Dear G*d:
I quit. I have tried to mold my internal reality to a spiritual identity that doesn't suit me very well at all. It never did. It protected me in the ways that I was psychically and emotionally wounded and vulnerable, and I'm eternally grateful for what it did offer.
But it came at the cost of my own identity and any kind of original, creative self-expression. It cam at the price of shoving myself into little boxes with clear, sharp outlines, defining me in ways that felt so violating and suffocating and yet inevitable.
I knew humility and detachment demanded that I give up the urge to be truer to myself, and that there was no greater cause for which I could sacrifice the mundane needs of my own ego. But I was never at home in that environment. I never relaxed into to the role, never accepted its limitations as permanent.
I thought it was what You wanted, and for You I would do anything. I did do anything. Or should I say there was so much I didn't do for You - so much I gave up and ignored and avoided. I didn't even acknowledge so much of what exists in the world since it conflicted with what I wanted to do for You. And in that small way, I was content with my choice, content with choosing You over everything and everyone.
But at this point, with some clearer perspective and the passage of time and reality falling all around me, I can't quite remember how this made so much sense and for so long. I can only imagine how terrified I was if those choices seemed the safe and right ones, how I was willing to trade dead inside for afraid.
People do it all the time in the name of G*d and religion. They build walls so high and secure that it seems all evil has been banished, and that it is the most right thing to do. But evil isn't so simple, and walls never keep it out. Mostly they keep it in, because it doesn't come from some external enemy at all. It's the weaknesses in our own hearts and minds, and trying to hold such tight control is only just exhausting, not effective.
I am not a prophet. I do not speak for You and I cannot begin to know what Your children, in all their myriad needs, require. But I know that Your love isn't predicated on me making some horrible Sophie's choice between who I am at my best, engaged and warm and loving, and some kind of cool detachment that keeps me distant most of all from myself.
I know that relationship with You is about fulfilling potential, about awakening and caring for the gifts You blessed us with with, about accepting our place among the family of humanity and caring enough to make a difference.
So I quit. I quit the detached, uninterested, purely spiritual, it's all illusion anyway approach to life. And I'm digging in - to the dirt and the soil and the messy-ness and whatever else is going to show up. I can do this. I have You, so I know anything is possible. And I know that doing nothing isn't an option any more.
I quit. I have tried to mold my internal reality to a spiritual identity that doesn't suit me very well at all. It never did. It protected me in the ways that I was psychically and emotionally wounded and vulnerable, and I'm eternally grateful for what it did offer.
But it came at the cost of my own identity and any kind of original, creative self-expression. It cam at the price of shoving myself into little boxes with clear, sharp outlines, defining me in ways that felt so violating and suffocating and yet inevitable.
I knew humility and detachment demanded that I give up the urge to be truer to myself, and that there was no greater cause for which I could sacrifice the mundane needs of my own ego. But I was never at home in that environment. I never relaxed into to the role, never accepted its limitations as permanent.
I thought it was what You wanted, and for You I would do anything. I did do anything. Or should I say there was so much I didn't do for You - so much I gave up and ignored and avoided. I didn't even acknowledge so much of what exists in the world since it conflicted with what I wanted to do for You. And in that small way, I was content with my choice, content with choosing You over everything and everyone.
But at this point, with some clearer perspective and the passage of time and reality falling all around me, I can't quite remember how this made so much sense and for so long. I can only imagine how terrified I was if those choices seemed the safe and right ones, how I was willing to trade dead inside for afraid.
People do it all the time in the name of G*d and religion. They build walls so high and secure that it seems all evil has been banished, and that it is the most right thing to do. But evil isn't so simple, and walls never keep it out. Mostly they keep it in, because it doesn't come from some external enemy at all. It's the weaknesses in our own hearts and minds, and trying to hold such tight control is only just exhausting, not effective.
I am not a prophet. I do not speak for You and I cannot begin to know what Your children, in all their myriad needs, require. But I know that Your love isn't predicated on me making some horrible Sophie's choice between who I am at my best, engaged and warm and loving, and some kind of cool detachment that keeps me distant most of all from myself.
I know that relationship with You is about fulfilling potential, about awakening and caring for the gifts You blessed us with with, about accepting our place among the family of humanity and caring enough to make a difference.
So I quit. I quit the detached, uninterested, purely spiritual, it's all illusion anyway approach to life. And I'm digging in - to the dirt and the soil and the messy-ness and whatever else is going to show up. I can do this. I have You, so I know anything is possible. And I know that doing nothing isn't an option any more.
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