Monday, October 6, 2014
Manifesting something like hope
Manifesting. Specifically whom. If the universe was prepared to send someone to help, who would you ask for?
I've been letting the question marinate over the weekend. And I do have some ready answers i.e. some people with specific skills who live locally who would be able to help me on a couple of particular projects. That'd be nice, for sure.
I'm sure I'll find them (or vice versa) when the time is right.
In the meantime, I've been wondering two things.
The first is: what would it be like to manifest my self?
That is to say, what would it be like not to seek or require validation from others? What if I didn't need to be seen by anyone else or do my best at everything or feel like I'm special? What if I were good enough, what if I meant something, just as I am?
And what would be required to have faith in my resilience? How could I make my boundaries less porous? How freeing would it be to just allow other people to have their views and make their suggestions and not feel them like wounds and get all defensive?
The difficulty with this line of questioning is that it makes me feel like something is dreadfully wrong with me. It's like I need to fix myself and that is going to take a lot of will power, which I appear not to have. And it's something to feel pretty ashamed of, because I am forty and everyone else seems to have figured it out.
So I've been stewing on this for a couple of days and then, almost by miracle*, the second question arrives: what if validation is just a deeply human thing to want?
What if seeking validation is just an in-built survival mechanism from ancient tribal days? Could it be that everyone but a small enlightened/privileged (or maybe even damaged/unbalanced) few seek approval from others in some way and that it's not always a bad thing?
Can it not be said that the proliferation of Western consumer culture -- particularly the cult of celebrity-- is predicated on the notion that we are fundamentally insecure creatures?
What made me think that I was any different or that the burden was mine, and mine alone, to transcend?
Something in this line of enquiry feels more alive, more constructive and infinitely compassionate. And it makes me wonder: maybe I don't want to manifest anything. Maybe I just want to hold occasionally onto that tender, elusive thought that my sadnesses and stumblings have been shared by humanity across the ages. Paradoxically, there may even be some comfort in understanding that they can't be fixed and will likely never go away.
And maybe it's thoughts like these that open the door onto something altogether different.
Something like hope.
* Anyone notice a theme developing?
This post is my response to Day Eight of the August Moon reflective writing challenge. You are most welcome to share your own response to the prompt in the comments below.
Otherwise, the next opportunity to connect is Reverb in December. Join us?