| > As has been pointed out in another note, all emotional responses
>are rooted in either love or fear. Anger and hatred, for example, most
>of the time are really aggressive forms of fear.
I reject this postulate, so beyond saying that, I will refrain from
furthor comment.
Alfred
|
| > What is the foundation of your rejection?
o No evidence to support it.
o Appears inconsistant with my own observations.
I believe human diversity of emotion is great. Binary options are
almost always over simplistic when one tries to fit them into the
real world. Also I do not believe that love and fear are diametrically
opposed to one an other. I think even in this conference we've had
conversations about both loving and fearing the Lord.
There is a manual that I've been using in the volenteer work I've
been doing in the local county prison. One of the things it points
out, though I don't have the reference in front of me, is that the
lack of being able to identify more then a small number of emotions
is characteristic of many prisoners. It's an indication that they have
a narrow world view that restricts their options. I'm paraphrasing a
bit but I believe that was the message. I guess I have come to believe
that a healthy outlook on life requires that one believe in and be
able to feel a wider variety of emotion.
Fear and hate need not be related. One may love what they fear. One
may hate things that they do not fear. One may be frustrated by things
they hate, or love, or fear, or just plain don't understand.
ALfred
|
| Alfred .3,
Fair enough. Permit me to recommend a book, however. It's entitled,
"Love Means Letting Go of Fear," by Gerald Jampolski, M.D..
Peace,
Richard
|
| Alfred,
I second Richard's recommendation for Gerry Jampolski's book (any of
his books are excellent). He bases his philosophy on A Course in
Miracles, but don't let that bias you against "Love is Letting Go of
Fear". ;') He also wrote an autobiography, entitled Out of Darkness
(or something like that) that is a very open account of his personal
spiritual journey.
Richard, has Sharon read Marianne Williamson's A Return to Love Yet?
It is still the number one selling book in the country. I think she
(and you) would enjoy it.
Ro
|
| A decade ago my church had an "Alcohol Awareness" Service. Instead of the
usual sermon, our then deacon and another gentleman spoke. Our deacon was an
alcoholic who grew up in an abusive family. As he told his story, I recognized
many similarities in my own family of origin. The other gentleman was a
therapist who specialized in dealing with alcoholics and their families.
In speaking with our deacon and the other gentleman after the service, I was
told about several 12 step programs, and the deacon volunteered to take me to
an Adult Children of Alcoholics meeting.
As it turned out, he was unable to accompany me, but I went anyway, and let me
tell you, I was scared. The people I met at that meeting, horrors! One, an
obese women (actually several), one, an effeminate man who spoke with a lisp.
Another person with terrible crooked teeth, with a couple missing. A man who
looked like he'd just stepped out of a motorcycle gang; black leather, tattoos
and a beer gut. In all, a bunch of losers. "Thank you Lord that I am not
like them."
But I was. And that scared me more. I listened to their stories, and again I
thouroughly identified with them. For the recommended 6 weeks I spent every
Thursday evening with these people, in their "beginner's meeting". Nothing
was demanded of me other than to listen and want to get better.
Better than what? Better than all the rules and abuse which had filled my
life. Things I'd never even noticed as being not "normal". All of a sudden
many basic tenets I had grown up with were shaken. "Don't tell", yet these
people were telling. Don't show emotion, yet these people were crying! (and
tears were coming to my eyes, as well.)
After six weeks, I was invited to attend the main meeting. I listened.
I learned. Eventually I was able to share my name. Then a sentence here,
a paragraph there. I started to give of myself, I started telling my story,
and these people listened, and understood, because their stories were not so
different than mine.
Another thing happened as well. I started to see beauty in these people I
once abhorred. There was strength there, strength of character. Yes, I still
noticed that this person had a problem with weight, and that person had a
speech impediment, but that was not who they were. They were good, loving
people. Even bikers can be loving and warmhearted.
In the few years since those days I have come across quite a range of people.
Hurt people, imperfect people. But they no longer scare me. True love casts
out fear.
Peace,
Jim
|
| Jim,
Thanks for writing that. It was beautiful. Things like that are good
to experience as sometimes we all get the feeling that "we are somehow
better than those around us", that our sins are somehow more sanitized
than another sinner's, that our sins at least are more socially
acceptable.
We in humility must always remember that we are better than NO one
else. One of the best things my parents did for me when I was growing
up was keep "bringing me down to Earth". Any rising notions of false
superiority were quickly corrected. Thank God that He sent Jesus to
save us and to fix things up!
Rob
|