GrandRising | The Divine Within Them, Ownership, & The Imaginary Person

I have heard more than once that I possess a god complex.

I do not argue with it.

I do not defend against it.

I find it interesting.

Because I have often noticed that when a person refuses to kneel, many assume they must secretly wish to be worshipped.

I do not.

In fact, my position has always been the opposite.

I do not believe anyone should bow to me.

I do not believe anyone should bow to another.

Especially not blindly.

Especially not without question.

Especially not because someone claims authority over their soul.

This has never been about elevating myself above others.

It has always been about refusing to place myself beneath them.

There is a difference.

A very important one.

Many people hear the words:

"I am divine."

And immediately assume superiority.

Yet they somehow miss the second half of the statement.

You are divine too.

The stranger.

The artist.

The laborer.

The parent.

The child.

The scholar.

The fool.

The person I agree with.

The person I do not.

Every sigh. Every tear. Every laugh. Every trembling hand. Every uncertain step.

Not above.

Not below.

WITH.

I have never found divinity in hierarchy.

I have found it in existence itself.

In consciousness.

In curiosity.

In creation.

In the extraordinary reality that billions of human beings walk this world carrying entire universes behind their eyes.

And somehow many people look upon this miracle and see only status.

Only rank.

Only authority.

Only who should stand above whom.

I find that fascinating.

Because if I were truly claiming superiority, then your divinity would threaten mine.

Yet it does not.

The more beauty I recognize in others, the less interested I become in standing above them.

The more intelligence I discover in others, the less interested I become in being the smartest person in the room.

The more humanity I witness, the less interested I become in hierarchy at all.

Perhaps that is where the misunderstanding begins.

Some people hear:

"I refuse to kneel."

And imagine arrogance.

I hear:

"I refuse to kneel."

And think:

"Good."

Stand beside me.

Not behind me.

Not beneath me.

Beside me.

Because my autonomy is not a declaration of superiority.

It is a declaration of ownership.

Ownership of my mind.

Ownership of my conscience.

Ownership of my choices.

Ownership of my existence.

And I extend that same ownership to everyone else.

The question was never:

"Do you think you are God?"

The question is:

Why does the sight of a sovereign human being make so many people uncomfortable?

And perhaps more importantly:

Why does a person recognizing the beauty within themselves feel threatening to those who have never learned to see it within themselves?

Here lies my issue.

And often times where people attempt to maliciously be invasive of autonomy.

Making Claims I never made.

And Inversions of my moral autonomy.

And perhaps this is where my true confusion begins.

Not with disagreement.

Disagreement has never frightened me.

Not with criticism.

Criticism is often useful.

Not even with being misunderstood.

Human beings misunderstand each other every day.

No.

My confusion begins when people hear words I never spoke.

Claims I never made.

Intentions I never held.

And then proceed to argue with the version of me they invented.

I have always found that curious.

To stand before a living person while debating an imaginary one.

To hear:

"I see divinity within all people."

And somehow arrive at:

"She believes herself above all people."

The mathematics simply refuse to balance.

I confess I have spent an unreasonable amount of time staring at this equation.

"I see the divine within all people."

Somehow becomes:

"She believes herself above all people."

At that point I am no longer having a philosophical discussion.

I am watching interpretive dance.

Because we have clearly left the realm of language.

I have seen people perform fewer mental gymnastics while attempting to assemble furniture without instructions.

Yet somehow this conclusion persists.

As though recognizing value in everyone should logically result in valuing only myself.

As though refusing to kneel automatically means demanding an audience.

As though autonomy and superiority are secretly the same thing.

They are not.

One is ownership.

The other is hierarchy.

The confusion between the two remains one of humanity's more impressive magic tricks.

A person says:

"I belong to myself."

And somehow half the room hears:

"I belong above you."

I have never understood that translation.

Nor have I seen the original manuscript.

They seem to be reading from a document I was never given.

Truthfully, this is not the first time I have encountered such an inversion.

Some time ago I wrote:

"Some of us wake up to alarms.

Some of us... tune in."

A surprisingly large number of people interpreted that as a declaration of superiority.

Which was fascinating.

Because I was not discussing value.

I was discussing orientation.

Yet somehow:

"I experience life differently."

Became:

"I am better than you."

The translation remains a mystery to me.

It is as though some people cannot imagine a difference without immediately constructing a hierarchy around it.

A different perspective becomes superiority.

A different path becomes arrogance.

A different rhythm becomes a challenge.

A different belief becomes an attack.

And before long they are no longer responding to what was said.

They are responding to what they feared was implied.

Yet this inversion happens often.

Not only to me.

To anyone who refuses to surrender authorship of themselves.

Anyone who refuses to kneel when instructed.

Anyone who declines to outsource their conscience.

Anyone who chooses self-possession over approval.

It is almost as though autonomy itself becomes offensive to those who have spent years negotiating their own.

And perhaps that is why I remain unmoved by it.

Because another person's discomfort has never been reliable evidence that I am doing something wrong.

Sometimes it is merely evidence that I have wandered beyond the limits of their ruler.

And no ruler has ever successfully measured the entirety of a human being.

Still.

If another person's autonomy feels threatening to them.

If another person's self-possession feels offensive.

If another person's refusal to kneel feels dangerous.

Then perhaps the problem was never the person standing.

Perhaps the problem is the discomfort produced by witnessing someone else do so.

Because I have yet to understand why so many people spend their lives attempting to reduce others to a size they find manageable.

What a strange use of a lifetime.

Entire universes of possibility.

Entire worlds to build.

Entire minds to expand.

And somehow the chosen mission becomes:

"Could you be less yourself? It would make me more comfortable."

No.

I don't think I will.

If my autonomy troubles them so deeply.

If my self-possession unsettles them so profoundly.

If my refusal to kneel creates such discomfort.

Then perhaps their attention would be better invested elsewhere.

There are mountains to climb.

Minds to expand.

Skills to learn.

Dreams to build.

Wounds to heal.

Entire worlds waiting to be created.

Why spend such precious energy attempting to make another human being smaller?

Especially when that same effort could be used to become larger.

So today I leave you with this:

When you look at another human being,

Do you see hierarchy?

Or do you see a fellow traveler?

Have a Rising that reminds you of the wonder that already exists within you.