Nothing is ever Good Enough

Not Good EnoughNothing is ever good enough. I’m not good enough. I leaned that from my dad. Unhappy, a dissatisfied customer.  Indeed, that would be me. 

Somewhere I keep hearing this little voice. I hear it so often lately I’m wondering if I’m attending to stimuli.  That’s what the psychiatrists call it.  My son has Schizophrenia. It’s a strange disease; he hears voices.  When admitted to the ER or the psych ward, one of the first questions they ask him when they find out he’s having a little psychosis is: “Are you hearing voices?”  His answer: “Not any more than anyone else…” 

We all hear voices. The voice of Christmas Past, Present and Future. Mick Jagger’s voice gets stuck in my head singing “Requiem for the Devil”.  There’s also that so called “Still, quiet voice” that you’ve all heard of.

So the voice of my father keeps whispering in my ear, like my conscience.  You know, like in the cartoons. An angel on one shoulder telling you you shouldn’t have that glass of whiskey and the devil on the other shoulder saying “Pssst, hey buddy. Come here. Have a li’l drinky. It’s not going to hurt you. As a matter of fact, I’m gonna give you a great big hug…” 

The book says the answers will come if my own house is in order. Obviously I cannot transmit what I haven’t got.  Well the book says if YOUR own house and YOU cannot transmit, but I’ve taken the liberty of personalizing those words replacing you and your with me and mine.

I keep asking where do I get it, that thing I say I cannot transmit, the answers with a capital A.  What is it anyway, what are they, the answers. Well, it’s all the stuff in the Eleventh Step prayer; the prayer of St. Francis. You may not know the prayer but here’s what it talks about

Love, forgiveness, harmony, truth, faith, hope, light and joy. All the ‘good’ things. But they were never in me. Well, OK, maybe they were a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. I am a thinker and it always gets me in trouble, I’m not a feeler.  I’m Dissatisfied. Happiness was domesticated out of me. I was a horse with a saddle and a bit and a bridle. Domesticated; living the dream of the world I see around me. It took my higher power to take that saddle off of me.

I stopped and begged my higher power to help me and he made me stand still stop.  He said “…just hold on a minute…” as he unbuckled the saddle and I watched my higher power release me from some sort of  bondage. The saddle fell off.  The voice shut up. Right then I discovered I couldn’t do it myself. I needed him and all of you to get rid of those chains.

But wait! It’s scary to be free, Holy Crap, no more saddle. It was by some grace of the universe, the grace of God, and well the rooms I keep visiting in churches and industrial buildings all over the place that I’ve found maybe not happiness, but as someone else has said: contentment. A little peace. I can only get it through what I do, by action.  So here I am; thanks…