I have a conference call in a short while and I asked myself: “How do you feel?”
And the answer that came back surprised me: “I feel insecure.”
Not “unsafe.” I don’t feel unsafe on any level. Michael has my back, front, and sides. But insecure.
The distinction I make between them is that I use “unsafe” to refer to an external threat to wellbeing. I use “insecure” to refer to an internal threat.
But let me backtrack. I asked myself how I felt because I sensed I was feeling a little wonkey. There was a tremor in the force, so to speak. When I asked my mind to tell me what it was, back came the answer, “I feel insecure.”
Aside: I ask the mind what the truth is, what the original upset was, etc., and take the first thing it shoots back (not the second, third, etc.). An image, a word, a distinction. The mind behaves like an obedient servant.
I confused myself because one part of me felt safe and the other part felt insecure. What was the story here? As long as I didn’t know what the story was, I continued to feel confused and insecure.
I then distinguished between a feared external threat (unsafe) and a feared internal threat (insecure). At that point my description of it matched the truth and ding! Confusion left. Clarity returned. And I was back on an even keel.
That did not take a lot of time.
That certainly showed me that it was possible these days to process an upset more quickly than before.
However I decided to go through a further thought process with it. I’m holding an inquiry into the vasana (or core issue) of insecurity itself.
What am I feeling insecure about?
I have this vague sense that my entire worldview is going to collapse. (Sensibly thinking, I don’t believe it will. But this is my fear.)
I attribute the thought to the many channeled messages that predict that quite shocking revelations are coming and few will be spared a degree of agony. I have no sense that I’ll escape it.
It’s happened once before when my guru of 25 years turned out to be a pedophile. The floor dropped out of my world.
I recently went through the exercise of totally reorganizing my apartment. It demonstrated to me that there aren’t many “things” I’m attached to. But my worldview, yes, I am.
If we’re starting to explode my worldview, well, now you’re hitting me where I hurt. I’ve given up a great deal in my lifetime to be permitted to research and write about what you see here. Don’t attack that.
These are the thoughts running through my mind.
I’m going through the five stages of grieving for something that hasn’t even happened yet.
This isn’t going to be about just rearranging the deck chairs, I suspect. This I’m attached to.
So, OK, next challenge: How do I prepare myself to let go of my entire worldview, just to be ready in case disaster happens?
The answer came instantaneously. There are always two sides to a conversation. When your speaking is no longer appropriate because your worldview has just collapsed, switch to listening mode. (How many times have I said this to others?) (1)
Don’t try to present a comprehensible worldview when your own has just been deposited in the cosmic waste basket. You’re back in Grade One with an adult mind this time. You should speed along but you’re not there yet.
Don’t pretend you are. What did you write back in 1978? I’m invisible only to myself? Etc. Everyone else sees you. They’re just being polite. So don’t hide behind a mask. Be ye’self.
Thank you, mind.
Message in a bottle. No battle plan survives the first hour of battle. But there’s my plan should my worldview collapse.
(1) And yes, this is my beachhead of understanding.