Compelled Devotion

Looking Straight Ahead

Compelled Devotion[Series 7]

It is only natural that something leaning appears tilted, and something twisted looks distorted.

Looking through coloured lenses is part of that. So are arrogance and prejudice. Once they settle in, they are often difficult to correct.

Most of us want to see things clearly. Yet we often cannot. Perhaps that is because there are certain truths that are simply hard to accept.

The experiences and incidents we encounter in life—often beginning from very personal viewpoints—create fixed impressions in our minds. These preserved perceptions can keep us stuck where we are. They solidify for reasons that once made sense. Sometimes they even become a protective illusion we build for ourselves.

Even so, the thoughts we chose in order to survive and cope cannot last forever.

A self that hides away for fear of being hurt may feel relief each time it turns away from the truth. Yet with time, that avoided truth lingers like an unfinished task. It remains somewhere deep in the chest, surfacing now and again—in dreams, in unconscious thoughts, or in unexpected reactions.

Is it really so difficult to face the truth and see it as it is?

Truth itself is not always hidden. Yet when a painful experience distorts it and links it to our sense of survival, we may freeze. In an instant, something that happened long ago can pull us back to that very moment, as if no time has passed.

It reminds me of a childhood game—freeze tag.

We would run about teasing the chaser, laughing and darting away with bold confidence. But the moment the chaser lunged to catch us, we would panic, shout “freeze!”, and stand still while catching our breath. Then, once the thrill settled, we would start running again—only to freeze again in surprise moments later.

Life can feel much the same.

When we are startled or overwhelmed, we “freeze” to survive. Our bodies and minds stiffen. And before we know it, we fall back into the same old ways of thinking and speaking, as if we never learned to move differently.

Shame plays its part too.

Sometimes we feel ashamed even when something was not our fault. When that shame burrows deep into the mind and refuses to leave, we run from it like someone fleeing a chaser. Calling “freeze” might offer a moment’s rest, but soon we feel the need to run again.

How long can we keep running?

How long can we keep turning away?

How long can we pretend not to see?

The scars and shame that cling to us like shadows leave us wondering how we are meant to look at them.

Some experiences come to us without our choice or consent. Yet when we go through such things, it is not easy to see them clearly. At times, our rational mind even invents a false version of the truth to comfort itself. It may seem easier that way.

But the truth, once bent by rationalisation, can remain in us as a narrow or incomplete understanding. Discomfort lingers like a resignation that never quite sits right. And somewhere inside, the feeling of unfairness continues to stir.

In such passive moments—when control feels taken from us—we may feel wounded, sad, unsettled. We may want to stand tall, yet find ourselves unable to face the truth. Instead, we hide behind appearances and the judgments of others, trying to feel satisfied with what is merely presented to us.

If we have lived like this for a long time, it may even begin to feel normal. We grow used to it. We grow numb. Yet somewhere in the other half of the heart there remains a quiet heaviness—a sense that whispers, “This isn’t quite right.”

Rather than covering everything with the idea that we are helpless victims, perhaps it would be better to encourage ourselves to understand and accept our own hearts.

Whether it was pressure we could not resist, coercion we did not want, circumstances we did not choose, or situations forced upon us—good or bad—they were not our decisions. Because they were not our choices, they are neither something to boast about nor something to be ashamed of. They are neither honourable nor dishonourable. They simply happened. They cannot be undone, but they were never ours to choose.

Yet even in situations we cannot change, there are still choices we can make.

We can move from a passive self to an active one. We can reclaim a sense of direction. What we went through may become an opportunity for growth. It may shift how we think. It may teach wisdom. It may make us more truthful, more honest, and more capable of understanding others.

Even within forced circumstances, we might learn how to stop imprisoning ourselves—and instead allow ourselves a measure of FREEDOME.

Why not begin that journey of exploration?

*these are my own paintings *