"If" ~ Rudyard Kipling

What happens when a person recognizes that we in this reality are NOT the same?  In my time with a psychopath and his oddball clan, I was hurt, wounded, frightened by my inability to understand the unfolding schematic of living, and shaken to the core of my belief systems.  Nothing I "knew" and practiced, worked with the setup.

 

Everything that I shared as a part of a soul which I felt to be generous and nurturing was tilted on it's side and it was as if I had been living in a bubble of protection until this time frame.  Many will find my paths of inquiry now to be unsettling and I may even face some denigration for delving into ideas that others feel fervently oppose the depth of humanity.  But, the bits and pieces of evaluation find their way to my doorstep of awareness and I am now ready to take a closer look.

 

I have never been much of a "joiner" because I found that I simply couldn't accept the totality of data provided by various groups, even religious ones.  There are touches of amazing "truth" in so many practices and studies.  So, just how does one "find a home"?  I suspect there is no such thing EXCEPT within our own beings. 

 

My family, including many on extended levels, was deeply involved with Hubbard's teachings in my youth, but there were also blatant upsets from the experiences of those departing the organization.  What happened from the time that information was offered and disseminated to the point-of-no return for many who departed that belief system?  I have the gut feeling this precipitate turned on the very point of this study: to teach one NOT to be a blind follower.   

 

Looking back to my romantic zest for finding "Mr. Right," I sought more than just that connection.  I hoped to find a special niche and to effectively "belong."  I did not succeed.  Perhaps THAT is the inscrutable test.  If as in the short story, "The Turn of the Lathe," by Ursula LeGuinn, we are our sole creators, then just what is it that we seek?  Are these pains to connect part of the memory of what we truly are?

 

I can comprehend those who suspect "Illuminati" contributions to this realm of life.  Whatever avenues of mysterious endeavor may open themselves, ultimately, how are we to live in this here and now...and why would it matter?  The cute movie, "Groundhog day," shows one man's choices and effects when "there is no tomorrow" and there appears no consequence for actions taken.  But there ARE important intents and repercussions to the use of personal power. 

I'd like to have a clear cut pathway and plotted course to offer not only myself, but others.  I just don't feel it works that way.  There are no simple and clearly excavated passageways.  Life for those who are more than flesh and bone requires risk and bringing all the spirituality of beingness to bear.  Peril exists and I am reminded of Carl Sagan's thoughts that we might not wish to meet the aliens to whom we send our welcome to Earth messages.  Maybe naivety is the necessary ingredient for the explorer in us.  In the journeys of discovery we must always be accountable to that unique gift combination of ethics, integrity, and honor. 

My search from my present platform will be different than the one I find farther down the road.  Who will I be?  Something inside me underscores that the pathway is essential.  I think Rudyard Kipling says it well:  "IF"...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!