We are about rhythms…cycles. This is my time to align with Death and start our story. Besides, Death is withholding sleep from me (like a woman withholding sex) till I start to write.
I now know how to start my story. I know how to bring it down to earth via humor and science and a wee bit of reality. I will weave a thread through the mundane, the extreme…the fiction into a tapestry. A memoir.
When to start? Now you say? I say naw. I say Samhain is in 16 days and is far too timely to ignore. I have a lump of guilt stuck in my chest that I must release. I must manifest shields in regards to my gift/curse as empath, that has been found to be stealthy, stealing into my communications. I need see via my own filters, not whom ever I am communicating with. My guilt has riddled me with holes that I wish to fill with my intent for a future of my own making.
Practice makes perfect in regards to shields against insidious guilt laying about in my mind. When I ponder what my mother, what my sons…even Terri may say about my book, I start to feel from them my failure to succeed, which downgrades what was my absolute knowing that I will attain success.
I recently met two women that have said my future is that of a Star, that f I were to get out of my own way, I would need to get used to attention on the level of celebrity. My initial response is to dismiss the idea via bashfulness….ah-shucks. Or, I simply act in disbelieve. This is my lie. I know who I am, I just refuse to take my post.
Am I afraid because I have empathically taken on my loved ones view of me being a failure? My suicidal ideology spirals with voices whispering: I have no job (failure), no home of my own (failure), I start new pie in the sky like ideals of me that I soon lose interest in (failure). Into the mix comes shame over the likely loss of my temper and my going for the verbal jugular (failure). The list is endless as to the ways this empathic sludge has bled into my world view.
No comments:
Post a Comment