I had a client yesterday in Westminster who is a very deep, insightful woman. She's a psychologist and trauma therapist, and the sharing of her thoughts after her session in 'the box' provoked a lovely discussion on how the human spirit chooses to create it's experiences here within the duality of three dimensional reality. I love profound discussions such as this...they are magical, fruitful, full of gossamer epiphanies that carry levels of daily experience to a higher realm of comprehension.
We spoke of dreams, trauma, the autonomic nervous system, out of body experiences, past lives...I shared many of my thoughts and insights with her, and her feedback was pretty enlightening. In a nutshell, my reluctance to create my reality in a 'positive' way is simply because my spirit has something to figure out in the darkness. I am searching for something in the scraps of pain that I dig up, rooting in the dirt like a bird searching for grubs. There must be something delicious in those fat, slimy worms, otherwise, I would fly off in search of more tender morsels elsewhere. When I have had my fill, belly big and bloated, feathers smelling earthy and sweet, I will raise my sights to the clouds above and touch them easily with one or two solid wing strokes against the solid air. Please keep in mind, I have the power to do and be anything I wish.
So, dearest, worry not about my projected dismal future. All may not be lost, after all. I DO know that I create my reality, and I know for a fact that once I truly focus on an object, I can usually manifest it fairly quickly. I have seen miracles in my life that amaze even me.
I have a fascination with the darkness. Although I never chose to dabble in drugs or alcohol, I do explore my own addictions regularly. I give in to my fears, my desires, my emotional turmoil. The observer within me finds all this drama fascinating; she sits above me, watching in non-judgment, as I fumble through this life, this body, chained to a device of my own making and crying out as, she notices, I hold the keys. I am learning something, finding pleasure somewhere in the abyss. As a spirit having a human experience, I am playing with forces unknown to my higher self, crashing through walls of illusion and polarity as I search for what this life is, what makes it beautiful, what really matters about all this sticky, tricky webbing that holds the mortal coil firmly in place.
I want to know passion. I want to know what it means to be alive. Can you do this through logic and reason? Can you truly know love, exquisite pain, despair, intense joy, the experience of losing yourself to a person or situation if you coldly, logically, set up your future in happy little rows of safety and security? Without risk, there is no real play. Without abandon, the experience is lost. Creating safety is not living; it is helpful to survival, no doubt, but it is not being alive. Some of the most beautiful memories I have are from drowning in the depths of lonely anguish. I am alive then. I am whole, complete in the waves that pull me into the sea, suckled by the tides as I float down to the watery graves below.
I know I can change my fate. Despite your observation that I am vulnerable, it is only a vulnerability that results from my desiring it. I am stronger than you give me credit for. I can feel that power flow through me; quietly, within the recesses of my mind, I am well aware of the fact that, the moment I chose something different, it will manifest in magnificent splendor. Worry not. I can part the sea, and call forth fire from my fingertips. All will be righted in time.
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