Beauty

Today, from “When Fear Comes Home to Love:” Beauty . Case-story.

4 Looking with love / 2006

When Maria arrived for session, I sensed a shock in her system. When I directed her attention to that, she immediately became ice-cold. We found out what year the shock had occurred, and she realized that this was a shock she had picked up from her mother. The shock was lodged in her sexual organs. She remembered that her mother had been very anxious in those years, and that her fear had been about having another baby – she already had three. So she aborted the fourth one.

When we removed the emotional shock-charge, she felt warmth and release, and we both felt grounding and safety.

But Mud did not like this. “What if this does not last? What if tomorrow everything is like before? I will NOT let down my guard. Nope! You can’t make me!”

Now I asked Maria to speak for the skeptic Mud, and inside me I suddenly found much love for this voice: I saw it as the part of us that vigilantly did what we had ordered it to do: look out for anything that could set off the original dreadful life-threatening shock – going into the familiar role of terrorized victim. So we started with thanking Mud for his love and loyalty for us – and suggested that now that we had found a method that could remove the charge from the shock, Mud could go into pension – or at least get some holidays. “He” thought a bit about that, but was afraid to disappear if he didn’t work as much as before. When I asked him what he really would love to do for himself, if he could chose, he told us that he loved beauty. I invited him, via Maria, out into my garden, to pick one living thing of beauty and bring it back with him. From the door to the garden “he” spotted it immediately: a dandelion. It was one of the not- perfect-ones, but beautiful all the same. Maria picked it and brought it back into the room. When she sat down, I “saw” Maria’s deceased mother pointing to Maria’s black purse on the floor, asking her to look inside. I mentioned it to Maria, and she started looking – nothing – and then a big smile: “Here it is. At the bottom.” She managed to list out a bunch of keys. “These are the keys to my childhood-house.”

Beautiful metaphor: “I have the key to my childhood with me / within me.”

Now I asked Maria to write a short text about her experience with the beauty of the dandelion. She wrote:

“When I look at you – the weed – I see beauty. But I also look at all the weed in my own life, stuff in relationships that is really looking like a mess. All this is beautiful when I look at it with love.”

I thought of Victor Frankl, the great writer who survived concentration-camp by realizing that there is one freedom the despots can never take away from us – the freedom of choosing our attitude. Looking with LOVE – or judgment.

Suddenly Maria exclaims “Look – here is a tiny snail, it came with the flower!” We admire the tiniest snail I ever saw – it looks new-born, its little house still transparent. Its tiny antlers are moving, and it is slowly crawling over Maria’s notes from the session. Now it stopped – I wonder what word it has stopped by – it is “beauty.” Good choice for a resting place. There it moves on – away from beauty – but no, it changes its mind and crawls back to beauty. And pulls the antlers in (2mm long) and sleeps.

This is what we call “beauty-sleep.” (Couldn’t resist).

The World Biggest Eye Contact Experience-day

Yesterday I did something I did NOT want to do. I fretted about it the whole night, Mudmonster ( one of the ten fear and defense-patterns I explore and describe in When Fear Comes Home to Love) played up any conceivable disaster possible ( and impossible) of all the ways I would be caught and attacked and stalked for the rest of my life.

It had to do with what I had enlisted for: showing up for this:

The World Biggest Eye Contact Experiment Day.One minute eye contact with “foreigners.”

The ones who showed up, brought chair/plaids/pillows, sat down and made it clear that we were available.

Toward morning I felt really terrible, and all the same, as I got out of bed, still being willing to NOT let this fear stop me, I got suggestions for how  to see this day: I would actively look for  beauty in everything I saw – and everyone.

Then I read a message on Facebook from The Leader of the Liberators, Peter Sharp ( which I had msg’d the evening before to ask what we do if we don’t like what we feel when we look at the other: )

“The best way to stop is to slowly close your eyes and bow to the other person 🙂 all the best!”

I realized that if I sensed something “dark”, it was meant for me to see and recognize as something unforgiven in my mind, and so I would thank the other inwardly for mirroring it back to me.  And that was it – the fear energies slowly abated, and I had the most amazing meeting and connection with people I had never seen, who chose me for an eye-contact-partner. Some cried, but most smiled and smiled and hugged – and each one was a gift for me, who demonstrated that not ONE of Mudmonster’s threats came true.

And then came the great finale: I was packing up to leave, and turned around – and there sat a radiant being I had not noticed before. S/he was smiling so big to me that all defenses just melted. I remember unruly black curly wavy hair, that no hairdresser had ever been in touch with – dark radiant eyes which brimmed with love and acceptance – of ME! Completely  free from fear or pretense. So I suggested we did a last eye-to-eye with each other – and from the second we sat down and looked, the smiling took over, the joy felt like an inner avalanche.

We hugged and hugged. And hugged. You know, those hugs where there is nothing in between at all. Pure joy and surrender.

And I don’t knwo what happened, but i hugged my fellow group who had showed up for this ( we were nine) and afterwards I forgot the One I had hugged – because s/he was simply not there.

Soon after I left, I saw a very young girl who was selling a magazine. She was drugged out of all proportions, looked like 15, pale as a moon, eyes big as plates, and an expression of complete hopelessness.

I felt so bad, I passed her. The I saw her again, and had a long conversation with myself why I did not have to give her anything.Then I turned around and found her. I gave her a ten -pounder and looked deeply into her eyes, and the words came: “This is only for YOU. No for anybody else. I believe in you! I want you to have a good life!#

She said nothing, and eyes were enormous. I asked her if she wanted a hug – and as I repeated it, she nodded  and we hugged.

And I tell you – and myself, here and now – that it felt just as good as the hug I described first.

*

Here is a BLUE*** IS PLAYING from “When Fear Comes Home to Love:”

Blue is playing:

My daughter is playing the piano. Looking at her and listening, I hear voices in my head:  the voices of my husband and my father, preaching and patronizing: “Don’t hold your elbow like that. Not so fast. Not so strong. Not like that, like this!!”

With a yawn of release  I recognize that I needed this voice as a child: if I did things “right”, I had at least an illusion of safety. In the middle of chaos, this was something to hold on to: a sort of rules of conduct. A tightrope walker’s rope to safety.

I realize that of course I subconsciously have transmitted the same preaching –  “control is SAFE” – to my daughter. When she tells me (in these precise words) “I don’t need you to preach to me to make me safe any longer”, I sense the energetic release: huge.

She turns on the TV. There a man sings:

“Papa, don’t preach!”

Many years later, my editor tells me that this song comes from Madonna’s TRUE BLUE album. [1]

[1]“Papa Don’t Preach” written by Brian Elliot & Madonna, originally produced by Stephen Bray for Madonna’s TRUE BLUE album, 1986http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papa_Don’t_Preach

 

 

Painting the devil on the wall

This habit has been hard to water out – I have a chapter on this pattern in my book “When fear comes home to Love” called “Mudmonster” –  but at 69, it is  just so transparent now that it will soon be gone for good. Whenever it still pops up, it is fairly easy to spot it and truly realize that it is just a thought from the ego thought-system – an echo of something I once called me –

when it happened twice today, I immediately “took a step back” and just allowed the energy to BE there – forgave my choice for it – and started to smile

It felt amazingly pleasant to do what Kit and I explored together recently: just hang out with the energy and allowing it be and do whatever it pleased, knowing it could not harm Who I am, and that it would flow into being when not manipulated at all

Mudmonster-voices

Mud-monster is one of the inner archetypes on Dream-Cards, created by  Strephon Kaplan Williams. Mud always paints up the worst scenario,and uses threats and blame to control us. The illustration on the card is a brown heap of mud with eyes hungry for disaster. This night I fully believed him – but now I have let him out of the house.

As always with my journey, after the light has been received the attacks come. The night was filled with voices who constantly looked for stuff to be worried/angry/upset/hateful/scared about. Ego grabbed them all hard to its body(which I believe belong to me) and I could hardly breathe with all those elephants on my chest.

So I got up, ate almonds and blueberry-juice and looked at a DVD I had just borrowed at the library, where two singularly not-inspired actors – the otherwise brilliant William Hurt and Juliette Binoche – played awkwardly and stilted. The script was trying to be intellectually SO IN and I cringed as I watched.

I was starting to see myself in a “bad script” also  – and when I read the day’s lesson in the Workbook – no 68,”Love holds no grievances” I saw that the avalanche of mind-stuff that was hurled at me last night came from heavy grievances – me attacking me for having failed at achieving enlightenment again. I should have, shouldn’t I?

At last, now in the peaceful morning light  in front of my fireplace, I turned toward the attacking voices in my mind, and asked to be able to see them with love. I saw our family’s – and most of the world’s voices too – litany:  the only way you learn is the hard way – and being scolded and told you’re an idiot is very good for making yourself improve. Whip whip whip. And behind the whip is terror.

I think this common and collective belief is a strong glue which holds the world together.

I have kept the demeaning voices in place by subconsciously believing that they are helpful. I can let go of  the belief that this is a helpful belief. This is not “the way I learn:” it is the way a “me” is maintained. Could I let go of the decision to holding grievances for myself? Yes I could and I forgive it and let it go

Love holds no grievances

I am that Love, and nothing else is True

Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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