Surrender

Hello, freaks! With my tongue planted firmly, where it belongs.

When I hold on, I’m left with nothing. If I let go everything is possible

On this glorious Palm Sunday morning, I am embarking on a trek through some principles I have embraced, due mostly, to the idea I was in control and knew exactly what had to happen, and how you were joining me whether you liked it or not.

Fortunately for me and everybody close to me, I didn’t die before I surrendered. I am finding as well, that I am in a continual state of surrender unless I am not, in which case I am in for some emotional pain.

According to Meriam Webster Surrender is defined thusly

Definition

1.  a: to yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand surrendered the fort

b:  to give up completely or agree to forgo especially in favor of another

2.  a:  to give (oneself) up into the power of another especially as a prisoner

b:  to give (oneself) over to something (as an influence)

For the purposes of this discussion, I like #2 as it relates to my surrender to a feeling of separateness and my behavior trying to feel connected through portraying myself, as something, I am not and engaging in activities aimed at establishing a connection with others doing the same thing. Use of imagination and experience can allude to a vast range of erroneous endeavors here.

As soon as I surrender to that idea, I am able to be liberated to embrace my already established connection to the whole and that I was never really never separate from it.

 

Hey, you!

Image source: photo taken by me at- Minneapolis Institute of Art- The Animal Nature of Man- oil on canvas- Emerson Burkhart 1905-1969

Continued from Who Am I?

I: So, what say you?

Me: I have a question, who am I? or what am I?

I: Is there a difference?

Me: Well, I think so, who I am is the name I have been given, and go by and how I am identified. That is what others call me. What I am is a male of the species, homo sapien.

I: Is that all?

Me: No not at all, there is something else, beyond the physical body and all of its senses and perceptions.

I: Oh, this should be good.

Me: Well there is you.

I: What are you talking about? I am you!

Me: Exactly

To be continued

 

When you can’t look on the bright side, I’ll sit with you in the dark -Alice in Wonderland

This week a theme has been percolating within me since my last post and the one before that. Things that I’ve read, things I have been thinking about, I know that is a dangerous endeavor, given my thinking problem. I have uncovered something that seems universal.  There is no way I can be of any help if I can’t comprehend what you’re even talking about. In addition, good things grow out of compost.

If I am to help anybody find God I must understand the sinner- God Calling

One thing that had been scratching the inside of my skull was one I heard in A.A. meetings and I found it here.

A drunk fell in a hole and couldn’t get out. A businessman went by. The drunk called out for help. The businessman threw him some money and told him, get yourself a ladder. But the drunk could not find a ladder in this hole he was in.

A doctor walked by. The drunk said, “Help, I can’t get out.” The doctor gave him drugs and said, “Take this, it will relieve the pain.” The drunk said thanks, but when the pills ran out, he was still in the hole.

A renowned psychiatrist rode by and heard the drunks cries for help. He stopped and said, “How did you get there? Were you born there? Were you put there by your parents? Tell me about yourself, it will alleviate your sense of loneliness.” So the drunk talked with him for an hour, then the psychiatrist had to leave, but he said he’d be back next week. The drunk thanked him, but he was still in his hole.

A priest came by and the drunk called for help. The priest gave him a Bible and said I’ll say a prayer for you. He got down on his knees and prayed for the drunk, then left. The drunk was very grateful, he read the Bible, but he was still stuck in that hole.

A recovering alcoholic happened to be passing by. The drunk cried out, “Hey, help me, I’m stuck in this hole.” Right away, the recovering alcoholic jumped in the hole with him. The drunk said, “What are you doing? Now we’re both stuck here.” But the recovering alcoholic said, “It’s okay, I’ve been here before, I know how to get out.”

Taking all of that into account, all of which I, wholeheartedly agree with, I am willing and able to get into the foulest putrid muck of the abyss, with you.

It is a place from which I have emerged, but not without someone who has been there. So the cycle continues, a seemingly catastrophic fracture of psyche takes us to unfamiliar territory, where the solid ground on which I once found firm and reliable is now quicksand. All of the survival mechanisms on which I had relied upon have evaporated. The primary reason, I have found was and continues to be my recent discovery of using things, people, activities to make me feel better. That I was maniacally self-centered and demanding that these things continue to do their magic. They inevitably fail, leaving me in nearly unbearable pain. The only things left are find something more satisfying or surrender.

I ask for help from God, and others who have shared their experience with me, elucidating the familiarity with my dilemma. I can sit in that dark place with you and share without fear and grow.

Something about the blues

Divine Music
It never wears you out by making cheap demands on your sensibilities.

Instead of drawing you out into the open field of feelings where your enemies, the devil and your own imagination and the inherent vulgarity of your own corrupted nature can get at you with their blades and cut you to pieces, it draws you within where you are lulled in peace and recollection and where you find God.
You rest in Him, and He heals you with His secret wisdom
Thomas Merton
The Seven Storey Mountain

But for the Grace of…

The stark contrast of what I have become aware of as my natural self, ruled by ego and my earthly desires, and my true inner self, untouched by this mortal existence, is exasperating to observe. If I am left to my own decision making without cooperation with something beyond myself, I nearly extinguished this miracle of living tissue, my soul’s current accommodation, through absent minded abuse of toxic substances and behaviors.

By the grace of God, I was spared for no reason I can think of, other than that I may be able to make some sort of contribution to others of my kind. The process by which this revelation has come about still astounds me. Who The F%*k am I

“Poetic Justice
I walked out into the world that I thought I was going to ransack and rob of all it’s pleasures and satisfactions.
I had done what I intended, and now I found that it was I who was emptied and robbed and gutted.
What a strange thing! In filling myself, I had emptied myself. In grasping things, I had lost everything. In devouring pleasures and joys, I had found distress and anguish and fear.
And now, finally, as a piece of poetic justice, when I was reduced to this extremity of misery and humiliation, I fell into a love affair in which I was at last treated in the way I had treated not a few people in those last years.”
Thomas Merton
The Seven Storey Mountain

I have recognized that I once thought I was faultless and all of my problems were circumstances beyond my control, either people or situations. I know now through grace that I need to summon the power within my grasp to admit my human frailties and allow this unfathomable source to lead me to a more productive and meaningful life.

That’s all for now, thanks for stopping by.

and some music

“For The Love of God”