Contriving Me

The doctors said, when it comes to brain injury, prognosis were made in dark territory.  In other words, they just don’t know.  The weeks he spent in rehabilitation to relearn the basics of motion had been accented by therapist commenting on his good fortune to still be alive.  What kind of life, he mused, is it when you don’t know who you are?

     All the specialist concurred, that with time, the unknown would be delivered to him answers to all the incessant questions that lurked within him during recuperation.  Those people that rallied to his side and met his physical needs were endearing but if truth be told, without being hurtful, meaningless to him.  As the months rolled on, his affections were pricked, but to trust them to reveal his essence was asking too much, no matter the idea of gratitude, trust was a sacred gift that had to be given from acceptance.  How, he ventured in his reasoning, could he offer that when he did not trust who the giver was?

     It was decided that perhaps reading the volumes of journals he had written over the years would give him a glimmer of the character of his past.  He read an endless parade of angst and disappointments.  Fears, anger, and judgment painted the pages telling him that his past was not idyllic.  As his body mended and free movement became less painful, the need for attendance also diminished.  Soon he was able to navigate life as an individual, except for the key piece that eluded him, his identity.

     Paging yet another journal entry, one day he was taken by surprise.  The author, who was of course him from the past, had written a haunting salutation born on an assumption that had become, in fact, the maternity ward of his beginning.

     “…Somewhere I got the dates screwed up, I guess it would only be important if I were to believe I’d come back to read this ~ for the life of me I can’t think of any reason why that’d be so, unless if I were to have amnesia and these journals were my only link to my past.  If that’s the case, let me help you out bud.  There’s nothing-special back there to resurrect.  Let it go, sample life, be in kilter. (I like that term, don’t you?)  It’s rather amusing to be writing to my future self who has no recollection of how you had felt, it’s a freedom few are granted, enjoy the liberation of it.  Well my friend, everything is fleeting, you can trust that to the point of faith.  You had gripped into fantasy about a woman. You are prone to that ~ a limerant sort of disposition for a while as you regained your self-confidence in being alive.  The details are irrelevant, most humans have experiences that stall progress, and most are afraid that’s a death edict.  Its not, it’s another chance to recalibrate, to get back into kilter. (Grin) Perhaps I should just suggest girding yourself to the possibility of a reoccurrence if that be your predisposition.  Anyway, today’s waking moments whispered to advise to the future me, “let it go” without an exciting tale of emotional upheaval, protest, and denial.  The facts present their own case, and if you care you linger, so that eventually if you’re observant you’ll learn what to keep, and what to let go.  We stay with those that share our values and struggling to make others abide with our wishes is self-serving.  That was learned, I hope you don’t test that once again, it’s suffering in a lake size container.  What ever any value you embrace, continue to ask “What of kindness?”  For it is apparent, it’s a social ideal that is easily put aside for expedience sake. Other concerns command attention of most of your fellow human beings.  I marked this page for you to glean some navigational reference points.  Know that those who know the truth need no reminding, and those asleep choose to remain thus so will resist those truths that appear obvious to you.  

They will deny or dismiss your observations as incidental and bias, and from a point of self serving, they are correct; so there will be conflict. Those that suffer do so rather than love.  When surrendering to that fact, you can grow more accustomed to the actual.  You see my friend, its concerning the condition called lack.  You will observe, and then feel, either an appreciation for what is, or a lack of it.  Something, or someone will serve as surrogate for ‘feeling’.  So that in most instances, you may feel alive in the presence or having that occurence, then assign it to what you’ve focused your attention upon. As you attempt to recapture that feeling you will become demanding of that object, as effort for a reenactment of the past.  That just cannot happen. So you will then struggle against time and others to make the dream a reality.  Save yourself from suffering such deception. For it will become an obsession, then the conflict will become a war and your only purpose will distill to winning.  Even to the point of replacing the initial joyful feeling.  The energetic surge of struggle is a poor substitution for joy of being in life.  No one can tell you who you are; it’s not what you do, what you know, whom you know or what you own.  Nothing external will give you reason to define, but your choice can become an external measure nonetheless.  It is your privilege and power to embrace the essence of who you are.  There are many distractions and entertaining ideas along your way.  You are not the purpose to ‘heal’ or ‘fix’ any of your fellows in this quest of knowing.  It is a personal wisdom only you can uncover, and truly know.  As will be your intimates own puzzle to solve and hold silently in their secret chambers.  We are not to understand anything or anyone beyond ourselves.  That is the way of it; that is my offered orientation towards your exploration.   

I have found it interesting as I peeled away those external abstractions such as employment history, cultural experience or preferences. What remained was alarmingly similar. What remained was the desire to love.  Some have said that love was an open heart to life, and that supports my own conclusion.  In the calm of love, we are open to loving all of life.  I have run into a lot of disease, as will you.  And you can catch it too. Fear not. 

  What of those past treasures you are unable to regain?  Fear not. You may feel you are missing something, but that is a delusion. Any of your past joys were vehicles for you to feel love, and feeling love the gift of your past.  Nothing else mattered, not the form in which you claimed that chance. How others cherish, hold, care or endear is not for you to be concerned with, it will only burden and make you weary…at worst, wary.  I’d not tell you this if it were not so.  Your love should show ~ that will be the beauty in your life, that is who you are; authentic, genuine and living.  

Fear not, love like an original, there are maps, and then there is exploration, you have all that you need to start, and all that you’ll ever need. What  more need be said?

Perhaps, enjoy yourself”