The mark of a root vasana or core issue is that it branches out in all directions. It gives rise to many other vasanas, which colonize.
It’s much like a jellyfish with numerous stinging tentacles or the trunk of a tree with numerous twisting branches.
We search for the origin of the vasana, the occasion on which we made the original decision.
As I look, I become aware of a past life in which I swore to hate an enemy eternally.
If I’m correct, my capacity for hatred has surfaced in this lifetime as well, my Father and Grandfather having become “the enemy.” That hatred is like the ridgepole, holding together the whole roof.
My journey into this vasana has led from financial stress, to fear of catastrophic loss, to fear of shattering, and now to attachment to hatred.
I should be calling this a vasana of father hatred. It’s definitely at the root or core of the original bending of the twig that became the tree.
Could anyone have predicted ahead of time that this is where it would lead? Probably not.
Otherwise we would have dealt with our issue. This exploration of the vasana has been information-gathering, awakening, hearing the matter for the first time.
I handled the fear of shattering some months ago, when I realized that I “shatter” with every spiritual or transformational experience so what’s the big deal? (1) Now all that’s left is my attachment to hatred of a perceived enemy; namely, the patrilineal line.
So I begin to experience my hatred now.
Hatred moves from the back stage of unconscious awareness to the front stage of conscious awareness. I’m breathing into it, getting to know it. …
This space is so familiar.
What was it someone said? Resentment is the poison we take hoping the other person will die? So true.
I’ll have to experience this completely for it to leave.
This is known territory. I sometimes call this resolve, determination, steely will, refusal to surrender, etc. I sometimes justify it as skepticism or cautiousness. Never hatred. But, no, it’s really hatred, as reluctant as I am to see it that way.
I recognize this space as one that lurks in the background of consciousness, coloring many interactions.
I face into it. That is, I open myself fully to the experience of it, allowing it to fill me up and express itself fully to me.
Hatred of my Father and Grandfather. Hatred of the havoc money can buy.
Hatred within creates hatred without. Hatred without shows hatred within.
I become aware of how this hatred was formed. I’m being shown a black pearl. It was made out of dozens, if not hundreds, of individual accretions on the first grain of injustice.
That original grain of sand – the first irritating memory – probably came from the day I first heard Mom and Dad fighting, also when I was around seven.
Every fresh act of abuse or violence became another layer of the pearl, with an emotional reaction tacked on: From irritation, to impatience, to frustration, to psychic break, to gathering evidence, and finally to gunnysacking.
Now I’m going backwards through time and so I’m dissolving the blacker layers and feeling lighter as we go. I’m using a reverse-chronological re-experiencing: From gunnysacking, to gathering evidence, to psychic break, to frustration, to impatience, to irritation and finally release.
I’m now in a place where I don’t even need to forgive my Father and Grandfather. I’ve forgotten what my complaints were. I am complete.
I feel reunited with my Father and Grandfather and remember what it felt like to be in love with both of them.
I’ve forgiven each phase of my hatred, each accretion, until nothing is left. I feel a deep sense of release and a return to loving feelings towards my kin. (Thank you, Kathleen.)
I can end the discussion here. Undoubtedly there are more vasanas, related to money. But this particular vein of “financial stress,” leading all the way to hatred of the male line has lifted and I’m back in relationship with them. My financial position hasn’t changed but my stress level in general is way down.
I’m glad to be released from that background coloration of negativity that I never even suspected existed but recognize in hindsight. What I’m left with – the silver lining – is a sense of my own determination, persistence, and resolve to have gotten myself this far carrying that much baggage.
And, as Kathleen predicted, a sense of gratitude to my patrilineal line for providing me with the challenges needed to reach here with the equipment I now have.
(1) “Sourcing a Vasana of Fear – Part 2/2,”