I think maybe it was triggered by a conversation I had on the lakefront path yesterday, a long, rambling, late afternoon conversation with another refugee (I barely know the man, we always say "hello" when we pass each other on the path), from a Catholic Upbringing. A serious mind-fuck for both of us, no doubt. We both talked like survivors. Major head trauma. Stuffed with guilt, sin, and a deep in the bone uneasiness. Lots of Judgement to wade thru, baby.
As we talked, I realized I was apparently a bit more successful at leaving "the Church" behind. No longer rebelling, just letting it all go. Unlike my conversation-mate, I was never a true believer, even as a Third Grader, I was a "doubting Thomas" type. I was stuck in that world during my formative years, but I mainly felt lost, and tried my best to be invisible. That tendency is still alive in my body. There is a residue of that Catholic nonsense & mumbo-jumbo swirling around inside me.
As my conversation-mate recounted his deep, soul-battles in the vaguest terms, it reminded me of my own. He only hinted at his internal drama & trauma. It seemed to me that he was living with some deep, dark wounds and gaping holes of blackness in his being. And he was suffused with a serious, debilitating lonliness. Looking for friendship on the path.
I rallied & talked about my standard remedies for better living: meditation, living in the moment, not judging life, experiencing it. Oh yeah, and simplifying: coffee, dogs, music. Doing the things I love to do. Carrying on with head, heart & soul wide-open.
We both agreed it was a rich, fertile conversation. Bubbles of empathy and compassion floated above us. To be continued... We then went our seperate ways down the path. Safe to say, we were both a bit stirred and shaken.
