Deep wounds and deep caring

I am rewatching X-Men Days of Future Past, and it’s reminding me of what can happen when there is a combination of deep wounding and deep caring. It’s also easter, and that too is reminding me of this theme.

Raven, and to some extent Eric, both were deeply wounded, and deeply care. And it sometimes comes out in reactive ways. Ways that hurt themselves more, and hurt others too.

I see the same in Judas. There too, I imagine a deep caring, and deep wounds, combining to bring him to do what he did. To give the person he deeply loved to those who wanted to do away with him.

And I see the same in myself. I see what happens when there is deep caring, and deep wounding, and acting from reactiveness. It hurts me further, and it hurts those around me.

Sometimes, it’s not very obvious. Sometimes, it’s in what I am not doing rather than what I am doing. And yet, I see the same pattern there. A combination of deep caring, deep wounding, and acting from reactiveness rather than a more clear and kind intention.

Deep wounds come from deep caring. They are an expression of deep caring. And, as Xavier said, Just because someone stumbles and loses their way, it doesn’t mean they’re lost forever. Sometimes we all need a little help.

Peter, Judas, Anakin and me

In Resurrecting Jesus, Adyashanti talks about the Jesus story as a story of each of our awakening process.

For instance, Peter is the one who loved Jesus, promised he would never forsake him, and yet denied knowing him three times. He was enthusiastic, got scared, and (temporarily) left the divine.

Judas is one who also deeply loved Jesus and the divine, was deeply wounded, and sought to destroy what he loved the most, and what could have given him the love and understanding the craved and needed the most.

Since I just rewatched the Star Wars movies, I want to add Anakin Skywalker here. He also deeply loved, was deeply wounded, and destroyed or tried to destroy the ones he loved the most (his lover and teacher), the ones who loved him the most, and the ones who could have given him the love and understanding he so deeply wanted and needed.

I can find each of these in myself.

I sometimes deny and abandon the divine, out of fear. When I got married in my twenties, I left my guidance and moved to a place that felt deeply wrong for me, and I did it out of unexamined fears and shoulds. (Or, at least, they were not thoroughly examined and seen through.)

I also see the part of me that deeply loves, is deeply wounded, and lashes out at or tries to destroy what and who he loves the most, and can give him the love and understanding he needs.

As very small, I had seeming flashbacks about how it was before incarnation. It was what I now would call a heavenly realm, with a sense of infinite love and an infinite sense of being home. I sometimes had a deep longing in the mornings that couldn’t be satisfied the usual ways (strawberry jam sandwich, Donald Duck comics, adventure books, friends, parents), and it was probably for this.

Here is the story that comes to me:

It was conveyed to me that it was time for me to incarnate again, for my own sake and for the sake of humanity and the Earth. I said yes, partly because I knew it too. And yet, a part of me loved the divine so deeply, and didn’t want to leave. I didn’t acknowledge or speak up for this part. I wanted to be a good soul, a good soldier. This part felt deeply wounded, deeply unseen, deeply unloved, and deeply angry. And this pattern has replayed itself through my life.

I am on the threshold of something that feels deeply right, lose it, and go into deep regret and pain. Sometimes, I can even see how a part of me sets it up. It sets up circumstances so what I deeply love will fall away from me. And this part seems to be the part described above. It feels deeply wounded, deeply unseen, deeply unloved.

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