Alphabetography

WARNING: I AM-bling...

I'm a terrible mother that, at least, would be the King James version. So, to write (about) this horrible wrong, I will share with you my twists on a couple of old stories with this caveat; my children are free to believe however they wish to believe in their Higher Power. I prefer for them not to believe in Hell. Very difficult in our neck of the woods. I was reprimanded by my 3rd (I stand corrected from the first draft) grader one year when she came home in tears demanding to know why I had not informed her that her soul was in peril. I asked her about what time this pre-apocalyptic knowing occurred. She said, Lunch. I assured her brown bagging it would help....and there began a journey towards her truth. Again, if any of them want to believe in Hell, so be it, but they have to remember that they cannot have a happy ending to an unhappy journey and that has got a catch-22 all over it.  But I do try to give alternatives. We own a television and they are free to turn it on. Hell can often be found on Channel 4 News at 10 o' clock. 

I jest...kinda.

***

My God is Love.  It is the only God I know of now. My journey is sharing this more openly. The Big Me, that dwells inside my (I love this phrase) Chalice of Consciousness is not nearly as shy or fearful as my ego.  It wants to do so many more things than my ego fights not to.  So, when the children ask of the Battle of Good and Evil, I say they misheard the word all those years and years ago. It's the Battle of God and Ego. Even then, there is no real battle. We all know who wins in the end:

Love.

***

I love Jesus. When I was in high school, I had a lucid dream. A conversation. And he was so beautiful and real to me. Not like the pictures exactly but radiant. I don't know how to describe the warmth. Acceptance? Non judgment? Love? I had known nothing like that warmth before. And I could ask anything. So, I wanted to understand the most profound question I could think of. What about Hitler? What about all the bad stuff? 

He said: They think you can only be saved here. My love is eternal. The work is eternal. 

Then He was gone. And I felt all alone thinking that it wasn't wise to tell this dream to anyone. I held that thought until. just. now.  

***

So,  we discussed various Biblical stories. They like Noah. But they also love animals. That one just has a happy ending. For the animals, anyway. Noah being that dude that heard a calling while others turned a deaf ear. Here you've got this crazy guy building a massive boat while animals are being collected and hauled in from various places with on-lookers heckling him. 

In a nutshell: Put your faith in God even when no one's got any faith in you. 

"He showed them." 

Oh, child. It's not about revenge.  Not the God I know. 

***

But I'm writing most, now, because of the conversation about Adam and Eve and their eating from the Tree of Knowledge.  So many think of this story in terms of sexuality or of coming into divine knowing meant for only God. But Divine Knowledge is to know that where there is light there can be no darkness. Paradise is all things light. I wonder, now, if this is a story of partaking of Ego. Literally, feasting on human weakness and devouring darkness. To live in Paradise is to live from the heart. Ego is the brain's domain. 

It just makes me wonder. 

Warning: Rambling Ahead*

I don't know if I've ever gone a month without writing this blog since committing to making changes in my life. So, I'll take it upon this last day of May to continue to keep my commitment on and off the page. This being the same month, back in 2009, that I signed on. It took that summer to get the courage to post the first poem. Even clearly knowing no one might read it, I hesitated. I think I wrote one or two simple thoughtless entries before that but quickly deleted them. Let that come as no surprise. I've written a great deal throughout my life but unlike some, who allow their thoughts to collect in volumes, I destroyed mine. 

From an autobiographical slant, there's very little to read but what you read here. I knew very early on, I was no Anais Nin. I would write to purge but I saw no reason to allow those experiences to continue to exist on paper for very long. It was me working through my own personal chaos. Here, I censor my focus. I've eluded to experiences that were less than wonderful but, as I own more and more what life is really all about for me, reliving the painful is in complete violation to the change I am to create. I've lived the experience. I wanted to write of what the experience had gifted me. It brings me to a huge desire to purge even those moments eluded to or embedded in words I have written since that first poem. To tell a different, better story, will always require releasing the old story. I want none of the negative lingering. 

Yes, I will end up editing this entire blog in someway; someway that resonates with the current me, aware of the irony that each post has lead me to that desire. The feeling is similar to the one blog about memories. Let those that serve you stay and release those that don't. 

I guess the biggest reason why I want to edit my story is to honor the fact that I created it. It feels empowering. And I need all the empowerment I can get my hands on to now. But giving credit to a villain for my unhappiness or lack of evolution is nothing short of dishonest to me now. The truth is and always will be how much I was given. How much I grew because of them. 

To play a broken record: We create the people in our lives through our perceptions of them. In those perceptions, we create beliefs and begin to experience those beliefs in and through the outer world. That's Law of Attraction. When it's good, it can be very, very good.  But someone can be completely "wrong" in a belief of another and the Universe will still match their vibe giving them evidence to offer up "proof" nonetheless. I want to own that I create all that is me. I want to nurture my reality. Looking back, how dare I, due to any lack of self-love or self-worth, charge another for what was created? Self is Self. But MySelf does enjoy knowing that others have invited "Us", through their perceptions, into parts of their reality. Even, if "We" are playing or being seen as the bad guy.

To get clear, when I can, most of the time I just ask:

Who am I to you? 

One of the best responses came from a young woman I was helping through a serious time: You're like a line of cocaine. 

Though her perception threw me a bit, I have to say, I took it as a compliment. 

*K. I'm going to totally edit THIS tomorrow. I'm not sure I made any sense. Ha...