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TITLE: Death of the Cherished Self
By kathryn johnson
06/13/07
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Plese be very strict. I would like to find a way to perfect the idea of this article through good writing. Help me. Give me your hardest critique.
Jesus said, “In order to find your life you must first lose it.”

Every time I yield my self to the other selves there is a little death to my self.

With every one of these deaths, a period of grieving ensues. Not a very glorious feeling, if I do submit herein.

Of all the civilizations who succeed in civilizing grief, all that sophistication goes up in a puff when it is time for me to die. None can tame the weeping, wailing and tearing of robes which follows the death of the cherished self.

But it may do some good to call these deaths adventures. And it is good for us to become familiar with the Arthurian disposition toward adventure.

They pursued it as a lust.

To the knight, adventure was a call to arms and a rushing headlong into affliction, on purpose.

They sought out affliction as you or I today seek out material possessions. The knight’s behavior had all the air of a sickening self-suspicion. Almost as though he could never be done with proving himself, even to himself.

This appears a very strange and foreign lust to my sleepy eyes. Groggily I read on. Slowly I begin to desire it.

Humility is painfully modest. But her secrets are as those of mothers and fathers at Christmas time.

On the morn the secrets are laid bare. And there we stand in a swoon and a blush.

We do not want what we see before first wanting to recant all our assumption and with it the behavior to which we resigned ourselves.
The secrets of our King are without blushing because they are absent of all treason, despite and falsity. As soon as we begin assuming that His plans for us are anything but good, we will then behave accordingly.

The secrets of our King will reveal the following. No one, including the self, knows us as our king knows us.

We will one day discover that He is not the sort to wrap up a knitted stocking cap for us to open that we might learn to hide our disappointment with the appropriate sighs and smiles.

He is preparing for you that sort of desire you will immediately recognize as precisely and unmistakably what you were made for.

But first: the ass’s cart!

I must lose my life if I wish to find it. I must eat my humble pie if I wish to taste the glory.

Every death to the cherished self will be a battle to the bloody end.

Strangely, the further you feel from Glory the nearer you may just well be. There is no difference between humility and glory. It won’t feel like your proudest moment. But it will mark a moment of paternal pride in your Maker when you yield that self to the others.

So I say, “Know ye in this country any adventures?”
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