resist voluntary squalor

"Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
and death shall have no dominion."

~ Dylan Thomas, And Death Shall Have No Dominion


Though I move among all of you, chatting with you, serving you, sipping coffee, and doing the normal day’s commerce, my open gashes are invisible to all. It is a tangible perplexity I have known before, in rare instances, that I pursue a normalcy albeit in the form of some eviscerated animal. Indeed, this is self-perceived, otherwise the responses in employment, cafés, post offices, and shops would be entirely different than the usual cordialities. Nonetheless, emotional wounds can cause a sense so pervasive as to debilitate. Or, at least to feel as if this is really so.

Surely, I have enough presence of mind to draw contrasts between the actual and the unreal. That is among the fringe benefits of gainful employment. No matter how I am feeling, I know what is required of me, and how to make the best connections between what is needed and what to provide. It is an undersold skill, and I’ve seen myself capable of such acute performance in the midst of harrowing grief and desolation. And yet, even now- as then- I count it a blessing that I have refused to opt for the cowardice of frivolous amnesia and willful squalor. Rather than slink away, I am engaging the battle to decimate the cumulative pain-body. Non-dealing is no way to deal. Even with the rawness exposed, I could never imagine squalor to be an option. Hardship indicates that sights must be set higher, not lower. Even the depths of crepuscular valleys can reveal gratitudes. One such unwitting blessing is the flat refusal to embrace insensitivity. Feeling wretched may run its temporal course, but it certainly does not imply a choice in favor of wretchedness.

no insult like the truth

"First, there is the psychological conscience, which is better called consciousness. It reports to us the actions we perform. It is aware of them, and through them it is aware of itself. Second, there is our moral conscience, which tells us not only that we act, and how we act, but how well we act. It judges the value of our acts. The psychological and moral consciences are both faculties of the intelligence. They are two kinds of awareness of ourselves telling us what we really are."

~ Thomas Merton, Nul N'est Une Ile (No Man is an Island)

Taking a bold look at the big picture of real life- of reality- can remind us of our joys and consolations, and can also reveal that which is injurious and incorrigible. Nonetheless, the renewal of realistic perspective is the strong medicine that will help carry a person to the other side of despair and grief. Like prospectors who seek precious gems in mountains, while foraging through clay and rock and dirt, the stouthearted and diligent will discover the reflectant colors that shine out from the Pearls of Great Price.

When the contrast is struck enough times, between what is genuine and what is fool's gold, it becomes easier to distinguish all the love and cherished intention that surrounds me, from the impetuousness of intolerant rejection. Not enough of us know that ill will produces ill consequences. At times we are forced to accept the verdict of reducto ad absurdum, but there is still never a reason to resort to it ourselves.

addicted to mediocrity

"Lack of interest leads to
Lack of knowledge leads to
Lack of perspective leads to
Lack of communication leads to
Lack of understanding leads to
Lack of concern leads to
This complacency denotes
This approval denies
The truth"

~Caedmon's Call, I Ain't Standing Up for Nothing


It is egregiously despairing to experience at first hand how those whose passions have been sabotaged in turn become the undermining saboteurs themselves. It is reminiscent of the history-repeating abused who evolve into abusers, and the suddenly-unyoked-turned-oppressors such as in Animal Farm, or the real life Romanian insurgents replacing Ceausescu with Iliescu at the fall of communism. What can be done to reckon unreasonable hypocrisies with screaming realities?

Perhaps the beginning of an answer transcends events and individuals, and is found in patterns. So easily those whose experience has been that of suppressed liberties and cruelty can simply convey the sickness as a perceived status quo. Indeed, it takes great courage and strength to extricate oneself from the known and rutted routine, inferior as it may be. But the courage and drive to transition can yield tremendous vistas. Like Plato's parable about the cave, motioning toward the light carries with it an intimidating challenge, once we fully experience the riches of the day, we gain the possibility of choosing brilliance over darkness. Still, however, the choice to be made belongs to the individual. How much devotion does obscurity warrant? Is life's preciousness not worth more than inferiority?

conscience

"It is a monstrous thing to see in one heart at one and the same time this sensitiveness to trifles and this strange insensibility to the more important things. It is an incomprehensible spell, a supernatural slumber which indicates an all-powerful force as its cause... For when people choose to live thus in ignorance of what they are, without seeking enlightenment, their defense is that they 'do not know'."

~ Blaise Pascal, Pensées


Here, Pascal's terms are strong and seem even excessively harsh. But on second thought, matters of conscience become the principles by which we conduct our lives and perceive circumstances and the souls of other people- not to mention our own selves. It's the eye of the heart that looks out towards what we regard as the highest. A caring conscience sensitively seeks to walk without offense, lest it become seared by wounds and setbacks- and what is destructive in this culture. What I've found to maintain a sensitive yet solidly grounded conscience is the continual habit of openness of heart and mind, inside and out, to be educated and renewed. An openness to the divine, and to the hearts of people around me. This stands the tests of trials.

Now my considerable challenge is to face adversity without toxicity, to hold fast to the generosity of spirit by which I always wish to cultivate and offer, and to daringly aspire with peaceful resilience. Something as seemingly trivial as a short period of time to consider what is healthy and what is avoidable, as a self-examination, is actually a bold and compassionate progression in the direction of vitality and freedom.

tarnish on the golden rule

"Show me a place where hope is young
And people who aren't afraid to love."

Caedmon's Call, This World


There are times when we are even surprised at how out-of-joint with this society we discover ourselves to be. It is astounding to see such high thresholds of cruelty and uncivility that are taken for granted and practiced as the norm. People exploit one another, institutionally and interpersonally- and do so without notice. If you find yourself even slightly taken aback by such audacity, then that is a sign of a vibrant hope in the human capability for compassion.

oases, covers, and books

"Je vous ai tant parle du desert qu'avant d'en parler encore, j'aimerais decrire une oasis.
Celle dont me revient l'image n'est point perdue au fond du Sahara.
Mais un autre miracle d'avion est qu'il vous plonge directement au coeur du mystere."

~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Terre des Hommes


For those of us who risk the voyage of the inner life, our comprehension of explorations and places become unconfined by material space. In his Genesee Diary, Henri Nouwen wrote of the contemplative life as the expression of something deeper and larger- and beneath the surface of our daily actions. But is the drive to understand just another over-analytical self-obsession? There is that danger, but not for Nouwen. His exhortation is to follow the impressions to their source, particularly the fears. Face them right down, and not run away. By following them through and understanding them, we can be liberated to find new ways when the tired old ways run us into the same barriers. All this self-confrontation has a purpose, and it sure better not be some kind of consumptive self-absorption. I engage the journey to learn, to not repeat what has wasted enough of my time, and to be unfettered by what has wasted too much space and energy. As Nouwen observed, "this confrontation should not lead to despair but should set you free to receive the compassion of God without whom no healing is possible." (p.83) I will add that such compassion is nothing I'd bottle up and hoard for secure storage, but is entirely meant to lavish wastefully on those whose paths have been destined to meet with mine.

Retreats seem to come in various shapes, and as aforementioned are indeed transcendent of place. My own favorites are either wilderness places which are exempt from societal trappings- and- large cities which are bubbling stews of societal trappings. Yesterday was a day to get away to a city big enough to get lost in the crowd. Being the Invisible Man in a maelstrom is preferable to the like situation in a town of eighty thousand. Amidst the captivating wonders of art museums, historic sites, and works of literature, it occurred to me how complex are our judgments of one another. Where do these "criteria" come from? How can our assessments be changed- or at least softened to the degree of mercy we would want for ourselves?

Surely, for those of us who write our reflections, and who read others' observations, we can say something about people-watching! We're looking and remarking all sorts of things to ourselves. Someone at the next table looks to have it all togther. Or the couples who appear not to have a care in the world. That homeless man may have had a prosperous career in his trail. Then there are the curiosities of those whose cell phones are surgically attached appendages, loudly regaling the public with their halves of their conversations. Another phenomenon are those who move about with earbud wires protruding from their heads, connected to pocket i-pods. Still another are the unlikely and abundant pairings of unkempt, boorish, slouching men with meticulously-groomed women on their arms. Even with the risk of judging books by their covers, I posed the observation about the latter to a female friend, to listen to her take on how the rude can attract so successfully. She said she was certain it is a matter of low self-esteem on the part of these women. That was surprising to hear, but in an odd way made sense. Inevitably comes the question of how well we know our own selves. How well do we know what we desire? For myself, such answers would be daunted by the distractions of wires running into both ears. Silence is the oasis that we all mysteriously fear.