To wonder: will they accept me? does anyone really want me around? is normal, but we secretly believe we are the only ones who feel this.
We hear the world, but there are always ghost voices hiding in the texture of things, a veneer of meaning that becomes the map to guide us on the road back, maddeningly clear at times, but when we try to explain this to another, the response is so often "Huh? Huh?"
The way to see this as a union of two systems - an illusion of flesh and a reflection of spirit, neither absent, neither complete. The ratio is different in every single person. Did I mention this? Those two cannot occupy the same space - we have to negotiate an arrangement. What we really are, is perhaps the spasms of that struggle between 'here' and 'there'.
Emotional honesty fosters the connection with our true spiritual home, but try introducing too much of that honesty into the flesh and blood world around you and society very quickly vomits you up and cuts you off from the pseudo-comfort of the herd of sheeple.
Herein, of course, lies the paradox and the pain. Honesty reconnects you to heaven, but disconnects you from the world around you. It hurts - knowing the truth, but living so close to that carefully tended weed garden of lies.
