Bondage of Self


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Imagine, for a moment, someone with sobriety explaining to an ‘earthling’…what it must feel like to let go of I.S.M.’s (I, Self, Me)!  If only for a little while.

 

“Tell the audience what it felt like…”

….

“It felt as though, a plug had been released from an overfilled air mattress…That was a day ago…So, the clemency happened.  But briefly.  Everyone talks a good game about the bondage of self.  But truly, what does that mean?  I suppose we all handle death differently.  Although, for me, I didn’t search.  That’s when it came.  Course. it never stays…the relief…as long as, you want it to.

I headed for the woods.  I knew I could possibly find IT there.  For some, it could be a crowded park bench in New York City.  Some call it, their spirit animal.  A personal shrine.  A go to place.  I’m not sure if I’d go that far.  Yet, internally, my peace has been far away from the maddening crowd.

I love dogs!  I always have!  Been growing up with them since…I don’t know when.  They can be tiresome, but perhaps, that is part of the growth.

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I found a spot.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Just something borrowed…nothing too blue.  Simply put, rustic and filled with old-fashioned, good earthy karma.

It was a crisp day.  No dampness in the air.  A sign of the seasons to come…for New Hampshire.  I found a wooden plank that I should have kept for firewood…due to the early frost that was coming.

Earthling interviewer,

“You hesitate.  Do you need a chance to catch your breath?”

the Seeker,

“No, but honestly, this freeing isn’t that poetic.  Well, I sat for a few hours…just watching my dog.  Swim fetch.  Pee and chew grass.  Doing what dogs do.  It’s awkward to watch him swim because he is part bulldog!  Almost as if, due to his shape…he is less buoyant!

There is a certain price we pay for being human.  We think too much.  The glory in being a dog?  They need not pay toll.  For a creature of four legged habits, there is no heaven or hell.  They do not dwell over right or wrong.  Intrinsically, they are just grateful for another day.

“This will sound dim witted but WTF does that have to do with your mother dying?”

the Seeker sighs but offers a reply…,

“Seriously?  Maybe nothing!  Yet, to me…everything.  I will never be released from the Bondage of Self…completely!  Whether from the passing of my longest and dearest friendship…or, any other life trauma.  That revelation took no therapy.  It took a moment with my dog.

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I was a vicious child, an unruly young adult and only recently, have I been domesticated!  For anyone who has taken care of a sick loved one…For awhile there, there is a sense of ‘did I do enough?’

Being a latent catholic/atheist…I used to call that fear, guilt!  Now I just call it natural.

A dog, if they could would tell you, ‘simple pleasures are the best!’

An animal’s love for their human… is so organic.

Spiritually, there will always be a void.  A space for, did I do enough for my mother?  Yet, in a brief span of time, I let go of myself…unintentionally.  Though I deplore the borrowing of a phrase, my mutt was happy, joyous and free.  And, I had a hand in those feelings.  My mother had a hand in many of my comforts!

Words will never describe looking into death’s eyes…everyday.  My mother does it.  And, by greater circumstance, I have been a viewer, as well.  Is she happy, joyous and free?  Absolutely not!

She has a wound that will not heal.  She is obliging it with grace.  I now have a wound that will not heal…I am obliging it with some grace.  And, in a strange sense, that makes me content and happy, somewhat free, on occasion, joyous.  A little less bonded to self!”

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