the last word

I have struggled with reading all of my life. Not only do I read slowly, many times after finishing a passage of text, I have little conception of what I just read. From the very beginning, extra classes were invoked to help me, not just understand what I was reading, but also what was on the page itself. Basic first grade primers were confused in imaginative verse much different than what was intended. Later, high school SAT examinations were torturous because my skills were still only approaching adequate. Much to my chagrin, I was encouraged to take them twice because of the unfathomable discrepancy between my mathematics and English scores. A mild form of dyslexia - my own diagnosis - created a fear of the written word that persisted until I rid the home of the television set fifteen years ago. With no allure to the intoxicating blue hues of inculcation, I encouraged and developed a love of books notwithstanding being often flummoxed by mere comprehension. 

So when a misconstrued email found its way into my inbox this week I pondered its meaning intently. Innocuous as it may have seemed to the sender, it catapulted the recipient into skewed fits of confusion. Did it mean what it said or was I reading into it something that was not there? Over and over I ruminated if the wording was a simple mistake or a subtle jab with underlying purpose. Try as I might to grant the benefit of the doubt, anger surged inside me as only the paranoia of disrespect dominated my reading. I could not let go of the presumed affront and it opened a Pandora's (in)box of despair.

Wisely, I recognized straightaway that the words were not the perpetrator but, in fact, was of my own conspiring mind. I created the problem by taking offense. By supposing that the sender's meaning was malicious, I exacerbated its effect by clinging to a created reality. My ego inflamed the situation when all I really wanted was to be free from the speculative slander. Unfortunately this wisdom did not prevent an ill-advised, if reasoned, response. This unskillful strategy did not bring me the joy nor redemption I longed for, but only more consternation.

Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yolk upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Our burdens enslave us to not only physical afflictions but mental sufferings as well. And a majority of these burdens are self-inflicted resulting from our attachments. My pride was hurt and so desired a less-than gentle and humble retribution. I thus bound myself to unhappiness because I understood solely through what the subjective mind could read.

The fine print, however, is the extant truth hidden in the authentic Self. And this is what today's gospel calls us to encounter - the unlimited, unburdened Word. Our contrived burdens are never the last word. A true and lasting joy can be learned only in attentive comprehension. There will be found rest for the wearied mind; there will be found ultimate understanding.

 

love, always,
pia