Transparency

My grandfather had his first leg amputated just weeks before he walked me down the aisle. It was his left leg. In the 9 years that followed, it was his right shoe that would be a regular sight; when he walked, when he sat in his chair. After his passing, I found I would get up from bed and the first thing I’d see would be a random right side shoe facing me and I would instinctively know that he was there and that is such joy for me. When I told a friend about this, her response was ‘damn so you reckon he sees ALL you do?’ Ha! How we like to hide! The safety and imagined longevity (what else!) derived from hiding the details of our lives and especially those of our thoughts is necessary, we feel.

What a life it would be if all our thoughts were there for all to see, word for word, punctuated with the exact emotion! The irony is that we are as transparent as a mirror. We’d be mortified if we knew exactly how much of our internal happenings we reveal with everything that we do. A conspiracy by a universe whose interest it is to show us to ourselves, giving us an opportunity to be our divine self.

Look at the drama that ensues when you are hurting, you hurt others with thoughts, words and deeds! The bioscope that happens, in your mind or in-front of you so you can have a front row seat, is genius to behold. Is it not a well-orchestrated drama enacting with great hyperbolic extremes, complete with words that cut deep flung with great precision and bodies used as deadly weapons.

All this, a way of telling a story of your own hurt, asking for an elixir in the only language you seem to know now, a-hurtin’. Like Barry White, you’re just screaming ‘love me here, love me there’ that’s where it hurts, oh universe practice the ‘love’ you preach.