I used to think that with more knowledge
and experience would, of course, come
more understanding. Certainly I achieved
a sense of understanding from work and
practice, but the perspective I had wasn't
necessarily legitimate just because my
assertions were so vigorous.
Now, every day I realize how truly little
I know. I feel a mix of dread, confusion,
fear, vulnerability, and aloneness infused
in every moment. The sense of security
and comprehension that I held, which
provided me with a false safety of being
'tied in' or understanding things, is no more.
Yet there is no new belief system to take
its place. Not anything concrete, at least.
I do understand now why people believe in
the same God as others......why people
are glad to be a part of established groups
and rituals......why people cover up their
feelings and secrets.....why people work
and stay busy and avoid dwelling on problems.
I understand the need to put on a strong
front and smile.....to release the interest in
others' decisions and focus on self....to help
rather than talk about what's wrong.....to
push past emotion and do the work at hand.
But I still don't know how to reconcile any of
this with who I am meant to be, who I can be,
or who I want to be.
I still don't feel I have a place in the world,
no matter where I go or what I do.
I try to put forth offering and service, I pray
for guidance and help, and still what I feel
is struggle and discontent.
Is this what life is; simply maintaining and
surviving the ebb and flow? I know everyone
suffers, everyone has a past, everyone has
problems and wants and needs. But with all
of us fighting to pretend how easy we have it,
resisting connection, and avoiding our true selves,
how do we ever find the answer?
I continue to search. I no longer see tiredness
and emotions and confusion and unrequited love
as detriments to life experience. Maybe the
quest for understanding is as much understanding as
we ever really achieve.
There is no simple answer, even though the answer is a lot simpler than we expect. The issue is that, in reality, no matter how much it might seem like the same answer for others, it is always tailored individually. Looking right past it is generally the practice because it seems so trivial in comparison to complicated appearance of everything else that is available. Who we are, the true us, is up for grabs, every day. Nothing is written in stone, even if preserving that elusive notion is where most of our efforts lie. Each day holds a million different things to take notice of, though we only have the capacity to observe but a fraction. But through what we choose to observe, and how we observe it, carries the definition of the character that interfaces with life for that day. And no two days are the same.
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