Friday, October 13, 2006

"Why do we hurt the people we care about? Why do we find pleasure in pain... "

"And we cut ourselves first, sometimes deeply ---in order to receive some grace... and some morphine. "


Life is so odd. We brave the waters of life, and we fall for the unseen. Then many times in our lives, we find that when we fall, no one is there to catch us. Or worse, people that we least expect hurt us deeply, whether intentionally or not. We hurt at times by man-created acts, though other times we also get hurt by natural causes. Regardless though, in spite of endless rationalizations of "maybe he/she/it did this because of this or that" or "your tragedy happened because," the pain is equally real.

And so we rage, sometimes like a kid does when his toy, his "object of affection", is taken away from him (Yes, I admit. This is more poignant in my life; but mind you, do not deny >:)). We pout, we shout, we stomp our feet in indignation, as an act of rebelliousness, ---we cry. We hate. We repel every ounce of pain. We punch back into thin air.

Sometimes though we shrink into our own shells. We hide away. We close the doors, in a room where it is utterly dark, but nevertheless a room which cannot hurt us. We shut off, and run away from the rest of the world. We close our eyes on everything else. We disappear...

...I disappeared. Yet, I was content. I was satisfied with what I have. It did not matter anymore that I do not have what I cherished the most. In fact, not much really mattered, if there was anything at all that did. Sure, I was content alright,... but at the end of the day, I felt broken. Nothing, no one, no more can give me back what I wanted, what I needed, what I truly desired. A chronic case of long, very long tantrum, I guess. (:))

I believe though that while we react to situations differently, we all have displayed this kind of tantrum, a withdrawal from reality, an escape from it all. I see a lot of unhappy people. And if you would allow me to say, I think that these people (me included) are putting up "tantrums" in their own ways. Maybe violently banging at the walls at times, but most times we just silently rage.


However, in the round-about, twists and turns of things, something unique happens when the clouds disappear should you in your shell decide to feel the weather outside, and put your little antennae out there.

When once you felt the drag, you now see beauty;
When once you sink into deeper death, now you rise;

It is a decision; it is as choice
To choose life over death
To choose to brave the waters again;
To somehow love... again.

But pride (or ego) has it's own way of restricting us. It is definitely a human trait to be proud. To somehow be self-righteous. To not give in, nor bow down. But if we continue to thrive on this kind of attitude, we will eventually wither... We can very well raise our fist and curse the world, but what good would this do?

Fortunately, there is an alternative. We must know how to overcome the pain be letting it in (as Morrie said). We must choose to weather the storm and come out to see the day. And, least of all, we must have a sense of humility to acknowledge that we do not have all the answers, that we are not complete ourselves. We need each other (include the universe and all in it), and we are all in this together. It is the one final act in rebirth to acknowledge one's own limitation and understand one's place in the whole "thing-y."

Using my teacher's famous three words--- "LET-IT-BE!"

Just let it be. Sometimes, it is just this, this thing they call GRACE, this true acceptance of your own self and your own place, that opens yourself up to goodness, and the new visions of a better place.


At 1:56 PM, Blogger Pitsaleh said...

Wish I could heed your words of wisdom friend, learn to accept reality for what it is and begin the process of getting back to normality once again- but this is no fairy tale: there won't be any riding into the twilight to live happily ever after. Mine I imagine is more a Shakespearian end, that is, when it is all said and done all lie dead on the stage (or miserable).

Except there is beauty in my misery (or so I've managed to convince myself).

PS. I’ll opt for counting crows- too much mess involved smashing pumpkins.


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