Sidewalk Bends

Exploring the soul and it's reaches.

Posts Tagged ‘emotions

Realization of Self

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Prestige, awards, honors, titles, sainthoods; These are all things that cannot be taken with us into death. Recognitions bestowed by other men serve no purpose except to buoy the confidence and egos of those lacking in self-understanding. They in turn are recognized and propagated by those also lacking in understanding of self. They rely on others to confer worth and validation, none of which can be given. The self can only be realized. Validation is but an illusion.

Once realized, everything becomes an illusion. The title or award becomes a symbol, not of achievement, but of values placed on hold. The recognition becomes a symbol not of good deeds done but of a past gone, and a present and future forgotten.

With the true realization of self, faults are no longer faults. Hate is no longer hate. Joy is no longer joy. Anger is no longer anger. Resentment is no longer resentment. That is not to say that these no longer exist. It is to say that the illusions that have defined these emotions fall aside.

These emotions are no longer at the forefront of what defines our existence and by extension, our thoughts and behaviors. When the self is realized it no longer needs to define others nor seeks validation from others, for in defining others and seeking recognition from others it is the self that is projecting its current understanding of its place within all that exists, which again is the self.

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Written by Sidewalk Bends

July 11, 2013 at 5:40 am

Patchwork Heart

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Patchwork HeartIf I trust what I see I am left to the visions that are shown to me. Whether it is my eyes or my mind’s eye, I am left to judge the truth of my perception.

If I am to trust what I hear, I am left to decide whether I have heard the voices of men, songs of birds, or the persistent wind that blows through my mind.

If I am to trust what I smell, I am left with my nose in the air as if to search out a scent, or an idea or an emotion so deeply tied to that which illicits my quandary.

If I trust what I feel, I am left to decipher the aches and pains of hardships past, or the real and sometimes forgotten suffering of those left silent.

Trust, I must. “Who?” or “What?” is the question. To my mind in silence I retreat. It tells me of stories heard, emotions felt and images seen. Filtered with today’s “truth” I see a world built for my mind. It entertains me. It convinces me of what I want. But what I want, I do not know. My mind tells me.

Can it write the play and be the actors? It tells me of impossibilities, when what I want are all the possibilities. It cannot fathom what it hides inside of itself. A shell worn thin, the truth peaks thru. The beating heart, it never withdrew. Love firm, a trust I know. Forgotten and neglected, if there is something to trust, may it be my heart, I know to be just.

photo credit: Wee Notions

Written by Sidewalk Bends

January 19, 2012 at 10:04 pm

Burden or Gift

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It is not a burden to feel a person’s pain if we care enough to help them through it. It is not a burden to hear the heartache of a friend or a stranger if they themselves can release a weight that brings them suffering. It is not a burden to wipe the tears off someone’s face if it allows them to stare at the world without shame again.

People come to us for different reasons. Sometimes it is so we can help them to see themselves better, or to gain understanding from a situation. And other times it is so we too can learn from others. Friends or acquaintances from years past show up to give sage advice. Strangers from nowhere give reassuring smiles. Other times the wind blows just right, and a thought or memory is stirred.

Whether we perceive these things as burdens or powerful gestures that we are loved is up to us. Despite how we decide to accept or reject the people or things that come into our lives, it will not stop the reminders. It will not stop the reminders that we are all loved. It will not stop the reminders that we are all part of something very special. Whether we choose to see it now or later, that gift is always there.