Letters Between Heaven and Hell

A wonderful thing happens with we release our weird ideas. We fear we will have nothing. We in fact gain everything.

We are addicted to what others have told us we are and who we should be. The security of these addictions mean we do not have to think for ourselves, unearth and examine long-held beliefs and boxes we have been taught to live in. It’s a painful process to go through examination, tearing away false taboos, secretly shadowing our thoughts and actions. It all becomes static, preventing any new, possibly more authentic options for a loving, fulfilling life.

My guide and friend as a young man, the one who rejected my existence when I no longer sat in his box, responded in his eight page letter by repeating every construct belief he had twenty-two years ago. But I thought, “This is great! I am no longer a child. I have studied and examined and can articulate questions that we can debate and grow from our exchange.” I even had the title of a new book publishing our exchange, “Letters Between Heaven and Hell.”

When I told a friend about this man and our correspondence, he plainly replied, “Nope. He won’t answer your letters. He can’t.”

He was right. I wrote back twice, long letters of how much I loved and missed them, memories of our times together, how my life has had twists and turns but I’ve learned and put into action healthy thoughts and decisions that have resulted in close, loving relationships with friends and family.

Silence. Crickets. He refused to peek out of his box, take a step outside the confines of his addiction, not even to connect with a friend and child of their home.

It made me question, what addictive thoughts do I have that prevent me from loving, accepting, engaging with another. What have I chosen as my box and am I willing to step out because my friends, neighbors, and family have value with or without me?

A wonderful thing happens with we release our addictions. We fear we will have nothing. We in fact gain everything.