gifts…
Ξ January 30th, 2008 | → | ∇ General |
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About a whole bunch of things. One of these things, perhaps the most important of these things, revolves around my gifts. I’m not, of course, referring to the presents I got this past holiday season. I’m thinking about the gifts of my personality, the gifts that make me the person I am, that define my life and spirituality.
The core of what I’m thinking about here, comes down to taking, or not taking, our gifts for granted. It’s easy to do that. To be born with an ability, or have it come upon you quickly and with great force, is something that we can easily allow to make us arrogant. And when we become arrogant and take our gifts for granted, we abuse ourselves, others, and the gifts themselves.
Take for instance the gift of intelligence. I’m a smart guy. I know this because people have been telling me how smart I am from the time I was a very small child. For a long time, I believed that being smart made me better than other people. A great deal better. And In the years since I’ve seen how that belief has harmed me. I have turned away from people who would have been my friends, who could have helped me along when I needed it. I have, without intending too, condescended and damaged dozens of people through my arrogance.
I was for a long time, the person who held his knowledge and experience far over the heads of those around him. Instead of teaching you I would do it for you. Instead of guiding you when you needed help, I would show you how to do it. I’ve been that guy, the one who you know has the answer, but you don’t want to ask because he’s an ass about it.
I’m not that guy today. Every once in a while he tries to come around and I have to slam the door in this face. It’s not easy. Superiority is a comforting feeling. It’s much harder to look around and know that I’m no better or worse than everyone around me. Looking at the homeless guy on the street, wondering why he’s homeless, it’s hard to feel special. There is a part of me, that contemplates the choices he’s made, continues to make, the keep him in his place. The homeless man has no one to blame but himself.
But another part of me knows that it’s not about blame. It is about compassion. It is about suffering. Making it about blame cheapens it for everyone. It devalues his life to blame him for his circumstances. I don’t pity him, huddled in the cold, trying to keep warm. But I don’t scorn him either. His life isn’t worth less than mine, expect perhaps in what he’s chosen to do with it, or not do with it. I have no pity, and I have no hope. But I have compassion. I look in his eyes, and I see a soul looking back.
I’m immensely lucky to have the life I have. I’ve had my share of suffering. I’ve been near to suicide at least three times. I’ve questioned my beliefs, my lifestyle, my career. I’ve found myself wondering “Am I worthy of the gifts I’ve been given?” I never like the answer, because it’s always, “no.”
There is nothing I’ve done, nothing I can do, that will make me worthy of the gifts I posses. I’m smart and compassionate. I’m patient, enduring, and intuitive. I’m a synesthete, a sybriant, and I can observe and interact with subtle realities as easily as I breathe. I’m gifted with my language, it is words infused by spirit, and the words pass through me like the wind through the trees. Nothing I’ve done makes me worthy of these gifts. How could I possibly be worthy? No sacrifice, No work of art, No effort to change the world can make me worthy of carrying these gifts.
So I am humbled. I am living my life in reverence. I am waking in adoration and thanks for those gifts. And more, I am driven to share them. I am called to use these gifts, to change the world around me. I see those around me suffering, and my heart reaches out to them. I must use my gifts to their fullest, with careful discernment and application. How can I do anything less? How can I give proper thanks in any other way?
