Naked Truth

Chapter 14. Transcending My Masks 14. TRANSCENDING MY MASKS COURAGE “It takes courage to become who I truly am,” I hear someone say to me. Courage to let go of the masks that bind me to nothing, nowhere. Courage to take a step towards the outrageous, to dare, to live, to be alive again. Courage to not allow my weaknesses to kill me while I am still breathing. SHEDDING I am shedding the layers of me that no longer fit. I am shedding my misconceptions, judgments, irrational beliefs. I am shedding my attachments, admirations, goals, objectives. I am shedding so much there may be nothing left in the end to tell the story. IN THE MIDST In the midst of what I could never imagine of, I found myself to be what I never thought I could be. BRAZIL AND ME I am moved by the current situation in Brazil. The unveiling of mass corruption, lies, scandals in the government, which robs people not only of their money, but also of their hope, their lives, their trust, joy, innocence. I am moved because, as a Brazilian, I experience the same pain of transformation as my motherland. In my life too, the mass of deep lies, corruption, scandals have finally unveiled. The pain of looking at what it really is, rather than what I wished it was, or what I pretended it to be. The courage to pull up to the light the deeply buried roots of many generations of limiting beliefs, irrational perspectives, a form of playing pretend, living the lie of a pleasant life, rather than the pain of an unpleasant truth. Accepting the part of me which claimed: “they didn’t rob too much;” or “they robbed but they did something for me;” and in doing so, kept choosing the same leaders, the same ways, the same attitude, the same perspective in the hope that things would change. Like Brazil, I too am facing my own insanity: which insists in doing the same things over and over wishing to obtain different results. I too am facing the harsh truths which I have avoided for so long, perhaps for many generations in my family’s heritage; perhaps, even many lifetimes. This is the Golden Age for me and, and maybe for Brazil. The time to be lost in finding myself. The courage to open up the Pandora box, face my lies, my scandals, my own inner corruption; look at my un-rightable wrongs. Like the prodigal son who arrived back home, I celebrate the fact that I am back home again, in the Light. There are no longer monsters hidden in the dark, afraid of coming out. It is all revealed. All of me. The truth of me. All parts of me. And, I can still say to myself, as I do to my country, “I know everything but I love you.” TIRED I am tired of sustaining fear as the foundation for my decision making; sustaining rejection as the basis for my searching for love; sustaining outside validation as the evidence of my worthiness; sustaining compliance as the condition for my acceptance; sustaining beauty as the requirement for my inclusion; sustaining money as the foundation for my safety; sustaining sex as the vehicle for my release; sustaining power as the path to influence; sustaining “againstness” as the method for change; sustaining death as a way of living. EYE OF A NEEDLE I have infinite tasks but my heart is not there. I have infinite opportunities but my soul is single. I have so much but my calling is narrow. I am going through the eye of a needle, shedding away what is not me. ZOMBIE Most of the time, I have no idea what I am saying or why. Most of the time, I am distracted with ridiculous tasks that never end. Most of the time, I am a zombie in paradise. IF I HAD NOTHING TO DO Ever since I was a child I always had so much to do. I used to wonder what adults meant when they said: “It is so easy to be a child!” “They wouldn’t say that if they knew all I have to do,” I secretly thought to myself. My list of to do’s flew down my consciousness like Niagara Falls. It still does. I carry a long useless list of to do’s assigned from me to myself. Perhaps, watching my mother always so “busy,” I programmed myself to belief that to live is to be busy. Under that standard, I have been living well, really well. I wonder now: What is my passion? What lights up the fire of my heart? What would I be if I didn’t have so much to do? What would I do as a natural consequence of my being? What would I soulfully be drawn into? What would my soul direct me to do if my mind wasn’t so busy filling up every hour of my day? What would the schedule of my soul look like? What would I be if I had nothing to do?