You say you have a right to be angry. And yes, that’s right, you do. But what has this ‘right’ built, created, healed, helped, invented or reconciled?
We see nakedly when we see without thinking about what we are seeing, when there’s no screen of mentation separating seer from seen, when for a moment the subject/object split is healed. Babies and other new life forms see nakedly. First, their faces open as if they are seeing something miraculous. Then they smile. If the new life form is a puppy, it licks our faces with a giddy avidity. They are thrilled, I tell you. Thrilled.
No one wins an argument. An argument is one mental/emotional structure bashing against another. There may be noise, excitement, even victory, but there will be no peace. The chief blessing of the natural world is that it has no opinions. It is perfectly capable of taking defensive measures, as it is doing right now, but it has no opinions. It will not argue with humans.
Old pain is buried pain—pain we haven’t dealt with. When the hurt happened, we didn’t know what to do, so we put it in the basement. It howls and rages down there. All it wants is the lights on, clear seeing, our thoughtless attention, the silent fortitude of love.
Ours was not a happy home. My father was violent and hyper-religious. He beat me with his belt while I lay draped across what was always a perfectly made bed, pants and underwear puddled around my ankles. Two of my three siblings, a brother and a sister, killed themselves.
A voice said, “Call the angels.” And angels came—angels enough to revivify William Blake, angels seen and unseen, women angels, men angels, child angels, a whole dance of them.
Does a man live who is more loved?