We are never broken

Something came up in a casual conversation the other day that I’ve been pondering ever since — whether people are fundamentally good beings that sometimes make bad choices or not.

I was surprised to learn that a couple of folks I know think that people aren’t good, that being good is a choice and that, usually, people choose bad — because it’s easier, mostly. At least that’s what I got from the conversation. I was reeling a bit, as it was an unexpected revelation.

Fortunately, it reaffirmed for me my belief that people are good. We are made of God. We stray from our knowledge of that at times. But we prefer to move towards our divine selves, rather than away. People make bad choices and, because of that, carry out actions and say words that hurt themselves and others. But they are still good. Their fundamental nature hasn’t changed.

Which brings me to me (of course!). No matter what I’ve experienced or have been through, my divine nature is unchanged. I am still good. And I am not broken.

Sometimes life leaves me feeling a bit battered. But I have to remind myself that I’m not broken. That the things I’ve been through haven’t stained me or made me anything less than the being I was when I was first born, fresh into this world. I think about my children and holding them and newborns — they were so old and so innocent at the same time. I cannot imagine my view of their divine nature changing just because outside forces influence them and impose upon them.

Of course, it could also be said that, while completely innocent in any of the crimes (of the law or the spirit) that I’ve been subjected to, I also called them into my experience for whatever reason. Maybe I needed to learn that I was still pure God-light, no matter what.

One of the things I’ve done throughout my life to deal with difficult times is turn to music. As a child, I just listened and sang. In my early 20s, I learned to play guitar. For a while, I gigged at local coffee shops, restaurants, bars, bookstores and even a co-op supermarket.

I found, though, that most of the songs I liked to play and sing were…well, a bit mournful. For some reason, once I had children, I put my music away. Things got so tumultuous for a while that I didn’t know how to access much, emotionally. Plus, I had small children. Ever try to make it through an entire song with a toddler at your feet?

Now that I’ve decided I want to rededicate myself to, well, myself, I want the songs I sing to raise my spirit–and that of the folks who hear them. So, here’s Hands by Jewel. We are never broken.