It is a profound truth in its purest form. Every human is a reflection of the divine whether we, through our warped lenses, can readily make out that image. It is the baseline of how we treat one another regardless of the clutter and chaos between us. I have what a friend once called a “dark gift,” that is, a bullshit meter, and coupled with my uneven maturation it can blind me in relationships. I look out, and I see people, and in doing so, I can hold up a shield when their knowing glance comes back toward me. Call it projection or deflection; it thwarts connection. The protection is not flimsy; its strength is from years of the melding of sorrow, fear, vigilance mixed with strength, resilience, and courage. It has served me well, especially in my youth, a beautiful and necessary role, but in my mid-life, it often cuts off the light of others leaving only the dark shadow of their edges as it diffuses my light, leaving others only able to see shades of who I might be. I read the dark edges as tea leaves like a half-blind diviner and conjure tales of rejection and disdain, even disgust at times. All while refusing vulnerability to the other. There are times it feels like a superpower, and in truth, it can be just that, but only when I let the light through in the present moment allowing theirs to pierce and melt and mine to shine freely without fear of its effect. To look for the light and be the light. To breath the freedom of that light. To read the darkness in the clarity of truth from their light and mine, seeing and being seen.
What I'm Thinking
“And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous and humbling and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground at our own feet, and learn to be at home.”