Perfection.

This word has triggered me so many times. Why would such a beautiful word bring me so much pain?

The energy of this word should and does elicit a moment to breathe. To rest and know that all is well. Yet it has made me angry to hear it. The idea that all is as it should be didn’t align with how I felt. To try and express this perfection to anyone usually will be met with resistance. Depending on their current situation things can be accepted or flat out rejected.

We can all see the perfection in beauty, but can we see the beauty in all things?

This is an on going piece of writing that shares everything with Forgiveness and Justice. It’s all really the same emotion that lies beneath. To truly feel the perfection in all things. I feel so lucky to have the people I do around me. The expression and understanding of this thing called perfection has not come naturally to me. I explained this in my short piece on Justice. How can everything be perfect when I can see it is not? The error lies in the question itself. I can’t see it because I’m choosing not to.

My dear friend can see it. She has found her way to this place through God. She knew God as a child and still holds that relationship close. The expression of this relationship has changed over time but the truth she felt as a child was never put down, surrendered or relinquished even when most would. I can feel this trust in the perfection of all things when I speak to her. She could hear my frustration and yet held the perfection even in these moments. My frustration and annoyance was also perfect. Only to annoy me even more. How good is that? How perfect? How blessed am I? I couldn’t abide in the idea that everything is as it should be in some of these conversations. But i’m getting there. I had to ask God. Another annoying thing my friend subtly suggested. “Just ask”. I love her.

So I asked.

I lived on a nice street in a nice small city. I would sit on my step with my dog Dolly most mornings. More so when the weather was good. A cup of tea and a roll up on the go. I became a regular fixture on this street. The delights I experienced from this humble position still fills my heart with a warmth and joy. I loved it. I found myself on that step. I found out what it is I’m meant to do. I’d always been doing it. I was now adding something else to this practice. A bit more depth, understanding and curiosity. Lets call it Love. I reaped a whole lot of rewards. I got to know most of my neighbours. They would stop and say good morning and we would talk. We would talk about all sorts of things. I’m going to save some of these stories for another piece. Let’s just say it's where I found my gold. What touched me, moved me and motivated me. Fulfilment.

I had neighbours that had a child with severe physical disabilities. These problems occurred during child birth and left him badly brain damaged. He was unable to communicate and had to be fed by a tube. He had so many complications it was an ongoing battle to try to find a balance in all these conditions and treatments. He was in a wheelchair and relied upon his parents for everything. He was about 6 or 7 when I first met him. Most mornings he would just sit in his chair waiting for the school bus to pick him up. I would usually leave my step and go and say good morning, smile and have a short conversation with one of his parents.

Over the years I asked more about the boy. “Could he understand? Had they found a way to communicate?”. The frustration I felt in these conversations had to be hidden at times. The parents were doing their best but as the child got older he started to hit himself and bite his own hands. The screams of frustration I could sometimes hear coming from their flat were painful.

Occasionally, I would bump into his parents on the street without the boy. I would ask how he was doing. I had seen how unhappy and angry he was becoming. Again, I would ask about communication. I could feel he was frustrated in not being able to communicate. They told me there was a technique using cards but they needed to be taught how to use them. They apparently needed to attend some type of training course. When I asked about these cards and what needed to be learned it was quite clear they didn’t really have the enthusiasm for it. Maybe they didn’t think it would work. Maybe a lack of confidence. I don’t know but they never used them. All it seemed to require was to put the cards in front of him and let him point. In one of my lesser controlled moments I did mention this. I just got a “yeah maybe” and a half arsed smile. I did like his parents and I could see that they were doing what they could. It didn’t look like a good life, it looked hard and exhausting. My concept of this world at the time was “well I trust God and that there must be a reason for this”. All of them must be learning something here. I understood the idea of perfection but had not embodied its true nature. There were lots of other signs that the parents just didn’t have the capacity to see what I could see. I’ll just say I was frustrated.

One morning while sitting on my step he was wheeled out as usual waiting for his bus. I walked down and spoke to his Dad. As I stood there I asked how the boy was doing. He started to scream and hit himself. It was hard to witness. I asked if he was ok and his father told me he didn’t like me talking about him without addressing him directly. I was horrified with myself. On this morning I didn’t ask him how he was. I looked at him and just apologised and asked him to forgive me. All the things I talk about; empathy, intuition, attunement and feeling deeply and I’d just ignored all my own advice and missed the boy in all of it. The boy continued to scream so I apologised again. I said I love you and I’m sorry internally and left. I went straight back into my flat and cried. I was so angry with myself and I was angry at the parents. That boy needed to be communicated with. Yet I could see know signs of this happening. Now I was angry with God. What is the point in all this suffering? I’d believed up to this point that everything had a reason and that it was all perfect. But I didn’t really feel this. Not when faced with real suffering.

My question to God.

“I thought everyone was here to learn? I thought your plan was to teach us what we truly are? How can this be true when that boy is suffering and his parents seem to be learning absolutely nothing? It’s only getting worse. What’s the point? Why?

While still angry and in tears not understanding anything…

The words that softly fell into my heart were, “It’s not real. It’s not real.”.

These words felt like an arm around me, a kindness to child that didn’t understand.

You can interpret this as you wish. To me the feeling I felt and that I have expressed in other writings is that this beautiful boy was held somewhere else. Untouched by the pain here on earth and totally protected by God.

Now does this mean I understand it all? No. I felt it deeply and that trumps all thought.

I often feel into this to find some meaning to the apparent lack of perfection in this world. I know we all feel it and nothing I can say can prove it to you. therefore I hope you can find something in these words and maybe ask God for yourself.

I have asked God other questions, no where near the amount I should. I think it scares me. Or maybe I want to sit in my frustration a little while longer. Same thing. When you receive an answer it requires trust and an action of faith from your end. I can find that hard at times. How perfect is that?

MC

Art by: Johndiamondart.com courtesy of LifeEnergyArts.com