Sunday, November 16, 2014
Existence by proxy
Yesterday, I used the phrase, that which exists by proxy.
This idea interests me, because I see that I exist by proxy in my ordinary life. That is to say, my mechanical nature, my habits and my automatic reactions, take the place of agency — they predetermine the script by which I act, and assume, by proxy, the role that a dynamic, interactive, intelligent and compassionate Being ought to play.
Of course, in the absence of being, something must step in; and perhaps I could see my habitual self as the understudy, the actor that comes in if the lead actor assigned for the role is absent. The difficulty here is that the lead actor has a perpetual malaise, and the understudy has been forced to take on the role instead. This has gone on for so long that the audience has forgotten there is a leader; the less skilled follower is now in charge.
Of course, I like to think by analogy, and so here it is: this existence by proxy whereby my agency is determined by lesser parts, fractions of what I ought to be.
I've noticed that when there is real demand, crisis of interaction, anger, negativity, upset in my life, other parts show up. These are the moments when something real has to actually get on the stage, and it is so on used to the task that it's usually nervous, uncertain, and even terrified. These are wonderful moments; because a man or a woman never sees themselves so clearly as in the moments of terror. These are distinct from moments when a higher energy truly helps to inwardly form a serenity that sets me apart from events; those are quite different, and they shouldn't be mixed up with the wonderful and real demand of terror, which spurs me to an inner understanding that might be quite different than my assumptions and my complacency.
There are no proxies available when terror sets in; and perhaps this is why "the terror of the situation" isn't, in fact, so terrible; instead, it represents the greatest opportunity. If the proxy has to step down, the only person left to step into its place is a real one.
Then, I am forced to engage with my own agency, not the agency of my habits; and what an unfamiliar feeling that is.
Under these circumstances, I may even get a taste of my own helplessness; and that is a sweet taste indeed, since it leads to the possibility that some part of me can recognize my actual place, and ask for help.