The Three Shuns

      For much of my life I lived with what I now refer to as the three “Shuns;” Illusion, Delusion, and Confusion. I can’t account for the reason, but from an early age I operated under the Illusion that I pretty much knew all that was important to know. I have vivid memory of a moment in my young life that might have been a lodestar of the adult I would someday be. I was not yet in kindergarten and standing at the door of my parent’s apartment looking through the screen door onto the back hallway. Our apartment was at the end of the hall which angled inward to a point. This made the south wall of our neighbor’s apartment our northern wall. My parents were good friends with these people so neither was disturbed by the other’s sound of living.
      I was clutching a small bow and arrow, now considered at worst a relic and a collectible at best; at one end a rubber suction cup in place of an arrow head and at the other, feathers mutilated from childhood abuse. When the lady next door came out of her apartment and bent down to say hello, I raised my weapon as though I was going to shoot her, imagining myself I’m sure, the brave renegade warrior of radio fame I'd heard about the night before. Kindly, she explained that I had the weapon backwards and that I would shoot myself if I were to persist in my feigned attack. I distinctly recall looking at the way I was holding the bow and realized she was correct but even at that age I refused to give in to the evidence. I stood my ground and shook my head in disapproval. I couldn’t be persuaded to admit my error. And so it would be, the die was cast; I was always right, never mind evidence to the contrary. Lie to you, to myself if I must, but never admit defeat.
      I also convinced myself throughout my early years that I wasn’t afraid of anything. (An exception perhaps were those small fuzzy, or long legged, creatures that skittered faster than my feet could stomp) And there was the notion that somehow life would always unfold as I wished. I've never quite been able to relinquish those childhood illusions.
      If illusions like these are held to tight for too long, they solidify into Delusions; and they have more impact on behavior. One such long held illusion that achieved crystalline form was that I could control the havoc created by my illusions if I just thought about it long and hard enough. Someone, or some thing inside my head, would whisper that my success, defined of course as the way I wanted things to be, was impeded only by other people. If I used my head and drank just enough I would surely find that moment of true enlightenment when all the answers would become clear to me. Not too much; just enough to see through the initial fog of indecision and those troublesome needs of others.
      And finally there was a level of Confusion that grew steadily as long as I pushed on, forever self-assured of this power. It came as a great shock when I realized this confusion was a result of my belief that it was others who needed to change and that in fact, there was no change unless it was my own. I fought hard against this insight and tested it fully to be sure of its validity. But I see now that once the first crack in my armor appeared, the “shuns” were destined for the recycle bin.
      Many years later I came to realize more fully that nothing changes unless I do. Slowly the confusion lessened as I began to trust that my life would unfold perfectly if I were but to accept it, as it is. As I relinquished my childhood illusions I was able to see that fear formed the base of their need to exist. I began to see that living a fearless life was not about being without fear, but rather to living in spite of the fear. And in time I began to see that I could trust that all would be well in the end. That fear would surely be part of my journey, but merely as a piece of baggage that needed to be carried until it disappeared through honest self appraisal and action based on love and concern for others, rather than self.
      As my trust grew stronger I realized that the need for control was just another illusion; a cold, solitary cell, the key to which I alone possessed. And then one day it seemed that it had all but disintegrated. Poof! Like ephemeral particles of a bad dream, the confusion of many years faded into the soft sky of a spacious, open mind.
      I have relapses into that self imposed incarceration even today, but they are but fleeting reflections of what it was like in the past. I find that to the degree that I forsake regular meditation, I increase my chances of once again giving fear the upper hand. It’s a mind cluttered with inane, daily minutiae, grasping after pleasure and pain-free living that becomes blinded to the trust required to find peace. Sometimes all it takes is the length of a red light in traffic for me to return to that open mind-space where all is well in spite of what I might think or imagine I need. Meditation is one very important key to the cell door where I held myself prisoner, and upon those walls are etched the regrets of many years. However a simple key releases me each day, to renew my freedom and continue to build my trust.