Even a Tiny Spark

I need to write what I know even if it is such a tiny spark of light.  It came to me today while I was working with H., a way to begin my story, the story of how I came into being.  It starts with the words “For years I’ve been told…” told what to do, how to behave, what to think, what’s important, what’s right, what’s wrong—all the socially, politically, religiously or spiritually acceptable truths, beliefs, behaviors.  All of it to get me to perform according to society’s accepted procedures.  Nothing terribly wrong with all this.  Mostly these rules are there for good reasons.  Yet something very profound and much maligned had been traded for this socialization—my intuition, my soul, myself. 

There has been a steady and persistent diminishing and devaluing of myself, not the inner child but my inner being.  By turning always to the outer authorities, I lost awareness of my own inner authority, my conduit to God, His voice, His guidance. 

There is a part of me that is both me and Thee.  A part of me that needed to be heard, acknowledged, loved.  At first this part felt like an angry, hateful child, screaming at me, no longer willing to behave herself, no longer willing to sit down and be quiet, to mind her manners, to not make any noise.  Suddenly and unexpectedly she was breaking windows, throwing stones, screaming for attention.  None of my usual methods of quieting her worked.  No amount of chocolate, coffee, food, sex or writing would quiet her rage.  Finally my only option was to listen, to bear witness to her anger, her pain, her sorrow.  I could no longer stuff these feelings.  There was no place to hide.

It took days, maybe even weeks for this tempest, this tantrum to subside.  Every time I would close my eyes to pray or meditate, she would be there, filling my inner landscape with the dead, burnt bodies of the usual offered solutions, scorched to ashes in her deadly wrath.  Until one evening, while sitting at the movies with my husband waiting for the feature to begin, I dropped inside once again to see what mayhem she had created.  It was stunning to find her there finally spent, finally quiet, even thoughtful.  She said, “I’ve always wanted to be thin.”  A stunning statement after all that rage, so simple, so clear.  She didn’t want to control the Universe, or to call hell and fire down on unsuspecting passers-by, she only always wanted to be thin.  “Maybe I can help you with that,” I said.

And with that, unencumbered by outer images, she began to open and to blossom.  The trick it seemed was giving her my attention, something denied for almost her whole life.  Give her the attention I had longed for, give her the love, appreciation, respect that I always sought but couldn’t find.  Love her.  Love myself.  What a concept! 

Loving myself was not trying to fulfill the litany of shoulds and shouldn’ts; loving me was a simple process of listening to my own voice, the one instilled in me at conception when the Holy Spirit entered my human form and gave me life.  And now there is this partnership.  Myself listening to this quiet inner voice which has transformed with time and attention to become a loving inner presence able to express herself more fully and as she does, I am aware that this presence is my connection to what’s deepest in me. 

The transformation that has taken place is the angry, rage-filled child has become my doorway to what is most essential inside me. Gradually I began to notice that this voice which I thought was me had a deeper resonance.  I began to realize that the voice I thought was mine was really Yours.  You were speaking to me and as I listened I began to know the being You would have me be.

Coming face to face with my humanness opened the way to You.  I am not a failed experiment.  I am not a mistake.  I am exactly what You had in mind.  And now that I have come to understand this, I am able to be what You had in mind—a perfect expression of Your Magnificence.  I am the glove but You are the hand.