Here I am in my small niche in the infinitude. I have at my disposal perhaps an infinite number of lenses through which to view my predicaments or, as Jack Johnson says, my situations. I was originally going to call this blog, Many Lenses Mom, or Where the Two Seas Meet. Both of these names point to the conundrum of being One thing and Another, simultaneously. Particularly, a limitless, spiritually connected soul, and a tiny ego being, surfing the various waves of conditioned and wounded compulsions and patterns, ever watching and praying for the annunciating winds of freedom and change.
“Where the two seas meet” is a saying taken from the Sufi story of the teacher Khidr, the Green Man, alluding in some way to where and how inner life meets outer. The story teaches of patience in the face of life’s trials. Perhaps ultimately what it’s saying is that the true application of inner heart wisdom to outer life is through humble, loving acceptance of all that is given, whether trial or tribulation.
As quoted from the Quran in reference to the Khidr story’s essential teaching:
“Prescribed for you is fighting, and you have a hatred for it; and it may be that you hate a thing, while it is most charitable for you; and it may be that you love a thing while it is evil for you; and Allah knows and you do not know.”
(Thanks to the blogger, Realistic Bird, for this quote.)
I struggle greatly with wanting to own this teaching, which I first came across over 20 years ago. For years I have intended the work of accepting the features of my life, yet often have allowed myself to be caught by the feisty vicissitudes of my conditioned nature and personality—particularly in the realms of relationships, family, and parenting.
My current dilemma comes in the form of longing for relationship, as someone 3+ years divorced, parenting a teenage daughter, working alone from home, and with few close friends. I recently lost one of my closest of these friends of the past 20 years to death, as well as my 97-year-old father. Two years ago I lost my sister, to suicide. Somehow these losses have served to catapult me into a compulsion to get my inner need to love and be loved met from outside. I seem to have lost touch with my capacity for self-nourishment. Or perhaps it’s that I’ve never had it, it’s always been my growing edge–or rather, an edge needing to be grown!–but now the situation is starving me out…getting so bad perhaps I will finally, somehow, be forced to change.