1. The number of words of Wisdom I have heard indirectly from my (deceased) father: many. I have discovered these as stories, from anecdotes, in group settings, through the personal accounts of others, or seen modelled through his life.
Consequences: He has my deep admiration. 2. The number of words of Wisdom and advice that my father spoke directly to me, one-on-one: None of import that I can remember. Consequences: without his authoritative voice my life was filled with (necessary?) deviant diversions bringing both pain and pleasure to him and me, so that I might find for myself that wisdom and understanding (as perhaps he had to too?). 3. The number of words of Wisdom that God the Father has given to me: Many. I don't mean audibly; but by my experiences I can say “undeniably”. Consequences: These words have initiated fundamental course corrections at times when I really needed them. They opened my eyes to new understanding, and once rationally examined they have become deeply embedded in who I am, and stayed with me for the rest of my life. It would be nice if my experiences of God the Father had been matched by those of the man my father, and there is a legitimate sadness and regret that they do not. Yet I had no right to expect perfection of the man my father. Like me, he is merely a flawed human being seeking to live as best he understood on a backdrop of his own successes and failures. The fact that others benefited directly from his wisdom is something to be appreciated and not objected to, and does not change my admiration. Lessons that are obvious and understood, yet oft forgotten: Lesson 1: I should not project the experience of the man my father onto my expectations of God the Father. There is no rational foundation for doing so. Lesson 2: Understand that the man my father lived with the prejudices and cultural parameters of his own upbringing, a context that is now two generations removed from my own. Realize (once again) that this applies to all I relate to who are from a prior generation or of a different culture. Lesson 3: Contemplate that my own children build a life on childhood experiences quite unlike my own, and so beware projecting my lens of life unquestioningly onto their perspective. Try not to be held captive to the conditioning of my past. Lesson 4: Truth transcends generational differences. The application of attitudes derived from relative experiences is a quicksand of complications. Identifying and building on Truth is a foundation unconstrained by historical differences, and relevance is found in the context of the application. Conclusion: My challenge is to know how to separate Truth from experience, and then to incorporate each as is appropriate to my relationships. It is clear that Truth may be found in my experience, but that experience does not define Truth. Truth is applicable in all circumstances, standing independent of opinion or preference. Experiences bring a measure of stability to our relationships when we share patterns of practice, but if treated as Truth they will become a fetter that binds one into a box. So I'll passionately make those memories that create differences; I'll build new traditions, hold some old ones, and discard the useless; I'll seek and find what's True.
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Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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