I do not know how to be in relationships where there are so many doors closed to where conversation could lead — that it can’t. Where things of importance cannot be touched. Where people seem to conceal from themselves the background that sustains all that is not known evidently because people cannot afford to know these things.
If a person tries to plan a trip forward to go somewhere and there are road blocks and detours that lead in circles or nowhere at all — everyone concerned or involved will eventually become so lost there’s no return and no destination.
I don’t know if this is true for myself because I can’t find out, at least not from other people. I am left feeling alone even in the company of others. I end up thinking if I had been raised in a home without so much abuse I never would have asked the questions that I do. Then I wouldn’t know there are so few answers. Or, more probably, none at all.
The inner pain, the inner confusion, happened so long ago in abusive families all involved, most certainly siblings, were forced to proceed not knowing the questions and left without real hope for answers because everyone was overwhelmed from the beginning. Left to do the best they can do. And this has to be enough for love to flourish between people — anyway.
Such love flourishes in spite of all the difficulties. It seems to be something unique in me that seeks to work things through in language. In words. In conversation of open give and take that would seek for truth where others keep it forever unknown. Out of sight. Hidden. Buried away. Permanently concealed. Off limits.
How do I negotiate to retain relationships that have so little access to truth needed to actually maintain them? How does give and take get negotiated? How does need and want, desire, fear and hope between two people slide back and forth smoothly and cooperatively when nothing related to anything of meaning can be spoken?
Is nearly everyone (it seems) so bound and gagged even in their thoughts that we walk together in a world of mass joint silence that keeps denial alive everywhere we turn and so few can ever even notice?
Do we end up internalizing one another’s silence until it seems to become our own? Until we give up trying to figure out where our own forced silence has joined with another’s so that what they refuse to know becomes what we cannot know ourselves?
I cannot guess. I cannot force anyone to open up what they choose to keep covered up inside themselves. I cannot pry. I am too aware of keeping peace by keeping pace as those I know or meet or love allow me to be in their lives — only to the degree I keep my mouth shut. Keep my own thoughts and feelings about nearly everything I would talk about — to myself.
How do I retain and maintain my own relationship with myself? Walking through life with so many people who are so silent even tas they talk and talk about affairs of being alive in a material world, where conversation stays on the surface having to do only with the basic levels of physical needs in a physical body in a physical world that belies the possibilities of deeper understanding about the experience of being human?
Doesn’t this become a never-ending series of encounters with people where compromising what really matters leads us into hollowness, generation after generation, as we exchange between one another words only about our material nature as if we, too, are made of dollars and cents?
We leave unspoken, unfaced, unmined, unexplored, unknown, the truth about who we REALLY are while we reduce so many of the moments, hours, days, months and years of our lifetime to materially based transactions while we remain empty inside and empty together. What human relationship can we find, then, when so much of what makes us truly human is missing in action?
It is not a good sign for the future of America that “shallow” has been replaced with “empty” and so few even notice. I don’t think the problem rests only within members of families where horrors of child abuse left children now grown with so little to talk about other than sheer continued material survival.
It seems that the truly human voice of great literature depths has left us as we now wander through life in some kind of a daze we do not recognize. Do not identify. Struck, we are, numb and dumb with our own inner depths left idle. Left alone. Left silent. Untouched.
Where, then, lies the soul of the world while we clank and clunk around transformed into consumerized zombized robots? Where lies our true power? Where lies our grace and our passion? How did this great disconnect happen that led us so astray from who we could become if we knew who we really are?
Are we the disenfranchised intent on keeping distant from one another by so thoroughly, carefully, intently, determinedly keeping so hidden from ourselves? Are we going in the wrong direction?
What will our future hold? Does shallow lead to empty and then to nothing? Are we becoming empty shells? Are big box stores and subdivisions full of ugly box houses and pavement consuming us from the inside out as we enslave ourselves to our base material existence? As we extinguish our own contact with the inward sources of our own humanity?
What do we actually question deeply? Do we really believe that smut pulp fiction (ask Random House publishing) makes us better people? Do we question the source of what we believe? Do we remember that as humans we are exquisitely designed to look below the surface of our material world to see the source of life’s heart beating within everything we see and touch?
Is this a spiritual disease that empties a nation of its soul? Is this disease contagious? Where are our thinkers? Where are our watchers? Our listeners? Who speaks? Of what to whom?
Are the lights of our true and inner selves being extinguished, blinking out one by one as darkness envelops our earth even as it is lit up only with light bulbs that make our planet glow empty from outer space? Until?
Where are the gatherings in every community where humble people join together in conversations about what actually matters? Are we all so enslaved? How do the lonely few keep their own inner light burning brightly as they work to transform their experience into knowledge and wisdom that sustains the deep levels of being human? What can we give without giving up or giving in?
We have an increasing quantity of human bodies on our planet. Do we have any quality left to show for it?
I can’t help but wonder.
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March 8, 2013