What's your name?

 

"My Name is Asher Lev" is a beautiful, compelling novel. I feel a stronger conviction to be honest about my life, about who I am and about how I need to express that. 

I was captivated with the chapters when Asher lived in Paris and produced his first masterpiece. He knew the first Brooklyn Crucifixion was incomplete, and frankly, a lie. But when he really got in touch with himself he was able to paint the Brooklyn Crucifixion II. And he knew it would devastate his family to see it. And yet, to not paint it, to censor it, to pretend he didn't feel it, would have been death

I experience this daily. I'm not always on the verge of a masterpiece but I am daily trying to navigate my own neurotic mind. There are days that I know something powerful is brewing deep down in my subconscious, but am I brave enough to paint it? Can I see it in full-color? Can I look it in the eye? Most days, no. Most days I'm quite content denying it's even there, and like Asher's mama, content to paint "pretty pictures" of my life. 

I can't be too hard on myself for this tendency to lie, it is the human condition after all. What's beautiful is when we manage to momentarily suspend our "human-ness" and remember that we are spiritual beings with powerful things to say and do.

The weeks and days before Asher's art show he was mourning the effect that his art would inevitably have on his parents. But did that stop him? He was very tempted to take his masterpiece down, but he couldn't do it. The canvas would tell it all, the betrayal, the pain, the blasphemy. But that was his masterpiece. Why should he pretend it was any other way? He couldn't hold back his greatest self-discovery simply because he knew it might hurt people. What courage. Healing is definitely not for the faint-of-heart.

Let's face it, every one of us has some serious issues that we inherited from our childhood and, don't you know it, from our parents. I know of no exception to that statement. I've come to terms with the concept that all parenting, good or bad, is brainwashing. It's indoctrination. And when an adult realizes that they were brainwashed or indoctrinated as a child, well, they're pissed off! And we think to ourselves, "There's no way in Hell I'm going to put my children through what I went through!" So we swing from one end of the pendulum to the next. If religion was crammed down your throat, you become atheist. If atheism was crammed down your throat, you become religious. In truth, it's not always apparent to ourselves that we have swung to the other end of the pendulum. It's not always so black and white as religion versus atheism. It's most of the time very subtle. But it's like we're over correcting an out of control vehicle. We can't seem to think in the moment that we're driving off the cliff, "Now, let's see, if I just slightly turn the wheel a few degrees this way I'll avoid this tremendous and forthcoming accident." We typically think, "Ahhhhh!" and violently turn the wheel the opposite direction as hard as we can. It's natural, really it is. The tragic irony is that as far left or right that we crank the wheel we never stop to notice the car we're driving. That part we inherited from our folks even if the driving skills can be relearned.

I know, I know, it's the whole nature versus nurture argument. In case I've mislead you I'm a staunch believer that it's entirely both. Yes, genetics are a major contributor in shaping who we are. But equally profound is the effect of our surroundings, environments and...well, our agency. So long as we're clear on that point, I'll move forward in wrapping up my thoughts.

If all parenting is indoctrination it's inevitable that a child is indoctrinated with both truths and lies. Children can't be spared every evil of the world, even if their parents are the best to be found. This makes for some messed up adults. Isn't it true that we spend most of our adult-life recovering from our childhoods? No parent ought to be surprised if their child has to temporarily curse them, rebel against them, or as in Asher's case, blaspheme them. And I frankly feel that this is all in harmony with the Christian commandment to "honor thy father and thy mother". To get to the honoring phase we have to first get through the raging, ranting, bleeding, hurting, broken, disgusted, fill-in-the-blank phase. Or better yet, maybe all of those things are honoring them. The greatest way I can think of to honor my parents is to make something of myself. What does it take for me to do that? Asher knew the answer to that question for his own life.

In truth, it wasn't until becoming a mother myself that I finally came to understand this commandment. No, that's not quite true. I can't claim to fully understand it yet, but it was motherhood that inspired me to want to understand this commandment. Could I endure my very own daughter or son turning their back on me? Don't they know that they are my very own flesh and blood? Don't they know that I would willingly die for them? Don't they know what I have given up for them? It was motherhood that forced upon me the thought "Is it possible that my parents love me as much as I love my children?" That's when it dawned. That's when I wanted to explore this concept of what it means to honor my father and mother. I'm sorry to admit that it took my own selfish interests--namely, not wanting to lose my children--in order for me to give my parents a well-deserved second look.

We all have a childhood, some bad, some not so bad, and the few really great ones. But growing up requires you to face up to that childhood somewhere along the way. Asher is a new found hero of mine for doing just that and for honoring his parents in the most necessary way--by turning his back on them.

Little Bird

I've bought into a myth all of my life. I've not only bought into it but I've lived it, worshiped it and cherished it. It's been my identity for as long as I can remember. It's been my protection and armor. If it hadn't been for my belief in this myth I don't think I would have lived to adulthood. When everything else around me was careening out of control, I was in control. I was control.

That right there is the myth, the little voice inside of my head that tells me "I'm in control". Sometimes I hear it phrased like, "If I died, everything would crumble. I'm the glue that keeps the whole world together." In my lower moments the voice is much more sardonic, enraged even, whispering "I have to do everything for myself! I always have to be the strong one! When is it my turn?" Interesting that this voice always speaks in first person, as if it were me (you may not sense my feigned sarcasm there). And to think I trusted this voice! We've all been cautioned since young children that you can't judge a book by its cover, or don't take candy from strangers, but was I taught that you can't trust the voices in your head? I'm not even talking about the schizophrenic type. With that said, maybe I am talking about the schizophrenic type. These are just the day to day thoughts that come and go, ebb and flow, a steady stream of thoughts each and every moment of each and every day. This voice is all I know. It's me. It's the universe. It's God. It's my best and closest and dearest friend. Why should I ever doubt her?

But now I know. She's a liar.

At first I was just angry. If I'm not the one in control, then who is? Who does God think He is? Who ever asked Him to be in control? Who asked for His help? Doesn't He know that He doesn't exist? That's why I created her. That's why her voice is soothing and safe. She reminds me not to hurt. She helps me forget that hollowness when I realize that God doesn't exist and that He certainly doesn't love. Not me. Not anyone. She knew that if I was in control then I would never have to feel rejected or abandoned or alone ever again. Don't hold out hope for someone to fill that chasm. Why reach out to anyone for anything? Depend on yourself and work hard and you'll make your own happiness. How dare He take that comfort away from me? If He wanted to help me why didn't He just prevent all of my childhood shit form happening in the first place? He lied to me. He tricked me into coming here. He abused my innocence. He took my faith for granted. He fed me to the wolves! Who knocks a bird out of its nest just so he can save it?

The fall from my nest was so hard, so painful and so very real. But perhaps I can say this for the experience, it forced open my wings. I'm just a small, helpless baby bird learning to fly, dazed from my fall, enthralled by my flight, terrified by my freedom.

I know this now, that someone has to die. It's either Him or her. I've trusted her all of my life and I can't say the same for Him. He's always been so aloof, so pious, so exalted to me. Whereas she has been my faithful companion, always ready to bolster me up in hard times. He reminds me of a father, and the very word is treacherous. She reminds me of a friend, the trusty and unbiased opinion.

Does nobody else see my conundrum?

The truth is, I've already made my choice. She died the moment I called her "her". Once I started to question her advice the more I grew to distrust it. She's the most successful mole ever to have been planted. She so deeply infiltrated my identity that to pull her out of me nearly cost my sanity, and my life. I mourn you dear, loyal, though mistaken friend. I put you on the altar as my own Isaac, flesh of my flesh. We walked a long road together you and I, but I can't walk any further with you by my side, with you always whispering in my ear, with you hiding God from me. I've seen Him now and you're too late. I've felt Him now and you're not what you pretend to be. I trust Him now...and I am free.

Enjoy the swim

 Last night I came upon "The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success" by Deepak Chopra. Do you ever find yourself completely swimming in an idea or concept--you're staying afloat but you're certainly not on solid ground, but you're willing to be wet? Spend any amount of time reading poetry, philosophy, religious canon, or in this particular case, Chopra's works and you'll soon have the experience if you haven't already. Just dip your toe into the water by reading my own take on several of these spiritual laws:

• Imagine that you're holding a small pebble in your hand that represents an intention you would hope to see manifested in your life. You throw your pebble out into the pond that is the universe but the water is choppy. In fact every thought you have stirs the water more and more so that when your pebble hits the water its ripples are soon broken and scattered....and so is your intention. But if you can clear your mind, if you can embrace the gap between thoughts until the gap grows wider and wider and smoother and smoother until suddenly it's a magnificently calm pond. Now is your moment. Cast your pebble out into the water and watch the message be sent. Outward and outward, bigger and bigger. Soon an intention is manifested, it's realized.

• Affluence comes from the root word "affluere" which means "to flow to". One aspect of affluence is measured in terms of money. Even money has interesting roots--consider the word "currency". Money is meant to be constantly flowing in and out of our lives and the moment you try to stop that flow, to hoard it, you've cut off the flow of money coming INTO your life, not just out of it. In fact, consider the effects to your body if you cut off your blood flow? The moment blood stops flowing it begins to coagulate and oxygen can't be delivered to your vital organs. It means death. The message is simple, if you desire love, give love. If you desire money, give money. If you desire joy, give joy.

This last one is my favorite.

• There is a concept of "do less and accomplish more" in the Vedic Science. You see this spiritual law most perfectly practiced in nature. Grass doesn't try to grow, it just grows. Fish don't try to swim, they just swim. Flowers don't try to bloom, they bloom. The earth doesn't try to spin on its own axis, it just spins. This is their inherent nature. What is the inherent nature of humankind? To make our dreams manifest into physical form, easily and effortlessly. We're creators. I once read a profound thought by Orson F. Whitney that has forever changed my understanding of how faith begets miracles. We have oft heard the Christian scripture quoted about having the "faith as a grain of mustard seed". Most explanations of this scripture point out that since mustard seeds are tiny and yet grow into tall and beautiful trees that so it goes with man's faith. It may be as small as a mustard seed but it will grow into a tree! This isn't a wrong interpretation by any means. But consider that the seed in and of itself is the representation of perfect faith, not so much the tree, the finished product. When that mustard seed is planted in the earth, it knows its inherent nature and easily and effortlessly sets about fulfilling it. The seed grows and expands and pushes the dirt aside in order for its roots to lengthen. In fact, the roots are so capable of manifesting their true nature that they will rend the very rocks that stand in their way in order for life to spring upward and outward. Have you ever seen trees that have done this, that have broken through the concrete or pavement? In a a very literal sense the faith of a mustard seed is sufficient enough to move mountains! Easily and effortlessly! It knows how to "do less and accomplish more". It's not necessarily the size of the mustard seed that Christ wants us to reflect on but the perfect obedience of one of the least of His creations. If a seed can obey Him, what's our excuse? Whitney muses, "If man were as perfect, as obedient to law, in his sphere, as the trees and plants are in theirs, where would be the limit of his power?"

Enjoying the swim?