The Bearable Lightness In Just Being

There is that scene from Forest Gump where the movie closes on a note of strange contentedness. Where the feather is seen floating into the final credits. In the film it evokes the perfect essence of peace. But in real life I think maybe things are different. Sometimes I wonder if being feather-like is good or bad. Can one just glide or float through things, through life? How unbearable is just 'Being'? Living in mediocrity without the additional responsibility of wisdom...the greater picture? There is that feeling of being light as a feather where one can glide. How consciously Insight (The Truth) brings us to willingly shoulder responsibility. Feel the weight of a thing greater than our comprehension.
Or is it different. That in realising and acknowledging the Truth with our heart and mind we are lifting the weight of the world? Weights that bind us. I can't decide. Am faced with two sides of the coin and each one has an equal chance of being the right/winning side. Am faced with having to toss because I realise that I can’t choose both. And equally that I can't choose one over the other. And that in even saying that I want to choose mediocrity I am scared of shirking a miracle that might save me. Maybe we want to believe but only in as much as it does not shake our existing faith. Maybe we don’t want miracles because they makes us realise a higher calling. Makes us realise we cant deny the calling and at the same time are scared to rise to the task. How can you choose to alienate/give up the defects of humanism that define you. That define me. Am shaken to the core in seeing a different picture. I cannot seem to adjust myself. And now even the Truth is scaring me to the point of turning to the Maker and begging him to take back His miracle for I am not strong enough to take it. I cannot rise above my humanness. My world is crumbling. The world I knew and recognised and had got used to. The world that cocooned my existence. And now I am faced with a new man, a changing man, whose humanness and spirituality is scaring me. I cannot face up to it. I fear I am not strong enough to be swept into its tide. The thought of home scares me. The thought of hiding behind my eyes, behind my mind. The thought of listening. Of answering. The right answer. The thought of my weak humanness.
AND yet I know it is the TRUTH. How can I deny it when it is a miracle. I pray for the regularity of the familiar, of the mundane, of the monotonous. How can I ride this tide with the enthusiasm it demands of me. I look at time in not its minutes but its moments. And the moments are so overwhelmingly large that they shake me to the foundations. I am not strong, but a weak weak mortal, with many many many failings.

Comments

Anonymous said…
"Desist to all men single out how ingest out and trashy is the power of kings," Canute said, "pro there is no one worthy of the famous for, but He whom elysium, world and the depths carry out at narrow relentless laws.
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5:46 PM
Anonymous said…
Good point, though sometimes it's hard to arrive to definite conclusions
9:19 PM
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