“Why don’t any women have guns?” she asks.
“Why would women need guns?” he questions.
“For protection,” she replies, seeking recognition.
“But women have men for protection.” He, too, has a look of searching upon his face.
“I don’t want protection,” she responds coyly, with a strange, disturbed smile.
He reaches out and touches her face. She grabs his hand. He grabs her breast. Long pause. She winces through her smile.
Scene cuts and the men are under attack. The soldiers hustle the villagers away and begin shooting. They appear afraid but put up a fight. When the fighting halts and negotiations begin, they lie and suggest that they have just as many soldiers as the invaders do. Plus, it’s about to get dark and the invaders don’t know their way around these woods. That’s a truthful advantage the defending party has and it manages to scare away the aggressors, at least for now.
My sister is my most loyal fan, although neither she nor I would probably consider her to be a fan of mine. She’s just a good sister who will support me and listen to me even if she thinks I’m being dumb or a bit of a shit. My sister is a good person.
My sister is a person who struggles with life. She doesn’t like that things happen a certain way and her body manifests the mental anguish she has felt for all of her life. Things don’t go how we plan and my sister hates that. She absolutely hates it when things don’t go her way. But when it comes to other people, my sister is there for you when things don’t go your way. She may not say what you want to hear, but she’ll be there and she’ll give you the space that you need.
My sister and I are different because where she will see that things happen because we make them happen, I am the more likely of us two to believe that things happen because of divine will and the collective will of others. I save more room for influence upon my life and greet it with passivity, saving my passionate reactions for those things that I love the most or want to change the most. In short, I save my passion for the things about which I am passionate.
My sister gives her passion to the daily stresses of life. She finds struggle in her daily rituals, suffering emotional blocks at unexpected corners that may be fine one day and different the next. She soldiers on, shouldering the psychic chores of every day life like a martyr’s burden. She knows that it must be done, but why is it so hard? Well, sis, I don’t know why it’s hard. I only know that I choose to perceive things differently to you and our body chemistries have had different manifestations. But you are so alive when you speak with me that I have a difficult time distinguishing that you might be in pain, at least when I cannot see you on the regular.
We haven’t lived in the same country for almost 10 years now and I am sometimes so devastated by her physical absence in my life that I cherish every moment that we share, even if there is pain. She is my ultimate love. I am not bound by stereotypical divisors of love segmentation, and I don’t see a difference in love for man versus love for mother. To me, there are no different levels of love that belong to different people. I feel a bond with my sister that is so strong that it transcends physical boundaries. I know when she is in pain and what she is feeling at all times, even if I don’t show it. That’s my own stupidity, the not-knowing that it’s time to show my understanding rather than trying to force her understanding. She doesn’t really feel the same way about me as I do about her, although it’s pretty close. Our bond is tight. I know that it can be tighter, but that’s up to me to find the dialogue in the physical plane that will match the connection that I know that we have in the psychic realm. We must meet in the spiritual realm, which I know that we are close to reaching in our own ways. Hers, through the physical: through pain, compassion, and hard physical labour; mine, through spiritual: joy, love and effervescence, or physical disconnection.
It makes me want to cry when someone I don’t know likes one of my blog posts (how lame, huh?). My original intention was to write this 100-day journey for my friends and friends of friends, if anyone felt like sharing my writing. I thank the Lord for my sister, who supports me through everything I do, even though we’re completely different in priorities and personality, because she’s the only one who has cared to share. Ours is the kind of relationship that makes me thankful for what I have, rather than feeling like I’m missing something. Every other bit of love that I get on the side is just a bonus (excluding my mum, who doesn’t deserve to be categorized as such. She gave me life and nurtured me and there is nothing that can compare or replace the position she has earned.
I started this blog to share what I know with my family and friends. So far, I’ve had about 20 people read it in total, with an average of about 4 views per post. Of those four people, one is my sister and none of the rest of you is anyone who I’ve hung out with in person. You are all wonderful angels of cyber-connection, sent to rescue me. My real relationships are failing, mainly because I am not there to drink with people and be merry. And that doesn’t make me cry. What makes me cry is that there is so much love and wonderment in this world that I can know, despite feeling lonely. What makes me cry is that there are people who will reach out and connect with you for a few seconds as you pass each other by; or who will take the time to read something that some other human has taken the time to write, even though they have no idea who I am. But they do know me. Writers know each other, and we know that people don’t sit down to share a story in written form for no reason. We share for the purpose of sharing, so that other people may stumble upon our words and know that there are those who feel the need to express themselves in the same creative way. We share because we want to know that others share our feelings, or at least our desire to feel connected.
To those who share their stories, bless you. Bless you for taking the time to let us know that you are human and that you have thoughts and feelings of your own. Bless you for caring enough about humanity to reach out and anticipate connection. Bless you for sharing your struggles, no matter how small, so that others may learn from you where there is no one near by to teach. Bless you for taking the time to create the space for someone to also share with you.
But to those who share hatred, anger, or disappointment: these feelings are unproductive to share and doing so only spreads their power across a wider base, offering no creative solution, only seeking energy to fill the gaping void they expose. When we share our anger, we incite others to respond with their own version of anger. When we share our feelings of hate, we ask for others to point out how they hate as well. And when we share disappointment, we create feelings of deficiency and defensiveness, building walls between us.
Education is immensely important, but never forget that the medium is the message. When you hate-ucate, you breed negative responses, not the positive actions that you desire. Reflect on how you approach teaching others. We were not all born to be teachers, but we can all learn how to become teachers from those who taught us well.
“Education is the most powerful tool which you can use to shape the world.” – Nelson Mandela
“A teacher takes a hand, opens a mind, touches a heart.” – Anonymous
“A good teacher can inspire hope, ignite the imagination, and instill a love of learning.” – Brad Henry
“Who dares teach must never cease to learn.” – John Cotton Dana
“The best teachers are those who show you where to look, but don’t tell you what to see.” – Alexandra K. Trenfor
For the start of our Transcendental Meditation, here are some lessons that I have learned recently that should help carry us through this practice in the best frame of existence:
1. Commit yourself to deeper, more rigorous, constant spiritual practice: firstly, practice imageless meditation so that you may observe your thoughts; and secondly, say the name of the Divine that suits you and reflects on what that means to you. These two practices will awaken your heart and over time, your capacity to be in touch with the fundamental joy at the core of reality will blossom.
2. Take a deep breath and look at your life. Make a list of all the things that give you joy and then make a committment to yourself to draw joy from what inspires you every day of life. Whatever fills you with joy, do not spend a day on this earth without turning to those sources.
3. In the end, in the beginning and the middle, true joy comes from accepting your sacred mission and giving your whole being to the thought and the act. We are each called into this moment to put love into action in the service of what breaks your heart so that it and you can be transformed. You will be transformed by joy because it will give you dignity, peace, strength, and joy to feed you endlessly.
Stay tuned for more lessons from the mystics, history and what is channeled from the Divine.