Father-Son Talk

Again I dreamed.

I did awaken quite exhausted, but I have myself to blame for that, not some form of dyssomnia. Even if it were the case, it was most certainly self-induced. I have yet to correct my habit of taking more than ninety minutes to get my backside in bed after I've shut everything down for the night.

I'd blame that on a somatoform disorder that affects my circadian rhythm, however, to my great chagrin, my own awareness of the psycho-somatic nature of the disorder engenders a synaptic paradox of sorts whereby the supposed effect becomes perceptibly delegitimized.

Yes, I called myself out on my own BS. Try it. It's quite liberating.

Still no night terrors, no paralyses, or any other disconcerting occurrences. It is promising. I've been waking up feeling ready to take on the day. I've actually laughed out loud at passing negative thoughts.

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It's been said that you can't stop a bird from flying over your head, but you can definitely stop it from building a nest in your hair.

That's more true to me now than ever before. Of course it took more than physically shaving my head to leave the birds nothing with which to build (though symbolic actions are not without value). It took the choice to view those thoughts as detrimental to my own progress and the achievement of our goal. It would also constitute a sin of omission on my part if I didn't actively eradicate any negative influence that would drive me to break my own rules. I can't exactly blame an external agent for my failure to adhere to my own standards.

These choices are becoming progressively easier to make. I've realized that they are not isolated changes in perspective, rather they are the effects of a single paradigm shift that is far greater than the sum total of its parts. It equates more with a change in citizenship than a religious conversion.

I have a new culture, a new history, a new identity, a new family, a new home.

I no longer bemoan the seeming insignificance of the individual, burying my head in the proverbial sand of religion to hide myself from the fear of physical death, as do those from whose numbers I have departed. Rather I now revel in the beauty and permanence of the collective, the organism known as man, created in the true plural nature of Elohim. We are not a collection of individual destinies or fates for we are one singular being with a singular role on this plane of existence.

The role? Stewardship.

It is in the acknowledgment of that universal role that I am liberated from the shackles of misperceived individual responsibilities; for it is not in what I thought I was destined to accomplish in my own time that I could find true satisfaction, but in my function as a compiler, filter, and conduit of knowledge, understanding, and wisdom to the great multitude of generations to come.

While before I pined for purpose, I now gladly accept my function.

I am Son. I am Father. I am.