Just to tip the balance back from the apparently contradictory allowance I made on Monday (if it looked like acquiescence to you, you haven’t hung out here long enough. Welcome, newb!) I thought I really drop my drawers and reveal the philosophical underpinnings of BodyTalk.
And myself, not coincidently. (Don’t worry, the sum of my truths cannot be revealed in a single post. Think of this as a strip-tease series)
The curious thing about philosophies are the truths we hold to be self-evident. We don’t mention them, don’t even think about them, really and describe instead the things that are least meaningful.
I’m perfect. You’re perfect.
This is one that angry people love to scoff at. I think it’s simply because of a narrow definition of ‘perfect’. Ty Barbary has a great post on that (Ty has a new blog! Oops, was that supposed to be a secret? Too bad.)
The idea of perfection doesn’t mean you can’t change. It’s just that at every moment you are just right. But don’t take my word for it. Ty’s post is much more eloquent.
We are all One. Universal. Divine.
Did you know that catholic used to mean universal? Now it doesn’t. Now it carries overtones of guilt and intolerance and abuse of power. And Original Sin. Even people who are not Catholic, have never identified as Catholic, don’t even believe in God, etc, have internalized the idea that we are all flawed.
I’m not into dichotomies. We’re flawed and perfect. Our flaws are perfection. Perfection is flawed. Meditate on that until it stops being a paradox. Then, drop a dime in the offering box on your way back down the mountain. Thanx. 🙂
and here’s the big one…… (drumroll, please….)
Because we are all both ocean and wave, we can always access the awesome power of the universe.
People call that lots of things; being in the moment. Trust. Faith. Freedom.
The idea that everything is just right, all the time, that the present experience is never too egregious to handle, and that there is profound meaning imbued everywhere is terrible and awe-inspiring and transcending.
Everything has meaning, and yet nothing does.
(Disclaimer: I’m not hating on Catholics, Christians, or anyone else for that matter. I’m making a subjective analysis of the present connotations of a term that was no doubt chosen for its original connotation.)