So Many Sources, So Little Relief

Life is always calling us. It tells us plainly, this is what we are to do and this is where we are to go. It’s an invisible pipeline between us and the energy of our soul that we’re born with. It communicates through our nervous system. It dictates the course of our lives more than anything else, including environment, early or otherwise, using intuitive whispers, chance, and unreasonable aspirations.

Addiction and culture-sick personality block our destiny; they sever the tie between us and the energy of our soul. The lights go out, and a suffocating stagnation with its attendant hopelessness becomes our day-to-day. Something comically shallow becomes the substitute we mistake for a viable source. But the more we draw on that distraction, status, or approval, the weaker we become. All external sources come with limits. Nothing can compete with God.

The difficult circumstances of our lives are necessary parts of our story, not random or punitive misfortune. They exist to build in us what our calling requires. They’re not unfair, evidence of wrongdoing, or cause for quitting; they’re weights we need to lift over our heads. Age, size, education, and training may interrupt or alter the personality’s plan, but destiny intends and makes use of them.

Destiny never bows to psychology. The limits we impose on ourselves with labels and explanations are more about how we remember, defend against, and argue with past events. We’re blind to the plot; our story is bigger than disadvantages and bullies. They are the concrete, and we are the grass cracking through, destined to grow despite anything. We don’t earn it or undergo a decades-long process; it’s here now. We need only direct the same relentless loyalty we give to our excuses and victimhood to it.

If we are to fulfill our destiny, we have to handcuff ourselves to our inner call until it becomes our reality. It’s not one of a thousand theories to question; it’s a fact to abide by. If we refuse to acknowledge it or invalidate it with psychological theory, we’ll be angry and resentful. We’ll languish in longing. The call never dies down.

Destiny doesn’t require capacity. Genius is a bank from which we all can draw; it’s not a trait bestowed on a chosen few. Like a personal librarian, we can ask it to retrieve what we need in the moment. If what we consume in the name of improvement, of earning our way there, gives us the doomed feeling of a cell door locking with its certainty, if it’s lifeless and stale, then it’s not working. It’s never going to work. Psychology is not law. It’s stimulating, but it doesn’t deserve reverence. Law is law. All we have to do is obey it.