We often hear reference to a thing called an “inner Life”, but what exactly is such a thing? We all go through our day to day encapsulated within our own personal perspectives. How could it be any other way? We are born to this world and we find ourselves bound in the flesh understanding only as much as our minds can digest. Many times I have found myself intellectually choking on a particularly grisly tidbit of life; one which I had no reference point from which to identify or process.
Each time this happened I was faced with a dilemma. I could allow this blockage to persist, disrupting the flow of information, or I could take a swig of some good ole fashioned open mindedness and hope to get it down. Nothing would get that information down faster than the realization that we all are (in a way) limited to our own personal experiences through our sensory understanding of this world around us. What this idea would do for me was open the door to the possibility- no! the fact, that someone somewhere understands this piece of data.. because its mere existence makes it so.
Our lives are lived within a body, within a family unit, within a town, within a city and state, within a country… you get the picture. Each one a microcosm of the one in which it is nestled, oh so neatly, like a set of matryoshka dolls. We inevitably find our perspectives colored by each successive compartment in which we identify.
How can these exterior things effect so much of the inner life? It has become a challenging and interesting question for me. It is within the inner life that we listen to the incessant clatter of mental calculations and emotional mutterings. Inside these bodies we all experience according to our unique placement physically and emotionally. Logic says that if you switched places with the person you least identify with, at birth, then your entire understanding of them would be so complete that you would become them. The most personal thing you know- your inner life- would become theirs and theirs would become yours.
Maybe I am wrong. Maybe their is something else which shapes the way we experience this life. One thing I know for certain is the more I go through the more I can relate. To live a thousand years and to live a hundred lives would bring such understanding that my inner life would ignite with the compassion and love I have for my fellow man.
I will tell you of my darkest hour in hopes you will share with me. With open minds and hearts we can share and broaden the scope of our understanding, and with it our hearts capacity for love.
My darkest hour was to see my youngest sibling stretched out before me on a cold steel slab, while the coroner awaited my positive identification. This experience broke me. I fell farther than I had ever fallen before. Today I am rebuilt and ready to share.