I was asked if I still carry with me the pain of my childhood, and, if so, why do I carry it around.
I paused, thoughtfully, allowing myself the time and space to invert the context of the question, and, by reframing the assumption within an alternate perspective and dimension of what we call reality, came to see, by visiting this unexplored side of my truth, that the ‘yes’ in answer to this question was woefully inadequate to serve any kind of understanding.
So I answered, “No…..the pain carries me, and it must. You see, the pain and horrors I experienced in the S. Bronx were tempered, for my benefit and survival, with the light of love from family, community, and imagination. Yet, the pain I experienced was not isolated – pain and suffering are universal, forming a web of reality that we all come in contact with.
“But that pain, that matrix of emotion and thought, of consciousness, has its own life and burden to bear – itself – which it imposes on us humans. But if it imposes on us too much we could not bear it, and we would cease to exist….and it, the pain, would perish without us. So, it must carry its share of love and light in order to co-exist with us or else it would fall into the void of not being.
“So the pain must carry us on whom it has imposed itself. It must carry me and many others, light-bearers, to ensure its own survival or else there would be no mitigating factor to temper its destructive, parasitic, cannibalistic, and suicidal nature. It would devour itself in a blind flurry of its own being. It must borrow from souls like me around the world in order to be because it knows I, and all others, can easily live without it. That’s why pain seeks and takes control – it is lonely and scared.
“Therefore, the mission for us is embracing the pain not for what it is but for what it could be, and, in doing so, transmute it into wisdom and, ultimately, freedom.”