Well, not to get too new-agey about it, god or the universe or something or other connected me with two people yesterday online. Actually, come to think of it, I reached out. Nothing magical about that. Sent an email “meltdown” and got an immediate response. We didn’t play therapy therapy, though, we just chatted. It was easy, it was fun. It was real. It was a pretty spiritual experience, if you must know.
So this is what I think being spiritual is about.
Part one: Feeling – ouch, this part’s hard, much easier to take a pill or meditate or something. Yesterday I got so sore I felt excoriated through every part of my existence going back millennia. I’m not exaggerating, I mean it. Unbearable. You know the American Indian practice of re-birthing? Ever seen photographs of the agony? That’s it. It’s when something old that’s been filed away comes to the surface.
I tell you.
But but but it is so vile and terrifying that you take action, which is Part Two of being spiritual. No, not in the form of putting a pill on your tongue and drinking some water to get it down. In the form of reaching out for companionship, to somebody who you know thinks you’re pretty cool and isn’t into neurotic games.
So the part inside that’s hurting starts to feel as if a balm has been placed over an open wound. And it has. The feeling dissipates, and you’ve got a better connection with somebody else and with yourself, which you wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t been feeling so sore. You were only feeling sore in the first place because you believed you were worthless. Which goes back to early days. Plus you experience this thing called well-being. I believe the brain waves are different. You know it, you can feel it.
See? Being spiritual, it’s got nothing to do with praying and being moral or being able to meditate well. It’s about recognizing that you need love and asking for it. Got to learn to distinguish between who you should reach out to and who you shouldn’t. Which can be rather a steep learning curve, admittedly. Anyway, I got it right yesterday. I connected with three very wonderful people.
What pressed the button? Response from ex-lover. Didn’t know I was holding onto so much. Would never have known unless I sent that message of apology, and unless he’d slapped me in the face. Well, the boil is lanced and the pus is out. Still a bit of residue, but I’m moving on. Yessirree.
I’m alright Jack. Stepping out of history after all. Letting all the ghosts out of the closet. Seem to have an awful lot of them. Bloody hell.