The last two days has been filled with intensely unpleasant feelings concerning a situation between a writer and me. I was asked to read his text, and “something” seemed to place itself as a veil between his text and me: I saw it as dreadful. He asked me to be honest, so I tried my best to convey my impression that he might use other expressions than poetry. He answered in a way that made it clear that he had read my suggestions through a filter. And a very paranoid one.
There was an initial shock in the nervous system – and then the insight came that this was a classroom. I have struggled with severe paranoia so many times myself in the past – and am well aware that the perception becomes completely thwarted. Also, I reminded myself that what I was seeing was my own denied paranoia projected outward – and that I had a vested interest in seeing him as crazy and paranoid, and myself as the calm and sane one.
I sensed a clear decision: enough is enough. This is an idea in the mind that comes up to be corrected. I am not responsible for the error, only for the willingness for the error to be corrected. When the decision was made, I could see the man clearer – and see the craziness as a sign of deep held denied beliefs of being guilty and in grave danger of being hit by the wrath of God.
My heart opened wide. I saw the whole scenario as a great opportunity to forgive myself for dreaming these ideas and for using them to firmly establish separation. The willingness to have the pattern corrected was felt very strong: I was so very willing to be wrong about the perception of God as an avenger.
I was uniting with the guy in a sweet feeling of being embraced by Love. I felt gratitude for this situation coming up to be forgiven and healed.
Next morning – today – it seemed like it was seeping back again. And another part of me knows in absolute certainty that even though it does not feel like it, when I asked for help in healing this yesterday, IT WAS DONE.
Now I just need to accept the healing. And there are stages in the healing: this morning I saw, in my astonishment, how important I had made my childhood suffering: it certainly set me apart from many others. And I could also see, in a sweet and loving way, that somehow this girl found a story to believe in that kept her alive – and also kept the wound alive.
Today, I see that I start to dis-identify from “the girl” – it is a memory connected to certain beliefs, kept alive by me identifying with them – but they have no reality. And there was this strong sadness as recognizing that I was willing to give up my need for this old “specialness:” Olympics in suffering, Gold Medal.”
I really would rather be happy. And have a great respect for the process I am being led through. Yesterday evening I saw a film about – among other things -Butoh-dancing: “Cherryblossoms.” The young Japanese girl teaches the old widower about shadow-dance: allowing our shadow to express itself through movement, instead of rotting in trivia. I was dancing this morning, a very suitable music in the background from the radio. When it ended, the announcer said: “And this was “Dancing with shadows.”
I know. It sound completely too much.
But there it is