Cambie Sun – Mad As They Come
I’m listening to myself for what feels like the first time in my life. I’m making decisions based on how wonderful they feel, rather than what I think I’m supposed to be doing according to some ideals that were created by anyone but me. We humans are taught at such young ages that there are definitions and rules to everything and if we don’t fit into some specific definition and follow the (ever changing) rules we will somehow perish into a life of abyss, forever abandoned, forever forgotten, never to be loved.
What if the love that I have for myself is enough? What if the respect I give myself in listening to my heart for the very first time in my life is enough? What then? Do I go about living the rest of my days a single? Not if I have anything to say about it. The love that I have for myself is enough, which means there’s so much more to share now that I’m no longer stealing it from anyone else in an attempt to validate my existence. Every love stolen is a love lost, sold to the highest bidder, only to be left with the void that was never satisfied to begin with. Love thyself and ye shall be plenteous. My quote.
Looking back I think of all of the times that I questioned everything, doubted so much and worried about minute details that only I would have noticed. Did I say the wrong thing? Did I dress the wrong way? Do I curse too much? Do I have too much experience? Do I have too little experience? Am I interesting enough? Am I witty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I sweet enough? Are my thighs too thick? My hair too frizzy? Am I good enough, beautiful enough, sexy enough, intellectual enough, spiritual enough, fit enough, too fit, healthy enough, wild enough, mellow enough, exciting, adventurous, confident, humble, forthright, mindful, subtle, subjective, objective, compassionate, righteous, and on and on and on and on. So many choices, so many decisions, so many actions, so many moments, so many experiences or lack there of, affected by my fears of inadequacies, in every contradictable regard.
What a waste!
All of that time
could have been put to better use.
“STOP YOUR BRAIN” they say.
I have so many questions all of the time about everything and yet at the same time, I have no questions about anything ever. How is this possible? How is anything possible? What does it matter in the end whether something is possible or not? What does anything matter ever? If I were a celebrity and a sex tape were to be released and my reputation tarnished, 50 years down the line, would it have any relevance what-so-ever on anything that has occurred since? Would anyone even remember, or better yet, would anyone even care?
What about others? What about family, friends and lovers? How do you gage a connection? How do you gage your own perception in a connection? Is there any way to tell for sure, whether a connection is mutual, and if it is is there any way to gage how balanced yours is in relation to the other, and if there is does it really matter? In certain theories your Oneness is the only perception necessary to exist and if you are ONE with the Universe everyone else’s love or lack of love for you is irrelevant because you love them and that’s all the Universe needs and you are the Universe… the important bit being about your perception, because without it you wouldn’t have any experiences of any kind and what would be the point in that?
Quote by Rainer Marie Rilke from “Letters to a Young Poet”:
“To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. For this reason young people, who are beginners in everything, cannot yet know love: they have to learn it. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered close about their lonely, timid, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and so loving, for a long while ahead and far on into life, is — solitude, intensified and deepened loneness for him who loves. Love is at first not anything that means merging, giving over, and uniting with another (for what would a union be of something unclarified and unfinished, still subordinate — ?), it is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world for himself for another’s sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things. Only in this sense, as the task of working at themselves (“to hearken and to hammer day and night”), might young people use the love that is given them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must save and gather for a long, long time still), is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives as yet scarcely suffice.”
What about the idea of Oneness being about connectivity to self, all of self, not just the higher senses or the enlightened psyche, but all of the physical beauty, psychological mess and everything in between. Do you remember what it felt like when you were a kid and did something that you knew was wrong and felt so guilty about it that you had to confess to your mom. It might have taken you an entire anxiety ridden week to build up the courage to ask her if she had a moment to talk. You tell her your fears and she looks at you without judgment in complete compassion and tells you that everything is going to be ok. You feel a great sense of release and whatever it was that was ailing you seems to float away. Perhaps truly being One and connected is to love yourself so much that you acknowledge your own glory and recognize your right to be loved by others, not just the loving of others in all of their glory and mess, but to also be loved by others in all of your glory and mess. Maybe Oneness is about the interplay between the relationships in your life in how you treat others but also in how you allow others to treat you, because true satisfaction comes from the acknowledgment of magnificence, as well as, the desire for more.
A Quote by Tom Stoppard from his play “The Real Thing”:
“It’s to do with knowing and being known. I remember how it stopped seeming odd that in biblical Greek, knowing was used for making love. Whosit knew so-and-so. Carnal knowledge. It’s what lovers trust each other with. Knowledge of each other, not of the flesh but through the flesh, knowledge of self, the real him, the real her, in extremis, the mask slipped from the face. Every other version of oneself is on offer to the public. We share our vivacity, grief, sulks, anger, joy… we hand it out to anybody who happens to be standing around, to friends and family with a momentary sense of indecency perhaps, to strangers without hesitation. Our lovers share us with the passing trade. But in pairs we insist that we give ourselves to each other. What selves? What’s left? What else is there that hasn’t been dealt out like a deck of cards? Carnal knowledge. Personal, final, uncompromised. Knowing, being known. I revere that. Having that is being rich, you can be generous about what’s shared — she walks, she talks, she laughs, she lends a sympathetic ear, she kicks off her shoes and dances on the tables, she’s everybody’s and it don’t mean a thing, let them eat cake; knowledge is something else, the undealt card, and while it’s held it makes you free-and-easy and nice to know, and when it’s gone everything is pain.”
Because I know that I already have everything that I need.
Because I so deeply want more.
Because I so deeply want it all.
My day in all of it’s glorious entirety is my prayer to You.