Knowing But Not Knowing
It's crazy, how long it takes us to admit what we know, and once we do admit it, to act on it. That can take our whole lifetime.
For me, so far, it's taken about half of it. That is, assuming I live to 80. Who knows. That sounds great, and also terrible. It depends on how I choose to live the next 40 years of my life. Or more. Or less.
Will I open my heart? Will I invite people close to me, and share my true self with them, or will I keep that inner part of me for myself and my husband only?
Will I have friends in my older years? Will I have people who care about me? Or will I be abandoned, as I feel I'm abandoning my parents in their older years?
Will love be just an idea, a catchphrase, or will it truly be the way I live? Will it be just the romantic love that is easy when you're in the lavender haze with a new mate, or will it be that kind of all-encompassing, agape love – the love for humankind. The love, as well, for oneself, as for others. To love a stranger as much as your own brother.
This is the point I find myself at now – time to make some real choices. Time to follow through on some real choices. No more backing down. No more negotiating, or see-sawing with myself. No more indecision, or weighing the risks vs. the gains – measuring the worth of a venture by how much pain I can tolerate, how much I can suffer. That's not for me anymore. It hasn't been for a long time, but I wasn't willing to know it yet. Sure, I could jabber about it, but to actually act on it was another thing altogether.
In spiritual growth you keep lapping yourself. You're back at the start line – you say, geez, I've been here before, what the hell. I have to do THIS again? Yet it's always different – I'm better now, stronger now, this isn't so intimidating. You're wiser, have better technique and strategy. You have better confidence in yourself that you can do it (and aren't going to die) and better faith that you'll be given assistance when you need it.
You keep coming back, feeling at least a bit discouraged that you're not as far along as you thought you were, but it's always a different you. Sometimes you even see yourself in very clear contrast from how you were to how you are now, and that provides greater enlightenment. You make realizations, and even breakthroughs. You never want to go back to the starting line, but sometimes you just have to.
Now there's an even bigger lap I have to make: I have to bolt from these starting blocks, into some dense fog, not knowing what's in there. It's always an unknown, but this time, it's very dense. I've been warned – I may run into some obstacles. Perhaps there are some hurdles left on the track. Perhaps some potholes. Perhaps someone took their dog for a walk, who did her business on the track, and that's waiting right in my lane. No matter what it is, I must still go 100%, give it my all, and have faith that whatever comes my way I can handle. This could be the hardest lap yet, but at least I'm conditioned for it now. I'm apprehensive, and a little scared, but mostly very interested on what's in there – what is this big unknown I've been hiding from myself, and has been hindering my progress? Will it turn out to be catastrophic? Or nothing, a joke? Will it be traumatic and upend my whole life? Or will it be gentle and obvious, something I just wasn't ready to digest yet?
Whatever it is, I hope my progress speeds up a bit at this point. After all, I may not have another 40 years to figure this shit out.
Thanks be to God for having the patience to deal with my stubborn ass. Praise be to God, and all gratitude for helping me see the unsavory aspects of myself.
Amen, peace, and love.