September 11, 2023
Somewhere, a cosmic trickster is smiling. I’ve been put on notice that resentment is blocking my way to wellness. My first reaction to this assessment is how much I resent it.
*****
Given my epic case of ennui, I can’t muster enough interest to pick apart this Gordian knot. After a few moments of grumpy contemplation, I zeroed in on my likely conclusion, no matter how long it would take to arrive there.
I cut through the Gordian knot of overanalysis. It split open cleanly, leaving at its center the pure golden heart of sunlight, Universe, God, higher self.
I’m done with struggling. I want relief from resentment? I’ll just ask. Granted, that means that arriving at peace with the (no doubt completely justifiable) causes of resentment has to be more important than engaging in the why me, it’s not fair dance.
*****
It’s humbling, and annoying, to find one’s character flaws listed in the “patterns of imbalance” of a flower, including feeling that life is unfair, and harboring resentment. When my TCM practitioner handed me one of her flower essence resource books, opened to Willow flower, I felt like I’d been zinged by the Universe. “Yep, that’s me,” I admitted sheepishly.
A little further down, my eye snagged on the observation that for Willow types, the aging process is exceptionally difficult. More truth from the page of a book. Sinking lower into my chair, I nodded when she suggested I take a copy, and read the description every day. As health-enhancing assignments go, that seemed pretty easy.
Despite my knee-jerk resentment reaction, I’ll give it a go.
*****
My lifelong method of dealing with puzzles, finding out what my soul is trying to tell me, and working through stumbling blocks and discomforts, is to write. And write, and write. Reams of journal pages.
I may write some more about this. But, since I already know the kernel at the center of the resentment, there’s no need. It can be summed up as: of course I am resentful, I believe I’ve deliberately been made vulnerable to disease and ensnared in a needlessly painful aging process by planetary controllers who feed off of our misery. Never mind karma, I’m convinced that humanity’s suffering has not all been by soul choice.
What’s not to resent? Some spiritual scholars opine that humanity has been misused and abused for millennia, up to and including trapping us in many more suffering-saturated lifetimes than strictly necessary to fulfill individual karma.
Fine. Now what? I see zero benefit in exploring and analyzing that. I do not know, I cannot know, if the dark controllers done us wrong is an accurate narrative, and if it is, to what degree.
Which brings me back to the gold at the heart of my Gordian knot. Sunlight, universal truth, God. Peace. Whatever the cause of this resentment, however justified it might be, it’s only poisoning me to offer it a place within my being.
*****
It’s a peaceful morning. Peculiar tropical clouds decorate the sky, and I opened my eyes to the rarity of a deep pink sunrise.
The part of me that likes formalities and rituals wants to put off the resentment eradication for later, tomorrow, next week… Let me figure out how to do it, first.
The rest of me shrugs and says, just get on with it. Resentment is not like fine wine. It doesn’t get better with age.
An iridescent hummingbird visits the second blooming of the pink valerian meadow. The outside beckons. And I realize that Gaia is most willing to absorb my puddle of inner resentment. It’s a drop of darkness in the bucket of her light. She can transform that which I cannot.
Here you go, Gaia. Thanks much.
It can be, it is, that simple. I sit up tall, unconsciously straightening the spine that had drooped when reading about my flaws as mirrored by the Willow flower description. There really is no judgment out there. Only self-judgment. Perhaps Gaia would like to take that unpleasant goop as well, let it dissolve and disappear within her brightness. All I can make with it is more darkness. Gaia, she can turn it into a rainbow.
