Effort to achieve, to accomplish, as an attribute of our capacity, culminates... in condemnation.
Yes; the condemnation of seeing that all the effort put into self-importance that is used to achieve and achieve, obtain and obtain, has an end.
And that is when the being becomes a condemned being: it has been condemned to live in this or that way or manner, since the effort to achieve and attain has already been realised.
It is declaring oneself "the main character of life", and appropriating it as "my life", "my body", "my plan", "my...", that ultimately leads to condemnation. But condemn oneself. The condemnation does not need to come from outside -although it helps, of course.
The Prayerful Call presents us this situation to show us that, as life, we are an experience of Universe; that, as life, we are not the main character, we are intermediaries, interpreters. The script is already marked by the Mystery, and we discover, in our passing, our participation, our dedication. And the desire and the efforts we make are based on discovering our mission.
And so, under that criterion, it doesn't end. And under that vision there is no condemnation, because we are not the protagonists who have engendered ourselves and who have created our own life.
Yes, it's difficult to feel anonymous, since everyone tries to stand out... -by their words, by their actions, by their position, by their comments- tries to stand out, to show themselves more and better than others. And that is a competition that, under these criteria, does not accept anonymity. On the contrary: it is loaded with name, surname, origin, neighbourhood... pfff! Quite a burden for which our vigorous genetic code was not designed for. It was there to link us to the stars. And little by little it became the slave of striving, of achievement, of attainment. And then, obviously, comes pain, martyrdom, despair... "The condemnation".
But habitual coexistence fixes us, marks us, it 'algorithms' us -or 'algorithmises'- us, classifies us…
And it seems normal to us. And we have to prove our worth in order to be accepted. And so, we look for the prize.
Living is not a competition; it is not competitiveness.
And it is said -and we say- "prayerfully anonymous" because, before Creation, before the reference of the Mystery, who knows of our being, it is diluted, it is in that mysterious... fused with everything. Because we are an expression of it.
That is why one's own being grinds and condemns itself, by detaching itself from what is a Creative expression, an expression that is incarnated by necessity of a mysterious script, but which is an imagery of the Creative Mystery.
But it is not. The being has severed that linkage –in which the Praying Call insists on referring us to- and remains in who was my father, who was my mother, who was my grandfather or grandmother. It clings to its surnames and its race: such strange word... racist.
It clings to distinguish itself and become a dominator that it knows will be -under that terminal prism-. But if it has achieved what it wanted...; but if it has achieved what was imposed on it -and it has allowed it to be imposed on...; if it has not been enthused by the idea of Creation and immersion in the Infinite, it remains segregated to its muscles and sinews, to its bones and its possessions. And it gives everything a terminal tinge.
Condemned to be "terminal"? Is that the slogan of living that is currently being practised?
A slogan that has its beginning in oneself, and as a hero one immolates oneself and becomes terminal to enable future generations... blah, blah, blah, blah.
And living becomes a constant sacrifice; of course, in an infinite and endless complaint. And, of course, a mood of unpleasantness, of constant discontent, pending to declare the errors of others. Avoiding exalting the virtues of others, because then they overshadow your own.
Mistakes of life. Yes, "mistakes" because they lead to horrors... of anxious and desperate terminals.
Endowed with the resources needed for our plan of Eternity, the exercise of our presence in that anonymous attitude is to serve as a testimony of our capabilities, which are immediately needed. And that process must be without the desire to achieve, to gain, to win, to dominate....
Is not, perhaps, the Creator Mystery, anonymous to us?
If we are image and likeness, why making ourselves the main character, and forget our existential link to the anonymous Creator Mystery?
But, yes, this Creation has given us strength, vigour, imagination, fantasy... And instead of feeling inspired filiation of the Anonymous Creator, the being is fixed in the manifestation, takes possession of it and does not want to be anonymous.
It is worried about how to go down in history: yes, in its family history, in its personal history as a father, mother, as...
Such a drama!, isn't it?
That's what life is for?
So that, in the end, of course, you will be totally forgotten, due to the protagonist eagerness of those who come after you following the same pattern. Or that they will remember you by plaque or a brief bibliography or personal biography.
This personal imposed interest of standing out from all that surrounds us, could be said, in today's everyday language, to be pathological. It sounds vulgar, yes, but perhaps it can have an impact on the inner soul, and can have an effect on leaving aside the "this is who I am; this is who I am". That egomaniacal saying that clings to its manic habits.
And of course, in this desire to obtain, to achieve, to have, to dominate, to control... where is the comfort, where is protection, where is understanding, where is care? Care of tenderness and imagination. No, it's not there! It's not there! It is in the preponderance, it is concerned about importance, it is demanding that everyone be great and powerful...
The being becomes racist, and despises any sign of those so-called "weaknesses". Of course! When the being is not in the imperious desire for triumph, it is weak. And the weak one must be pushed aside. We are not going to be comforting everyone all day long! No. We are not going to relieve just for the sake of it. No, no, no! It is very busy getting the distinction, getting the medal, getting recognition.
In this way a mutilated inheritance of the species is created. Yes, because, as each one is concerned about the control and domination of the next one to us, or being dominated by the one next to us, it becomes difficult... -not because it is- but becomes difficult to see the shining light. That shimmering light of dawn. And one looks for the mist, the fog... The light hurts. Because in the desire for power, weaknesses are hidden. "Weaknesses".
And so, the being is forced to lie about what it really feels, because it knows that it will be interpreted as weakness, it will be condemned, it will be criticised…
Then it lies.
And so, it becomes overwhelmed; it becomes silent; it gets stuck in any handhold.
And -oh- hopefully it discovers relief lies in another process, in another dimension. Because, in this one, it becomes more and more impossible.
Patterns of power are very clear, classified and ordered.
Yes, we were told in a different way in our cultural environment: "don't let your right hand know what your left hand is doing".
We were warned thousands of years ago that we were... "the voice of the one crying in the desert".
If only for that reason, we would be interested in going to the desert, to listen to the voice.
And so, each one, heeding the Prayerful Call, must find oneself in one’s own anonymity of the desert place, where one knows the echo will reach the Eternal.
This does not mean that all the vitality that surrounds us will be disregarded; on the contrary: it will be given transcendence, importance, and we will be the constant and permanent relief between one and the other, so that the suffering ceases, since the imposing main character disappears.
We are not trembling with terminal despair justified by the duty accomplished.
We are an abiding hope of the witness of the Divine.
It is quite different.
We are templar temples that do not decay; that fluctuate, vibrate, undulate; that need and recognise themselves in "living", in original and unusual, in indispensable and necessary that have the guide and the reference in Love they receive every day... and in the love they must reflect to the needy help, to the smiling hardship, to the flickering tear... with just a word, or perhaps a smile, or maybe a caress…
It's so cheap to relieve!...
It is not expensive! It does not wear out!... And it can even contribute to self-importance.
It is not expensive. It does not wear out.
It is not expensive. It does not wear out. It is recreational... It rejoices.