There is a scene that struck me, near the end of the movie, where he is sitting with his foster mother on a curb and she asks (loosely), "How did you do it? How did all that in your young life not touch you?" He answered that his mother, when she was doing her drug of choice, told him to close his eyes...she didn't want him seeing the ugliness of the world. And when she was done she'd have him open his eyes, and told him the world was beautiful again. The foster mother simply said, "You closed your eyes." He nodded a yes in response.
It feels like I have two distinct beliefs in my head, duking it out. I find myself bouncing back and forth expressing both in one form or another. It's interesting to me...there are two tom cats here in the neighborhood, and I have witnessed them in the heat of battle, a horrible, terrifying silent struggle. They mean business, they aren't messing around at all. While I don't feel such hate within me, I'm aware there is one side of belief that isn't necessarily for my highest good.
I consider my mother's life. I know the dreams she had, and that still lay tucked inside her, unexpressed. I've witnessed her over time minimize them, try to kill them for one reason she put on it or another. In my humble opinion, none of those reasons, no matter how lofty they appeared, were good. They weren't good for her, first of all, and they weren't good for anyone else in her life. She put too many things in front of them, and it has led her to be the way she is.
I consider we are all an expression of God. I look at people and quietly say to myself, "You are the perfect expression of God as Jane." Of course, I don't call everyone Jane :). The point is, when I look at someone, I do everything in my limited power to find God within them. He's got to be there. He is within them no matter how effective their own cover is for veiling Him. God is Life, Expression, Creativity, Love, All. He's got to be in there somewhere. Some folks are better than others at hiding Him. Believing instead they are an expression of hate, or resentment, or bitterness, or hopelessness, etc.
While I was in that horrible state of Grief, I had no vision, and that frightened me more than any other thing. I came to the end of myself, and I had no idea that was even possible. Yet now that I am out the Grief, I have found vision inside me again. Hopes spring forward, and I so desire for them to come to fruition. Hopes for romantic love, which surprises me, because I thought that door was shut for the rest of my life. Hopes for a creative life, writing, expressing myself in home, wherever I find myself. Expression, letting it escape, letting it...well, express. I dream of people being invited in for dinner, letting them in for get togethers, whatever...people, friends, touching, hugging, life more abundant. I desire to bring alive what has been dead.
However, those things haven't materialized yet. They are right now, just dreams. The fight, the duel, is an old belief that it can't happen for me. Once again...I consider my mother. An old way of being. She fights herself and her dreams. Always has. She refuses to rise up, and I suppose I could let her rot, but it goes against everything in me. When I got here, honestly, I don't know when she took a shower last. I do know she refused to take one for 3 weeks after I got here. We couldn't make her take one. Couldn't drag her in there by her hair. She's depressed, I get that. Her life turned upside down overnight. But dammit, I told myself I'd get her to take a damn shower if I could. So I made comments here and there. You have to go thru the back door with my mother. Finally, she took a shower, and has been taking them a bit more frequently.
I noticed the only thing that got her up, motivated her to get up, walk, go outside, move, was feeding the dogs and goose. Initially, I had told her I'd help her do that chore, then realized it's the only thing she does on a regular basis. I watched over her at first, making sure the dogs were good for her, because I was concerned with her balance. She does fine, and they are fine with her. It's a slow process, but I've watched her become stronger, and her spacial sense is getting better. I've watched her posture slowly making it's way to straighter. Neighbors may wonder why I don't help her...I could care less what they think. Let them judge. They don't know.
This place is a place of stagnation. I pray to God to help me bring it, and my mother, back to Life. Will it happen? I don't know. I walk on, and do what I can. Like Michael Oher, I close my eyes...to doubt, to the ugliness, to all of anything that doesn't belong to God. I have to...because I consider my dream, my vision, was given to me to see and bring forth into the world. Simple as it is.
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