Growing up in poverty amongst wealth leaves some indelible programming on a soul. We are just now, as a social group, as maturing humans, coming to terms with this. We are taking stock and assessing the damage. In some ways, not as bad as we thought, and in others … ugh, hard to believe we could ever believe it was ok to do that to each other or our planet.
And then, and then, at certain levels you see the actual soul behind or operating the vessel that we have discounted or judged and you just want to hide your face man, it gets real cringey, sometimes unbearably so, real quick. You should just get in the habit of imagining that every super hero, every enlightened master, every scientific or mathematical genius, every angel, god, goddess, avatar, what have you is hiding in the form of those we judge the harshest because they are. And you’ll want to hide from that truth, but like it says, there are no rocks to hide under. And the only way through it is … through it.
You cannot tell the soul by the external appearance. You can get some idea of how the DNA may be interpreting and filtering certain things but a strong soul can override even that. The only way to really know, to really discern, is to be in touch with your own soul. To be in touch with your own soul is to be in touch with that which created it. That Great Mystery, that which you have to feel to know and since you’re always feeling it, you have to come to terms with why you’ve been denying it. Denying it of yourself and denying it of others.
The school I went to as a kid was a private, parochial school. Central Lutheran. My grandma drove the little bus and my mom and her cleaned it at night so I could go there. Anyways, that school had to close this year because they couldn’t afford to stay in business anymore. That’s such a weird thing to think of.
Every year the seventh-grade class would get to go on a field trip to an outdoor ropes course. It was a faith building obstacle challenge right at that age when knowing you can accomplish things becomes invaluable. I’ve never been one to really enjoy heights. I’ve also never been one to take safety equipment at face value. I had a tendency to, (as much as possible), rely on my own wits and abilities.
I remember the feeling of finally being one of the big kids and going on that field trip. Like one day I was little, and seventh graders looked like grown adults and the next, I was the seventh grader wondering when I was going to feel more grown up. Small private school meant small class sizes and stability. For someone who grew up in an emotionally volatile home, it made a tremendous difference. The same teacher that was teaching seventh grade when I was in first grade (and knew my name) was still teaching seventh grade when I got there (and understood my challenges because of it).
It was finally our turn to go on the big field trip. I was so damn scared going across those ropes so high in the air. I sang Amazing Grace. As softly as I could but loud enough for my best friend on the ground to hear and loud enough to put my heart at ease. Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found. Was blind but now I see.
It’s entirely possible I’ve always been weird. It’s entirely possible you’ve always been weird too. It’s entirely possible that the entirety of our lives, unique and impossibly variant as they are, is all the proof we should ever need, if only we don’t forget to …
to remember that no matter how many layers of clothes we throw on
beneath them all, we are still naked.
No matter how many rules and procedures and excuses we use to claim this clothing or that clothing makes us better or more deserving or…
beneath them all, we are still naked.