I was deep.
The entrance was small - only room for me. Crouched and cold, I proceeded. I was drawn back into its darkness knowing someone with an explanation waited for me. I knew I was headed to the right location because the pain in my chest was intensifying.
It was more emotional than physical. Tightness with an ache. Hard to breathe. Hard to move. Fear was in it. But so was shame. It was something old and carried for a long time. I had held this rock in my chest for as long as I could remember.
Every time something new and exciting lay before me, this pain would arrive. Business opportunities, new careers, new relationships, new love. Any opportunity that might lead me to expressing my true self and stepping into the life I felt meant to inhabit, would activate it like a guillotine cutting me off from myself. Confidence was impossible. Complete chaos replaced my logic. It severed me from anything that might be love of myself. It had the stickiness of guilt mixed with self-doubt and loathing. It would arise in response to my excitement - one emotion triggering the other. It had the power to paralyze me.
It filled me and drew me like a magnet. So I went back into the cave, knowing I was to find its origins.
I wanted to understand it and release it if I could. I wanted to be free of it. I knew this was the only way. It terrified me but it pulled me, nonetheless. In a few hanging, painful seconds, I found myself in a torch-lit chamber with him.
Before anything else, I saw the shame in his eyes. He no more wanted me there looking at him, than I wanted to be there facing him. I felt like Scrooge seeing himself for the first time through the teachings of the ghosts. Knowing the past had finally caught up to me, I saw him. Then and there, in that dark cave there was no escaping myself.
And, like Scrooge, there was no choice but to let it play itself out.
In purple robes, crown on his head, sat a manly beast. Hair, not fur, was covering every inch of his skin, but clearly a man beneath. Blue eyes and crooked teeth. Old and obviously at the end of his life. His small stature contrasted the enormity of the throne. His face revealed the same self-hatred I felt in my chest. The same self-hatred that would arise in me each time life presented me with my dreams.
With a heavy breath he reached out his palm to me. Surrendering, I placed my hand upon it.
Instantly I saw the whole of his life, like I had lived it myself.
As a unique and wise child, he was loved by the village. He was possessed by a love for others that compelled him to serve. Kind and compassionate, strong and intelligent, he spent his days working hard in the mill and his nights by the fire, where he taught the young ones. They saw past his appearance and into his heart. Everyone saw him as a blessing to their community.
Knowing he was different, he accepted that his path would not be like others. Eloquent and insightful, like a monk reincarnated to serve, he accepted his loneliness as the cost of living a great life of service.
When the local monarch abandoned this village to themselves as valueless and unproductive, the peoples’ need of leadership, order, and safety from roving marauders, caused them to look among their ranks for one who could be trusted with their best interests. Someone who could organize and take control of the villages resources. Someone of vision to guide them to abundance and peace.
No one was more trusted than the special young man who had always put others first, and the interests of the many ahead of the interests of the few. No one had ever before lived a life of service without self-interest as he had.
He was the natural choice to be their king.
In the first few years, the village flourished and the people experienced bounty and safety like never before. Knowing the fear and loneliness of not fitting in, he purposefully selected those young men who lived on the periphery of village life to form his company of peace keepers to train in the protection of the tribe. After the second successful defence of the stores from armed bandits, those men were rewarded with their own training grounds and lodgings. Soon young ones aspired to be part of their corps.
So grateful for the safety, security and leisurely lifestyles they had come to enjoy, the King began to receive gifts and banquets to honour him. The best of the food, the finest of their products were brought to him. He made sure any surplus made its way to his chosen troops.
As it does, not long after, the King began to think of himself as deserving of honours and deference. His need to see himself as righteous and flawless, exposed his weaknesses and insecurities. Soon he spent less time in the counsel of the elders and more on his own, focused on serving his own needs. He no longer asked for what he required, but demanded capitulation to his whims.
His former heart of public service turned instead to his ego needs. He took what he wanted. He gave to the loyal leaders privileges and advantages. That which had expanded under his leadership was now dividing into factions. Some began to speak out which only created a righteous and harsh response from the loyal corps.
I saw rebellions quickly put down.
The wisdom and intelligence that had served those he loved were now the tools he used to subjugate them.
As I touched his hand I saw the exploitation and selfishness of his later years.
The people had given him the opportunity to serve - to love and be loved. Their needs became his power. His talents that once lead to affluence for all, became his ability to control. The love was gone.
His death was imminent and would be celebrated. Loyal sycophants were waiting in the wings.
I took back my hand.
He pointed to the corner. Conjoined twins stood there - one beautiful and loving, the other twisted and angry.
I understood. Authority and corruption are inseparable. Service to others is beautiful. The ego’s fear of losing power becomes ugly. The love of service when rewarded with tributes becomes the intoxication of power. The ego flourishes. The love of power becomes the fear it might be lost. Fear causes us to do unspeakable things.
I had come all this way into the cave. How do I benefit from this remembering?
Stay focused on loving service. Compassion is the opposite of power.
Dwell in love.
I thanked the King for the lesson I had failed to learn.
I forgave him.
The pain in my chest eased while I cried.
No comments:
Post a Comment