see : through

I’ve heard people say "I love you" with as much passion as they have later said "I hate you" - we say best what we don't mean, in every way. We do a good job, though, of describing something to do with what we don't know about ourselves. I don't know where truth resides and I don't think insincerity, dishonesty or downright deceit is at the heart of what falls out of most mouths. When it comes to the crunch, I just don't think we're very responsible for much of what we say, because we don't really understand what we're feeling or doing. Most don't care to find out, either; don't hear that what isn't said may be closer to "it". Or fear the consequences. A quick glossy lip-service to the unknown and let's "move on" before we actually have to look more closely at this, shall we? It's not that I'm saying every thought should be uttered no matter how hurtful. Not at all. I'm wondering if we even know what we truly feel sometimes when we deploy voices. Especially raised ones. I'm wondering if we would even think half the stuff that crashes around our minds if we knew ourselves more proactively.

A dear friend of mine rejected "spirituality" some years ago, deeply hurt by those who chose to think they were other than they actually were, especially men. She was also stifled by the lack of intellectual challenge around; the constant repetition of deluded tyranny. Every which way she turned enlightened fascists, high on their own abusive dogma, blocked her way and wore her down.

The nearest thing to truth came in the form of skeptical dialogue with those who denied anything and everything that did not have physical presence and evidence. She re-evaluated her life on the rather nasty evidence around her feet and sent it packing. Along with her old self. She became a scientist and is now doing an OU degree.

When Carrie first declared she was putting all her soul-journey books in the bin, I stopped talking about spirit stuff too. We were too close to a serious fall-out that neither of us wanted. It was like an invisible hand rested on my shoulder, urged me to just "hold peace for now, lady". In a bizarre twist of cosmic knicker-elastic we're actually able to talk better now than before about heart-stuff. Fall-out was averted and the follow-on is awesome. By stepping through, beyond, the persuasive control unquestioned emotions wield, Carrie and I can talk more openly about them. I've learned from her brave stand against misery. The hugest revelation is that what I feared would be an abandonment of her soul/higher self - and a rift between us - has actually served as a beautiful mediator.

It’s almost as if Carrie's denial of unseen forces has opened her up to them more than her excellence in massage, counseling and aromatherapy ever achieved. She's free to explore now that she can prove the chemical path every emotion takes, locate exactly which neurons are firing in the brain and where. She seems connected now to what was exclusive Mystery before; maybe she was trapped by the notion of that. Now she isn’t. Maybe I've been able to join her on a new kind of bridge too, not that I have the stamina these days - or the inclination - to name all the parts. Not that we agree on everything, either, but then who could; who would even want to?

We’re all trapped by so much. Anything can be a psychological prison and heart-breaker – love, passion, need, lifestyle, duty. It isn't even denial of any of those that whispers something close to truth. We know how much damage socio-personal irresponsibility can do. Conditioning sucks the life out of us. So maybe it's more about the willingness to step away from the core of what hurts and look again at a Moment with ruthless honesty. It's about having the guts to sacrifice the strongest beliefs that trick us into heartache yet seem so indispensable. It’s about the courage to question everything - no matter how sacred or profane it seems to be. Carrie did that. She has influenced and inspired me. Gullible fool that I am, Carrie has often helped me regain my way when I've been blinded and deluded by others - most of all by myself.

I must re-listen to that Tori Amos song “why do we crucify ourselves …”

I'm not sure where all that came from and I hope it doesn't sound like preaching. Whatever I know will be startling only for its teeny-tininess when that life-review comes round. Maybe it's just a celebrate Carrie day.

*image 2: Susan Seddon-Boulet * image 3: Jean-Paul Avisse