307: Prophet for Jesus, Fence-Sitter, and The Flame

Alternative Title: How Deep Is Your Brain ^^^Thusly, this song I cannot get out of my head.

This writing is an example of how my brain processes, not an example of clarity, linear thought, or even anything understandable to most. It goes in circles while trying to pull out conclusions. In the end it makes lots of sense to me… and probably only me.

One time I got all gung-ho about Jesus with an atheist girlfriend; and I ended up giving her an impromptu mini-dissertation about how church would save her marriage. I can kind of blame my untamed and inappropriate outcries of abashment on the bad reaction I was experiencing from an anti-depressant at that time: and since I can, I will. But what sparked the monolithic proportions of my monologue eludes me. Sadly, I must say that that then and there moment, as I spewed Jesus jargon judiciously, would mark the end of what had been a fruitful relationship.

For the most part, I am a fence sitter, it seems, stuck between one version of me and another. If I cling onto some thought too tightly, I crash. I get carried away like a young fledgling on first flight, spreading my wings and getting caught in the experience more than the cause.

In most cases, I don’t like to leap off my fence, as I crash and burn. Case and point being my mini-prophet-for-Jesus excursion.

I like to sit in the middle, in the neutral territory. At least I thought I did.

But I got to thinking last night, as I tossed and turned, still sick from some virus combined with the combination of pre-menopausal hormones that make me shift from a feeling of icy-pond to a bug-singing-lightbulb-crisp rollercoaster ride every few minutes. I pondered on the capacity and audacity of my fence-squatting, and was hit by a big ah!ha!

Like retrospection on high-speed, I was shown the intimate details of the fear-factor that makes me so hesitant to leap from the place in which I perch.

It’s not so much that there is an embryotic fluid that I am trying to maintain balance within, it’s not that I don’t want to cause waves, it’s not that I’ve latched on to some Eastern Tradition of unconditional acceptance and the knowing of not and absence, it’s that I’m fricken freaked out and afraid to claim who I am.

Ohhhhhh, she said to herself, she being me, as she tossed about night-sweaty, feverish, and nose-drippingly on the creased and feather-beddy couch.

Ohhhhh, she said again.

Bewildered once again by the self enlightening of self.

And then the mind dove as often does, into a place that still astounds me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have clung onto all these beliefs of why I am the way I am.

In truth, at least today’s limited truth, or in thought, or in some speck of bubble of time that I happened to breathe in at this moment, the fast growing cohesive fact is that I am AFRAID.

Quest-filled as I be, I am AFRAID to be anything outside the scope of that which I’ve studied and claimed to be a supposed ideal.

I blame zealousy entirely.

I am the potent human combination of INFJ, Idealist, and Cancerian, and over-dominantly right-brained. I am basically screwed on all accounts to be a functioning logical human being without being overthrown by extreme passion, emotion, and evaluation for doing what is right and just.

And in so being this way, that is seemingly beyond my own control, I have latched on to the right and just path: That of doing nothing, because essentially nothing is real to begin with.

The only one big oversight being that in essence in the rigid act of doing nothing, I am in fact doing something.

I am indeed afraid to be anything other than that which I have so deemed to be ideal.

I have moved beyond much self-serving wishes and behavior, but here I still remain stuck on the fence.

And why?

(And with this question I dive deeper in image and thought. Still making sense, but communicating what I am thinking becomes more difficult, as I am experiencing most of these concepts all in picture form and trying to find words that feel right. Some words feel good while others feel like a bump in the road of what I am trying to communicate.)

Well I used to think it was because I was being good, not claiming a right way or right cause, but in so doing, in so sitting on this proverbial fence, wall, or what have you, I am in fact claiming a way. I am claiming the way of the fence-sitter!

So all this time I think I am doing nothing but observing and being, I am actually doing and demonstrating, and that’s what befuddles me: the extremeness of being, wherein I cannot theoretically choose anything without spawning a choice and then exposing the choice to the world. I cannot even sit on the fence without being that which others would claim as a fence-sitter.

Every action I do is perceived as an action. Even inertia. I cannot be motionless without being perceived as motionless. And it is in this perception, in the others’ viewing of me, in which I feel trapped and over exposed.

Before last night and the review of my actions thus far, I hadn’t thought that a fence-sitter could be judged. I thought I was safe on the fence. But in actuality in today’s reckoning, indeed I am judged.
Outsiders judge me with wonderment, regardless.

As the depths of me unfold and I sit upon my fence, I am a fireball of inferno waiting to rupture, waiting to expand and scream I AM ME! Only I know not who I be.

So here, I set about to claim myself, if not to free my own entrapment, than to re-stir that which has been deemed stagnant energy.

I reclaim myself in the doing world, in the being world.

The fact that I have molded myself into so many identities in attempts to fit into a place where I never quite fit in has led me to flee to the sideline, to the fence-sitting. But as I started to write and share my strangeness and perception of life with other earthlings, I soon gathered that I was not as isolated and alone as I had previously imagined. What this means is the fear of rejection was slowly purged and eradicated out of my soul in a two-fold way.

(Here is where I dive deeper and I add words that might not make sense to anyone but me)

First, I was forced, though self-enforcement, to face hundreds of strangers’ reading my words. After months upon months of panic and fear of how said strangers would perceive me, and how my innards would be torn out by disarray and conflict and people pleasing, I became utterly exhausted by the entire process; depleted of mirth and effort I had no choice but to retreat and to let go. And then, and only, with the release of fear, I was finally freed from that which had been the doings of my own self-imposed tyrant.

Secondly, with the people-pleasing aspect of myself released, processed, and forgiven, I was free to speak more from a place of me than from a place of potential danger. Doomville in the strings of feasible futures was eradicated from my thoughts, freeing up a creative aspect I hadn’t delved into as this self before. Having solely dived in such a manner, as in freeing self and freeing mind, I then began to subconsciously analyze my own behavior further, whilst the original me remained dutifully ignorant that the underlayering of me was shedding and rebuilding.

I emerged, some time and somewhere in between as this other me: someone not afraid of what people would say or how people would react to my words, but someone still afraid to make a claim and remove self from the fence.

(Now I go into philosophy mode. I type what I feel, see, and hear from an inner voice. It doesn’t all make sense until I go back and reread it. I remember all the images I viewed while writing and learn a lot about myself. Some words “hurt” and I can’t use them. I pause until the right word comes..)

I was like an in-betweener. Somewhat of a gorgeously endowed knight with shiny armor, sword, and crested shield, yet unyielding in desire to move. To budge me off the fence would be my doom. To make me be a someone, an individual, a man of opinion, or woman no matter, would be my potential downfall.

And so I sat, fence-sitter me as observer dressed for pillaging and forging through the mysteries of world, with only my mind for company.

In so being, I dove further into thought, and vision, and the expansiveness of non-reality, emerging further bathed in what I could decipher as knowledge and know-how but with nowhere to stake my said claim of what would not be called accomplishment but experience.

And as a fence-sitter I grew, and grew weary, wanting more to reach out to the essential self of who I am and was and could be than to the passerby who judged me solely from that place in which I sat.

The judgment be gone and I could jump off. Or so I thought. I dissected, this part of me beneath my other traveling skin-covered self, and recovered the pullings of that which brought rapture upon the dying pieces; I brought out the truth of my fears, beyond the truth of the judgers and the perceivers and the passerbys with weapons and wounds their own.

I came to see that what really kept me steadfast and immobile and riddled with a fear of movement was not that fence in which I built to sit, but that of what could be, if I merged all sections of self and forgo the constant self-injury.

What I saw, as a holy terror, was that the emerging of my divine self was in actuality that which I claimed monster from the start; for in this divine energy coming forth were the mysteries I could not analyze or solve, or even factor as a multiple of life. And as numbers abounded me, drowning me in complexity, the thought of breaking and molding into something new astounded me true, but terrified me more than less.

And so I set bewildered at the self and the propensity of amazement, that indeed the act of self-implosion and procreation of the millions upon millions of tri-folded awakenings beneath me was justly my foe.

And then the light shone, and I disintegrated thought and mind, and released and proclaimed my stand as man and man alone, in spirit and in flesh; one divinely gifted with light and love and passion to be.
And in this reclaiming that had been said so long ago in ancient land, I set forth the fortress of who I was—the castle strong, the enemy weakened, the turrets rising and declaring my beauty.

I rose then, not this man confused by the dark but man confused by the light. For seeing such a grand mass of individualism ghastly reformed into truth blinded me to the causation of form, blinded me to the fact that yes: within I had blossomed so grandly that in need I blinded self.

I understood then, with an unbridled passion of symbolic thought and image, that what be futile broken and unclaimed holiness, was in the same instance trickery mirrors, set upon by no other but me, to deflect from the beauty emerging within.

For in the end, as I rise phoenix from the flame of eternal everlasting self, there was never an enemy beyond the fury of reflection inflamed before my eyes. For where I saw fire was no other than self, and not that the flame bleed false, or wrongly, or pain, but the flame bled beauty beyond reason.

And in this is where I sat, astounded by my own beauty, forever singed in the smoke and soot of what I thought to be demon enemy.

How merrily disguised this beast of naught, how trickery is woven by self and self alone, as one sets upon the land of feet and walks in no direction but away from self, when self is where the ocean waits.

I see now, clearly that I am no less black and no less white than that in which the flame dictates. For when the light reflects I am the shadow, I project and I foresee. I am nothing and everything I wish, if the wisher be awake.

Yet still I sit, this fence-sitter still wondering if all I see is not some grand mystery trapped with a droplet on the ebb and flow of some forgotten time. I sit and wait for the flame thrower to cast his way, for the one I call me to find the girth and scope of chivalry, to find this thing called brave, and jump into the abyss beyond. I see now whilst contemplating the rhythm of thought and nature, I am but me and nothing more, but this me be everything.

And these are the visions that come before me as I still sit twisted in the knowing that though the flame be no other than me that the flame still be.

^^^ and I dedicate this to my hormones ^^^ Night Fever :)))

And that’s all she wrote… as her brain was emptied…. at least for the next hour.

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26 thoughts on “307: Prophet for Jesus, Fence-Sitter, and The Flame

  1. Sam, for once – once, you kinda lost me here. I will, hesitantly, admit that I had problems following this one, though I did glean bits and pieces of witty brilliance and understanding.
    Teddy

  2. On the subject of ‘fence sitting’, I have been a fence sitter. I find it to be a place of observation, a place to be which lets in more and more information. I refuse to take a side, I wont do it in politics, religion, or morals. There is so much information to yet be gleened before I die. Then, is when I will know what I truly believed. In the mean time, my ears are open, and I listen.

  3. Hmmmm… I actually followed this because my thoughts often connect to seemingly random things that actually tie together. I loved the mystery and confidence you exuded in the post by simply being an ” I am” or simply being for the sake of being.
    I too am an idealist although every time I tie for infj and infp ( healer and counsellor) and it often seems that passion is my middle name yet curiously I went in a journey and came from a VERY religious background… Fundamentalist… Into more hmmmmm… Eastern thought a bit combined with strains of my old belief but strains that are so different and unrecognizable to those in that system… I don’t know how to explain it… I believe in the Divine but I also believe that atheism in a way is another form of my belief… That probably makes no sense to anyone but me…
    A fence sitter is a stance that is legitimate and in a way it’s a step simply because to sit on a fence requires subtle movement for balance and self discipline to not tumble any which way… You are what you are in the moment that is.
    On a side note thinking in pictures- loved the imagery!;)
    Do you ever wish that just for half a day your mind could only have as many thoughts as an average person? I do sometimes… My husband asks what I am thinking in a 10 second span and I give him ten minutes of explaining my speedy connections. Sigh. I am dreading menopause….

    1. Totally get your faith… sounds a bit like me, only Jesus is at the core, and I have all these other lovely words spinning around that. I am open to all faiths, and believe many carry the Holy Spirit. I think a fence-sitter is fair for me, in most all opinions, and judgments, as I’d rather not have any. For me jumping of the fence is more about claiming the Holy Spirit within me, I think. I think that is what it was about. Still processing. Loved your comment… I am so looking forward to menopause, for these ups and downs of temperature to be done with. It’s the premenopause that is torture. hehe Hugs and love

  4. Sorry … I just clicked on my above name to get back to my page and it took me to a phishing website. I must have entered it in wrong… Sometimes I forget the dot or ca;) so whatever you do don’t click on my name above;) here it is instead in proper form
    http://affectingaudrey.blogspot.ca
    I think com at the end works too… Anyway I’m sorry for that!;) I can’t even get my own website in my memory yet I can recall every word of each song i know… Do you have that too?
    Funny enough How deep is your love was one of my hubby and I many songs because his parents and community were against us being married young… Our favourite part was ” were living in a world of fools breaking us down when they all should let us be. We belong to you and me.” How we longed for them all to stop breaking us down! After ten plus years of marriage we finally are out of their microscope a bit! ( anyway tangent…)

    1. I thought that song might mean something to someone. :))) I will answer you above under your other comment. And thanks for the warning about clicking the icon. That was the quote of the song I was focused on as well. Loved reading about your love. ❤

  5. In ‘A Wizard of Earthsea’, the beautiful, fantastical trilogy by Ursula K. LeGuin, the character at the centre has a ‘true’ name and his ‘common’ name – the one most people know him by. His quest, throughout the three stories takes him to the darkest of places and towards something he is most terrified of: his true self. It’s gorgeously described, written for older children, or young adults… But mainly, is deeply and caringly truthful. After similar doubts to those expressed here, for years and decades, including public expresssion of ‘me’ and private challenges, I realised that I am only one person and that the identity of me needs to be that. The division of the self – by pseudonyms, aliases and such, has its place. However, honest acceptance that the true self is probably the scariest one to inhabit – and gets it wrong from time to time – is also the beginning of wisdom and strength. Admitting one’s weakness is strong, claiming it as a way of being is to admit to victimhood. Modesty and honest enquiry are usually the way to find safety and love. I think… ❤

    1. It is interesting you state that, as I have been in prayer about: What is Weakness for over a week, and actually typed that as the starting of a post. It is so vivid in my mind that it seams I did post it, but I didn’t. I don’t think weakness exists, unless judgment goes with it. To judge another as weak or judge self as weak, to me, seems one would have to base the “weakness” on an outside perception or scale of comparison. Like almost everything. If that makes any sense. I can see what you mean, like with abused women, claiming that as a way of being can be perceived as weak, although I wrote a piece on that subject of abused woman, somewhere on this blog, while in prayer as well, and was shown images of how the person wasn’t weak at all because they were inately already whole. It gets very complex for me. Perhaps I shall write about it, as you have inspired me. I appreciate your presence and words. I think life through humility and honesty is a worthy beneficial path, but as one who prays for humility daily, it also is a sometimes very hard path to walk. And honesty, I believe I value as much as love itself. Thanks again ~ Sam

  6. For me Weakness, is just strength.. sitting on the fence. Some remain, some dangle a leg or perhaps two, and some jump in with both feet. It may not be greener on the other side of the fence. It just IS. Love you Sam!

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