The End of his Day
It is near the end of his day… and it has been a long day. The weight of the world has been almost unbearable for him over the last several hours. He isn’t seeking a reason. He isn’t seeking confrontation. He isn’t looking for distraction. His bucket is just empty. He has poured it out; poured it out, into awareness for his patients, his clients, his staff, himself, and even for the plants and trees, and the cute little chirping birds that run and fly throughout his kingdom. His bucket is empty….. and most, almost all, still try to empty it further, and if they aren’t actively trying to draw from it, they are ignorantly bumping or slamming into it, spilling the few remaining drops at the very bottom.
He walks into the exam room. It is a simple appointment; all that he has to do for the patient is an annual exam. Then he can send the client up front and collect a little more revenue. The patient is a Golden Retriever and the owner reports no history of any problems; again, so simple, so easy. So, the veterinarian plops down on the floor in one corner of the room and allows his head technician, Joe, to gather the patient from the owner and bring her over to be examined. The Golden Retriever collapses in front of the veterinarian. She drops to the floor and hugs the ground before him. As she does this, she also spastically and rhythmically squints, and it seems like her entire body and posture is screaming at me, “it is too bright” or “I am scared of what I might see.” And this is very frequently a point in the evaluation of dog behavior where people sing Me, Me, Me, making it all about themselves, and thus, fundamentally fucking up everything as they graciously pat themselves on the back. The overwhelming majority would interpret the “dogs” behavior as indicative of previous suffering from physical abuse, of course by a man, or as a normal intuitive response to something “I was doing wrong” to elicit fear. But, truth does not buckle to limited intellect or the delusion of the vast mainstream. It is almost certain that this patient has never been abused and I am not “doing anything” to warrant a rational fear response.
This patient was borne or adapted the survival mechanism at a very young age to respond to everything with utter submission. The patient has never been “taught” that this is unhealthy. No environmental development or person has ever given her the proper direction or reference that her psyche needs, and requires, to achieve a healthy perspective. She has never been encouraged to stand. She has never been encouraged to overcome her irrational fear and her associated submissive response to all of existence. She has never been truly nurtured. The others, the Crowd of Me, Me, Me, have reinforced all of her insecurities and submissive adaptations and misguided perceptions on a continuous basis, and most of them have done so with the unacknowledged intent of perpetuating her weakness and stagnation. By doing such, that most, creates another minion; a helpless, basket case that becomes a slave to their dependency upon the Crowd of Me, Me, Me. The Crowd sacrifices her potential and any chance of improving her perception of her existence as it feeds the hungry appetite of insecurity and inadequacy, ever-present, in every one of its members.
As the patient sits directly in front of me and incessantly attempts to cower, I respond with continual movements myself. I gently pull her out of her cowering posture and force her to rise back up into a normal stance. With patience and melancholy, I pick her heavy ass up, again and again and again. Rise. Rise. It is okay. I am here to help you. I am here to help you. I am not your enemy. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to over-dominate you. I don’t want you to be subservient to me. Please…rise. I will help you. I get it. I understand. I see. I am listening. My hand, under her chin, raises her eyes to the level of my own, time after time after time. She is so nervous; so damn jittery and anxious. And then, Joe, who also gets the whole damn secret scenario, says “It is almost like no one has ever told her how beautiful she is.” And I can’t help but laugh like a fool. I have no idea what the client thinks at this point…probably that she has accidentally stumbled into an insane asylum or maybe a clown house, but who really knows. She just sits there and smiles and laughs a little with us.
I can’t help but think of Jennifer and Lisa and Verna Lee Cribb, as well as many, many more of the beautiful women that I have encountered who I refer to as Angels, even if a few of them are really just imposters. I can’t help but think of how often I have tried to tell them “how beautiful…how astoundingly beautiful they truly are…..and how I get it, how I understand…how I am here…..how they don’t need to crawl…that I know how hard it can be at first, how damn hard it is to resist the temptation of default… and that I am different…. that I am not pretending….that I am someone who feels the same pain and terror and hope and fear…..that I share the same awareness…and that they can… that they can actually believe in my words and my integrity. If they would just listen …just choose to truly, truly believe in me or another worthy human being, that that would help them to sincerely find the same damn earnest belief in themselves. THAT……THAT and not just the fucking namesake version of belief is the key that they must understand to unlock their bindings, their madness, their confusion, their isolation, their intolerable existence….THAT they are not, not alone. They may be engulfed by minions of manipulators and the other various herds of the Crowd of Me, Me, Me, but they are still not alone in their thought or fear or awareness or suffering or love. There are others, scattered and scant, but others of their same soul…..of the same primordial energy… and all of those of our same energy need one another, we should be with one another…it is natural…..it is proper…it is the answer….it is the truth…..and that understanding and acceptance of such in purity will transform their existence forevermore.”
To be continued only one more time…