Friday, March 4, 2011


I can have a pain in my body for a long time before I notice it. I can have a song in my head for a long time before I hear it. I can feel under subtle pressure and tension for a long time before I notice. It seems I have to enter a space of sitting and watching, as if I were to climb up on a far away ledge to get a view of a valley, before I become aware of what is happening to me and significantly, what I've been doing to myself. Many many people are waging subtle energetic warfare on each other continually on account of jealousy and resentment, and sometimes it's we ourselves who are under our own attack. How do we separate from ourselves, from all our abusive auto-mechanisms, for long enough to notice some pervasive, subtle act of fear or aggression we're staging automatically.

While meditating I saw the living fossil of the toddler in me trying so hard to accomodate the expectations of others that she'd internalized those pressures habitually in order to protect herself from any devastating outside blows. In the water of the soul swim the creatures of truth. This is one I just became aware of, again. It's a slippery one and easily wriggles out of my awareness even when I try to hold onto it and study it's dynamism. Which I'd only do if I prevent it from getting buried in the valley of the avalanches of novelties, distractions, self-consciousness and habitual hurry scurry.

In meditation I became aware that my husband and I can be much better friends. Soul friends. We have to scope the landscape of our shadows better and borrow each other's eyes from time to time to view the things we're doing to ourselves and what we do to each other. If we enter the water's of our own and each other's souls and swim.