delara, interrupted

The way in which each of us arrives at that glorious place of knowing in ourselves is unique, and once we are there we pray we will never leave that place. During the past few years, it has been fascinating for me to study my path in life up to this point and all the things that have shaped me into who I am today. It has been wildly interesting for me to reflect upon—and believe me, I’ve done a LOT of reflecting over the past year and a half—the way in which I come to a conclusion about something, or the way I solve a question in my head or heart, or the way I connect and reconnect with “who I really am” and allow that connection to shape my decisions on a daily basis. It has been with amazement and awe that I have often come to that place of knowing, and it has all felt rather revolutionary to me, quite frankly.

It has been revolutionary because of the battles I have had to fight within myself—battles with myself, for that matter. Whenever I have reflected upon my greatest enemies in life, I always find myself staring squarely into a mirror and clearly seeing my own image. My two biggest nemeses take the form of statements:

I am not good enough.

I do not deserve to be happy because of all the mistakes I have made.

How these two monsters have wreaked (and continue at times to wreak) havoc in my life has been quite elegant. (She says sarcastically.) They are so insidious and deadly that I hardly know they have struck until I see the wreckage strewn out on my front lawn. Their power is pervasive and sneaky. And what’s worst is that I haven’t really been able to talk about them except in very private conversation until very recently. Too scary.

Their impact on my life demanded an “inward and outward revolution” that began when my thirst for a “new and (somewhat) undefined good” became undeniable—when I was so completely parched and wartorn that I felt as though I would die without taking a drink in almost every aspect of my life. Nothing seemed right, everything was damaged. So, I took a sip from that everlasting fountain of light; I focused on my spiritual connection and feeling God’s presence in my life. And it began to fill me up. It opened new vistas, prompted new ideas, transformed the way I saw myself as one of God’s creatures. It made clear to me the choices I needed to make, even though those choices would be difficult and painful, even though they would not be understood or supported by everyone and many people would, in fact, think I was crazy. At first, the water gave me enough strength, fortitude and confidence to minimize the effects of the naysayers and doubters, and—more importantly—the courage and power to withstand my foes.

As I drank, though, I began to experience an unpleasant aftertaste in the form of questioning myself and doubting the messages I was receiving from my spirit. Those sneaky bastards were having their way with me again, even more subtly and perniciously. Then, I realized something that would further revolutionize the way I would take my journey. I realized that no matter how much I drank from a spiritual fountain, no matter how much I allowed the waters of divine knowledge to cleanse and fill me up, I was drinking with a metallic cup that would always leave a funny taste in my mouth. Although it was easy for me to think, at first, that the water was the source of the aftertaste, eventually I recognized that I needed to change my cup because of its imperfections as those very imperfections would always let my enemies affect the taste of the water.

And thus, I began this journey. I recognize that it’s a lifelong process. I have no illusions of “solving the puzzle” right now, or even next week, or even in five years. (Much as there is a part of me that really wants to solve it right now. Ha!) But I’m excited to be exploring materials with which I can fashion a cup that is worthy of drinking from the camphor fountain.