Monday, July 28, 2008

Dern, I keep forgetting the key point!

After my whining tirade the other night, I should have known somebody would post something like this. I could probably have guessed it would be RLP.

Call it what you will: "fear and trembling", the "Dark Night of the Soul," the "spiritual desert," "The Wilderness," Wonderland, Oz, or an Existential 'WTF????' moment. Those times when we come crashing up against our limitations as humans are sacred events which we should cherish because it is in those moments we have the opportunity to directly experience the Holy.

We will never 'understand' the Holy, but in those moments we have the opportunity to encounter it directly, usually when it is picking up the pieces of the mess we have made of something that seemed important.

Reminds me of a crazy dog my parents used to own. My mom was an immaculate housekeeper. The kitchen floor was linoleum which Mom kept scrubbed and waxed to such a high sheen it was freaking dangerous to humans and pets alike. They had this incredibly stupid poodle whose food dish was on the floor near the back door. Every day, Mom would put the dog's dinner in the bowl and most days, if Mom or somebody didn't catch her fast enough, the silly dog would go racing toward the dish. Several feet from the bowl, she would "put on her brakes" to stop, but her toenails and foot pads could not get traction on the waxed floor, so she would go smashing head first into the wall, most of the time spilling her food and water all over the place in the process.

Every time that happened, she would look up at my mom with those sad and remorseful eyes as if to say, "Oh my god, I did it again!!!" Mom would pick her up and comfort her. She would put the dog down and patiently (or as patiently as Mom ever got) clean up the mess. The she would carefully set the dog down next to the bowl so she could have her supper.

Maybe the dog wasn't quite as stupid as I thought: She managed to not only to be fed but she also managed to be loved every day as well.

I do that, too. Too often, however, I fail to notice the being loved part because I'm so busy being pissed off about the bashing my face into the wall part.

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