Trapped in a Box of Stone

I am taking a 7 week course called Feminine Power. We have all made a commitment sharing on the Facebook-group-site from our power: “I commit to make every effort to show up in the group in ways that are aligned with this story of myself as a powerful creator, while at the same time making room for my own vulnerability and imperfections.”

My first longer post was moderated – and they let me know that it had to be MUCH more written from power.

It took me 14 days to find their post to me at Messenger – and their answers have been later than they promised – so this all has contributed to bringing me into an age old state of mind. I chose to look at it as The Universe’s way of arranging all for the best for me. Which I truly believe is true – looking at it with Christ’s vision.

I found that part inside that was in agony at being “ignored”,  outcast, black sheep, left out, feeling hopeless, powerless and angry at God and then herself, for surely she was  at fault for something.

When I found her in the body – this deeply separated identity – I saw her inside a stone-room- like the one Hildegard von Bingen sat in for years, by her own choice – to find God completely. What an exquisite metaphor for the ego thought system:  first we play with the thought “ what if we were on our own and created outside God/Love –” and then, in the shock of being in the utter darkness of lovelessness, guilt, shame and fear is born. Now there seems to be a small I who has to go through eons of years of struggle and suffering to reach the original Knowing  of Who we are. –while the truth is always only a choice away: I choose LOVE now.

I ask her two questions only: “What do you feel” and “what do you need” – and say back  “ I see/hear that you…” I want this old part not to have”comfort” – I want her to KNOW that I hear her without the slightest twinge of judgment – since this is what has worked best for ME in  life and therapy.

At first, I felt with breath and allowance the tremendous agony of living in that stone box for ever as a prisoner, left there to die  (not as Hildegard.)  When this inner part of me at least felt free to express the indescribable anger, venom and hatred at God – “for not thinking she suffered “enough” to be saved – it was a formidable breakthrough, the body was filled with light and tender warmth. Then the next step – to realize that it was really herself she hated and judged – for having failed God’s commands.

Now – I have been raised a Christian – so anybody who has been exposed to those dogmas of a wrathful and vengeful God have these beliefs deeply rooted in our mind: God sets standards and we must be punished for our own good. I recognize how much that belief has craved evidence for itself in my life –  that’s what beliefs do! If I feel unworthy, it is because somebody has projected on me  their own feeling of unworthiness and inadequacy – “ I am WRONG all through.” And so we go through life living it FROM this belief, and  therefore have it mirrored back at us everywhere –  as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Any belief we hold does that – crave evidence for its reality. And we believe it is OUR reality – not just a false thought, believed in.

So my interest has been to find the common archetypes we all are driven by, and finding the “me” at the bottom of them needing to speak her truth and be heard and loved WITH those feelings.

At one point this night, I /she truly SAW how important it was for her to be RIGHT about her perception as being a victim and unjustly treated by God – since the opposite would have meant that the story she had told about herself and given tremendous meaning to, was really based on that God had dumped her and judged her and punished her atrociously in this life

All my suffering has come from IDENTIFYING with her / her story – calling it me and mine.

We are all formidable creators of our life – exactly the way it has turned out: something in our soul has chosen to explore exactly THIS horror you are going through – since you cannot love what you have not first embraced. And we cannot embrace as long as we judge. My childhood with group rape at age four – endless years with abuse and nobody willing to see and comfort – has led me step for step to embracing all of it.  I have truly seen that inside each horrible act from a predator, there is a terrified child believing in unworthiness and guilt – endless ancestral patterns brought forward to us and through us. Through this we are being trained well to find the places where we have – at least – WANTED to murder and torture another. Are you with me?  🙂  Forgiving ourselves for -at least –having rented space for those thoughts in our mind – forgiving ourselves for allowing them in –  allows for The Holy Spirit’s loving energy and thoughts to replace our old “tenants.

I dreamed that Stone Chamber up. – Now I can choose again – being truly forgiving of how much “me-power” there has been in this creation, and therefore how tenaciously parts of me hang on to it.

Finding them all, allowing them to come through in storytelling and playfulness is what I have been created  to help others to do – finding their own  creativity, playfulness and vast resources of healing.

What I love most is that its not possible to make anything “wrong.” When I meet wrong with play, healing and huge laughter happens

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Creating our fears

Reminders from Julius:  (Italics my comments)

About traumas: The very purpose of trauma is to change us, to expand us. The most binding element in a trauma is the human habit to go back to the way it was before.

We have orchestrated this trauma, as Source – for a transformational purpose.To grow – to expand. (Example of traumas leading to growth, and even awakening: cancer. The trauma crushes the illusionary identification you believe to be.

What helped create the trauma in the first place is our insistence of visualizing disasters that we then have to prepare of. When we read about disasters we immediately go into preparation-mood for finding out what to do in case such a think should happen to us – and it is exactly this by this way of preparation  we are conjuring  our fears –  by preparing to avoid them.

The last is seen as completely true. What a waste of energy – and how i have practiced this! It’s like I have used a whole life to prepare how to behave if something like the original trauma should ever happen again. Now I will just look at those thoughts when they come and be willing to let them go for good.

It is not about getting over things – it is about getting through them.

The anger,resistance self-hatred and fear is another way of being Source.

Seen from Truth, there has been no damage done to you. The only damage that seems to have happened is seen from a human perception.

I’d like you to envision a completely white room  – no windows, no people, no mirrors. Find out what is going on within you when you enter it.

Waking up in the shower

In the shower, I sense chaos subsiding, energies align with clarity.I sense the aura purring like a cat who is stroked. I am aware of some very clear thoughts:

The suffering child/me – and my whole childhood –  is a projection. The memory of the violated suffering little child me is in this moment seen as a construct of ego. I have told myself that I must never betray her, as she was betrayed – meaning I must keep “her” close so I can be there for her if she falls into panic or psychoses. Now I SEE that if I withdraw my investment in the belief that she is ME and that it happened in REALITY, the whole story crumbles and evaporates. There simply IS no “me” to save.

What has given her reality – brought that story into flesh and emotions and vulnerability and victim-hood and me and other, is ONLY  the Holy Son of God’s  choice for the possibility of separation. That choice is taken with the free will that God gave His Son – and so it is manifested.

As the water strokes the aura, I know in gratitude and release that in Truth, there is no suffering, no separation, no victims and predators – there is a false belief in guilt and sin projected into the separated fragments of the One Son. I am not leaving “her” – betraying her – there is no HER other than in my constructed story of separation. I can turn of the projector – I am willing to see clearly.

*

Writing the last sentence, this poem by Thich Nhat Hanh comes to mind.

Please Call Me by My True Names

I have a poem for you. This poem is about three of us.
The first is a twelve-year-old girl, one of the boat
people crossing the Gulf of Siam. She was raped by a
sea pirate, and after that she threw herself into the
sea. The second person is the sea pirate, who was born
in a remote village in Thailand. And the third person
is me. I was very angry, of course. But I could not take
sides against the sea pirate. If I could have, it would
have been easier, but I couldn’t. I realized that if I
had been born in his village and had lived a similar life
– economic, educational, and so on – it is likely that I
would now be that sea pirate. So it is not easy to take
sides. Out of suffering, I wrote this poem. It is called
“Please Call Me by My True Names,” because I have many names,
and when you call me by any of them, I have to say, “Yes.”

Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

http://www.spiritualnow.com/

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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