How Does the Whole Fulfill through Me… She Asked
“And when, as is often the case, the misty discussion of ‘Rosicrucians’ and their history becomes involved with the masonic myths, the enquirer feels that he is sinking helplessly into a bottomless bog.”
― Frances A. Yates
How Does the Whole Fulfill through Me?
This is the flip side of yesterday’s question – How Do I Integrate into the Whole?
So, how does the whole fulfill through you? WTF does that mean and do you really want to know what it means?
For much of our lives we experience ourselves as an individual. A Me, Myself, I who is surrounded by other Me, Myself, I individuals. Groups are formed, family, friends, tribe, society, etc, but even as part of a group we’re always aware of a certain separateness. We’re still conscious of the I, Myself, Me who is a part of the group, willingly or unwillingly, or both. The Will is a part of the Me, I, Myself. But it’s not the only Will, and the separate Wills often battle within the group Will.
The group decides we’re all going hiking, but somewhere along the hike up a mountain, it’s your individual stomach which starts to growl, your two feet which begin to hurt, your particular heart which isn’t in it anymore.
The group decides to go to war with another group, but it’s your individual blood which will be spilled, your life which may end, your hands wielding the sword which may cut short the life of another individual in the other group.
“The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.”
― Harper Lee
I once said the word ‘god’ within earshot of a friend who is an Atheist.
This friend had not been part of the conversation wherein I uttered that word, but they didn’t care about that or what was actually being said, nor did they seem to recall anything about me (such as I’m agnostic, if anything, not even sure about that).
They spun around and launched into a diatribe at me, as though standing on a pulpit and non-bible thumping.
I waited for their steam to run out, and as I did it dawned on me that Atheism was as much of a religion as it claimed not to be, which had a god in the form of a non-god, and this drove the belief in non-belief… and my friend was a non-religious extremist nut.
None of my religious friends ever did this kind of thing. They believed what they believed and accepted my abstinence from belief without feeling the need to convert me for their own benefit. They respected me as I respected them. If I wanted to know more, they’d oblige, but not against my will – because that was just not on, not amongst friends who cared for each other, as individuals, as a group.
It also occurred to me that this person needed people to believe in god for their non-belief in god to have meaning. That was made abundantly clear when they ran out of steam and were confronted with reality – I had used the word ‘god’ as an exclamation of surprise, and was not doing what they had thought I was doing, and it all became rather awkward.
All meaning was lost in the aftermath. They never spoke to me again in the same way after this. I became an unknown entity to them. I was not affiliated with any group they could work with, for or against, and thus they couldn’t talk with me. They became a bit scared of me because I was a wild card.
I was both relieved and saddened by this. I couldn’t be used for their purposes, either way, but I was no longer useful… so I could be discarded.
Thing is, this person had a great talent for uniting people, beliefs, and cultures when they shut up and did what came naturally to them – music via DJ-ing. They blending everything with their music. The whole fulfilled itself through them in those moments. They just sucked at doing it when they weren’t at their turntables.
“The greatest riddle of all…. the riddle of man! The complex mystery of the universal human being as he stands within the threshold of universal laws. This is the most fascinating puzzle!”
― Adriana Koulias
We want to belong, but we don’t want to lose ourselves in the process of belonging. Maybe for a little bit we like being lost in the merging and blending that can occur. The music moves us! The camaraderie! There is a wonderful feeling to being a part of a greater self, the group. Dancing in the street, with everyone.
The community protects us, supports us, is there for us, and we also feel needed, wanted, useful in the part that we play in the whole, embodying our role, our slice of the pie. Working together towards a common goal.
Such as when we fall in love and our threads intertwine with those of another.
But even in the union of love, of mates of the soul, we eventually begin to find the merging and blending annoying, just as you might find my use of ‘we’ in my posts a tad irritating. When I say ‘we’ I’m sort of absorbing you into me, you have become a part of me, whether you want to or not. Part of you may like this, while another part doesn’t like it. In a similar manner to what happens in our close personal relationships.
The ‘I’ of the individual human is selfish, it’s supposed to be.
Integrating into the whole is sometimes a pain, sometimes a pleasure. It can be easy, but even easy can be hard work.
“But what we are, we are, on account of our own diligence or negligence, and what we shall be in the future depends upon what we will to be and not upon Divine caprice or upon inexorable fate. No matter what the circumstances, it lies with us to master them, or to be mastered, as we will.”
― Max Heindel
What can pass us by, while we’re caught up in the ‘I’ trying to be a part of the ‘we’, how to do that and how to survive that kind of merging without losing ourselves completely, without compromising too much, missing out on making our own choices because the group makes them for us, and so on… is the whole expressing itself through us.
Sometimes we are the group. Sometimes others are trying to belong to us. Sometimes the individual self is more than just a solo artist in a troupe. Sometimes we’re the troupe to which others want to belong, join in with our play.
The way we’re closest to this kind of awareness, at least for me, is when we dream.
“If the dream is a translation of waking life, waking life is also a translation of the dream.”
― René Magritte
Last night my dreams were very crowded with people – yet all those people exist inside of me. They are me, and I am them.
It all took place in an airport. A great melting pot. At first I was just a traveler passing through. But then I became an airport worker, whose job seemed to include eating ‘Nice’ biscuits.
It’s so weird eating in dreams! Crumbs become more than just crumbs, sometimes they turn into comet dust, meteors!
There was some emergency and I was part of a group told to ‘fix it’, find someone who had gone missing, lost in the airport. It was a matter of life and death – saving their life from death. Drowning was a possibility, in some airport bathtub which smelled of bleach.
So weird when a scent takes over the dream! It can become everything!
One thing led to another, and that was me trying to locate Matthew McConaughey for some reason of… coolness. Instead of Matthew, I found Benicio Del Toro – as searches for coolness go, that was pretty cool!
Suddenly I was a hybrid of Matthew and Benicio, tracking down an alien lifeform which was abducting passengers, but I got hopelessly distracted in my quest due to rifling through my luggage for a missing passport. As I was doing that, on the move (because in dreams you never stop unless your feet get glued to the floor, then it’s not a dream but a nightmare!), I crossed a threshold and found myself on the wrong plane – this one was going to Japan, whereas I was supposed to be on the one headed to the USA. The doors shut… I wondered why such a thing was possible (in an airport being completely unsafety conscious and stuff), and that woke me up.
Never question your dreams unless your goal is to wake up.
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”
― Edgar Allan Poe
I think the relevant bit of that dream was eating ‘Nice’ biscuits.
What inspired the dream was indigestion. I never learn! I had eaten something for dinner which I didn’t want to eat but ate anyway. My body objected quite violently, and while it was doing so I got angry with myself for forcing myself to ingest something I knew I would regret and reject.
This conversation with self went down the path of philosophical musings. With all the different parts of me chiming in. Arguing, debating… yes, we all agreed (a miracle of sorts), that ‘I’ was an idiot and that we should not ingest what we know is bad for us, but… sometimes… something something something.
Something something something = sometimes we have to do what we don’t want to do because we started something and this is the consequence of that. What we started wasn’t the beginning, but the middle of something started by others, we’re a consequence of that, and the whole is expressing itself through us.
In some ways… others ate something they didn’t want to eat and couldn’t digest, they threw it up into us (like birds feed their young), we were forced to eat it and attempt to digest it. Our attempts yielded some shit…
“If you’re looking for sympathy you’ll find it between shit and syphilis in the dictionary.”
― David Sedaris
I know it’s disgusting, and you’d rather not hear this, not sully your ears, but life is born from the dregs at times which fertilise it.
Want to heal a wound, then you have to face it, puss, pain and all.
You could cut off the wounded limb, but the ghost of it will haunt you and if you threw the limb away… then all you have left is fragments of a whole. The whole is still there… just not so easy to put back together.
The whole which fulfills itself through me… through you… through all of us… whatever form we’re in, we’re still whole, still a part of the whole, still have the whole within us, trying to get out and get with itself through each of us apart and together.
“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.”
― Mahatma Gandhi
Intriguing question and thought to ponder – How Does the Whole Fulfill through Me?
The most common reason for people to come to me, be attracted to me, want and need things from me… and thus show me what is expressing itself through me, whether I like it or not… is a quest for me to give them some kind of healing.
That healing could be anything. You think I have something you are missing, and you come to me to get it… even if you have to beg, borrow or steal it. You can always write it off as something else, make yourself the good guy (and me the villain if needs must).
Sometimes I see it as – I’ve done work which you refuse to do. ‘Refuse’ being the operative word. As in rejecting to go through the garbage. I love going through the garbage, some of my favourite treasures have come from doing that – others, you, want to share in those treasures.
Did I get myself dirty so that you could stay clean? Transport yourself through a portal from hurt to healing, avoiding the sewers?
Question is – Will I share it or keep it to myself? Am I doing this willingly or are you going to wrench it from me?
“He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced–or seemed to face–the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald
Thing is, even when I’m reluctant to share, I feel compelled to do so. Here, take it, have it, if you need it… take what you need. Yet… what I want to share and what others want me to share often causes issues.
I can pretty much predict when someone will reject me, discard me (and it’s not just narcissists who do this) – the moment I try to share the methods which enabled me to find the treasure they want from me. They want the treasure not the process which enabled the treasure to be found. My reasoning is – rather than me just giving you the treasure I found from rummaging in garbage for years, let me share the greater treasure – how to explore your own garbage and find the treasures which are yours. Don’t just take my treasures, find your own. Their reasoning is different, and that’s where we part ways.
They want what they want from me, what they want to get not what I want to give. They want what they want to hear, not what I want to say. There’s a script, their script – don’t deviate from it, don;t go with your script over theirs.
And so it goes.
‘We’ humans are like those characters in the little red hen story. We want to eat the freshly baked loaf of bread, not do the work involved in making it. We don’t want to plant, gather or prepare the ingredients, we’d rather someone else did that, and did the whole whatnot… then we can eat! We want to eat for we are hungry!
Who will help me eat this bread?
We want the cure for our ailments, not to go through the process of creating our individual cure, because that involves getting far too familiar with the dis-ease, the pain, the horror. To the point where we may learn to love what ails us, and we’re afraid of that, of all that entails.
The fear of realising that those who abused you, hurt you, did so because… they were like you, a wounded being… no, no, NO!
But the whole fulfilling itself through you… needs you to see that everything connects us all, more so when it separates us. There is nothing which attaches you more to others than your attachment to your suffering, to the suffering which they caused you because they were attached to their suffering… and shared that freshly baked bread with you. There is nothing which keeps you wounded more than your need to heal the wound without understanding why and how the wound happened. What created it?
But that is digging through dirt, rifling through refuse… and you may refuse the refuse route. You just want the treasures someone else found there by doing that.
You do realise that as much as that can help… it can also hinder. If you don’t go through your own garbage, you’ll never get rid of it. Put it into a garbage bag and throw it out… that may seem like it ha gone away, but… we all live on this planet and the garbage may get moved around, but it is still around. And it may come back to haunt us in a whole kind of way… the whole fulfilling itself through us, and through how we manage that kind of responsibility.
Whether you believe in global warming or not… maybe global warming believes in you…
Sorry’s easily said
Turning tables instead
You’ve taken lots of chances before
But I ain’t gonna give anymore
Don’t ask me
That’s how it goes
Cause part of me knows what you’re thinking…
I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you
I can read your mind…”
― The Alan Parsons Project