Merle, What a wonderful spiritual argument for raping teen girls!
There may be hope for you yet! :-) Edgar On May 26, 2013, at 4:29 AM, Merle Lester wrote: > > >> >> Blessings in Disguise >> By Anonymous >> >> Legend has it that a notorious outlaw once roamed the Northern plains of >> Tibet whose crimes included robbery, rape, and murder. His reputation spread >> far and wide, instilling fear in all who crossed the Tibetan Plateau. This >> fierce and fearless bandit thought nothing of assailing groups of travelers >> and taking and raping whatever and whoever he liked. >> Then, one day, he came upon a caravan that included a beautiful, spiritual >> woman who was the consort of a revered guru. This particular guru was known >> for his ability to manifest to those he met in a form that would most >> benefit them according to their personal needs. >> Apparently, the woman also had this unusual, yet powerful gift. Seeing her >> beauty, the bandit kidnapped and raped this devoted woman several times. Yet >> shortly afterward, the bandit renounced his life of violence and took up the >> path of a wandering monk. Over the years, he became a great healer and some >> say even a saint. He lived in service to all he met. >> When the man was old and on his death bed, someone asked him what had >> changed him all those years ago. He grew quiet for a moment and thought back >> to the rape, remembering how the woman had looked at him with such >> tenderness and understanding. He leaned back on his bed, closed his eyes for >> the last time and answered, "It was her absolute compassion that changed me." >> When I first heard of this legend many years ago, its message spoke directly >> to my soul. As a war child who carried a legacy of tremendous abuse and >> violence, I knew the story had something to teach me about the curative >> power of compassion. >> The daughter of a U.S. soldier who took a Vietnamese woman as his wife, I am >> one of 25,000 Amerasian children born as a direct result of this country's >> involvement in the Vietnam War. My mother and I immigrated to this country >> when I was eight months old. >> The year was 1974. The war was nearing an end, and my father dropped us off >> in Long Beach, California. Then he left to fulfill his tour of duty. My >> mother had no money, no family, no way of going home, and a new babe in her >> arms. With little more than a third-grade education, she worked seven nights >> a week to support us. >> I will never forget the excitement I felt years later when Mother announced >> she had hired a woman named Gloria to take care of me. As a child so often >> left alone to fend for myself, a babysitter sounded like a guardian angel in >> the flesh – a gift, pure and simple. Nothing could have prepared me for what >> would actually come my way. >> My world suddenly turned dirty and terrifying. For the next three years – at >> the hands of my caretaker Gloria – I became the victim of daily sexual >> perversion and brutality. I had no power over my own body, felt no feelings >> save anger, and endured a near-fatal wounding of my soul. My pain and >> ignorance made self-destruction and abuse seem normal, even intriguing at >> times. >> Gloria made it so easy – I was the center of her universe and, in truth, she >> was the center of mine. I wanted love, even if I had to pay the devil in >> secrets. My head swirled with contradictory feelings as love became entwined >> with feeling bad, dirty, and shameful. I learned to leave my body during >> those twisted nights; it was the only way to survive. >> By the time I entered puberty, rape, violence, and seduction were the >> ordinary components of intimacy. At fourteen, I followed the siren call of >> love again. I went with John, an eighteen-year-old crush, to his house and >> was violently raped. Why would I, a victim of long-term sexual abuse, enter >> such a dangerous situation? Perhaps I was destructively repeating the >> pattern Gloria had started. >> I only remember being excited to be going home with John, hoping like any >> naïve fourteen-year-old to hold his hand or be kissed. I had no idea that >> sexual terror came in the shape of men as well as women. Now that I saw good >> reason to be afraid of everybody, regardless of gender, I instead became >> afraid of no one and nothing. Disassociation had helped me get through the >> first traumatic abuse with Gloria, and now it worked again – ultimately >> leading me to feel nothing at all, not during the rape, and not after. Not >> for a long, long time. >> >> I handled major traumas like sexual abuse, being chased by a gang member >> with a gun, or watching my neighborhood go up in flames when the Rodney King >> verdict sparked the L.A. riots with surprising ease. No one could hurt me; I >> could walk away from any person or situation and feel nothing. In fact, I >> became the hunter. >> I was attractive and men were everywhere. If a man had money, respect, and >> an impressive pedigree – all of which I lacked and believed would keep me >> safe – he became my prey. A few times, I felt something I thought of as >> love, but not for long. Sex, money, alcohol, and lies always tied me up into >> a suicidal knot of loneliness and despair. No matter who or how much I got, >> I was never satisfied. >> During those years of numbness, I saw my life in terms of absolutes: >> situations were always either good or bad. I now understand that life isn't >> really that way. Most moments generally contain a little of both. >> Even when I look back at some of my worst experiences, I can see beauty, >> love – even innocence. The universe had been blessing me all along. Some >> blessings were obvious, like summers spent with my sister Diana and her >> family, or Mother bringing home our first puppy. Even my brother Tim brought >> an unexpected gift when he led me to believe that meditation could give me >> the power to levitate. In a funny way, he turned out to be right. >> I started to meditate, and slowly my spirit began to lift. I did not see >> flashing lights, but I did feel moments of pure joy, a flicker of hope that >> life could be different. I had a new secret, only this was a good one. >> Little by little, the heavy rock of shame I carried inside me began to >> dissolve. >> Then, at the age of nineteen, I met a wise and gentle woman. We talked for >> hours about my life and my suffering. She told me of a Tibetan prophecy that >> predicted a dark age of chaos, suffering, and ignorance. The prophecy stated >> that out of this darkness, an equal amount of light would come into the >> world in the form of healers. >> "Such a healer is a Bodhisattva," she said, "one who lives for the benefit >> of all other beings." Her words were like a lightning strike to my soul. >> Could this painful journey of mine have been a part of my spiritual path all >> along? Could my suffering be somehow linked with the spiritual development >> of all sentient beings? Did my sufferings contribute in some way to the >> evolution of the planet? >> I couldn't decide what to believe, but her words offered me a new way of >> seeing my life. I opened to the possibility that my suffering could actually >> be a gift, that the harshness of the journey was proportional to the >> learning I could gain, and that my greatest tormentors were also my greatest >> teachers. And in this I found forgiveness – both for them and for my own >> transgressions. >> Not only did this perspective help me accept and understand my past, it >> opened a path to an unforeseen future. Like the bandit on the plains of >> Tibet, my life took a deep banking turn toward a life of healing and service. >> My first lesson was to realize that my tendency to be judgmental, impatient, >> and angry only perpetuated my suffering and sent a ripple effect of >> suffering into the lives of those around me. Understanding this, I made my >> personal healing a top priority, eventually gifting myself and others who >> were thus freed from the burden of my unhappiness. >> Healing came full circle when I realized this essential truth: suffering >> does not belong to me alone, and any healing forged in me is a healing for >> the whole. >> Mindfulness practice has been a great resource in my healing. When the mind >> and senses become still, our body-being has a chance to come into harmony >> with nature as the essential self emerges. >> The embodiment of this quality can clearly be seen in the beautiful woman >> who met the bandit's savagery with compassion. Her behavior suggests a full >> realization of Buddhism's basic teaching: suffering exists when we attempt >> to secure our relationship with the "world out there" instead of with the >> "world inside here." >> According to this teaching, when we relinquish attachment to body, mind, and >> emotions, we lose the fear of death and thus transcend the primary cause of >> suffering and pain. Mindfulness practice reveals the essential emptiness >> beneath emotions, and the impermanence of mental constructs and concepts. >> Freedom from misery follows, as our higher nature – blooming with compassion >> for the human condition – begins to flower. >> Healing is, in a very real sense, a second birth, an awakening in which we >> engage consciously by going after the truth that sets us free. When I began >> to see my early traumas as the path of a healer in the making, a second life >> began. When we re-conceive suffering as the potent contractions of the soul >> giving birth to a spiritual path and higher purpose, pain becomes a guide – >> a signal alerting us to what needs attention. >> If we don't listen to pain for what it's telling us, we run the risk of >> going numb and distracting ourselves in any of the myriad ways readily >> available. In The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle writes, "…it is easier to wake >> up from a nightmare than an ordinary dream." >> In other words, extreme suffering provides an alarm that can awaken us from >> the nightmarish state in which we are separate from God. What we awaken to >> is a deep reservoir of wholeness that stretches far beyond what we normally >> see as ourselves. To realize that fullness, we need to let go of many >> notions and convictions, to literally die to our old concept of who we are. >> The fire of our suffering can actually help us to burn through to this >> deeper discovery. >> Likewise, the fire of desire and the deep pleasure of sex can draw us closer >> to the present moment where old wounds can be released. Years of mindfulness >> practice taught me how to stay present and breathe through whatever arose on >> the meditation pillow – be it excruciating knee pain, extreme boredom, or >> angry frustration. In time, I brought this same mindfulness to lovemaking. >> Sex became a meditation. >> In so many ways, this practice is what finally brought me home to my body >> and to a healed sexual life, closing the gap in self-connection that >> disassociative processes had carved. I no longer had to abandon my own >> pleasure to an old reactive pattern. Breathing my way through it all, I >> discovered that awareness heals. >> I had always paid a price for my disconnection. Or as I see it now, I did >> not really pay any price but was repeatedly and lovingly reminded that I >> could not be free of sexual suffering, of any suffering, by trying to escape >> it. I would need to accept and integrate my sexual self in full, all of it – >> the pain, the learning, the Gloria, and the glory. >> For more than a decade I struggled with health complications all centered in >> my sexual and reproductive organs. As I moved toward greater compassion and >> gratitude for all my lovers, even the Glorias, I found my medical symptoms >> disappearing as if by magic. One after another I let go of my painful >> experiences, of the anger and guilt, of proclaiming myself Victim or >> Perpetrator. When I stopped coupling alcohol, even one glass of wine, with >> sex, I stopped getting the yeast infections that had plagued my >> relationships. >> Since then my single purpose in sexual relationship has been to unite spirit >> with body, to find pleasure in consciousness and consciousness in pleasure. >> I no longer have to abandon my sexual response or my sexual health to the >> old reactive patterns of seduction, fear, power, and control, of juggling >> who would be hunter and who hunted. Breathing my way through it all, I could >> love and be loved in safety, feeling ecstasy and ultimate surrender with my >> eyes wide open. >> Over the years, sexual suffering has come to me in many forms. I've been >> sexually attacked by women and men, humans and microorganisms, family, >> strangers, myself, and my own body. I now see that each of these has been a >> spiritual signpost saying, "turn here; look here; walk here." >> Suffering powerfully points us toward God by challenging us to open and stay >> open – to override the impulse to shut down. Vital to the healing process is >> an attitude of acceptance and surrender. >> Indeed, suffering itself is often a clear signal that we have shut down with >> blame, self-condemnation, and guilt – popular detours thoroughly modeled on >> daytime television. When we understand this signal and trust enough to let >> go and open to the experience of the moment again, then we can truly begin >> to face the actual in-the-moment pain. This is when we begin to heal. >> This, then, is the great gift that suffering offers us: a challenge to dig >> deeply, to find within us an untouchable state of well-being, a place of >> wholeness and joy that exists independent of changing circumstances and the >> actions of others. This is what I call using suffering to know God. >> Suffering has a way of pointing us Home and inviting us to let go and >> discover the grace and wholeness underlying it all. Seeing this again and >> again builds faith, a deeply lived faith that embraces fully the process of >> life. >> Rather than shutting down and disassociating in situations that are >> difficult, I now subtly move toward the mystical abyss of surrender and >> letting go. And with that movement, I feel ever more connected to God and to >> Truth. >> As Rumi said, "Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and >> find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." Even >> the most painful experience can be transformed into understanding with the >> eyes of compassion. Once we learn to see through the disguise of our >> suffering, we delight in the realization that only angels surround us. >> >> Note: The above is an edited excerpt from a compilation of essays in the >> enlightening book The Marriage of Sex & Spirit, edited by Geralyn Gendreau. >> For an awesome, two-page essay filled with empowering ideas on how to >> transform from being a victim to a powerful creator, click here. >> >> The above is an essay from one of the free Personal Growth Courses offered >> by PEERS >> > > >
