To “source” it means to flatten it, complete it, experience it through until it disappears.
In this particular situation, the owner of another blog made allegations against me which were unflattering and false. It doesn’t matter what the allegations are or who made them. You’re probably not the slightest bit interested in “he said, she said.”
But the upshot for me was that I felt indignant. I felt self-righteous, belligerent, and justified. How many know what that feels like?
And my natural inclination was to go on the attack, destroy my credibility, but get my pound of flesh.
But the important thing was a “sleeping volcano” had gone off. A vasana had re-awakened. I was reactivated. Whoopeee!!
You can’t flatten a vasana while it’s sleeping. It has to go off to be available. So now my vasana of self-righteousness had gone off and I could source it. Oh, how wonderful. One less vasana. If I source all my vasanas, I’ll become again like a child, fit to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Or to ascend. (You actually don’t have to flatten all your vasanas to ascend.) (1)
Well, that’s inducement enough for me. Where do I start? I’ve already identified the feeling: Self-righteousness. That’s the first step.
The next step is to ask the mind to mirror back what incident lies at the root of this vasana and take the first word, sound, image, or impression I get.
Immediately I hear a noise and I begin to cry. I know that noise. That’s the sound of my father clobbering my mother. He hit her so hard she dropped to the floor and I hear a “clump.”
On one side of that sound I’m an adorable cherub (I’m exaggerating). On the other side, I’m Attila the Hun.
Fast forward through a life of triggering events and me slaying dragons, rescuing women, and vanquishing the bullying and the unjust. Toss in a time of deciding refugee claims and calling rescuing women “an interest in gender issues.” Throw in a theme of serving an archangel, if you like. Rubbish! It’s all Attila the Hun.
This is a vasana. This is me on automatic, slaying to the right, slaying to the left, and putting my foot on the chest of the vanquished.
So what to do now? Here I am crying at the recollection of that sound.
So I allow myself to cry. I cry for my mother. I cry for my lost childhood. I cry for all the women of the world who’ve been beaten, had acid thrown in their face, been raped, been killed. I cry for a young boy who felt helpless and hopeless.
I cry and cry. And I allow myself all the time I need. I feel the stored-up sorrow in my face, neck, and shoulders. I hear myself say, “I can’t help you now, Mom, but I will help you some day.” On and on the memories flood.
And then finally the tears begin to end. The sorrow lifts. The situation begins to ebb from my mind. It disappears.
I may not have flattened the vasana this one time but through repeated experiences of it I will.
This is what I recommend to anyone who tells me: I hate my husband. I’m not worthy of Ascension. I must have done something evil because I’m so plagued with illness and debilitation.
Source the vasana. Flatten the incomplete experience. Go back in time. Stand at the bedside of that child you once were, that parent who mistreated you, that friend who deserted you. Re-experience what you were too young, helpless and afraid to experience. Free yourself from these sleeping volcanoes, when they arise. Don’t take it out on someone else, someone who wasn’t there then and has nothing to do with the real cause of your upset feelings.
So the owner of the blogsite can say what she wishes. She has her own cross to bear. I want to be free of my vasanas, not go deeper into them.
I don’t want to reinforce them with my outbursts now. I don’t want to re-energize them and add fresh layers to them.
When I feel a vasana arise, I want to experience it through to completion. I want my innocence back.
Footnotes
(1) “You do not need to be one hundred percent healed and whole emotionally and spiritually in order to ascend. … We can work miracles with each of you. This is our intention.” (Sananada in Eric Klein, The Crystal Stair. Livermore: Oughten Hosue Publications, 1992; c1990, 34.)