Reprinted from August, 2010 with an update at the end.
This song is playing in the background as I type – feel free to play it while you read.
I try to make sense of my life, and try to figure out why certain people are brought into my life or I stumble across certain messages that resonate strongly with me.
Each human being must know two languages: the language of society and the language of the omens. The first serves for communication with others. The second serves to interpret messages from God.
~ Paulo Coelho
How does one know the language of the omens? How to interpret messages from God?
As strange as it might sound, I believe there are angels among us delivering these messages from God, and I believe they look like you and me. I believe sometimes they ARE you and me. We might be ordinary for 99.9% of the time, but there’s that 0.1% of the time we can be an angel to someone else.
I’ve been quiet lately on the blogs. Not because I have nothing to say…but because there is too much to say. When I have little to say, it’s relatively easy to find a topic to talk about. Paradoxical, but true.
When I have too much to say, most times thoughts and ideas are bouncing around too much and I can’t pick out the overarching theme and the words won’t come together in a cohesive manner. So I wait.
Lately, I’ve spent a bit of time in the ‘real world’. Making new friends, sharing thoughts and ideas – yes, over that cup of coffee I’ve whined about so much .
I’d been thinking…when you meet new people, you also meet new philosophies and learn the guiding principles that others use to maneuver in this complex world.
I met a new friend who is a fantastically ‘free spirit’ (specifically, she’s polyamorous). We spoke over coffee and I learned a few things I didn’t know before. She came to learn that I’m a lot less conservative than I portray on the blogs and that there’s a ‘free spirit’ in me too, in a bit of a different way, though.
I tend to be incredibly accepting and open-minded about a lot of things, because I come from a very damaged place, and I know to compensate, I learned to bring things out in people and to give out more love than I ever received. I learned to become a healer, of sorts. More accurately, a wounded healer. This is why my relationships with others trigger some very deep things within myself.
Even something so innocuous as an unexpected conversation this week (over that cup of coffee) had triggered a chain reaction of thoughts, emotions and inner conflict. Some interesting things were stirred up during the conversation.
Today as I pondered a few things I learned this week, I thought about what a wounded healer really was and I looked it up on Wikipedia.
I discovered something interesting. The character of House, from the television show was a wounded healer too.
The character “House“, from the television series of the same name, can be considered as an example of this archetype in modern pop culture; his physical and emotional scars are both a burden and a driving force in his need to fix the problems of others while destroying himself.
No wonder why I feel a kindred spirit in the character of House. We are not too different (though he’s a WAY better diagnostician than I am).
I’ve made the attempt so many times to heal others. My emotional scars are both a burden and a blessing, because I intuitively know where others hurt, but at the same time, my own wounds get reopened in the process. And while I am great at helping others, when it comes to myself…I can’t seem to do the same. Sometimes I also wonder if I have self-destructive tendencies too.
One of the other messages I received this week was from a particularly insightful person on a message board:
I enjoy pondering universal truths and finding evidence of these truths everywhere. For instance the physics concept of entropy. Everything begins in an orderly state and spontaneously becomes more chaotic. This is true in science as well as in life. Anyone ever have their house spontaneously become clean? Wouldn’t that be nice? Ever see a marriage spontaneously get better after 20 years? No, life, as in science is subject to this universal truth. We need to work to keep our house clean, our lives in order, our relationships strong, our bodies in shape, our minds sharp, and our morals intact. This is but one universal truth.
Though not religious, I look for these truths and other wisdom in religion. And of course none of it is readily apparent. If it was that easy it wouldn’t be worth pursuing (another universal truth). I see value in tradition because I respect that they exist for a reason and I recognize my own fallibility in my interpretation of them. To dismiss out of hand traditions and wisdom that has existed for eons just because you fail to see the point is to give ones self far too much credit. Maybe if nothing else, ritual provides a stability in life and teaches us how to resist the natural tendency for aspects of our lives to degenerate toward chaos. After all, we are all familiar with the benefit of good habits. Maybe, religious ritual nourishes our soul in the same way that ritualized exercise nourishes our bodies.
I think it is also worth pointing out that not everyone is smart enough to derive for themselves a proper moral code. Sure, some of us can, but many can’t. And even for those who can, let us not forget that what is right too often depends on where one stands. Today, our families are a mess and children are suffering the consequences. The Judeo-Christian tradition was clear on how to live a virtuous family life. We in our arrogance chose to make our own rules and the consequences have been disastrous.
While this person, who is a self-proclaimed agnostic but ‘student’ of theology wasn’t particularly directing this comment to me (I don’t think, though it feels like it almost, because I wrote an essay about how entropy is a great excuse for clutter in my home), I feel it’s an important message for me. Perhaps one of those ‘messages from God’?
My 13 year marriage is strong but fragile if that makes any sense at all. We don’t know what the hell we are doing sometimes and fight because of it, but we cling like scared little kids to each other because there’s nowhere else we’d want to be.
We have very little traditions or routines.
Because my sister recently told me that I am in need of an exorcism (don’t ask, long boring story), I am pulling back considerably on extended family visits. I have no idea what will happen for the holidays. The more time goes on, and the more things like that happen, the less I want to spend it with my extended family.
I wrote that post four months ago. And I have been thinking of it ever since.
I also wrote a post entitled Too Smart for My Own Good. I got reamed a good one by another mother blogger who shall remain nameless so I took the post down…well, privatized it anyway, for now.
I am desperately seeking something…because I’m too smart for my own good. I always have been. Being smart has gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years and I tried to get my fill of intellectual stimulation and thoughtful and enjoyable interactions with others in real life.
If you are one of the intensely intellectual types, you perhaps know what I’m talking about. You usually come across as too intense, too inquisitive, too interested in generating deep, intellectual discussions about your pet interests (my top ones are: existential philosophy, Jungian psychology and German literature – this week, anyway).
Ask me how many times I’ve been able to have an intense discussion about Hermann Hesse in the middle of the blue collar Midwest suburban subdivision I live in? None.
How many times I’d been able to analyze Nietzsche with my siblings, or parents? Also None.
My husband? Rarely. Though he’s currently reading Demian…so I hope that I can get some interesting insights from his interpretation of the book.
My friends in real life? Actually, once. Last night. I have a relatively new (to me, not to my husband) friend who just underwent a stem cell transplant for leukemia. But he quoted Nietzschean aphorisms to me over beer and pizza. Yea, that was pretty cool. And, what’s more, he was lamenting the decline of the intelligence of people who he knows went to college…which was kind of funny, because I was asking my husband on the ride over why I am the only one of our college friends that seems to have retained any kind of intellectual bent. It was funny and ironic…and a little bit sad.
What the hell happens to people when they leave college? Do they take their degrees but leave their brains behind?
Ever feel so very alone for having an intellectual bent when no one else around you does (and especially as a female)? All dressed up and no where to go?
I deal with this on a nearly daily basis.
I cried a few weeks ago in my husband’s arms, and asked him, “Why won’t anyone talk with me the way I need to be talked to?”
I still don’t have an answer to that.