I was on a backroad of sorts. It was a highway but not traveled that often. I passed a run down, rusted out , falling apart home place and there was a puppy about to leave the driveway and get on the highway. Thin would be an uderstatement. He was very clearly a puppy but to old to be counting on mother for food. He was black and filthy. He was the sort of dog that would be given bad odds at the dog shelter because he wasn't "cute".
I felt my heart breaking as I passed. The clear thought when my eyes went back to the road was. "I hope he finds someone to love. I hope he finds someone to love who can feel how good it is to have the unflappable love a dog can offer. Someone to see all the wonder and funny quirks he was born with.
It wasn't my own dog I was seeing on the roadside in my mind. It was myself I saw. It was me, with battle wounds and scars and knowing no stretch of the imagination would I be considered pretty enough to go in the front part of the dog pound.
Sometimes, when I get an extremely strong and moving example of what is capable for us to experience as humans and we don't, it really feels like a punch in the stomach. I have a full body, spirit and mind encounter with humanity about 6 or 7 times a year. They are very profound when they happen. When without trying I can experience the way things are for someone else from their point of view it is really overwhelming. When I see the now/truth without filter it scares me. I've done my best not to let feelings overwhelm me in my life because I thought they made you weak. Feelings give us humanity. I really do like "feeling" like I am part of the human race because for so long I thought I was denied at birth.
Even though I am a dirty, skinny puppy on the side of a backroad in front of a shack, I have had a taste of what is possible and that gives me hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. Sometimes the least likley to leave the pound is the first to get a home. So I stay open, don't make things worse, and look for as many new ideas as possible.
My January goal for 2009 was living bigger. Bigger ideas and bigger possibilities, because trying to stay small and inconspicuous hurt alot and nearly killed me.
ClintonUnplugged.
Just for today
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Don't Pick At IT, You will get it infected.
I'm thinking of wounds this morning for some reason. I had a surgery on my toe recently and I had to go through a process every night to make sure the wound didn't heal on the surface before the underneath did. The doctor said if the top heals first I could have a devil of a time with the unhealed underneath. At one visit he took what I called the tiny silver crochet hook and completely removed the new growth of skin on the top to get air back to the injury, which hurt like I couldn't believe.
For someone that was raised by a family and a peer group that was "all about the surface appearance" the problem of healing on top and ingoring the festering wound just sounded normal, frankly. I always practiced the belief that you "SAVE your face and your ass will follow". I can report here, THAT school of thought is a monstrous failure for me.
I spent a lot of time treating the symptoms of having a terribly wounded spirit. I'm toying with the connection of my toe surgery instructions to resist the appearance of progress/healing on the surface and continue to treat the source injury.
Real healing comes from the inside out not vice versa. The outside stuff comes the easiest because it requires the least amount of effort. It is most uncomfortable once you find some sort of treatment for the deep part of the wound because you just have to acknowledge it, be with it and let it take the time it needs to take in order for it to become complete again.
More than anything, I would love to move through my life on the planet without effects of a dry socketed wound of spirit leaving me to fully engaged in experiencing the experience of being a human for 70 or so years.
That is what I am thinking about at 7:30 in the morning on a Tuesday in Texas, in the body of a 41 year old white male, on the third rock from the sun.
For someone that was raised by a family and a peer group that was "all about the surface appearance" the problem of healing on top and ingoring the festering wound just sounded normal, frankly. I always practiced the belief that you "SAVE your face and your ass will follow". I can report here, THAT school of thought is a monstrous failure for me.
I spent a lot of time treating the symptoms of having a terribly wounded spirit. I'm toying with the connection of my toe surgery instructions to resist the appearance of progress/healing on the surface and continue to treat the source injury.
Real healing comes from the inside out not vice versa. The outside stuff comes the easiest because it requires the least amount of effort. It is most uncomfortable once you find some sort of treatment for the deep part of the wound because you just have to acknowledge it, be with it and let it take the time it needs to take in order for it to become complete again.
More than anything, I would love to move through my life on the planet without effects of a dry socketed wound of spirit leaving me to fully engaged in experiencing the experience of being a human for 70 or so years.
That is what I am thinking about at 7:30 in the morning on a Tuesday in Texas, in the body of a 41 year old white male, on the third rock from the sun.
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