Somehow, in this world of ours, we're supposed to believe that the scales will balance themselves. And, perhaps, the positives will outweigh the negatives by a touch. And, of course, we see many instances of where life is not fair. Where the meek never inherit the earth. But we believe that all will turn out well in the end, that our struggles and efforts have a purpose, otherwise why continue?
The Secret/Law of Attraction teaches that what we put out into the universe is what we receive. That if we are negative, we attract negativity. If we are positive, we attract positivity. But that, and here's the catch, if we radiate positivity because we are afraid of negativity, the universe may pull an "oops" and deliver the negativity.
Murphy's Law dictates that whatever can go wrong, must go wrong.
Karma (depending on whose interpretation), in its simplest form holds that deeds, positive and negative, are reciprocated at some point equally. For every action, there is a reaction. If you give, you will receive in the same spirit and in kind.
And then, we have the final authority on the subject: The bumper sticker: Sh*t Happens.
I breathe a sigh of relief when people that I've gotten to know are blessed after what seems to be a curse, no matter how small or temporary. Drew got positive feedback about his health the other day, while going through awful treatment. And he's surrounded by amazingly supportive people. Another friend is going through a similar treatment course, but finally found the love I know he'd been looking for for as long as I've known him. Debra & Sooz found love when they least expected it and had given up. Jodi, Sara & Sigal are mommies of bouncing, joyful babies. Lisa finally realized her dream of becoming a National, nay, Senior National Sales Director, and Regina made Director (finally!).
Now, I really have to wonder which direction this universe is sending me. What cryptically cruel chord are you playing for me when you give me a day like yesterday... Happy Bubble Day... I win a contest (the prize and sponsor should have been the kind of obviously, corny foreshadowing that I'd usually see in a TV show and scoff at how obvious it would turn out) and then, well... the bubble-bursting tack? Now, I really have to wonder if I can "trust my feet" as I was told I could do many years ago, hiking up an impossible climb. Somewhat tainted advice upon which I'd moved mountains recalling.
But, perhaps it's the time of year, as well, that makes this weigh so heavily on me. The Law of Rica's Universe is that this is the time of year when hopes always seem to be dashed. When I'm faced with my greatest fears realized. Matters of the heart, home, finances. It varies year to year.
And it's the time of year that I'm reminded of what is most important to me. What is the crux of my existence. Finances - while they can cause great distress, they are merely a means to an end. Home? Home is nothing without matters of the heart.
Matters of the heart. The earth may revolve around the sun, but my soul revolves around a very, very battered and fragile heart. I know. Shocking to most of you, yes? This brazen, bold, outspoken, "fearless" (hahahaha), determined force of nature has a chink in the armor. It is a very guarded, walled up open wound. I can feign its exposure to most, but actual revelation? I can count on one hand to whom I've opened up. (And, I know, several of you are thinking, "You mean, with me?" And the answer? Most likely. Sorry. I gotta be honest.)
Trust. Security. Safety. I've been promised all of those. Given hope to feel all of those things. And have had each one irreconcilably broken. And there are those with whom I *almost* felt that Holy Trinity, but even rarer that I actually felt them. Like drinking instant Sanka, and then, just once, tasting pure, caffeinated Kopi Lewak. And, consequently, being asked to forget the taste that, months later, still linger on the tastebuds and have been patiently saving up to taste once more.
And why this time of year?
It all starts with this:
Who shall have rest and who shall wander...
Who shall be at rest and who shall be tormented,
I sit and listen to the translation of Unetaneh Tokef on Rosh Hashanah and wonder if this will be my year to rest. And to be at rest. I don't mean in a lounge chair. I don't mean all the events/activities that I'm involved with to settle down so I'm not running around like a chicken with my head cut off all the time. (Which, by the way, is my natural state.)
I'm talking about a restlessness that seems to have begun since the day I was born. The cruelest trick in the universe is to produce a Gemini and leave them alone, without their twin, their mate. It's like living life like a 3-legged greyhound being asked to, nay, forced to race and win.
And now, as it seems is the case every year, on Yom Kippur, I'm going to be forced to sit through another reading, the reading that is my greatest fear possible, with that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that generations ago, Rabbis wrote strictly to torment and mock me. A talmudic, "nanny, nanny, boo-boo - you can't get us back, because we're long dead... pbththththth."
FAILURES OF LOVE
For confusing love with lust,
and for pursuing fleeting pleasure at the cost of lasting hurt.
For using others as a means to gratify our desires,
and as stepping-stones to further our ambitions.
For withholding love to control those we claim to love,
and shunting aside those whose youth and age disturbs us.
For hiding from others behind an armor of mistrust,
and for the cynicism which leads us to mistrust the reality of unselfish love.
I don't dread these words because I believe that I did any of these things. But because I feel like the butt of a variation of that old joke, "Hey, did you know that a man is mugged every 10 seconds in NYC? And boy, is he mad about it!" The re-write, "Hey, did you hear about that chick, Rica, for whom people confuse love with lust, who use her to pursue fleeting pleasure, causing her lasting hurt? Who gets used to gratify others and is the happy, energetic stepping-stone to further their ambitions? From whom love is constantly withheld to control, and is shunted aside? Who, now, hides, no, cowers from others behind an armor of mistrust? Who has developed a cynicism superficially, AND YET, deep down in her heart, STILL BELIEVES in the reality of unselfish love, but, more like the way she believes in unicorns? And, boy, is she mad about it! But she doesn't know any better, so she still chases after it!"
So, if you're at services, and you see me squirming in my seat as we approach this section, you'll know why. (Yes, YOU.)
The question is, why is it that whenever I make the effort, I end up spinning my wheels, but never earning the jersey? Or pull my hamstring?
No comments:
Post a Comment