.

And then there are the unintended lies, those told for expediency’s sake, but never meant to be untruthful. Like my boss promising me a different job within the company. He always meant to fulfill that promise. But it’s been more than five years now, a hundred “excuses” later, and I’m no closer to that job than I was when it was first promised to me. I’ve lost my old job, and now they’re making up busy work for me to do, just to keep me around. Still not the job I’ve been waiting for.

Are lies the necessary consequence of living in community? Or is the truth enough to really set us free? I’ve not seen a lot of truth living in communal circumstances, but I have seen a lot of hurt arise from it. Even if that truth is only what I admit to myself…

People call me gullible because I so easily accept people as they present themselves. That doesn’t mean I cannot see what lies beneath the lies they tell themselves. The truth is, I accept the version of reality that someone else chooses to show or tell me because it’s not my place, usually, to correct them. We all live in a fantasy of our own creation. Who am I to spoil your delusion?

Seriously…

I have my own delusions, too. Including the one that tells me you’re lying to my face, intentionally or otherwise. Even if you aren’t. According to you…

So go ahead and lie to me. It’s what we do. It’s what we want. Even if it’s only because I want someone to blame when the truth seeps through, and reality becomes a glaring, blinding, painful thing to witness. Comfort me with an alternative fact, however absurd, so I can tell my Self that I’m ok.

It’s ok… Really.

Everybody lies, after All…