I've been thinking further on the topic of yesterday's post. None of those thoughts are new, not to me and definitely not to humanity. What stays with me is the angst that is apparent in the words.
You see, I have this ideal vision of myself (fictional, but ever-present) as a mature, calm, patient man. I desire to be the kind who can take punches in stride, who can receive the energy of antagonistic or contrary points of view with the reception akin to a foam pit. I want to be able to absorb a metaphysical blow.
So the angst-response is discouraging. It feels petulant. Perhaps the difference between myself and the adult image I long for is the ability to accept the reality of yesterday's post, without the emotional bite. To say, "these words aren't my own" even while reciting them, and still find beauty in them all the same.
One takeaway: I believe that the continued practice of reciting the words will help me grow these mental muscles I dream of. Strength training in the spiritual tension between me and we.
No comments:
Post a Comment