Flower power

I don’t know if I should be trying to write something right now.

My head is going in all directions at once, but sometimes you just can’t keep still and meditate. Sometimes there’s a fire burning for you to act.

So I will act a bit, and I will tell you a little something that is in line with my last text ‘I am your father’ from my book ‘world and psyche’.

In the text I try to align the psychodynamic stages of the Lacanian mirror stage and the oedipal stage with the advent of the devil, first making us bow to his accusations and inflictions of guilt, only to, in the last stage, have us surrender our power to him, hang our heads and letting him pull the reigns and steer the working horses that we thus become.

It is about losing our pride, really, this sad sad tale of how the human being becomes the human being, of how the infant, full of light and innocence becomes a depressed and stale adult, without any belief in himself and with a center of power that is always outside of his core.

So I wrote that at first, as you may have read a few times already by now, the infant is innocent and full of light.

In the mirror stage, this original awareness of purity becomes clouded over by the instance of doubt and seduction, luring us into feelings of guilt and shame. It is how we fall from the Garden, and how we eventually end up laboring in what we call the dust of everyday sorrow.

But if there is any one message I want to bring with all of my writing, it is that the Garden is here, it still is, it always was and it always will be. It is a message of hope, a good tiding, that I long to share with humanity.

So, the infant soul, being seduced in believing it should be something more, something else, finally yields and kind of says to the prosecutor ‘well fine, okay, if I am so wrong then you tell me how it’s done’. And thus, for the rest of his life mostly, the human being listens to the advice and wrath of the inner voice, always pulling us here when we want to go there, always keeping us down when we want to stand up, always saying no when our hearts are full of a burning yes.

But… unfortunately… what do we know?

We are just not good enough.

We are incapable, we are incompetent.

We are useless really.

The voice, the crazy voice… it knows best.

And so we never live really, we never live the life that is there for us. The people to meet, the places to be, the things to do, the words to say, the miracles to perform.

It is why we are not in heaven.

Because we do not believe we are all angels really.

And we are still alive!

If there is one thing psychoanalysis has shown us, it is that the repressed part of our soul never dies. It insists. It lives on. It comes back. It tries.

But time and again, it is put down.

Time and again, we compromise.

And so we live somewhere underground.

We live in a pit, underneath a pit, underneath another pit, underneath yet another pit, underneath…

And the child within finds itself in a maximum security prison, buried deep and kept dead tight and unconditionally, by a gatekeeper we call god.

And god is powerful, and god is a hell of an angry motherfucker with a rather short tempered kind of spirit. And of course, god knows everything. He sees everything, so we better play dead, and listen to him.

And all the while, a hundred thousand miracles are left to waste.

All the while, the most beautiful souls are just working horses worked to death.

All the while, all of those angels never sing their wonderful songs.

I might stop writing here, for it is so sad that I am getting a bit depressed really.

Isn’t it a pity?

We live in graves underneath graves underneath graves underneath graves, and the only one that ever sees the light is that damn devil that is always there to bend and break our will, that is always there to keep our light from shining, that is always there to keep the miracles from happening, that is always there to prevent the joy and the love that we might otherwise feel naturally.

‘Oh no!’ he says, ‘You cannot say that, you cannot do that, don’t let the other person speak, don’t let that light shine, for otherwise… big disaster!’

And it is fear really, only fear, and you know what the fear fears the most?

To no longer be there.

The fear does not want to go away.

The fear must always have its say.

The fear must own you, it must ride your back like a cowboy in the saddle.

And you surrender, you yield your power to this panic.

You identify with the devil.

This is something that has been the deal kind of since you were just a little child. But you grow up, and you do not have to grow up powerless and ignorant, keeping this criminal situation alive.

You have to learn, like the Buddhists do, about your true nature.

And you have to realize you are beautiful, and you have to learn how strong you are.

And you must know the world is there for you, to support you every step of the way.

Every step you take, the Earth is there, the birds are there, the sun is shining her best shining for you. The rain falls to feed you, the trees all grow to give you breath.

You have to know you can trust this miracle, this wonderful miracle of creation.

And you have to realize you are a beautiful being full of powers living in a wonderful universe that is pure magic and nothing else.

How can I make you believe, believe in this Garden, believe in the angel that is your soul.

Why would you choose to keep your inner child so shut up and nailed tight?

Why would you choose to kill all the beauty of creation, so that it can no longer touch you?

Why would you choose to keep the wonders of this magical reality at a distance?

You.

Creation.

You and creation.

You make a good pair actually.

But you have to touch it, you have to feel it, you have to free yourself and BE it.

You cannot keep listening to that gatekeeper, that devil that is dancing on your grave, so happy that there is only darkness where he can live his life and play his tricks.

You have to push that lid on your coffin just a little, just a tiny little bit, and shed some light on the shadow. And rising from your grave, where you lay buried alive since those early days, you have to play a bit with the devil. Challenge him a bit, take a chance, try something different. Try to be, try to live, try to cast your light upon reality. And see how it reacts.

And never stop believing.

Always keep the faith.

I know, I sound like a bad mixture of Bon Jovi and Journey, but anyway, music has been a great source of inspiration for me, and it still is.

Hold on to that feeling…

You know, you are too beautiful to keep hiding all your life, you are too strong to just stay in chains forever, and there are just too many chances of a miracle to happen to ignore and pass on by.

So you there, in your maximum security prison, learn to dance, learn to play, learn to shine and find your way back to your beautiful baby smile.

You are innocent aren’t you?

The thing is, in keeping yourself in that maximum security prison, you only testify to the will of the devil even more every time again.

You don’t become a saint hiding and burying your world and keeping it imprisoned and entombed.

You become a saint by setting people free, by letting your light shine for all to see, by being brave and showing just how strong you are. Just how loving, and just how bright.

Do not become a killer, become a freedom man.

Do not keep your world silenced, but make the music.

Sing and dance, like the birds and the snakes.

Get that power from your underground and turn it into fruit, like an orange tree.

And one day, when you have played with the devil long enough to make him give up and disappear, you will burst from your cocoon like a butterfly with the heart of a lion.

You will spread your wings and fly.

Like every living angel did before you.

Don’t believe that you have lost the Garden, for the Garden has not lost you.

It is flowering right there in the deepest corner of your heart, it is burning in the blood flowing through your veins. It is beating in your temperament and it is shining in your eyes. And it is laughing, every time you find the strength to be yourself.

You may be locked away, but not forever.

Not if that is not your choice.

Not if you take the cards into your own hands and play that game, accept the challenge, and choose to return to your true nature, innocence.

Which is the devil’s greatest fear.

For you to realize that.

And to accept yourself just the way you are, and stop believing you should be better, and you should know better, and you should think harder, and you should act more cleverly.

It’s alright.

You are you.

Never surrender.

You are part of the Garden, like the flowers growing by the concrete road. You are part of the magic, like water falling from a waterfall. You are part of the great symphony, with every peep and every poop coming from your being. And I know there is so much that you can’t see, but you should believe.

That is the challenge.

To have faith.

Then the Garden can touch you, and walk with you, from home to home to home, always there right in your heart and center.

There is nothing better than you, there is no one more beautiful.

And if someone tries to tell you there is, kick his ass.

Just kick that devil’s ass.

I know you can.