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I had a cool night last night. I had a facebook chat about the great philosophical and conservative political ideology embodied in Forest Gump, and watched the movie Savages about some pot dealing Cali peeps. As the movie came to its close and I expected harsh judgement for their sins, and instead found they were nearly miraculously spared a gruesome death, I realized just how judgemental I was, how severe, and how easy it is to judge a sinner whose sins are different from your own. The dealers weren’t complexed about what they were doing, they hoped for happiness, and they accepted it in the form it was found. In some strange way I think the Buddha might have approved, partuclarly as the ex-Seal security dude explains that you need to accept you are already dead, that you were dead before you were born, and if you can accept that you can take anything.

I’ve done a lot of fighting with the flow of life. A lot of empty moralizing and naval gazing and judging, not to amend my self but just to destroy myself. And others. I thought I had to have the plan all worked out in my mind, that success was a result of effort and action, cause and effect logical and cold like Newtonian physics. I was wrong, we live in a world of waves and spirit and energy. Sometimes you get what you want, and you have to believe in some way you deserve what you want or you will live your whole life in hell. You have to believe you deserve to be happy, that you deserve to be as you are, and realize you are not responsible for righting all the wrongs in the world and sacrificing your happiness and peace of mind to fight battles that aren’t quite yours no matter how they’ve affected you. I’m talking about all the social justice guilty middle aged highly college educated white girls who need to do some kind of career in social service to alleviate the guilt of having been born lucky and free, of going to get worthless masters degrees that only make you feel worse about yourself and don’t prepare you for a job so you can have that middle class lifestyle you’ve grown accustomed to, to feeling you must get at least modestly rich while saving the world and sticking it to the man since you’ve been so privileged since birth just to have running water, just to live in a place where women can do more than be slaves.

It’s too heavy a burden to take on, an implicit challenge and distrust in God, and quite simply sometimes it is none of your business, much as you wish it was. Because you and only you know how to fix the world, though no else does.

And there’s the weirdness of the idea of being happy even when you are sad, of just accepting things and moving on and not fixating so much. The strange tickle of detachment, the funy feeling it gives you in your stomach to finally be free of your mind, your crazy mind, and to stop believing everything they have told you. That beyond platitiudes of it all works out in the end, everything happens for a reason, the Lord works in mysterious ways, it really is okay just as it is. Without seeing the whole divine plan unfold to the point where your puny little mind can get a piece of it. To say, yes, today it is raining but I don’t have to be sad. I didn’t get what I want, but I don’t need to analyze and ruminate and fight reality and try to deny it or tell myself why everything is wrong with the world and the universe is unjust and it’s time to just fight fight fight digging in your heels like an animal on the way to the slaughter.

Because you will be slaughtered, or at least transformed. Like a butterfly. Things can never stay the same, and you, as part of all those things, will never be the same. Tough nuggets. It’s not something to get too sad about.
It just is.
If you don’t spend your life in tears and sorrow and wailing over it, it doesn’t mean you don’t care or are hard of heart or in denial. It just means you are wise.

And o, the most subversive thing of all, when Thich Nhat Hanh says
Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

Rebellious crazy wrong feeling shoe on the other foot using your left hand to eat breakfast, that is.

Kind of like, doing your best and leaving the rest up to God, fate, destiny, something greater than yourself, and not beating yourself up about it anymore.

like letting a lover go. Without tears or recriminations.
Keeping your heart open, knowing you have to let love and light flow out to get it coming in, and that you can’t love and be loved unless you are open and can be hurt. But o, no need to to urt your heart as before, not when you can say goodbye with a smile.
Which doesn’t mean you don’t care, it just means you don’t care to get upset over the ebb and flow of life.

FOr me, among the greatest moments of self realization and acceptance recently has been admitting that I don’t want quite what my parents have. The house in the suburbs and all. At least not now. The idea that I will dream my own dream has made me feel guilty, ungrateful, and somehow dysfunctional, since so many people would kill for the loving, close family that I have, and living in NJ would not phase them for one bit. But much as this is home, my heart’s not really here.
And there’s nothing wrong or ungrateful or silly or immature about that.
I’m just not that way.
And I’m not going to fight it.
I don’t know hwere I am goig, but who does?

As far as love, the biggest realization, the biggest gap of freedom has been accepting the FACT that you don’t need a plan to fall in love. In fact, the less of a plan the better. The fact is, love will just happen. It may not happen in the way you accept, and forcing it to fit into a box according to your expectations makes it something that is less than love.
Love is magic, and magic is everywhere.

No, you don’t have to go looking for somebody. Not somebody of a certgain description. No, you don’t have to blame yourself if it goes wrong- some things just happen, not everyone is meant to be together. And it’s not your fault for breaking the mould.
And even more subversively, you don’t have to plan your emotional life. You don’thave to go looking for a husband. You don’t have to be ready for love. Love is always ready for you.
And the truth is, love is created and not just found.

Craziest thing of all.

So with that I’ll leave you. it’s been a mind blowing week for me and I finaly FINALLY feel my cage breaking. I’m finally not trapped in the prison bars of my own mind, and my imagination has been a source of joy and not misery. I’m not depressed anymore, and the self destructive habits are simply fading away. I’ve accepted my hunger, and it’s not eating me anymore. I’ts not getting a job that changed me, it’s not having everything squared away, it’s realizing that everything ALREADY is PERFECT, there is nothing wrong with things as they are, that it REALLy is
ALL GOOD.
That’s the scariest, craziest, most mind fucking thing of all.
And sometimes the mind just needs a good fuck after all, since it’s the mind that’s been fucking you over when you fell victim to the illusion that you were simply it, and not the screen, not the stage on which those thoughts are merely players.
You are the director, you are the singer of the song, you are the composer of the lyrics and writer of the score.
So many of those big bad things happening outside are just projections of the stories you tell yourself on the inside, day after day. Let those narratives go.

Turn away, be unchained from your place merely watching shadows dance on the walls of the cave.
Turn, turn towards the light.
What you see will destroy you. No man can see the face of God and live, but- but- and–
You wil be a new person, with a heart of flesh and not of stone, and a clear mind that knows it is just a dream, an illusion.
And you are bigger than your body, for you are with it, part of all that is and was and ever shall be.
You are a player, you will contribute a verse to the great epic of existence.
And it’s all good.

love,
MJ

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