It seemed that my spiritual growth came in Rebirth moments, and I could give their dates. I Awoke on 14 February 1999. On x July 2001 I came to value my feelings. On 1 July 2011 I turned to Positivity from Negativity. That no longer fits. I have always been positive, and I remain negative. I may have seen a spiritual lesson, but the work still has to be done. Perhaps, we are always learning the same lessons throughout life: I must ask my wise nonagenarian friend.
One moment still feels like a great liberation. When I was about nine, I wept, and my mother looked on uncomprehending; and until September 2010 I would have told you of that with my original outrage and resentment, ending SHE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND! And suddenly that changed, and I understood. Oh, right, she didn’t understand. It was liberating.
It remains remarkable to me that anyone could fail to make a connection and not be ridiculous, disgusting, useless, worthless, moronically unfit. That is why I have my intelligence that others remark upon, but which I find hard to recognise. And I could permit that one failure to understand in her, which had hurt me so much I still felt the hurt 35 years later. So I could accept all her lapses from the Perfection we demanded of each other. I was freed to respect and love her.
And I had loved her since, just after her death, I picked on two beautiful loving memories to be my special memories of her; and before. Steps forward at the pace I can manage, and suddenly turning a corner and finding a new vista ahead, make the journey seem worthwhile.
In conversation, two stories from work came to mind, and I told them, and I was surprised and ashamed that I was still upset about them, because I should have processed that emotion by now, and let it go; and frightened, because I am stuck, and my reaction to these old stories is part of my stuckness. What causes it? Changes in hormone dose?
The Quaker meeting is a good place to process things like this acid reflux experience. What tools do I have to deal with it? That “forgiveness” of my mother- forgiveness seems the wrong word, posthumous reconciliation is better. Forgiveness of self is a useful tool to develop. Sometimes I make connections later, which I did not make at the time. This does not mean I am useless and fuckwitted, necessarily. If I can untangle the feeling that I should have done better from resentment at wrongs in The World or The System- for these are memories of injustice which I wanted to correct and could not- then I can accept myself.
I need to deal with my feelings about the world and injustice, as well- but disentangling them from my feelings about my own capacity is necessary. One thing at a time.
How did I do? As well as I could have, at the time. Breathe.
In the silence of meeting I became emotional, and the process made me feel good. No, not a Rebirth or Awakening, but the patient work of taking that step forward feels good. Keep taking the steps.
Clare Flourish 
I like the pink. I also like this writing. There’s something Proustian about it. Like having a grenadine diabolo in a garden in Provence.
I too struggle with a sense of injustice- yet Iast year my father wrote me to express how I was extremely fortunate and terminally ungrateful. Tomato, tomato.
LikeLike
I am glad you like the pink. I fiddled with the numbers, varying the blue and green, for some time. Proustian! Blush! Oooh! Consciously, I use him as an influence.
For me, the injustice is the Cruelty of the World, which is a bit adolescent of me. In so many ways the World is good to me. You do seem fortunate, though not in every way. I like the new photo. It looks much youthful.
LikeLike
I wanted to ask, why Provence, but forebore, because I did not want to seem to accuse you of a solecism- but the author stayed in Paris, though the coal fire fumes could not do him good, and the Narrator seems only to see the countryside through the paintings of Elstir. But I cannot resist asking. Why Provence?
LikeLike
Paris is tough, harsh; Provence is hopeful- or at least people are hopeful when they first arrive. A bit like here. It’s bright and warm. There’s a certain freedom (or illusion of freedom).
LikeLike