The story of me's

One day I sat down in the grass and tried to spiritually ascertain my purpose in life. As I did this, these multiple me's jumped from my body creating fanciful visions from my past. At first, the multiple me's began acting out the positive experiences of my life; my first kiss, graduations, promotions, the first time I met my closest friends.

Then things began to turn crazy. These multiple me's all disappeared, only to reappear with slumped shoulders and dragging chairs behind them. I mean all types of chairs: folding ones, rocking ones. Upholstered ones and chairs covered in plastic. You know, just like those coverings grannies usually have to protect their furniture.

Well, all of these me's pulled their chairs close to my ear and sat down in them. These multiple me's leaned in, all of them at once and began speaking. I could see their lips moving, but no words came out. Were these secrets? Though I couldn't hear the words come out of their mouth, I could feel the stories come out of their souls.

I could see the pain they felt as these stories, which had become prisons to them, flowed through their bones. I watched as their little bodies. . .excuse me, as my little bodies would convulse, convulse, convulse. I thought they were dying. They were not. They were releasing. And as each one released his story, I could see his body shoot erect. And then they were finished. They stood up, grabbed their chair and walked away disappearing into the shaded darkness positioned slightly outside my scope of vision.

One by one, they all began to leave. I couldn't understand what was happening. The impact of it all was shadowed by this spectacle I was witnessing from my semi-conscious mind. But as the stories revealed to me, made their way into my mind through my maze of understanding, they attached themselves to my soul. And in one split second, all of these stories started shooting through my spirit like a dozen tiny pin needles. I began to hurt. My body started to convulse, convulse, convulse.

While it wasn't the most pain I'd ever felt, it was certainly the deepest. Slowly the pain began to subside. Oddly enough, I began to feel stronger. I felt more connected to the source of living through that pain.

I can not truly confirm if I found my spiritual purpose that day, but a spiritual purpose did come to me. No one man should have pain the world doesn't understand. For like all energies in this world, both positive and negative, their origins started here. . .in this world. And that would include energy that drives pleasure and energy that drives pain.

Though I felt closer to death that day, I felt more alive than I ever had before.

Stories of being abused by a parent or another family member. Stories of being abused by a boyfriend or girlfriend. Rapings, mistreatment, inadequacies, ineptitude, liability, stupidity, drabness, depression, loneliness, heartache, disease, incompetence, thoughtlessness, carelessness, aging, pity, incredulousness, incorrigibility. It was all there.

From that moment on, I knew I had the ability to feel and my greater purpose was to transpose the pain of others into feelings of completeness where there were fragments. I accepted that fate and to this day, I still accept me.

God is good, all the time.