Headlong in the birth canal, we are in the transition to birthing a new world and it’s getting awfully tight in here. As a social worker, I’ve made a career out of meeting insanity in the crisis-driven, greedy acquisitiveness of the marketplace. The winner-take-all approach around which we’ve organized as a society, has always been insane to me. In the therapeutic arena, it’s been about validating the disconnection that comes from traumas, big and small. That depression, those splits, the ambivalences, the confusion, dissociation or despair are a measure of the sensitivity and beauty of our innate nature, which we don’t know how to reconcile, with the brutal external order we’ve perpetuated when we elbowed out the feminine face of creation.
I’ve come to understand that the goal is not to find our sweet spot within the consensual war machine, fitting in neatly between the bookshelf and the wall. The mother in me knows this. My weapon of choice is the mute love I muster for this sorry humanity that we share. I’ve never aspired to fit in with values I did not embrace, and I’ve been willing to pay the price of incomprehension, disparagement, ostracism and solitude.
I’m not looking to the past for its perpetuation into the future. I exercise my power to let go of how I’ve understood my life to be. I long for re-birth. I wonder what it would be like to turn a new page of existence for this phase of life, to no longer base my understanding of what unfolds through the lens of the self-referencing past I’ve already experienced. What a liberation!
I’ve been asking myself who I might be without my wounds or any of the grievances that fuel any residual bitterness I have? Who would I be if I forgave the rejections, the betrayals, the indifference or abandonments, the dismissals, the exclusions and lack of faith of others & society? Who would I be if I could ask for love and support, if I forgave myself for not being perfect, for not being able to fully express the love that is within me, for not measuring up to an ideal potential of myself I created but find too boring and burdensome to carry any longer? What freedom, just in time, just as the external matrix seems to be closing in.
I’m plotting my escape from the corporate takeover of the consensual mind that thrives on the social fragmentation it manufactures. All that is required, is to inquire within. It’s not going to come from the outside. It’s an inside job, from the inside out. The question I have is: How do we create a new script for being true in the midst of the madness? How do we embody the faith and values we hold in joy and creativity? What do we love still after the rubble has cleared? And what gifts do we have to offer each other and the world?