Messed Up Me

There was a time in the past when I felt utterly alone, like in those post-apocalyptic movies where a nuclear catastrophe or virus has wiped out most of the human race.  To be honest, even now as a middle aged man with a wife, kids, and an adorable dog I have moments like that as well.  So-called midlife crises are made of such things.

It’s probably that I’m a bit too concrete about where I end and another person begins, but I do believe with all my heart that there is a spiritual reality that binds us all together and unites us in a common struggle.  Maybe the struggle is getting to that reality and the realization of our interconnectedness.  We need each other.

But the feeling persists.  I am not nearly as far along in the journey as I would like to be when it comes to some degree of enlightenment.  I look out my basement window at this very moment and see the bottom of my daughter’s play house window.  I see my guitar propped against the wall.  Some weights and a work out machine sits idle in the shadows.

These are attempts at doing that sometimes detract from being.  We are a very busy society that places an inordinate amount of emphasis in what we do and how much we do without thinking much of what underlies that activity.  Sitting still and thinking for any amount of time is almost an invitation to despair.  Our brains are not wired that way.

And because we have been programmed as it were to avoid looking inward and cultivating our souls the inner world is a mess and best to be avoided.  Better to distract and busy ourselves in building the ego that appears to have some worth in the world of superficial pursuits and so-called “values”.  Anything to avoid me seeing me or, better yet, the messed up me.

Therefore I feel alone.

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