What if you found yourself sitting on a secret? What if a prized object fell in to your possession? Would you tell anyone? Or some fantastical boon was bestowed upon you? Or if you had found a skeleton key that could unlock any door? Would such a thing be a godsend, or a curse?
I find myself on the business end of this question, now that Process :Self – Honesty, that sharp, piercing arrow that slices through my unconscious dream of the unified field, is my key as me that threatens to unlock every door,, every secret and every puzzle. It is a heavy burden to carry because you must adhere to it in every breath, which frankly, can cause a whole hell of a lot of problems, as every single problem that is rises up to meet self – honesty head – on, has its opposite number as previous dishonesties, secrecy, judgments and hedging.
This is all terribly obvious, I know. But nothing is better left unsaid.
One could argue, “Hell, yes it is!” If you weren’t serious about living a life based on total honesty. Wow. Does that sound naive and foolish? Impractical and stupid? We all carry secrets and stratagems, and falsehoods. These are the accepted ways of “living.” I have lived this way all my life. I have cheated and lied and presented masks and indifference. But I would hardly call myself a sociopath. That’s describes loonies, right? Right?
Of all the participants contributing to the Desteni blogs, mine may be the most, uh, diffident. A bit soft and unassuming. There’s a great reason for that. My Significant Other is also blogging on another Desteni blog (well, she will once her work situation gets settle), .and I am very aware of her reading this. Too aware. It is sort of like having someone looking over my shoulder while I write. It is a bit intimidating. I soon realized that blogging Process : Self – Honesty would not only be annoyingly self-referential, but also possibly dangerous to my health and well – being.
My Beloved is probably my main point of self – honesty in this entire process. But I see I’m talking more about her than me. So let me change gears.
This blog is about my process and that’s what I’m going to write about. I understand that I may at times receive a little bit of grief occasionally from my Cherished. But, till here no further. This is the Party at Ground Zero. Where I am is here. Here in the moment not knowing what will come next. Doling out another sentence to lead me back to myself, a self that I am surprised that I don’t really know so well. Because there’s so much artifice, affectations, and some cowardice. Judgmental. Tremendous, righteous anger at times. Sometimes I don’t care about anything in this goddamn world. And my bad qualities are even worse!
I also can be stopped in my tracks by the glowing, clear – cut innocence of a small child’s eyes. Or by Debussy’s, “Claire de Lune.” The deep breathing of my lover sleeping next to me in the evening. A great cup of tea, or a stirring passage in a book. I don’t really care for much else. But somehow I care about everything, too. Which of the previous two statements are true? They can’t both be right…
This may have been more than I have bargained for. So be it. I like myself as is, but what else will be uncovered, stripped bare? I would like for there to be a trail blazed into the deep thickets and underbrush of my self. A self that would be a self that I am not ashamed of. Ahh, the truth is finally discovered.