If you’re like me, you always have that knawing question inside…what is the reason I’m here? They tell me I should have stopped asking long ago, that only adolescents can permit themselves the luxury of existential questions; when we grow up, we’re supposed to know the answers, or at least have accepted our fate whether we understand or not. Well, I guess I’m still in full adolescence because every morning when I wake up, I ask myself what my mission is; what am I supposed to do to make a difference?
No one wants life to pass by without meaning. We come into the world with certain data installed in our DNA; or maybe its our sunsign, our parents and culture that form us. Could it be that our soul was already in agreement to take on the task laid out for us down here? I read a book about a woman who had a life-after-death experience. She was taken into the next world and taught that all of us agree with our Devine Creator to come with a certain destiny. She says our spirit chooses whatever will make it stronger through the school of life, and the harships are all par to the course. But when we are born, our memory is erased, and we are given free will to choose to follow the course we agreed to, or not.
It seems to me a bit like the Treasure Hunt game.When you’re hot, I mean making the right decisions, your soul feels it and the inner compass is right on point; you have inner peace. When you’re cold, far from what you came to do here, the soul is like a flower without water. Somewhere down inside, we know we’re off track; depression, anger, frustration.
So, perhaps it is a bit of both; predetermined destiny that is subject to our free will. Make sense? In any case, my inner compass or belief system tells me I’m on course when I love, forgive, have compassion and forget about myself in favor of someone else. And each step down that pathway, no matter where I’m traveling or who I’m with, brings me closer to the answer of the knawing question…what am I doing here?
He said he was the Son of God. Either He was crazy, or it was the truth. Is there anyone else who has had more impact on human society? Perhaps he suffered from one of those mental disorders when somone thinks he’s God, or maybe not. In our human logic, its easier to list him together with the other messengers and prophets, anyway, why was he any different than Buddha or Mohammed? It just makes sense to leave him in that category so we don’t have to challenge our intellects with impossible to rationalize issues such as miracles and child-like faith.
So, what was the deal with his dying on the cross? Was it bad Kharma from another life-time or an invention of the ancient Church heirarchies to subdue the people with tales of death and ressurection? Did all of that really happen, I mean the sky growing dark and the earth shaking, the ghosts of the dead walking the streets at the moment of his death? Scientifically, its inexplicable.
But when has faith needed science to prove its power? Like anything else, you’ve got to try it to know if it works. And if it does, then you don’t really care how it works, you just take it on! Jesus; powerful stuff! I’m not talking about religion here, I’m talking about a man who prophesied his own death and resurrection, whose followers ignited a movement so radical it couldn’t be tamed by force, and only came into submission after 300 years when it was converted into another traditional religion to be managed by man and his desire for power.
And even today, 2000 years later, the free spirited believers who personally experienced something too amazing to dispute when they pronounced His name, are fervently telling the world that He is still very much alive. Do they suffer from that demencia? Or is the same devine essence at work today? With all of our sophisticated knowledge, simple, heart-felt belief is still at the crux of true spirituality and if healing, in all of its forms (physical, emotional), is possible through belief, don’t you think its worth a try?
As I look out of the kitchen window onto the rugged foothills of the Andes, the wind blowing softly in a giant eucalyptus and the midget pines planted in a row of soldierlike sentinels along the sides of the driveway, my thoughts return to the busy-ness of New York City. There is a place for me here, in these hills. It was a startling reality at first, coming back to a relationship I didn’t know would work and a land where I am not a citizen, but only a resident. New York leaves its mark, like the steaming brand on an oxen. Which brand is the deepest? The years of travel and discovery in strange lands where I have pulled up roots time after time or my last two years in New York?
Now, I start again. I walk through the new landscape of emotions as if to avoid landmines. I stop to examine the pathway ahead and pull out instructions from the archives filed away in my memory…”don’t go back that way, its a dead end.” My belief system tells me that until I can be happy everywhere, I won’t be happy anywhere. After all, one day I will be drawn into the next dimension and all that matters is to pass into that place knowing I embraced life with no holds barred. Lets turn that corner, see whats on the other side and keep on walking.
Change; dying a little to live a lot. “Let’s not pretend that things will change if we keep doing the same things.” Albert Einstein
Posted by asophiad | Filed under Travel
Two years ago, I came back to live in New York, after many years abroad. Actually, I hadn’t ever lived in my home town as a adult, much less known what it was like to be swept along every morning with the vast number of work-forcers making our daily pilgrimage to Manhattan. We take trains, ferries, subways and those endless escalators where one is but an ant along with thousands of other ants climbing into the bowels of Manhattan.
Now, although I’ve grown to love it, I’m leaving again for a while. My bedroom is a vast pile of collectibles, some usless and others invaluable, all mixed together for the final selection. Its time to stop putting it off and take to task the painstaking drudgery of going through every scrap of paper, item and old pair of jeans. I’ve never liked to pack. Maybe its because I hate to say goodbye. Now, like a squirrel in fall, I’m examining each item; “this yes, that no”. The pile of junk is growing larger, filling up the garbage bags that will go out on the corner in the morning. The pile of things to pack, gets smaller. By the way, how the h… did I collect all this junk?
And on to change! Its an exciting and yet sometimes terrifying word that calls for cracking open the inner safe and bringing out new tools for expansion and renewal. Sometimes it hurts. But after the pain, new life is born. Just as the birth of a child or for that matter, the beginning of any important venture; it means death to something old and new life in return. I’m ready, bring it on!