Devil or Angel?
Journal entry from some time ago:
The pull between good and evil certainly exists, though it seems more an internal process, not something that bears down on me from the outside. At times I lack the will or even the power to change my inner landscape. Duality is part of our nature and I don’t know anyone who is unfamiliar with it. I do know people who try and remain positive all the time with mixed results, but I’m not sure it’s natural or even helpful to deny our baser instincts. These currents run so strong that, should we attempt to imprison them behind mental walls, they are almost surely bound to collapse their boundary and leave us bereft and thoroughly shaken.
Why fear the dark shadows? In avoiding something, anything, do we not grant it all the more power over us? By holding back such forceful energies, do we not give them a strange and perilous momentum where, in some random circumstance, they possess the strength to overtake our best intentions? Remaining open, always open to all the corners of experience can be uncomfortable. Constantly striving to integrate all that is human seems to be the greatest task imaginable.
Today I find myself in a state of inner unrest. Just a few days ago, I was feeling grounded in myself, solid – like, ah … finally I can begin to experience a measure of this in my life! And it felt good. The way I’m feeling today does not exactly feel evil, but it certainly is not enjoyable, and my potential to do harm to myself or others is much greater in this unsettled place. And I can clearly observe the temptation to numb out, though many years ago I learned that this is never really an option. What we resist persists.
One thing I can be sure of, however, even in times of distress, is that this feeling will not endure – nothing does – and I know this now as never before. I do not like this place I’m in, or part of me is not yet in harmony with the truth of it. Discovering that little moves me away from discomfort, I know enough to remain mindful while seeking healing in the soil of mother earth. I walk out in the garden and begin to prune and weed. In doing so, I find my breathing deeper, more regular. My eyes seek the vast expanse of field and sky and shoreline. I notice the small green mejiro birds, darting in and out of the brilliant orange honeysuckle. I hear the drone of insects, the cries and melodies struck by the wind as bow to violin. My place in nature’s scheme becomes clear, if not to my mind, than to my core. More and more I return to a kind of home base within. Then I am ready to engage in something creative like writing or playing with images. Then I am ready to rejoin the world.