Let It Be

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I've been trying to write the statement below for a long time:

"When I was a homeless bum who read palms to beg a meal, people used me to heal themselves because of what they made me into in order to do it."

Letting myself be 'co-me-d' is not the easiest state state of receptivity to deflate to. I have to give the persona I created to please my parents away, in order to be still let other people make me into whatever they need in the immediacy of now or there ain't no me-and-thee-ing to make meaning of. Any attempt on my part to maintain some wistful personality I treasure interferes with the other person feeling emotionally met. 

To enter this state of repose is the epi-to-me of abandonment. Absolutely in real ti-me putting who-I-think-I-am-is on the back burner in total deference to the other. Whatever they got on their mind at the ti-me is gonna be the enactment of the first of their three wishes. The result can be measured immediately, and only immediately. If you've truly gotten beyond your natal persona you can watch the following events happen in the face of the other:

2 Jesus said, "Those who seek should not stop seeking until they find. When they find, they will be disturbed. When they are disturbed, they will marvel, and will reign over all. [And after they have reigned they will rest.]"

http://users.misericordia.edu//davies/thomas/Trans.htm

Travel broadens. That's why I speculate that the GoT was a cheat list of topics some nomadic storyteller put together to remind themselves of which sayings they could develop to tell the best stories to get the most people to reach into their stash and put coins in the plate/hat/turban. Protestant preachers still do it today. It's common practice for them to spell out the specific Bible verse they plan to use. It's the entire point of the Protestant movement. Tell the stories, pass the plate, and always leave town before you count the take.

They're telling these say-me Jesus stories today as were told when these Gnostic sayings were put together. It's a story of hope. Always a viable topic. Hope is the only product anybody on Earth got for sale. That's what the GoT is about. It says, "You wanna learn how to peddle hope? Take this Jesus story-telling show on the road. Soon enow, you'll drop the local dialect and eventually speak as if you were the person you speak of, but in the first person." 

It"s by letting other people make me into what they need for me to be that I can be most useful. I can't possibly know how steep the learning curve is for others because I have to interpret what they say when and if they tell me how it is for them, but for me, it's been a hard row to hoe. Why am I always the last to know?

An example of what I intend to convey happened when I went on my first sojourn after getting out of the Navy. I had a similar adventure when I ran away from home when I was fifteen, but that was probably meant to be a failed effort for some other lessons I was being taught.

I don't remember where I was or when or the set or setting. What I remember was standing on the side of the road going through the motions of trying to hitch a ride. I was in a state of chronic fatigue from which I could enter a state of revery in which I wondered why the cars passing me by on the road two thousand miles away from my parent's home didn't do the Christian thing and stop and help me like the Good Samaritans I thought they oughta be. Hell, some of them even had license signs that read God Is My Co-pilot!

I think that was the first time I consciously realized that nobody knew who I thought I was nor give a shit who my parents were. That's how deluded I was at that time, I thought being my parent's child should mean something to the world at large. Later, with the passage of ti-me and some thoughtful reflection, I realized they probably saw just another confused looking bum on the side of the road.

A lot more time would pass and a lot more reflection would be considered before I would capitulate to the simple facticity that nothing I ever thought I was or could be meant anything to anybody but me. At first, I was sad as if dying. But then, I eventually realized that won't all they wuz to it.

Later, one fine autumn afternoon, as an afterthought, almost on the edge of losing the image, there also appeared to exist the glimmer of a possibility that not only did I live in a state of not knowing, but that nobody else knows what they can't know either. Damn! That's as good a reason for living as any.
♘