Thursday, October 9, 2008

Making Peace...

In my last entry, I wrote about feeling intense rage towards a God I don't even believe exists. There is a residue of the God I was raised with, the ideals I attributed towards this personage and my expectations of him. They were all in my mind, of course, as well as the collective conscious of the Jehovah's Witness group I belonged to. It seems strange for me now to be making peace with a God that I don't even believe is real. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I am making peace with my previous conceptions of the Divine. It is a letting go of any expectations I had of this ideal.

And I think of how often we rage against ideals. How often I have set up my own "gods"--my parents being the prime examples. As children we deify our parents; we give them otherworldly abilities, as well as high expectations. And inevitably, they fall short. How could they not?

I realize that making peace with my parents, with God, with my past, is about healing the illusions, about letting go of what was never real to begin with. It is about allowing the events and people to be just as they are. This happened. That happened. She did this. He did that. If I take out all the emotional overlay about what should have happened or was supposed to happen or what could have happened, all that is left is what is. And what is, is neutral. Without all the emotional overlay and judgment, there is a just a retelling of events. And once you can get to that place, there is peace. The suffering subsides. It becomes just another chapter in the life of.

This blog has been filled with emotional overlay and judgment and what I wish could have happened and feel should have happened. I let it all unfold in real time. I hope it stands as a testimony to the insanity of the mind while it's in process. It has been said that one must tell their story until they don't need to tell their story anymore. I'm getting pretty bored with the story. It's why I haven't written as much of late. Sure, I still get pretty triggered up at times. And there is always something lurking in the subconscious waiting to be processed. But it matters less and less to me. It passes through me much easier and faster now. There is a greater and greater letting go.

Not much matters. It never did.

tall penguin


Anonymous said...

You have a case of Wile E. Coyote syndrome. A bad one. You, and almost everyone else, have been employing all manner of scheme to catch your Roadrunner. You are past the stage where your Acme rocket has given out and you fall to the bottom of a 100,000 foot deep canyon. You seem to be at the stage when, from out of your little impact crater, you hold up the sign on a stick that reads "OUCH!". They never showed in the cartoon how the coyote managed to climb up and start all over; couldn't have been easy.

The roadrunner always seemed nice enough to me. He didn't seem averse to being caught but he did not like the means by which he was chased. OK, the assumption was that the coyote wanted to eat the roadrunner, but let's set that aside.

Where the metaphor falls apart is that now you've give up your Acme rockets, gods, huge slingshots, and other unreliable roadrunner catching aides. Catching your dreams must seem an insurmountable task bereft of them.

I wonder if the coyote just set out a chair and a glass of wine would the roadrunner just show up and stay.



tall penguin said...

Well Dan,

I do quite like the Wile E. Coyote analogy and found myself both tearing up and laughing at the connections.

"Catching your dreams must seem an insurmountable task bereft of them."

Yes. It's an amazing accomplishment that I'm even allowing myself to have dreams. Meeting them is a whole other thing.

"I wonder if the coyote just set out a chair and a glass of wine would the roadrunner just show up and stay."

I wonder the same thing myself. I guess it's worth a try. Now, to choose, red or white? :)

huntingviolet said...

I understand. Truly, I do. I am still stranded in between the outside of JWism and the inside, not even sure where I stand or where I belong. Do I swallow my anger and hurt, or...? Stay here for the love of my community?
The elders and my parents didn't quite mock me for my rage, but they came pretty damn close. After all, what had God ever done to me, how could I be so ungrateful?

My rage towards God is merely towards the ideal, and it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I could NEVER make that ease. I tried, with absolute terror. And I felt that if I could believe in a different kind of God,that perhaps I could love Him/Her with my whole being.
But not that ideal that I'd grown up with.
I understand that you don't waste your time with JW trolls, but I'm just a troll. :)