Hang on Lausten, I have been thinking about your challenge.
Okay, there’s another dimension, it’s also about how do we feel about and deal with our own hypocrisies, failings, past and present transgressions or failings in personal honor (that would be the living by a code of ethics).
I want to be good and kind and giving towards others, but situations are dynamic.
All of a sudden nice situation rages out of control. When you’re giving becomes expected, or when the one, suddenly morphs into overwhelming expectations with one + + showing up.
The reality that “In the end each of us needs to save ourselves.” and I am responsible for myself first and foremost, So it’s a balance, because I’m not an island either but yes, at the same time, family does have a right to their expectations. And so on and so forth.
Suddenly, I’m visualizing that kayaker, rolling with the flow, doing what needs to be done stay afloat, getting battered by a bit of splash and rocks but, keeping on, keeping on.
There’s that wonderful Sinéad O’Connor line: “Be good, but not too good.”
First I heard it, home run, yeah babe, you nailed it. Still think so.
It’s also about owning our own bullshit. I think most who make it to their 60s have memories of behaving totally out of line, big mistakes perhaps big sins. I can take comfort that none of mine are malicious in nature - just as an a-hole when I should have done better. But sins none the less. Now what do we do with that? Do we live and learn? Or pretend it away and ignore?
There’s a some old WWII movie, where the one guy goes on about the cathedral in his heart and the cove of candles, one for every memory and person that mattered, with one that he was going to light and keep burning for the person being addressed. I thought it was beautiful and it sort of got absorbed by my subconscious.
It feels a bit like that for me, more like shelves full of nooks and boxes, once in a while we pull one out and the memory comes back, like it was now, most are good, but there are some uncomfortable ones, and a couple that scorch like hell itself. It’s good to revisit, remember, to own it, but then the pragmatic persons needs to fold it up and stick it back into it’s nook, or it will consume ya. I don’t want to self destruct, I want to live the adventure so gotta own it all, but remember in the end my life is about me. I came into this world alone and naked and so I shall leave this amazing Earth and body I was allowed to exist within for my three score and some years.
(Oh, Lausten there’s hint to the American God’s mystery spot. The all consuming mother of sex. Does that ring a bell. )