The thousands of word about the “self” that I have written and/or thought over the years are, when considered in the reality of my life, nothing more than a hypocritical pile of worthless sawdust. Oh, I may believe them, but my life continually contradicts them.
In regards to my “self” it’s ‘do what I say, not what I do.’ I think if I stepped outside myself and took the role of a psychiatrist examining my psyche, I would find a person so egotistical and self-centered that delusions of self-worth and importance govern almost every nook and cranny of my life. One big reason is my inability to stay grounded in the present instead of always looking ahead. The extreme to which I carry this is settled upon a desire to be remembered in certain ways after my death. I send letters and notes to my children and store others for their later discovery. I transcribe all these letters to You into book form. I record my performing with various bands and store them on cassettes and CD’s. The size of my ego is what allows me to think that any of it is worth something to anyone – and I am the one advocating erasing the “self.”Sawdust!
I fear that my sense of worth regarding the spiritual becomes somewhat tipsy if some sort of bequeathal does not emanate from my life, and the notion of that bequeathal keeps me in the future rather than resting in the present and forgetting about all those things thatfeed my notions of self-worth. But I am always able to find some rationalization, some justification for them. I always go back to the thought that I must make my life somehow significant. What I do with my life is my gift to You. What this fails to consider is that my earthly life is far less significant than the life of my spirit. It is a bequeathal that can only be made to You.