Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Honesty

Wow. It's coming at me from all angles in this moment. Kids, adults, interpersonal, in groups. I am set to learn what it is to hold court with someone who appears to be intentionally withholding and even deceiving in order to meet their needs.

I have never had difficulty with a lie now and then. I could see the needs the words attempted to meet, my heart open to the beauty of the soul that feared honesty for the pain it could bring. I delighted to find such ease here while I watched others struggle with trigger and judgment.

Now it's my turn. I don't feel triggered so much as wary. I am sad that when I hear or remember stories that now I question, I do not trust what is being spoken in the moment, to me or anyone else, to be authentic. I am aware that I don't feel connected anymore, that my heart is not moved with the person's words in that delight of shared experience. Lonely. It's a moment of loneliness, for me, and I imagine, for them -- particularly if they have checked in with my trust level.

Words that move the heart are the ones I speak of. When we feel the softest parts of ourselves touched by the artful speech of another and then later question whether the speaker was aware of deceiving... what can be trusted? Is this dilemma representative of our challenge to balance ourselves upon what is Real within and not be fooled by any of the cloaks of delight or defeat this world offers us in material experience?

I have been seeking compassion for souls, connection with the light within despite such painful refractions. In this moment, I am feeling compassion for our plight as a whole, struggling with being present and authentic in the face of our human experience which we cannot possibly achieve full unity and understanding in using our bodily senses.

I have no answers. I have not yet dug deep. That is coming.

Just letting you know... it's way up there on the to-do list.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

K-girl,

It would seem that as soon as we try to make sense of it all, the waves come in and take away the castles. The power that we are is in the moments that are crowded out by trying to see the moments. But the process of seeing and hearing and feeling shapes into us and the wave is altered in its course of washing us away.

It is very hard. We hurtle through life, changing in the very moment we understand the change and lose contact and regain it with those we share life with as if all is flickering around us. I know so many people who take snapshots to put up in the walls of their hearts and minds to say, "this was me." There are those who also shun all decoration, saying, "it is all not me and might not have been me."

I am more and more aware that most of the people I care about, have cared about, are dead, and what I have left is the altered waves of the beaches that they changed. I think that what we must do is just to try to stay on the speeding train, but also to honor the leaves flying up in our wakes, to try to be there, but also to be aware of where we have been.

You have lived two lifetimes in two years. If you feel a little breathless, take a breath!

I told Seda to look at Trin next to the other boys and she agreed, that, for a boy of 8, he is most enlightened. And you already know how enlightened Sam is. But they would not be there, were it not for hitchhiking with mom.

I'll be curious to see the castle--I hope I can see it before the next wave washes it back to sea.

Well, the words never make sense to me even as they make sense to me. Ah, such is life. But the decoration--ah, the decoration. I love watching the dance of your life and being there, in your kitchen, in your garden, in the library, which are now just pictures in my memory, but so what? I was there, you were there and tomorrow we'll see.

I have great, great hopes for your tomorrows, my friend. My life is enriched because of you. Thinking of what Trin or Kristin are doing is a wonderful snapshot in my life's album.

love and hugs to come,
a