Bless Me Father

Missing The Mark:  a sin

Bless me Father for i have sinned.  It has been over a month

since my last confession, since then i have committed the
following sins……….
Perhaps it is somewhat overstated, but i am feeling guilty over
not writing a blog-post in quite a while.  All of a sudden I
found myself struggling with the blank sheet of paper and
it became increasingly difficult to put a make of the page.
Some time ago, I would have at least attempted a morning page.
That is an exercise where you write, non-stop, for three full pages.
The exercise is designed to help evacuate the blocks to creativity; but
this time around, I found that I was equally resistant about even
doing that.
I have heard it said that the concept of sin was originally translated
from old Hebrew text that defined sin as “missing the mark.”  It does
not surprise me, because my experiential self is keenly aware that
when I am not aiming for what i truly want, I discover that I have
lost my state of Grace, or to put it another way, I am missing the mark.
Missing the mark or the target is an indication that we are aiming wrong.
As westerners we tend to think in a different way.  When we are not feeling
happy, content or in a state of well-being, we experience our selves as being
wrong.  We become, we identify, with the missed mark and we tend to use
self deflating criticism to punish ourselves.
Actually, a more functional way of approaching not feeling right is to consider
that we do not feel right when we are not aiming for our target.  This does
the wonderful job of not deflating, while it more accurately places the correct
words around the problem.
It feels different to think of not aiming for the right target than it does
to think that we are wrong, or somehow bad.  To accept that a behavior
has to change is different from telling ourselves that we are what is wrong.
So, back to the beginning.  I have sinned, i have missed aiming for the mark
that feels right to me.  And while not aiming for what I want, i experienced
my well-being as decreasing in size.
I am aiming to be a writer and as such not writing is a grievous error that
fills me with the sensation of a luffing sail.  There is not strength, not adequate
drive to bring me to where i can most effectively greet myself.
When my well-being suffers, there is only one concept that helps me to return
to my life:  I am not allowing myself to want what I want.  The question to ask
rather that uttering, “what’s wrong with me,” is, “What is it that i am not allowing
myself to want?”
This thought-action, of asking myself to stop and clam myself enough to discover
how I am off-track, missing the mark, is the hall mark of Freudian Drive Theory.
The libidinal (desire) drive operates side by side with our capacity for aggression.
It is the fusion of want and a capability to see ourselves as resourceful that propels
us with a full sail.  Just knowing that we are aiming in the right direction is enough
to be back in touch with feeling good and reaching for the next right thought–and the next right thing.

2 comments on “Bless Me Father

  1. Collette Williams says:

    … wonderful perspective! I disagree with one comment you made. You said that you are aiming to be a writer when you already are one. I carried the false belief for awhile that I was only a writer and artist to the extent I “sold” product. Then I realized it was not about that … it’s about being engaged in the creative process and allowing the grace of the Master Creator within – flow into the birthing and outcome. Being human, there are lapses when I go on what author Joan Anderson calls “counterfeit journeys.” These are detours from our authentic path. What I have found over time is that the detours serve a purpose. When I am away from my athentic work, I am learning something on the detour that can enrich my spiritually guided be-true-to-thine-own-self path when I return to it. As my artistically gifted son often says, “It’s all good.”

  2. Harold G. Neuman says:

    Sin, in Spanish, means ‘without.’ I have always been fascinated by that. It has been over, uh, sixty-three years since my first (and last) confession: I was born, January 28, 1948. Not many regrets. Much of my destiny was determined by me. The rest? Forces beyond my control. Daniel Dennett says if you make yourself small enough, you can externalize virtually anything. It is his ironic motto, or credo, or what-have-you. Now, I do not rely upon divine providence. I find divine assistance an even-less-likely proposition. If I’m wrong about that, my bad. It is all good. Some of it is a little better.

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