Sunday, March 30, 2008

Giving up hope for a better past

I believe we come into this world in love. No matter the circumstances of that moment of insemination, it is predicated on an act of love, even when the human beings involved cannot feel it.

No matter the science behind the gestational journey, there is something miraculous and infinitely mysterious about one tiny sperm in a million careening into an egg, splitting it open and planting the seed of life. There are so many possibilities within its genetic code for it to create the same old, same old model of a human being and yet, billions of times over, it produces a unique human being of infinite possibilities.

With our possibilities, and our uniqueness intact, we emerge into the world and begin the journey of our human condition. Along the way, we may lose that spark of infinite possibility of our birth. We may lose our sense of wonder and awe in the miracle of our lives. Not because someone stole it from us, but rather, because they too didn't recognize the miracle of who they are. In their blindness they could not see that we were a miracle, just like them.

Denied of our birthright, we begin the journey of our lifetimes, continually seeking for what it is we do not know we have lost. In our confusion, we feel the unnameable pain of what it is we believe is missing from our lives. We grieve the loss of the miracle we cannot see is ours because we do not recognize we were born with the beauty and magnificence of who we are. In our sorrow, we seek comfort out there, somewhere in the world. We seek an ending to our pain in addictions, in rage, in possessions, in money, in someone else's arms, in self-abuse. We are creative souls and in our creativity, we seek for what we want in countless ways we could never imagine.

In our fear of facing the truth within us, we dare not look within ourselves for what is missing. We are complex beings. Life is hard, we tell ourselves. It cannot be that simple. It cannot be that easy. We tell ourselves we come into this world as incomlete beings. Our journey is to complete ourselves and then we lose ourselves in the pain of not knowing where to look. To explain away why we are lost, we label our confusion. We call ourselves puzzles. Tough nuts to crack. Marshmallows, hard as rock, weak as babies. We get creative with the words we use to hide behind and stumble into the darkness of never being able to find the spark of light that will guide us into the completeness we have always possessed. In our despair we try to kill off our hope of ever being anything other than who we are in our pain and sorrow.

No matter how hard the road beneath us, however, no matter how many hard knocks we have taken on the journey to now, there is a spark within each of us that never dies.

It is the spark of hope.

There is no wind that can extinguish it. No breath that can blow it out. As long as we are alive, no matter how shallow our breath, no matter the depth of our despair, that spark of hope is always alive within us.

We are miracles of life and nothing can destroy a miracle. Not even death.

Every day in the Choices seminar room I witness someone awaken to the truth that they are not hopeless. Every day I witness someone embrace the truth that their past has already been lived. They can't get it back. They can't conjure up a different story of what happened or who they were. And in the realization that all hope of a better past must rest in peace, they awaken to the realization that there is always hope for a new tomorrow when they start living today for all they're worth.

Choices is not the miracle, it is the vessel of hope into which we fall when we surrender our defenses to being all we're meant to be. The people in that room are miracles. Every single one of them. In all their woundedness. Despair, loss, sorrow, pain. We are, each and everyone of us, a miracle of life unfolding in hope, faith and love.

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