I remember as a child out in the world making some bad decisions. I've hurt myself, pretty seriously, but fortunately never encountered anything which permanently damaged me... that I could tell. The point in all of those choices, which lead me to shoplift, lie, cheat, manipulate and so on was that I knew better. Oh I might try to cling to the excuse that I didn't, but looking back I know I did. At some point I couldn't hear that little voice telling me not to anymore. At some point I became accustomed to the pit in my stomach which used to be a real indicator of danger or of wrong.
I thought about that for some time. How did it get so quiet? How did I walk so far away from this guiding force and what was it?
Over time it simply became easier to make choices I wanted over what was the right choice. It was difficult to have the self discipline to say no, or to make the right choice. I observed adults and the way they carefully fabricated not just a story, but an elaborate scene to justify their choice. The world was my oyster! I have a great imagination and I can work themes together to form a scene, I can get what ever I want! I did just that. I explored the depths of my self. As my friends were using a magnifying glass to rupture the stomach of a frog pinned to a cactus I observed my inner turmoil. I hated what they were doing, and I hated them to some extent as well. I wanted them to like me so badly. I looked up to them, they had it all together; so together in fact that they weren't trapped by the proverbial angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. I was. I didn't take any part in torturing that frog when I was 7 or 8. I observed the whole scene without saying one single word. That voice was quieter after that day. It was screaming at me to say something, or run away, to do anything but sit and watch. I sat and watched the entire event unfold. I was disgusted with myself but I did what I saw those guys do, I shoved it down, back or away. I could see the agony in their eyes as they laughed at the frog, and then the look was gone and the laughter changed. One by one they all signed off and soon it wasn't just the leader who looked deranged, they all did. I walked home after the first frog and before any of the others were flung at the paddle cactus to pin it. There were many other instances just like this one where I turned away to some degree from that voice that had always helped me. When it wasn't helping me fit in or be cool it wasn't worth listening to. And so it became more and more quiet; harder and harder to hear until it was nothing more than a slight blip on my radar. I knew what I wanted to be and I set out to become it. I changed my mind over and over again as new information, fads, genres became available. The voice was non-existent during all of this. Only huge steps away from myself could spark the voice to show. I heard it later in life when I was hitting my wife and kids "to make them better people", but only barely and not enough to make me stop. Later, in the silence of my insomnia I would hear that voice asking why. Why do I do these things? How can I stop? I would appease the voice and fall asleep knowing full well, in some deep place, that the cycle was going to continue. Why though, really? Looking back, why didn't I just understand? I knew at the time that I was full of bologna but still I didn't listen. I couldn't accept the magnitude of who I had become.
You see I had spent a lifetime having walked away from that voice and had built my life's character. It was my Frankencool, an amalgamation of all I thought was hip and popular and still liked. Funny how being a part of a group more often than not means who you aren't than who you are.
Brick by brick I built my walls by stepping away from that voice and then marveled at how life had separated me. I still didn't understand. Until one day when everything fell apart and I was left shattered by my own actions and choices. I was left floating in blackness and I only had myself for company. I was a jerk and I didn't even like myself. With everything removed there was nothing to gauge "cool" against. Slowly the lies of who I had manufactured began to fade away. I was left naked and still floating in blackness. Soon that body I identified as me faded too. I was nothing but an awareness. There was no time, there was no space. There was no future and there was no past. I was nothing and I was perfect, just as I was meant to be. I felt whole, oddly enough, being nothing. It felt right and I felt good. There were things I had done which I had to atone for, but that was alright because I was still me.
As I slowly, very slowly, started to piece my life back together it settled into my consciousness, this jewel which set me free. My wife and kids came back. I managed to not lose the house. My life wasn't over like I thought it would be.
I realized that the little voice I had worked so hard to ignore was actually me. I was confused and I thought that it was some singing cricket maybe, but certainly not my true self. Have you ever wondered if you could go back in time would your former self listen to your future self? The bad news is no, we wouldn't because it's happening to all of us every day and so very many of us ignore it. When you think of your future self from the perspective of now, of who you are; because that is all many of us can identify with, you think of a person with all the answers and information. You think of a person who can successfully navigate the situation to the correct outcome. We have that now but ignore it because we don't know what or who it is. You can call it whatever you like but it's still you.
It sucks getting the answer so late in the game. There is so much to undo, to atone for. For many the job is too tall, too much. How can being your true self be too much? How can you expect to find true happiness when you aren't true? I asked myself all of this. I looked back on my life and my choices and I saw it.
The voice was me all along shouting down a well to this person, this Frankencool who kept insisting on not only not climbing out, but diving into the depths to make it deeper. There I was outside of time and space, this true and perfect self, shouting into the well of life while Frankencool tried on new bits of moss trying to impress his imaginary friends... who were all stuck in a well also.
I had to define myself, to myself as not being that person; that Frankenperson. I had to accept that until I acknowledged this fact I was still him. I had to draw a line and vow to never become him again. Then I had to love and accept him... that was the key. That was the rope used to pull him from that well. I am one person who exists both in that well of life and outside of it in the nothingness. The more I keep myself in tune by not stepping away from my higher self the more I can feel that connection; that lifeline. The voice was me, giving me advice from a future/past which existed outside of time and space. I told myself I would listen.
Your true and perfect self exists outside of everything you believe to be "real". Everything "real" is impermanent, you are not. You will exist after this life and all that will be left will be a stack of choices which, when averaged together, will equal you in this life. You have the power now to align yourself. No one can shout down your well but you. Are you listening?
I thought about that for some time. How did it get so quiet? How did I walk so far away from this guiding force and what was it?
Over time it simply became easier to make choices I wanted over what was the right choice. It was difficult to have the self discipline to say no, or to make the right choice. I observed adults and the way they carefully fabricated not just a story, but an elaborate scene to justify their choice. The world was my oyster! I have a great imagination and I can work themes together to form a scene, I can get what ever I want! I did just that. I explored the depths of my self. As my friends were using a magnifying glass to rupture the stomach of a frog pinned to a cactus I observed my inner turmoil. I hated what they were doing, and I hated them to some extent as well. I wanted them to like me so badly. I looked up to them, they had it all together; so together in fact that they weren't trapped by the proverbial angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. I was. I didn't take any part in torturing that frog when I was 7 or 8. I observed the whole scene without saying one single word. That voice was quieter after that day. It was screaming at me to say something, or run away, to do anything but sit and watch. I sat and watched the entire event unfold. I was disgusted with myself but I did what I saw those guys do, I shoved it down, back or away. I could see the agony in their eyes as they laughed at the frog, and then the look was gone and the laughter changed. One by one they all signed off and soon it wasn't just the leader who looked deranged, they all did. I walked home after the first frog and before any of the others were flung at the paddle cactus to pin it. There were many other instances just like this one where I turned away to some degree from that voice that had always helped me. When it wasn't helping me fit in or be cool it wasn't worth listening to. And so it became more and more quiet; harder and harder to hear until it was nothing more than a slight blip on my radar. I knew what I wanted to be and I set out to become it. I changed my mind over and over again as new information, fads, genres became available. The voice was non-existent during all of this. Only huge steps away from myself could spark the voice to show. I heard it later in life when I was hitting my wife and kids "to make them better people", but only barely and not enough to make me stop. Later, in the silence of my insomnia I would hear that voice asking why. Why do I do these things? How can I stop? I would appease the voice and fall asleep knowing full well, in some deep place, that the cycle was going to continue. Why though, really? Looking back, why didn't I just understand? I knew at the time that I was full of bologna but still I didn't listen. I couldn't accept the magnitude of who I had become.
You see I had spent a lifetime having walked away from that voice and had built my life's character. It was my Frankencool, an amalgamation of all I thought was hip and popular and still liked. Funny how being a part of a group more often than not means who you aren't than who you are.
Brick by brick I built my walls by stepping away from that voice and then marveled at how life had separated me. I still didn't understand. Until one day when everything fell apart and I was left shattered by my own actions and choices. I was left floating in blackness and I only had myself for company. I was a jerk and I didn't even like myself. With everything removed there was nothing to gauge "cool" against. Slowly the lies of who I had manufactured began to fade away. I was left naked and still floating in blackness. Soon that body I identified as me faded too. I was nothing but an awareness. There was no time, there was no space. There was no future and there was no past. I was nothing and I was perfect, just as I was meant to be. I felt whole, oddly enough, being nothing. It felt right and I felt good. There were things I had done which I had to atone for, but that was alright because I was still me.
As I slowly, very slowly, started to piece my life back together it settled into my consciousness, this jewel which set me free. My wife and kids came back. I managed to not lose the house. My life wasn't over like I thought it would be.
I realized that the little voice I had worked so hard to ignore was actually me. I was confused and I thought that it was some singing cricket maybe, but certainly not my true self. Have you ever wondered if you could go back in time would your former self listen to your future self? The bad news is no, we wouldn't because it's happening to all of us every day and so very many of us ignore it. When you think of your future self from the perspective of now, of who you are; because that is all many of us can identify with, you think of a person with all the answers and information. You think of a person who can successfully navigate the situation to the correct outcome. We have that now but ignore it because we don't know what or who it is. You can call it whatever you like but it's still you.
It sucks getting the answer so late in the game. There is so much to undo, to atone for. For many the job is too tall, too much. How can being your true self be too much? How can you expect to find true happiness when you aren't true? I asked myself all of this. I looked back on my life and my choices and I saw it.
The voice was me all along shouting down a well to this person, this Frankencool who kept insisting on not only not climbing out, but diving into the depths to make it deeper. There I was outside of time and space, this true and perfect self, shouting into the well of life while Frankencool tried on new bits of moss trying to impress his imaginary friends... who were all stuck in a well also.
I had to define myself, to myself as not being that person; that Frankenperson. I had to accept that until I acknowledged this fact I was still him. I had to draw a line and vow to never become him again. Then I had to love and accept him... that was the key. That was the rope used to pull him from that well. I am one person who exists both in that well of life and outside of it in the nothingness. The more I keep myself in tune by not stepping away from my higher self the more I can feel that connection; that lifeline. The voice was me, giving me advice from a future/past which existed outside of time and space. I told myself I would listen.
Your true and perfect self exists outside of everything you believe to be "real". Everything "real" is impermanent, you are not. You will exist after this life and all that will be left will be a stack of choices which, when averaged together, will equal you in this life. You have the power now to align yourself. No one can shout down your well but you. Are you listening?
