Our Truest Selves
As I was driving to the coffee shop this afternoon, I was struck by the juxtaposition of this scene: A small Asian woman--slim, lithe, very petite--walking an enormous dog. It looked to be a Great Dane in shape, though with the spots and coloring of a Dalmatian, and it was just huge and potent and well-muscled. A strong dog. Its body was at least as high as her ribcage, and its head probably close to equivalent with her shoulders.
She was small and it was huge.
And I was struck by how dangerous the dog might have been, how easily, with the right temperament or provocation, the dog might turn and use its square jaw and shearing teeth on a body like that, and how quickly a body like that would yield to that animal's inherent power.
But then I looked at that dog's face: Carefree, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth, happy, and yes, even a little dumb. And I thought: How in the world did an animal with that kind of power get domesticated? And further: Is the dog even aware that it is an animal with that kind of power?
What's the point of all this, you ask? Well, I recently saw a movie called "What the Bleep Do We Know?" and while it is a bit of a New Age fest, it was also provocative and engaging and inspiring, in the way that New Age stuff can be. (If it wasn't, the New Age would have died out a long time ago.) There was a lot of talk about what we think we're capable of, and how that leads us to live lives of routine and negativity--an "I can't do that," or "I'm just hopelessly neurotic," etc. kind of thinking.
But what I'm wondering is this: What if we're domesticated like that dog, unaware of our inherent strength and ability? What if we're happy and fat and comfortable--which is fine for some of us--but for the ones that feel a need for a greater purpose or a more complete freedom--what if that comfort and domestication is the thing that makes us think we're powerless to do anything about it? What if we're huge, potent Great Danes and we have no awareness of it?
Obviously I'm not really speaking on a physical level, though I'm sure that could apply too. The firewalkers and the Eastern stuff--like breaking bricks or boards with a karate chop--is evidence of this, but what I'm really interested in is the mental/spiritual stuff. The voice that says: I'm not a good writer, or I could never make a film. Where does that voice come from? Because it is possible--people do it--and so obviously we have inherent power to create and achieve, but we often have no faith in it.
I wonder how complete the domestication is for that dog. If it were threatened, would all those layers of submission fall away? Would the dog's fighting instinct materialize when needed? Or would it turn away, whimper and cower?
I think that some of us fall into the former category and some the latter. Some, when threatened with illness or mortality suddenly shrug off their fears and engage their potentials, finally aware that they are divinely capable of so much more than they thought, while others find themselves terrified to face the weight that such capability places upon them, and so they turn away, give up and wither, waiting for their days to end easily and painlessly.
I have never been so tested, so it is conjecture, but if I am, I hope to find myself in the former category. But why should it take such a threat? I am challenging myself, and any who read this, to become more fully aware of the powers inherent in each of us, and to learn to harness them to the lives that are the best expressions of our truest selves.
She was small and it was huge.
And I was struck by how dangerous the dog might have been, how easily, with the right temperament or provocation, the dog might turn and use its square jaw and shearing teeth on a body like that, and how quickly a body like that would yield to that animal's inherent power.
But then I looked at that dog's face: Carefree, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth, happy, and yes, even a little dumb. And I thought: How in the world did an animal with that kind of power get domesticated? And further: Is the dog even aware that it is an animal with that kind of power?
What's the point of all this, you ask? Well, I recently saw a movie called "What the Bleep Do We Know?" and while it is a bit of a New Age fest, it was also provocative and engaging and inspiring, in the way that New Age stuff can be. (If it wasn't, the New Age would have died out a long time ago.) There was a lot of talk about what we think we're capable of, and how that leads us to live lives of routine and negativity--an "I can't do that," or "I'm just hopelessly neurotic," etc. kind of thinking.
But what I'm wondering is this: What if we're domesticated like that dog, unaware of our inherent strength and ability? What if we're happy and fat and comfortable--which is fine for some of us--but for the ones that feel a need for a greater purpose or a more complete freedom--what if that comfort and domestication is the thing that makes us think we're powerless to do anything about it? What if we're huge, potent Great Danes and we have no awareness of it?
Obviously I'm not really speaking on a physical level, though I'm sure that could apply too. The firewalkers and the Eastern stuff--like breaking bricks or boards with a karate chop--is evidence of this, but what I'm really interested in is the mental/spiritual stuff. The voice that says: I'm not a good writer, or I could never make a film. Where does that voice come from? Because it is possible--people do it--and so obviously we have inherent power to create and achieve, but we often have no faith in it.
I wonder how complete the domestication is for that dog. If it were threatened, would all those layers of submission fall away? Would the dog's fighting instinct materialize when needed? Or would it turn away, whimper and cower?
I think that some of us fall into the former category and some the latter. Some, when threatened with illness or mortality suddenly shrug off their fears and engage their potentials, finally aware that they are divinely capable of so much more than they thought, while others find themselves terrified to face the weight that such capability places upon them, and so they turn away, give up and wither, waiting for their days to end easily and painlessly.
I have never been so tested, so it is conjecture, but if I am, I hope to find myself in the former category. But why should it take such a threat? I am challenging myself, and any who read this, to become more fully aware of the powers inherent in each of us, and to learn to harness them to the lives that are the best expressions of our truest selves.
posted by Tiffany Hamburger at
2:29 PM
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