Best Theme Park Ever
If you listen closely, you can hear our non-physical friends whispering over and over again that we are loved and admired for what we’re doing. It’s because they know – and we forget – that being human is not for faint-hearted angels. Earth is a little like an amusement park, complete with haunted houses (that are a little too convincing), tilt-a-whirls (that set your insides lurching), petting zoos (where some of the denizens bite), funhouse mirrors (whose reflections make you question your life choices), record-setting rollercoasters (because we don’t like to be bored) and food stands with enticing aromas (and stomach-clogging food). All in all, it’s quite an adventure! Thrilling, scary, exhausting, unforgettable – and very believable.
But eventually the time comes when we’ve been on all the rides, explored all the hidden corners, sampled every concoction and memorized all the arcade games. It’s time to call it a day, collect all the experiences and head for the exit. But before that, we’re taking one last tour around the whole place, remembering our craziest experiences and collecting the wisdom from every adventure.
It hasn’t always been easy though, and one of our survival mechanisms was to stick together. It’s always safer in a group, but how do you keep track of your tribe? How to stay connected with your playgroup on this chaotic field trip? How to keep from getting lost and forgotten? Funny you should ask…
Holidays and Expectations
A few weeks ago, I overheard a snippet of conversation about how someone wasn’t going to make it “home for the holidays.” I noticed the familiar sense of anxiety many people have when that happens and got to wondering… Why are Christmas, Thanksgiving (in the US) and other “holy days” such a big deal? What’s so important about getting it right – seeing the right people, eating the right food, doing the right things – on those days? Young families have to juggle between the various in-laws and grandparents, everyone has their part to play in the family traditions, and heaven help the black sheep who doesn’t even show up. But really, what’s the big deal? And all at once the answer was obvious.
It seems to me that we created holidays to reinforce and strengthen our tribal and ancestral connections. All those traditions, expectations, responsibilities and frustrations serve to knit the family together and fortify the network. “New” members are inducted into the family traditions, older ones pass along their memories and experiences, grandparents die and eventually rejoin the family as new babies, and the sense of continuity and connection is maintained. It’s been so important to our survival that there are unwritten but nearly unbreakable rules about family sticking together, “no matter what.”
I can see how the rules had their place, but also how they also might not serve anymore (to the chagrin of the family energy holders). It explains why some people – and most Shaumbra – don’t care much about the holidays anymore; they’re just not that important to people who are leaving the ancestral patterns.
I watched some of this in my own family over Christmas. When I was a child, there were very specific traditions for Christmas, certain things that happened in certain ways every year, and they helped make it a very special and magical time. I loved Christmas, not only because of the presents but because of what it represented and the special quality that was “in the air.” Heaven seemed to come a little closer to Earth on Christmas Eve, and even as a child I could feel it. So, over the years, I tried to maintain the traditions I grew up with. (It was a shock the first time I realized that not everyone – my new husband, for instance – celebrated things the same way!)
But that was a long time ago, and it’s different now. Some of the magic has changed, some of it is gone, and no matter how I try to recreate it for my own kids, Christmas will never be the same. I used to feel guilty about that, like I’m doing something wrong yet again. But now I understand it’s because I’m leaving the family line and so, perhaps, are they. Yes, they are growing up in a whole different world than I did, but they also simply aren’t interested in tradition of any kind. Part of me thought they should be, and that I should impose it on them until they “got it” (like that’ll ever work!), but just maybe they are seeking freedom as well. Maybe it’s something to celebrate rather than regret. Maybe they’ll go through life without the stabilizing anchor of family traditions, or perhaps they’ll feel a lot less restricted. Time to release yet another glob of existential guilt…
But back to the amusement park. A couple weeks ago I was having one of those days where my body was in a lot of pain (apparently the latest bumpy ride was taking its toll) and my heart was hurting too (somebody went off to play with someone else). I was feeling gloomy and sorry for myself, when all at once a little cloud of understanding wafted in: Guess what? Human life is designed to hurt, and it’s okay!
I stopped in my tracks to absorbed that bit of information. Life is meant to hurt sometimes; it’s part of the design. That means it’s okay when I feel pain, and that means I don’t have to “fix” it! Adamus often says that we can’t perfect the human, that we designed it like that in order to not get stuck. While that was a nice concept, it hadn’t really sunk in personally. But now I get it. Life is designed to hurt, so I can stop fretting and suffering when it does. Now, of course, life is also designed to feel wonderful and amazing, to be joyful and fun, full of love and health. But it is also designed to include heartache, loss, illness, injury, aging, sorrow and death. And it’s okay when that happens! And somehow, really getting that totally changed my experience.
I realize that when something hurts, it doesn’t mean I’ve made some kind of mistake. It doesn’t mean anything, actually, except perhaps that my dear human self needs a little extra love and care, and the relief I feel is remarkable. It changes the pain from “Something is wrong! I have to figure it out and fix it” to “Wow, this is a very sensual experience.” I mean, think about it… people eat spicy food on purpose. It hurts, but in that context the pain is welcome. The experience depends on the belief about the pain.
Another way to think of it is like the weather. On this Earth, weather is designed to include sunshine and warmth, gentle mists and juicy rains, but also storms and hail and freezing and burning and hurricanes and all the rest. These “painful” extremes don’t mean something is wrong, only that weather is happening. Maybe we’ll wear a rain jacket or snow boots to take care of ourselves, but there’s nothing to fix. And when something hurts – physically, emotionally, mentally – it just means being human is happening. We can love and care for ourselves in response to the situation, but there’s nothing wrong and nothing to fix. That understanding makes it so much easier to allow the experience, and an experience allowed is the opposite of an experience suffered.
Which reminds me of a conversation with my Master self a few days ago. I wondered why I don’t see the Master in the mirror, why I still look like my ancestors instead of the person I feel inside, and Master gave me a very simple answer: “The suffering is what doesn’t look like Me.”
Ahh, the nobility, the righteousness and worth of suffering, has been embedded in my DNA for lifetimes and generations, the lines of proof clearly visible in the mirror. It’s been enough. I decided to change my face, replacing the usual somber heaviness with a radiant smile just for myself, just because. Within moments, there was my Master, grinning right along with my human.
Yes, life hurts. It’s designed that way, just as much as it’s designed to thrill and heal. Go on too many rollercoasters and you’ll start retching. Too many turns on the merry-go-round and you’ll get dizzy. Too many runs through the haunted house and you’ll spook at every little thing. It’s what happens when Spirit embodies into matter and spends a few hundred lifetimes in the greatest carnival of all. But it’s why we came, we’re not stuck here, and all is truly well.