I’d Better Believe It!

 

The cartoon above is based on a dream…

…a sleeping dream from a few years ago.

In the dream…

I’m climbing up a set of stairs.

I come to a place where two steps are far apart—one stair looms high above the other.

To reach that step, I really have to stretch, to make an extra effort.

But I’m able to pull myself up and then continue on.

The message of the dream seemed obvious.  I’ve carried that message for some time now, and it’s helped me—the message has given me strength, has given me hope, during a difficult time.

Recently, the dream spoke again.  As I reflected back on it, I saw that the dream holds a hidden message—a message hidden in plain sight.

The dream supports my belief that, throughout our lives, we are climbing, ascending, working our way up, developing ourselves spiritually.

Towards what end, the dream does not say.  Perhaps the goal is simply to climb and keep climbing: to gain more and more perspective, to continually strive to elevate ourselves.

Yes, it’s my personal dream; it refers to my experience.  But since you and I can not be so different—after all, we’re both human beings—I think its not-so-hidden hidden message can apply to you, me, and everyone else.

But what if my unconscious mind, in this dream, is merely reflecting my conscious belief system—what I want to believe, what I’ve chosen to believe?

I have no proof that life is a continual growth process—a growth of spirit.  I can’t really say that the dream proves this belief to be true.

But whether or not it is true, this belief system helps me.  It keeps me working to develop myself.  It keeps me working to gain more perspective.  To follow the Golden Rule—as stated in all our good books…

It’s brought me to set this goal: to decrease my fear, to increase my understanding.  It keeps me working toward this goal, despite daily failures.

So, by holding this belief, I not only help myself, I help all of us—in some small way, I help this troubled world of ours.

This belief helps me when I’m confronted with those big steps…

…those steps that require that I stretch, that I push myself, that I go beyond what I think I’m capable of—those steps that we all face, at various times in life.

So, though I can’t prove it’s true, I’m keeping this belief.

This belief also tells me to focus on the here and now, tells me to “watch your step!”

Nonetheless, I can’t help but wonder where the stairway leads…

Which reminds me of another dream, told to me by a friend, years ago.

In the dream…

…she walks slowly, ploddingly, up a series of steps—the steps of a pyramid.

Finally, after much effort, she reaches the top.  And what does she find there?

The top of the pyramid is a wide level platform: a place of work.

That wouldn’t seem to be a very encouraging dream—a very encouraging belief.  We work and work just to arrive at a place of work!

But doesn’t the dream tell her that she’ll eventually reach a place where she can sit down…

….sit down and enjoy the view, enjoy her hard-won perspective?

Wherever the stairway goes, it’s also my belief that we—every single one of us—have no choice but to climb, to keep climbing.

How does that belief help me?

Well, if I have to climb…

…then I might as well not fight it, I might well try to be aware of what I’m doing, of what I’m trying to accomplish…

…and, in that way, make greater progress.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

 

Agreement, In Principle

 

On the day of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birth…

…I’m reminded of how two groups can seem to agree, yet actually disagree on particular meanings…

…yet still, in principle, agree.

Let me explain…

Years ago, I met two German travelers who’d visited the Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama.  The Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. pastored at this church between 1954 and 1960.

The travelers told their host that they could feel King’s spirit in the church.  Their host told that them that, yes, the congregation could still feel Dr. King’s Spirit in the church.

So they were using the same word, but giving it different meanings.

However, didn’t both the congregation and these travelers experience feelings of a higher order?  Didn’t they both believe that Martin Luther King lived on in this church?

Maybe Dr. King’s disembodied presence—his Spirit—still lingers in the Dexter Avenue church.  Whatever the case may be, his spirit is still there—and many other places as well: in many groups, many gatherings, many books, many recordings—in many people.

Though Dr. King can be found everywhere, I suppose we need such places as the Montgomery church—we need focal points, places where we can contemplate the lives of great individuals: their strength, their courage, their wisdom, their love—in short, their spirit.

Yes, we need such places…

However, I’m not one to make pilgrimages.  To my mind, it’s more important that we locate those qualities of spirit within ourselves, wherever we may be.

The German travelers showed respect and did not quibble over definitions with their host.  But were their definitions really in conflict?  Was the reality experienced by the travelers so different from the reality experienced by the church members?

Hopefully, our new mythology won’t mire itself in theological arguments—won’t argue over such definitions.  Disagreements in belief can too easily separate us…

…whereas, our shared feelings, our shared experiences, can bring us together.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

 

Living Elvis’ Dream

 

I don’t think Elvis belongs in our new mythology…

…though some say he’s risen from the dead—they claim to have seen him at some fast-food outlet…

…and hordes of the faithful still make the pilgrimage to Graceland.

Yes, Elvis is now a legendary figure.  But legend is not myth.

However, we do have one Elvis story that’s close to mythic—that confronts us with questions of loss, of death, of the unseen, of how to meet the challenges of life on this Earth.

It’s the story of a dream…

A dream Elvis supposedly shared with a confidante.

In the dream, Elvis finds himself on-stage, performing in a blue spotlight.  Beside him stands his twin, Jesse Garon Presley.  Jesse looks, acts, sounds, performs just like Elvis.

According to this confidante, Elvis often wondered why he’d been the one chosen to live.  Why him and not Jesse—his stillborn twin brother?

Though I can’t peer into another man’s heart, I think I do understand a little something about survivor’s guilt.  I can understand why someone would ask, “Why are they dead while I’m still alive?”

I don’t believe in chance—including chance death.  I believe that when your time’s up, then you go… 

However, this belief doesn’t always satisfy me emotionally.  After all, emotion often doesn’t listen to reason.  No matter what I tell myself, I still feel the loss, I still wonder why I’m the one left alive.

The loss seems even greater when I realize that it’s not just my loss, it’s our loss.  When that person died, we lost the work they were doing, we lost the work they would have done, we lost what they would have given to this world if they‘d lived but a few years longer.

So how can I deal with these feelings of loss?

Well, I’ve decided to do as any good soldier does.  I will attempt to compensate: to try to do a bit more, to take up a little of the slack left by this person’s passing, to contribute more to the welfare of all.

“Win one for The Gipper” may be the corniest line in movie history, but if it works, I’ll use it.

Instead of repeating affirmations to ask for stuff, perhaps I could write down some version of the above.

But I suppose there’s other ways to help me remember my lofty ambition.  Often my mind drifts to those who’ve died, and when it does, I can recall this resolution and be spurred on.

Do the deceased sometimes hover about us?  Did Elvis’ dream tell him that Jesse Garon remained in his life in spirit form?

Perhaps.  Whatever the case may be, Jesse Garon was there, all through Elvis’ life…

…shadowing him just as those I’ve lost shadow me.

Such shadows may be heavy and dark.  But I think Elvis has shown us a way to lift their weight.   When I’m out there in the world, when I’m “performing”…

…I can imagine those people standing there with me—just as Jesse stood with Elvis.  I can feel them there with me, working with me, urging me on.

It’s important to remember that Elvis wasn’t sad in the dream—he was elated to find his twin on-stage with him—happy to hear the crowd cheering them on.

In the dream, Elvis wasn’t feeling guilty; he had no cause to feel survivor’s guilt: after all, his brother was still there, still with him, in his every word and act.

I want to keep that idea in mind as I go about my day—not only to help ease my guilt, to help ease my sadness…

…but also to help me as I walk the path these people walked, as I work to continue their work…

…as I try to reach the potential they saw in me.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

 

New Old Leaf

 

At 12:01 a.m. on January 1, 2012, I turned over a new leaf.

However, the new leaf has only a tenuous hold on the old limb…

Yes, I want to make many changes in my life.  However, I know that change—significant change, deep change—happens slowly…tediously, painfully slow.

I say we acknowledge the truth of those words by emblazoning them across the forehead of our new mythology: change—real change, meaningful change—is a slow process.  I speak from hard experience.

So then, why attempt to turn over a new leaf so abruptly?

Well, it’s emotional with me: I want to feel as if I’m making progress—I want some definite signs I’m making progress.

I know I made progress in 2011.  But it just didn’t seem to be enough…

It didn’t seem to be enough, because there was little I could point to and say, “See, there’s proof: I’m making progress in my life.”

Yet I realize that change often goes unseen.  How do you measure it?  Where’s the scale?  I may not be able to see how I’ve changed—even years afterward.

I truly believe that our greatest accomplishments are unknown to us, for the most part.  They may produce visible results, in time, but nevertheless, the change that occurs within—the growth—is difficult to gauge.

I know that, and yet…

…I still want to see that I’m making progress.  I’d like to see some signs of progress.

So I’ve set myself a few goals—visible goals, measurable goals.  My thinking is: achieving these goals—these “outer” goals—will affect/reflect some inner change.  Achieving these goals will be a sure sign of progress, of inner growth.

However, I know from experience that this strategy can be self-defeating.

Often I set the bar too high when making plans.  I want to feel as if I’m really accomplishing something.  Isn’t more accomplishment better than less?

But such grand designs can lead to disappointment.  Later—perhaps at the end of the year—when I look back to consider what I’ve achieved, I’ll see that I’ve fallen short.  Then I may feel disheartened, and start to wonder if I’m really getting anywhere.

At such times, I remind myself that our greatest gains are unknown to us.  I remind myself that I can’t see, can’t realize, how I’ve grown.

So it comes down to faith…

…faith that we’re always growing, always moving forward, always making progress, even when we seem to be standing still.

Yes, I believe that to be true…Nonetheless…

…at the beginning of 2012, I’m turning over a new leaf.  I’ve procrastinated too long on too many things, and the beginning of a new year is a good excuse to refocus and decide what needs to be done and then do it.

Yes, I’m turning over a new leaf…but this time, I’m reminding myself to proceed slowly…slowly…

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry