Patiently living in dissonance
A brief preamble (sorry, hopefully you’ll see where I’m going with this)…
It really is remarkable (and in my personal opinion, miraculous) that improvements in our standard of living along with advances in the fields of neuroscience and psychology have led us to a place were we can treat our own minds as the true parts of our body that they are. We are moving away from the crudely dichotomous view of the past that you were either sane or insane. I am a person of great faith as well as one who holds great trust in my intellect; however, I simultaneously acknowledge the fact that my mind is susceptible to the same types of imbalances, strains, or injuries that are found elsewhere in my body. It is tremendously liberating to know that the crowning jewel of biology, evolution, Divine creation, etc., the brain, can and does break down for each of us.
In our modern social dialogue, we hear frequent reference to “Mindfulness”, “Living in the moment”, “Being present”, etc. Each of these phrases are shorthand for accepting your current circumstances (physically, socially, emotionally, mentally, etc.) and allowing how you feel, think and act to manifest, without self-judgement or reactionary behavior. This is not to say that you don’t act based on circumstances, but rather you deliberately choose to acknowledge thoughts and feelings, rather than suppressing them or allowing them to carry your actions unmonitored.
In my personal mental canvas, this practice can be compared to staring at the same stretch of sky, day in and day out. Sometimes, that patch of sky is bright and sun-drenched. Other times, there are dark cumulonimbus thunderheads that make me want to look away and go indoors. Still other times, there are 4th of July fireworks. And yet other times, there are hazy, muggy, smoggy days where I’m just disgusted with the view. Each of these images are true states of my personal sky, my mind, and while part of me would want to grab an enormous leaf blower and shoo those storm clouds and that haze away, they will pass on their own. If I learn to be patient and kind to my own internal sky, it will show me that it can constantly change, and more importantly, it is mine, in all of its varied beauty.
The corollary to all of the above is patience. The direction of time moves forward. At least in this life, there is no speeding it up (or transporting back, for that matter). Each moment is illuminated before us, as palpable as the physical things that inhabit its space. In my cursory reading of the theoretical physics behind time, I understand (or at least I think I do) that the combination of space and time exists as an entity out there. It is as if the moments are already created. So, rather than rush by them, I think I should just witness them arriving, like long-travelling sojourners that they are. In that light, patience takes on a whole new meaning. Each millisecond of waiting is imbued with purpose, not to be suffered, but rather anticipated, at least if you believe that a benevolent God has a say on that spacetime entity out there.
To me, He does exist. He is benevolent, and whatever the construct of our existence may be, his influence upon our experience ought to induce excitement, not dread. 12 years with the love of my life was a tangible gift from Him, given through the medium of space and time. Each breathing moment of my current life, while fairly bewildering at times, is also a gift. Those moments where I feel to despair are gifts because they teach me the sweetness of hope. Those moments of frustration and anger are gifts because they show me how to love everyone unconditionally. So, when I feel like I want to just “skip the lines” and take a FastPass on life, I pause. This moment, this event is here and now. I won’t have it again. Let’s see what it can offer.
