Yesterday was Easter. For me, and I’m sure for many other nontraditional types, this Christian holiday has evolved to become what, in essence, Christ himself has come to mean to me. And I feel deeply that Christ would be pleased with my honoring him thusly.
Like the Phoenix of ancient mythology that arose to renewed, restored, rejuvenated life from the ashes of its earthly demise, a popular Egyptian fable heard long before Christ appeared on earth, in my life Christ represents the human form of the Phoenix. And the resurrection of Christ instead of meaning what they tried to sell me when I was a little Catholic kid, “that our Savior Jesus Christ died for our sins” isn’t what Easter signifies the beginning of, at all.
Whether fact or fiction, the biblical story of Christ arising from the tomb is about him dying because he was persecuted by his society, not only the Romans but his fellow orthodox Jews. That he embraced death instead of running away, crying or blaming is as significant, to me, as his transcendence. Because he was willingly ready to let go of his lesser, restricted ways to rise up to his more enlightened, more true form — his more-than-dirt existence — his divinity. The same divinity that is within each one of us. The key to which is our ability to feel compassion.
For Christ, his passion meant accepting his physical death.
For me, dying to my lower self means my actual physical body doesn’t have to die, but that part of myself, the part that fostered “stinking thinking” and grew insecurities like a garden does weeds, the part that sang the “I can’t do’s” and “why me?” blues, diving my beleaguered consciousness deep within the bowels of the pity pot, licking the rim, you know, letting the shit of the world rule my life — all that stuff had to be re-programmed. I had to die to my lower self before I could truly allow my higher nature, my true Self, be born.
That’s what Easter means to me. It is my spiritual re-birthday.
So, a day late — but Happy Spiritual re-Birthday — to us all!
love, Lord Flea, aka teZa