As One Door Closes
Seated on the ground,, anti-social tendencies struggled to understand how letting six billion other people see the skeletons in my closet was helpful. I barely had the time, energy and resources to deal with them alone let alone other people’s inevitable judgments, criticisms and resentments. Yet I had been sent back for a purpose and people did exist in that world whether I like it or not.
Frustrated, I turned to blame for help. As if sports fishing, I tested my rod of blame by catching a couple of fish, then tossed them back into the stream of life. Happy that I didn’t have to get my fingers dirty gutting them, I cast my psychic finger at everybody who’d let me down in town, the country, the whole planet and lifetimes (past, present and future). It was so easy to point and cast – a little too easy! What would I do after the last fish had been caught? Then I saw it!
A lone figure sat on the shore happily casting his rod of blame, while the big fish always remained uncaught – and no it wasn’t called Wanda, it was ME! Why had I said everyone and not just ‘them’? Because I was ‘them’, I knew that now! Besides, selecting who and who not to choose took valuable energy away from me. And it didn’t feel right. Turning my psychic finger on myself, I wriggled like a caught fish; laughing, crying and dying in one fatalistic moment of clarity. Blame was simply doing what blame did best: avoiding the real issue! If anyone was to blame for what had happened to my life it was me; no one else. There was nothing wrong with the tool other than the hypocritical ‘tool’ expecting it to not blame himself! But how many other tools was I ‘conveniently’ misusing?
Humbled to the core, I got up, dragged my weary carcass to the corner and waited. Out of the ether, the dealer I’d been on the run from appeared. Why couldn’t the Universe just leave me alone, at least for one minute? Why was it always after me? What’d I done to it? I wanted to run, but was so tired of running. At least that was what I initially thought. The reality was I didn’t have the darkness to hide behind in broad daylight. Now others could see me for who I really was. Utterly fed up with myself, I stopped. Not knowing where to turn, large energetic hands seized me in a firm yet loving grip and marched me over to him. I struggled a little until surrendering to a power greater than myself. I was ready to take my beating and get it over with.
Through frightened eyes, I couldn’t even look at him. Instead, I unconsciously fished in my pockets and handed over some money. Thinking I’d paid him off like the others before, I turned to leave. Then something was placed in my hand. Confused, I saw a baggie of crystal. Striving to understand what it all meant, a gray veil burst into flames setting my entire mind on fire. Images and sounds of his angry, snarling face burned away revealing nothing more than a simple smile. Too shocked to move, I bowed my head in respect for him not treating me like everyone had, like I’d wanted and expected them to. He’d simply exchanged the money for drugs. The fact that it was so ordinary made it so special at the same time. He hadn’t given in to my fears. He’d done only what he needed and wanted to do and nothing more. It didn’t get any simpler than that. Within seconds he was gone, probably on to new business deals and/or souls to save.
Feelings of peace and quiet tempered the shame of being so weak and afraid. Others approached, but for once I chose to keep what had happened between me and him a secret. Surprisingly, those who’d profited from my fears before now stood revealed. Yet now they were easier to deal with. Instead of doing what was expected of me and hating them, I brushed aside my thoughts of them needing to hate me and offered to smoke them up. And so the pleaser was reborn. Armed with a pocketful of cash, I went on a pleasing spree trying to make up for the past. Within days even the rent money was gone. I’d told them it’d happen, but they wouldn’t listen.
Now, I was faced with a new harsh reality: get a new home or end up homeless. I thought about it for a while and came to the surprising conclusion that I had a choice to make. Live in a world with a home that didn’t seem to be working for me or live in a new world with one, but with new friends. Another positive was they at least appeared more genuine and ‘honest’ than most of regular people I’d met. I mean a liar who lied all the time was at least being honest to his nature like the scorpion that stung was. How many normal people could say that about themselves? Not too many. Most people wore their social image like their Sunday best, but the rest of the week lived in a state of AWOL. Either way, I just wanted to stop running from myself – that was all.
There were many reasons to have a home, but did that mean we had to work like slaves for them? Why did I have to work so hard for a place I spent most of my time away from anyway? Something wasn’t right. We’d allowed ourselves to be lulled into some form of sleep or deception over the course of thousands of years. That was the problem with evolution though, it could creep up on you and be passed on from generation to generation and you wouldn’t even notice it They were much like Richard Dawkins’ memes of jobs, culture, tradition even marriage. Being homeless wasn’t necessarily the answer either, but I had to start somewhere.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust others – they might’ve even be right, but only by knowing what was real for myself could I truly understand what wasn’t and then understand how to trust. With a renewed sense of purpose and a little knowledge of the dangers ahead, I turned away from security made false because it wasn’t working for me to rebuild myself from the inside out. On a higher level, I was a vehicle of consciousness having its journey and reporting back my findings to a Meta-Being and God He/She/Itself. Maybe I was mad. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, it was better than avoiding life in the stale confinements of a hotel room trying to live a life of others.
© Michael J. Varma, The Gong Show, 2011 –
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