Self-Promotion: The Prodigal Son of Being Human

Finding Your Special Niche

We all believe. We’re all convinced. We all reach, extend, grasp for the brass ring we know is ‘Just around the Corner.’ We KNOW there’s something more! It’s the ‘Cinderella Dream’. The misplaced shoe of riches, success, love, sex and fortune surely will fit our foot IF we can just find where we lost “IT”. We spend our lives in search of “IT” in one way or another never stopping to realize or assess what we’d be exchanging in the process or more importantly what we would do if, in fact, we did ever find the missing slipper. IF and when, we get the proverbial “IT, what then? The result may be just this side of apathetic.

In the case of the Prodigal Son, the logical or illogical reason why he left his opulent father’s house in search of “IT” has never been disclosed {Perhaps it’s one of the curses of being human}. Convinced that destiny had called him to a far away land of promise unrealized, he fled. No doubt driven by an insatiable desire far exceeding anything as petty as lust, fame, fortune or pleasure; he thought he needed more. Even though he had all he could possibly ever want right at his fingertips; still, he was not satisfied. He wanted something else, other than what he had. What irresistible luring call could have possibly wooed him away from his father’s house of love, wealth and sustenance? What gnawing gaping hole did he possess that could not be filled by the field of plenty surrounding him?

Self-promotion. {The seemingly horrendously self-defeating mockingly hideous journey results from refusing our current soul’s mission.} It begins with the erroneous thought; we can change our appointed paths. The fact is: we must not only accept but totally embrace who, what, where, how, when and why we are. (Unfortunately, we don’t get the “WHY” until much later) He obviously needed to spread his wings to see how high and far he could fly. His mind denied him any semblance of peace. With a determined constitution, stubborn resistance and hardened heart, he was forced to experience life inside an (what he perceived) air tight bubble of discontent. Suffocated, he couldn’t breathe. He, a giant squid anchored to land, slowly dying, needed the air of liberty. He, unable to reconcile himself with his allotted path, feeling trapped and unfulfilled, would have deteriorated in bitterness. Nothing else to do but to break free, to experience unrealized freedom as he roamed the earth to find his rightful, deserving and honored place. Little did he know; patience will do what searching can’t.

Patience is not only a virtue accessing the adept ability to be where our feet are located but the wisdom to be grateful for the ever present circumstances. Nonetheless, the smell of self-deluded unattained happiness is so noxiously demure. The bitter sweet fragrance of fantasized fulfillment so tantalizes the flesh, enraptures the mind, woos and intoxicates the spirit as does one’s first passionate kiss. The romantic exaggeration lingers longer than the incurable thoughts to reduce its significance. We tend to hold onto the subduing power of influence for a lifetime comparing every other embrace to it. Our memories are sorely distorted, while our imaginations tautly disfigured. Everything is either ‘not as good as it was then’ or ‘will be so much better when.’

Nothing ever compares, neither comes anywhere close, to resembling the bliss experienced in one’s first romantic involvement. As the years go by, the mind’s recalled stories grow larger and more profuse. This self-induced self-intoxication is the same blinding/regenerating ingredient which saturates a long-held promise in self-promotion. We all want to feel that “Special” illusion, again.

No one ever wants his illusions disturbed and try as you might; you will never be forgiven should you attempt to push reality toward a person, such as the Prodigal Son, when he is in pursuit of his “ship coming in.” To find that place where he is adored, cherished, worshiped as a god; that’s what he yearns for above all else. Surprising as it may seem, it is not desire that drives a man to promote himself but the underlying fear that he is NOT worth promoting. An undeniable gut-wrenching anxiety plagues him, more fierce and acute than any hunger, never letting up on the pressure to propel him to elevate his stature. Constantly reminded and bombarded by inner accusations of not being worthy of anything better. {Certainly not master status} Not realizing there is in fact nothing more exalting for him than the moment at hand, than to accept his present fate. But, he turns away from the magnificence of which he is entitled for a plastic veneer.

We always peer through much older more caustic cynical eyes when assessing our present circumstances. We are blinded by an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and incapable of seeing the truth in and about us. From one extreme to another, we bounce, either viewing ourselves as loathing disgusting unsuitable pigs or majestic autocratic untouchable kings and queens. Where is the middle ground (straight and narrow) so few ever find? It eludes us for we have no sense of genuine purpose of place. We are drifters in a strange land seeking our abode. We can’t seem to find that niche where we fit and our talents are recognized by being put to use. Why? Because we are occupying the only ‘land of milk and honey’ we will ever know. We are standing upon the ground of our own redemption.

The subliminity of spirit, the magnificent design, the proportioned destiny is right where we stand. No where else. We are constantly trying to make ourselves into something so far removed from who and what we are. We seek in vain for something other than what we presently have. No wonder we remain hopelessly lost and depressed in search of something 'we can never find," We’ll never find that which is being sought after because WE are the ‘that’ which we seeking. A fish doesn’t see the water in which he swims, nor does a bird see the air in which she flies. How better are we to see and appreciate the house in which we live as the only suitable agreeable most elevated position in life to be inhabited?

We humans grow so impatient waiting for our ships to come in, never realizing in actuality we are already sailing on it. What is the one thing that moves men to ruin? Self-promoting Grudges. Yes, petty stupid simple nagging grudges. We refuse to give them up. They are what sustain us in our plight. What specific grudges you may wonder. The grudges of camaflaguaged distraction. The grudges are not against someone or something else, they are created and launched against ourselves. They rob our focus, sap our energy, poison the mind, cripple the will, and destroy our vision. Not the vision of some glorified goal but the vision of sacred creativity in each and every moment set before us.

How many times in the run of a day do you attempt a project with the idea of what will come from it? Never compromise your virtue with impotent unproductive distractions. Never allow any mistress of ‘supposed want’ to distract you from the sense of urgency you have in each glorious moment of living. Before you allow your life to slip by in meaningless bleeps counting the days until something else happens, dash into the grain of the hour like a starved wolf tearing open fresh bloody meat. The food of your life is prepared on a banquet table set for you right where you sit. IF it were established somewhere else, there to would you be.

It is not enough to be content with what you presently have unless you are grateful (totally accepting/embracing) of who you are, as well. One state is impossible without the other. {Which brings us back around to the needlessly futile hopelessly unproductive wasted idea of self-promotion.} The Prodigal Son Returned to his rightful heirship. You can do the same. You are a Master of Divine Essence who has merely forgotten your sacred authentic heritage. You can’t possibly have a need or desire to promote something you don’t 100% incorporate. And, IF you are 100% immersed, then there remains no explicit need to promote. The tree has no need to shout it’s a tree. It remains firmly planted doing its only job until one day it is cut down, as we shall be.