Having earned the right to this brief moment of your attention by living 67 years with the actuality and memory of physical abuse, I can now impart to you the secret of turning a lion into a pussycat, an adult victim of physical abuse into a human being again. (It may be the same with those who’ve suffered from sexual abuse, abandonment, etc. I cannot say.)
This secret is known only to the Knights Templars, Rosicrucians and other secret societies since a millennium ago.
I received my commission from the Dalai Lama, the Lord Buddha himself and a hundred thousand bodhisattvas, all assembled in Shamballa. I am the Keeper of this Flame.
They told me that, when the time was right, I would know it and I would pass the secret on to you, those fit initiates who had also been tried in the flames of life and tested in the struggle to resurrect the spirit.
I’ve faithfully kept this secret close to my chest, lo, these many years. Until the time was right.
By the position of the stars in heaven and the counsel of invisible masters whom only I can see, I know the time has now arrived to impart this treasured secret to all who’ve labored mightily for so many years, to purify and cleanse themselves of the memory of their past injuries. You are pure. You are ready. The time is here.
Now let this secret be told.
How do you turn a lion into a pussycat?
Tell him you love him.
That’s all. Don’t go into a long song and dance. Just tell him you love him. OK, OK, you can say you don’t want to hurt him as well. But that’s enough.
I am a certified lion. I am a lion extraordinaire. Last year I pulled one ruffian out of our apartment building by his hair, turned and faced the second and had only to look at him for him to back down.
Just tonight I was harassed by two drunks at a bus stop. (I live in a rundown building in the poorest section of Vancouver. You didn’t know that? Oh, yes, for seven years.)
While I’d never hurt them, no genuine karate student would, I nonetheless told them with slow speech and steely calmness, looking them straight in the eye, that they did not want to mess with me. I’m a mean bugger and they will get hurt. (Just words.)
I watched that classic switch in them that I’ve seen so often in others, from their abusing me to their asking for protection from me. Two drunks asking each other! Meanwhile I got up and walked away, safe.
A 67-year-old man. You gotta get that. With a capacity to be so scarey that it turns a much younger person around in his tracks.
So I think, from all angles, I’ve earned the right to say this.
Just tell the lion, kindly, gently, that you love him and watch him turn into a pussycat. Watch him break down and melt into tears.
I have selected all of you to be the heirs of this knowledge. Go forth, now, and tell the world.
You can send me a thousand dollars through the mail if you wish or, if you’re as poor as me, you can just “get” it. A man is a lion because he feels that love has been withdrawn.
The expression of love to such a man will make him cry. Why all this happens I cannot tell you but I know it does. Someone just told me that I was loved today and it turned this lion into a pussycat.
Now all of you lions, you adult children of physical abuse, how do YOU turn yourself into a pussycat? That will take a bit more practice but is doable.
Reach down into yourself, using your inbreath, raise your love and send it out to the other on your outbreath. Do this morning, noon and night. Do it every time you find that you’ve turned yourself into a roaring lion.
That’ll be a thousand dollars from you too, in the mail please. You should probably send it because paying for it seems to make this secret more valuable.
What turns a watered plain into a desert is the absence of the expression of love. What turns a desert into a watered plain is the presence of the expression of love. Period.
Who said love was tough?