Every so often I do an illusion resolution. I notice that I am investing in something that really does not go anywhere — either in additional happiness or toward the general welfare of others. I resolve it by either taking a different view of the action or by deleting it completely. So far I have a list of things that I have released from life: that anything outside of me can make me happy; that it matters all that much exactly where I am on the planet; how I look as my body ages (not an excuse for letting myself go); that I am going to live on the planet forever; that I have to do anything perfectly; that things have to go my way. Occasionally, one or more of these will sneak back into my psyche and I will be on its treadmill again. Illusion resolution can be repeated without having to beat yourself up emotionally.
Do what works and see if your life is not better. Stick with reality. If materialism alone would bring people happiness, then this country would be filled with ecstatic people. It isn’t. Something else is in the mix. The correlation between things and well being is apparently illusory.
Find ultimately satisfying ways of being and stick with them. Here are a few things that I have found to be ultimately satisfying: being aware of God; treating myself with dignity and respect; doing right by other people; being optimistic; living in trust; turning most of my control needs loose.
Consequently, I have found that there is little I need to own and no one I need to impress. It is amazing what acceptance can do to destroy wasteful illusions.
Have you ever watched a wasp or a fly try to get through a window pane? It looks clear, so they should be able to fly right through it. They cannot, so they try again and again. They notice they can walk on it, but they are probably not even sure of that. It is tedious. They get frustrated. They try harder and harder. Eventually, they give up, or they drop to the lower crack in the screen or door from whence they arrived and thus escape.
I wonder how many similar illusions I have experienced (or am going through now). The trick to any illusion is that you really do not know you are in it — except by frustration and pain. If an insect can learn patience, glass is the way to go. Some bugs will try for days before they finally find the “hidden” opening that you and I clearly see. It is sort of like having an angelic view of humans. How patient they must be to watch us keep trying things that do not work — especially historically popular illusions. Here are a few: a war to end all wars, making more people poor in the name of helping the poor, thinking that being in any form of media makes one an expert on anything, that someone else is going to solve our problems, or that we are here on this planet alone as merely some sort of evolved species.
The bug sociologist in me wonders if more male or female bugs get caught in the window pane illusion. My bet is that more males get caught and for the longest periods of time. Arguing from my experiences as a higher life form, I am convinced it is males. They just will not read a map or try alternatives until totally exhausted. Female bugs are probably more apt to shop around for a better way through the glass and consider it an adventure.
Illusions are exhausting, painful, and without positive reward. Each trip up the glass becomes a trance that invites another try. Oriental religions warn of life’s illusions. There are many. Some are within and some without. Both are pretty miserable. Salvation is in seeking alternatives. One more trip up the glass will not make a bit of difference. You have nothing to lose. Try the keyhole.
Terms of endearment come in many forms. They are a private language system between individuals expressing love and appreciation. These words express an intent that may be the opposite of the commonly held definition of the word itself. It all has to do with the context — who says it and why.
Melissa and Valessa were once members of a very small youth group in a church I once served. Sometimes they would go on day trips with our senior citizens (with permission from their teachers). It was an odd sort of arrangement — senior citizens plus two girls skipping school for the day. The redeeming factor for them and the teachers that let them go was the fact that our trips were very educational (places like the world’s largest sun telescope at Sunspot, New Mexico).
People express their appreciation in some funny ways. On one return trip, Melissa called me a “Dork” — as I drove the van full of older people back to El Paso. A couple of the older church members were offended that she did that. I just laughed. I knew what she meant. I sensed the intent behind her voice. She is allowed to call me a Dork because of the tone in which she said it. It was by no means an insult. She was smiling with this little insight. The truth is: I am sort of a Dork.
A Dork is an odd person that is a little bit nerd, not always socially cool, but someone you might like to have around anyway. A Dork is a cartoon Ziggy or Charlie Brown. We have large heads but do not always use the brains that are in them. Heaven only knows what our redeeming qualities might be.
Melissa and Valessa and I have kept up with each other through the years. They call me “dad” as another term of endearment and irony (no, I am not their biologic parent). We are friends but more than friends; we consider ourselves family. Though we seldom see each other, we maintain an odd closeness far away. They have children of their own now. I once flew back to do the wedding for Melissa. “Family” is anyone you love…and eventually even those you don’t — as you mature in the faith.
Anytime I take myself too seriously, I hear Melissa’s voice in the back of my head: “Dork” — a conjured term normally an insult but used as endearment. The next time I have to sign a document for the church requiring a title, I think I will sign it as I sign this little blurb:
His Dorkness,
Dale Andrews
I love the commercial in which there is only one word used to express a range of situations, emotions, and responses by young men. The entire commercial is made using the word “Dude” in various contexts. It is really very funny and illustrates one of the rules of semantics — that 85% of the meaning of a word is according to the given context (the surrounding circumstances).
If Jesus lived and ministered today in our society, he would have used the word “Dude” on a fairly regular basis. Jesus confronted people using a wide range of words and actions. The dynamic equivalent of some of those would be “Dude!” — especially in reference to some of his closest followers. I can hear him now after Simon Peter told him he was not going to die in Jerusalem: “Dude! The Son of Man has to die…” Instead of saying, “Get behind me Satan…” he might have said something like, “Dude you are totally off track and have joined the dark side!”
The Holy Spirit uses our own words, and is not limited to Elizabethan English or King James expressions. There is also a closeness to us that is familiar yet transcendent. I can hear the God-given little voices of reason, sanity, and spirit inside my soul saying things like: “Dude you missed the point.” When I really mess up I can hear: “DUDE!!!! — What were you thinking?”
A modern day Saul of Tarsus on the road to Los Angeles from Frisco would hear: “Dude! Why are you kicking my shins?” What is most threatening to humans is the closeness and familiarity of God. In response we create all sorts of special terms to try to keep God at distance. Spirituality is relegated to a sort of “mystical terms” approach that can be monopolized by religious institutions and professional classes (clergy and theologians).
Dude! Don’t try to keep God at arm’s length with fancy words! He wants to be close to you. Dude! Don’t waste your time trying to make God politically correct or in your own image. Dude! Be yourself! The first words you hear after death may well be: “Dude! Welcome home!
Dude!