Clearly my personality survives intact in some way, shape or form. I don’t know what the road ahead holds. I can only report.
What I report now arises from my practice, on the path of awareness, of maintaining awareness of myself.
I detected a pattern. I was people-pleasing. I was complimenting someone on a coat and I made a distinction that was quite elegant.
Immediately in my own mind I made myself, I fancied myself a fashion expert.
And I looked at that. What is this impulse to want to receive validation?
I must feel invalidated at a very basic level.
I feel into it, exploring what arises.
I do feel invalidated, at such a basic level that my exterior almost melts when I get in touch with it. A primal wound. So many wounds. Primarily from my Father.
Just as I can ride a wisp of bliss to a full-blown experience of it, so here I can ride a wisp of woundedness to….
In my imagination, I’m in a place that is the antithesis of everything we consider pleasurable. It’s like a swamp. It smells. No, it stinks. It’s dark. It brings up in me the most horrible feelings – misery, regret, incomprehension.
No one is denying the validity of my allegations of being wounded. It’s just that the condition of seeing oneself as wounded, as a victim is not a high vibration.
It results in a yielding up of sovereignty, a disempowerment of the self, addiction, and a train of other unfortunate consequences.
The whole of them make for a dense, low vibration, symbolized by the swamp in my imagined vision.
That is graphic. That is as graphic as seeing the cost of my hostility was. (1) When I think of the decline that sets in when I agree to see myself as a victim, I get it! I don’t need to go into the metaphysical side of things.
I changed my vote. I used to enjoy being a victim. Now I don’t. Yes, that’s enough of that! Time to close one more door of escape from adulthood.
(1) See “From Hostility to Harmony,” Oct. 2, 2020, at https://goldenageofgaia.com/?p=313728