CHAPTER 14

Creating Rights

 

   Like most kids, I savored my fantasies of waking up to reel life: Discovering I was Superman's lost daughter, striking off for planets where no family had beamed before. Or Roy Rogers and Dale Evans long lost kid saddling up for very happy trails. Or linking with the rerun Father Knows Best gang as Kitten #2.

   Ironically, my dreams where created by the fantasy land of TV where I worked behind the scenes. I saw the magic tricks close up and should have been beyond fooling. Obviously, my dreamself cared not a wit for reality. I worked with what I had.

   Anyone who represented gentle kindness, friendship, happiness, laughter and predictable on-going love, tempted my passion for creative righting. As did anyone who might let me feel I mattered, who I could relax with and feel safe enough to be ME with without the Fickle Finger of Fuck-Up capsizing my Heartship.

   Or, anyone who might offer a protective home wherein I could sleep in peace without fear of being awakened by screaming onslaughts of out-of-context garble, or nightmares unreasoned eviction, then I imagined: Peace would be mine.

   Fantasy Dreams were my escape when life was a nightmare.

   My fantasies continued until I let go of the anger I let saturate my system; until I realized I was just attending life's toughest division in the Galaxy called: Hard Knocks R U.

   And I knew I couldn't skip class. To stay and graduate from this Seminar on Suppression was the only solution, or else I'd only get myself transferred to a similar course. No incentive in a sideways progression.

   Two major lessons were: Life is never fair when viewed from the mortal level. And, Life is far more simplistic than we complexicate it to be. And a lot more meaningful than each moment appears to be.

   Life on Earth is one vast Cosmic College existing for our spiritual growth; for discovering the meaning of humankind, as opposed to human-unkind. Our challenge is to activate that knowledge in the outside classrooms of our daily whirls.

   I figure if "Charity begins at home," then so too does growth. And, as in regular school where no one can do the learning for us, we cannot live for others. Somehow, I knew I had to stick to my studies and do my own graduating.

   I postponed many transfers to new courses by holding myself back in the same subject for years, as I was a very stubborn student, thanks to my erroneous crib sheet. As in:

   I can make love happen if I work hard enough. And, I can find logic even where it does not dwell.

   Wrong.

   By struggling to create spiritual logic on a planet that promotes mortal logic, I kept spinning myself backwards like a boomerang to Square Wrong. I recast my role in my family scenario as Visiting Kid trying to do the right thing without an available guide book.

   Trouble was, neither I nor Ashley had a clue as to what the right thing was, so how could I tell if I succeeded?

   How she envisioned her role, I never knew. My guess was she wanted to pack up her act and get it as far off our road as possible, but that booking was unavailable.

   Another continuing course was discovering the futility in struggling to be a success according to another's criteria.

   Not surprisingly, I attended a very crowded class on that hallucinogenic subject.

   Also, I overplayed Dueling Concepts, jousting to make Ashley, my ex-es and others reflect my concepts of a happy life while they tried to make me deflect to their warp zone.

   I was so convinced HAPPY was the way to go, that I blinded myself to the Truth: Who am I to define HAPPY for others?

    Meaning: If you have the soul of a sadist, Sunnybrook Farm could seem like a boring hell hole.

   I have met too many people who are happiest when un-happy; who are finest when whining; who crave to complain; who savor sulking; who personally feel they win by losing (& cause others to lose); who are most at peace with their nature when warring; and, who feel best when bitching.

   Who am I to assume what makes others happy? We all live exactly as we choose on the conscious and subconscious strata.

   No one is privy to the puzzle picture I am forming, nor to what motivates my attitude or rings my chimes. SO! How on earth can I rearrange another's image of their life? How can I rewrite another's script? Or, tell them where and how to direct it, except when unwanted pieces from their board slop over onto mine?

   Ergo! It seems quite improbable to believe that any Divinity has, or would ever, sanctified mortal management over another mortal's spiritual assignment.

   Life vividly illustrates:

The only Happy Button we can push is our own.

Copyright © 2004 by Krystiahn