A couple of decades ago, when my life had become as
miserable as I was willing to allow, and my concurrent realization
that I was not going to be allowed to die, I found wise council and
began my long journey out of the abyss. At the point of surrender,
I was entirely willing to turn my life over to the care of a Higher
Power. Or any power that was willing to have it. Little
did I know, that did not mean I had no responsibility for my actions.
In the early days of the ascent, if I should have
cause to lament, "Life is not fair!", those wise ones
would say,
"No. It isn't fair. And you should be damned
grateful that it is not; and for the fact that you have not always
gotten what you deserved." They suggested contemplating
how often Providence had meted Mercy, rather than Justice.
Well, who could argue with that? I had skated
through life leaving a swath of debris as wide as the Arctic Ocean, yet
seldom did I get a ticket for littering.
At a certain point, I was able to speak with some
certainty about my "spiritual awakening". It had come in forms
both blindingly clear, and subtle as silk. I recognized it, though, as
that experience something like euphoria, that lifted my spirits and gave
me to feel that I was at one with all Life. Everything that is, I am. It
came always, at a point of surrender to What Is.
It has been a while since I felt that. Yet, there
is a quietness within me now, more or less constant, though it
sometimes gets obscured by my efforts to blend into the pattern of life
among "normal" humans. Less and less, I feel the ecstatic
condition. Never
have I experienced it in a social situation.
More and more, I begin to suspect that perhaps Life
IS fair. I can't get away with anything, anymore.
Just the other day, I remarked about the
insecurity of a person I had considered a friend, but who had turned out
to be a competitor, erecting imaginary obstacles in my path. So it
appeared, at the time.
Within two days of making that judgment about
someone else, I came face-to-face with my own fears and inadequacies.
Oh, sure. I had paid lip service to
"empathizing" with the offender, but secretly, I resented the
supposed slights I had suffered. Slights that went straight to my
ego.
"Insulting to my intelligence"
was the way I chose to describe the behavior. Lies. I detest lies,
primarily because I have a big head, and I think that attempts at
deception are disrespectful, depriving me of the right to make decisions
based on complete information. I think I would rather take a
beating than be lied to. Deep down, I harbor certain
inadequacies about my intellect. That is a fool's game.
And so, my lesson for the week was about judging
other people. A rap on the head, reminding me that what I hate, I
am destined to become. Nor is it my business to think about someone
else's karma. My own is just plenty sufficient to occupy me.
That's only fair.
amused
