I am a rebel. Have been for longer than I can remember. I am, for the most part, not radical in my rebellion, just fairly consistent. I do not like rules unless they make sense to me. And I question all authority until it proves itself to be worthy of acceptance, thus leadership. I have been known to break with tradition because it smacks of rules set up for inexplicable reasons. Just because a thing has always been that way, doesn’t mean it is good, or even worth doing.
It isn’t easy being a rebel. There are lots of moments when I question my own rebelliousness. It can be so tiring, the constant alertness, struggle and conflict wear thin with time. But, even when I decide that I no longer need this sort of issue in my existence, something comes along to smack me in the face and demand a rebel’s outlook. Just what is that outlook?
It is awareness, an openness that can be hard to maintain. It’s a different perspective from the norm. A constant struggle to stay alert to the fact that each moment is new and will not come again. And a willingness to act in that moment, no matter the feelings that attend it. It is a view that can be both exhilarating and exhausting. That’s the reason I said that I am not radical but am fairly consistent.
I get tired and recede back into my neat little comfort zone. But then, of course, the world comes crashing into my ordered existence, messing with this or that, and here we go again. No one will ever know how many times I have attempted to quash this bit of my personality. Yet, it continues to rise to the surface and make itself known, demanding acknowledgement, or out right action. Given enough discomfort, I will eventually respond to that call.
Which means of course, that I have not always been comfortable with this particular role. Perhaps, I never will be. That’s an exhausting thought all in itself. Can a rebel not rebel? Can a leopard change its spots? Did you know that a black panther is a leopard and that it does have spots? It’s just that the spots are so closely aligned with the color of its fur that they aren’t noticeable until seen very closely. And who, in their right mind, would willingly get that close?
I have a black panther in my Personal Mythology (see Personal Mythology at http://intuitivepaths.wordpress.com/ . His name is Jacob, which means: the supplanter. That one who supplants, replaces the normal order of things. Yup, a rebel. He is closely associated with my emotional landscape and has been for many many years. He is also the only panther I will ever get that close to, if given the choice. I have learned a great deal about rebellion from him, and he has learned a great deal about how to handle a rebel who rebels at rebellion.
So, why rebel at what would seem to be a given? There is this little thing called a primary need for acceptance and belonging. Rebels, like prophets and poets, or any other dreamers, are not easily absorbed into whatever community they find themselves in. They are loners, but that doesn’t mean they don’t partake in that primary need to be a part of a group. Can you say frustration?
Think about that for a moment. Here is an individual who knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that he/she is different and will always be so. Yet, right alongside of that core reality is the definite inextinguishable yearning to be accepted and to find approval. Fine line balancing act and on occasion one of those whirling plates takes off in its own direction, crashing into whatever stands in its unwitting path. Of course, it becomes pieces and some of them can’t be glued back together again. Whew!
Like I said, it’s not easy being a rebel. Just trying to hang on to all those whirling pieces is time and energy consuming. What about all the rest of life? How does one manage all those other things while making sure all the plates stay up in the air and moving when gravity alone will pull them out of sync and down toward that hard breaking ground?
And there is the underlying point. We are all individuals. That means, we all have some pieces that are different from what others maintain. We all have a set of whirling plates that need to be kept moving and up in the air. We all worry about maintaining that balance and none of us want to end in a crashing and breaking into pieces that can’t be put back together again.
Which means that although I am a rebel and my plates might be a slightly different hue, we are essentially in the same boat. You might not be a rebel, but I’m willing to bet there are moments when you are aware that you are quite different from your fellows. What do you do in those moments? How do you handle them?
Do you kick and scream like I have done? Or, do you accept that difference and use your energies more wisely? Like keeping those different plates up in the air and whirling while you tap dance around all of life’s obstacles? Some of which, by the way, can’t be avoided. Ever.
So, what if anything does all of this have to do with journal writing, which is the essential thrust of this blog. This morning I had a waking dream. One in which I knew I was awake but the scenes from my mind, essentially in dream form, continued to play out clearly on the screen of my thoughts.
Seeing as my journal is the first thing I engage in each morning, I wrote out those scenes and was immediately reminded of a comment that was dropped on one of my other sites last night. It was essentially about what those dream images were actually saying. The dream was about a change in perspective that changes not just the mind of the thinker, but his/her whole view of life and the world he/she inhabits.
It was all about something I have been wrestling with for some time. Something I want changed, but couldn’t seem to see my way through. I needed a new perspective. And my dreaming mind provided that with a little nudge from an unknowing commenter. I need that rebel that lives inside of me. That one who supplants, replaces the norm with something different, something new, and maybe even a bit risky.
Would that have happened if I hadn’t sat down in my very normal fashion and wrote in my journal? Maybe, maybe not. I’m just grateful it all fell in place so smoothly and privately. As I said, I am not radical in my rebellion. I have a tendency to go about it quietly and with deliberate thought. This morning’s writing opened a door to just such possibilities.
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Perspective, Rebellion, and New Possibilities
I am a rebel. Have been for longer than I can remember. I am, for the most part, not radical in my rebellion, just fairly consistent. I do not like rules unless they make sense to me. And I question all authority until it proves itself to be worthy of acceptance, thus leadership. I have been known to break with tradition because it smacks of rules set up for inexplicable reasons. Just because a thing has always been that way, doesn’t mean it is good, or even worth doing.
It isn’t easy being a rebel. There are lots of moments when I question my own rebelliousness. It can be so tiring, the constant alertness, struggle and conflict wear thin with time. But, even when I decide that I no longer need this sort of issue in my existence, something comes along to smack me in the face and demand a rebel’s outlook. Just what is that outlook?
It is awareness, an openness that can be hard to maintain. It’s a different perspective from the norm. A constant struggle to stay alert to the fact that each moment is new and will not come again. And a willingness to act in that moment, no matter the feelings that attend it. It is a view that can be both exhilarating and exhausting. That’s the reason I said that I am not radical but am fairly consistent.
I get tired and recede back into my neat little comfort zone. But then, of course, the world comes crashing into my ordered existence, messing with this or that, and here we go again. No one will ever know how many times I have attempted to quash this bit of my personality. Yet, it continues to rise to the surface and make itself known, demanding acknowledgement, or out right action. Given enough discomfort, I will eventually respond to that call.
Which means of course, that I have not always been comfortable with this particular role. Perhaps, I never will be. That’s an exhausting thought all in itself. Can a rebel not rebel? Can a leopard change its spots? Did you know that a black panther is a leopard and that it does have spots? It’s just that the spots are so closely aligned with the color of its fur that they aren’t noticeable until seen very closely. And who, in their right mind, would willingly get that close?
I have a black panther in my Personal Mythology (see Personal Mythology at http://intuitivepaths.wordpress.com/ . His name is Jacob, which means: the supplanter. That one who supplants, replaces the normal order of things. Yup, a rebel. He is closely associated with my emotional landscape and has been for many many years. He is also the only panther I will ever get that close to, if given the choice. I have learned a great deal about rebellion from him, and he has learned a great deal about how to handle a rebel who rebels at rebellion.
So, why rebel at what would seem to be a given? There is this little thing called a primary need for acceptance and belonging. Rebels, like prophets and poets, or any other dreamers, are not easily absorbed into whatever community they find themselves in. They are loners, but that doesn’t mean they don’t partake in that primary need to be a part of a group. Can you say frustration?
Think about that for a moment. Here is an individual who knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that he/she is different and will always be so. Yet, right alongside of that core reality is the definite inextinguishable yearning to be accepted and to find approval. Fine line balancing act and on occasion one of those whirling plates takes off in its own direction, crashing into whatever stands in its unwitting path. Of course, it becomes pieces and some of them can’t be glued back together again. Whew!
Like I said, it’s not easy being a rebel. Just trying to hang on to all those whirling pieces is time and energy consuming. What about all the rest of life? How does one manage all those other things while making sure all the plates stay up in the air and moving when gravity alone will pull them out of sync and down toward that hard breaking ground?
And there is the underlying point. We are all individuals. That means, we all have some pieces that are different from what others maintain. We all have a set of whirling plates that need to be kept moving and up in the air. We all worry about maintaining that balance and none of us want to end in a crashing and breaking into pieces that can’t be put back together again.
Which means that although I am a rebel and my plates might be a slightly different hue, we are essentially in the same boat. You might not be a rebel, but I’m willing to bet there are moments when you are aware that you are quite different from your fellows. What do you do in those moments? How do you handle them?
Do you kick and scream like I have done? Or, do you accept that difference and use your energies more wisely? Like keeping those different plates up in the air and whirling while you tap dance around all of life’s obstacles? Some of which, by the way, can’t be avoided. Ever.
So, what if anything does all of this have to do with journal writing, which is the essential thrust of this blog. This morning I had a waking dream. One in which I knew I was awake but the scenes from my mind, essentially in dream form, continued to play out clearly on the screen of my thoughts.
Seeing as my journal is the first thing I engage in each morning, I wrote out those scenes and was immediately reminded of a comment that was dropped on one of my other sites last night. It was essentially about what those dream images were actually saying. The dream was about a change in perspective that changes not just the mind of the thinker, but his/her whole view of life and the world he/she inhabits.
It was all about something I have been wrestling with for some time. Something I want changed, but couldn’t seem to see my way through. I needed a new perspective. And my dreaming mind provided that with a little nudge from an unknowing commenter. I need that rebel that lives inside of me. That one who supplants, replaces the norm with something different, something new, and maybe even a bit risky.
Would that have happened if I hadn’t sat down in my very normal fashion and wrote in my journal? Maybe, maybe not. I’m just grateful it all fell in place so smoothly and privately. As I said, I am not radical in my rebellion. I have a tendency to go about it quietly and with deliberate thought. This morning’s writing opened a door to just such possibilities.
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About 1sojournal
Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here: https://1sojournal.wordpress.com/ http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/ http://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/