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Chen sat on the large balcony of her penthouse apartment with her new friend Max, observing the sweeping view of the city sprawled out below them. All the city lights twinkled like stars, a far cry from the original poverty her grandparents experienced when living in their home country two generations ago. With a sigh, she began to share her story.
Growing up as the child of entrepreneurial immigrants in a high-cost, west coast, upper-class city in the U.S., Chen had internalized a survival mentality deeply rooted in the principles of capitalism. These principles came with a hefty dose of financial anxieties and lofty expectations. Leaning forward, she explained to Max how ‘the boyfriend’ she was dating had chosen a different path—one that prioritized exalted emotions and states of mind over financial security. Even as Chen leaned back into the big, fluffy couch pillows, she fully displayed the tension of so many unmet expectations. That boyfriend made significantly less money than she did, and, to her dismay, he had no intention of changing his career path or prioritizing financial growth. His complacency was like a thorn in her side, a stark contrast to her relentless drive. She found herself increasingly bored by his contentment, even as she denied the hedonistic treadmill of "more, more, more." Max could clearly see that Chen’s resolve around financial security was unwavering. For her, it was a deal breaker. She easily chose security over love, safety over relational joy, and abundance over scarcity. He recognized this in himself too, nodding his head in total agreement. She went on to defend her stance, by distinguishing opulence from abundance. "I don’t need luxury or a lavish lifestyle, but I do need a plentiful supply of all that I might need or want," she explained. "What if our child needed a special school for his great talent, and we could not afford such a thing? I just couldn’t live that way. Or, what if I needed to take time off with a pregnancy and my husband couldn’t take over the finances and keep our lifestyle afloat?" Max buzzed with a mutual confirmation of her priorities, for this was the code of his own family. As Chen sussed out her potential relationship, Max noticed her looking deflated and disappointed. It was absolutely clear that her family's way of being in this new world was to never feel lack, helpless, or financially unstable. And if they did, they would get up and do something about it—even if it meant having five jobs. He loved the way she sat up with pride and secretly loved how that seemed to be mixed with an equal dose of disgust and disdain for the boyfriend. It was clear now. Chen’s conditioning could not mesh with her boyfriend’s, no matter how generous, kind, compassionate, or loving he was. Max could not have agreed more. So, she dismissed the boyfriend from her life, feeling certain that somewhere in that big, big city, she could find someone who matched her financial ambitions and savvy. Her friend nodded in agreement, sharing Chen’s belief that there must be someone out there for him as well. Someone who understood their lived reality as a testament to the power of relentless ambition and the refusal to settle for anything less than abundance. They both leaned back and gazed at the city skyline fantasizing about the fulfillment of sacred safety as their hands slowly drifted toward each other’s.
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At the entrance to a quaint, tiny town, beneath a vast arched gateway, stood a little warrior mouse, cloaked in dreams of grandeur. Imagining himself draped in protective armor, he felt immense, a titan among his kind. His chest swelled with pride, a silent demand for admiration from the townsfolk who bustled about. In his reveries, he was not just a warrior but a feared enforcer, a figure of real power, commanding genuine respect—especially from his stern father.
The warrior mouse's home lay on the town's outskirts, a small abode crowded with his parents and a motley crew of adopted misfits. Space was scant, and tension abundant. His father, gruff and vociferous, spared no sharp word, especially for his sole remaining pup. Possessing ultrasensitive hearing, the little warrior flinched with each harsh tone, his spirit shrinking day by day, week by week, until the years weighed heavy upon his heart. Yet, in his imagination, he soared. He dreamed of being an Enforcer, a valiant defender against marauding invaders, vanquishing foes with a single, swift sweep of his sword. These fantasies infused him with a sense of power and, in his youthful mind, equated to respect. But deep down, he knew he could never enact such violence. This realization—his fate to live devoid of respect—gnawed at his very soul, even as the path laid out in the family business loomed inevitable. His fantasies were his lifeline, the spark that made him feel alive. One early morning, perched on the town’s ancient stone wall, the warrior mouse confided his dreams to his dearest friend. She was not surprised; she knew well the turmoil he faced at home. In that moment, she resolved to affirm him, to acknowledge his true self. Sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder, she leaned in gently and whispered, “My dear, dear friend, I see your strength, your uniqueness, your gift. You, being you, is enough. I celebrate you, my friend. I bow to you with respect and honor, for I know your true worth. Forever.” The warrior mouse closed his eyes, his body trembling with a flood of long-suppressed emotions. His friend said nothing, merely closing her eyes, too, offering silent support and love. Time passed, and the shaking subsided. As the first light of dawn kissed the sky, the warrior mouse felt a profound shift within. He was still a warrior, but now, a peaceful one. He no longer needed the fantasy of violence to affirm his worth. He felt valued and powerful simply by being seen for who he was. From that moment, he vowed to honor every mouse he met, bowing inwardly with respect and sharing his newfound sense of worth. In simplicity, he found his true strength, rare and precious as a dawn breaking over the tranquil town. The beautiful mermaid sat on the edge of her best friend’s ocean-side palace, her iridescent tail gently swaying with the rhythm of the waves. The horizon spread before her like a canvas, ablaze with the vivid hues of a glorious summer sunrise. Pearl, for many years, had lived her life balanced between land and sea, always close to the shore, existing in two worlds yet not entirely belonging to either. She had earned this elevated state through the accumulation of her life experiences, rising above materialism, reactive thinking, and the realms of fear and darkness. True suffering had once felt all too real for Pearl, but it no longer held power over her as she basked in the realms of inner light and love, both on land and at sea.
This morning, like many others, Pearl found herself deep in contemplation. Something had happened earlier that stirred her thoughts, something so trivial yet powerful enough to pull her back into the depths of suffering. It was curious to her, this intense reaction to seemingly nothing. Instead of pondering the event, she chose to observe her response. She recognized the familiar, angry part of herself whose motto was, “I will never get a break.” This part had shown up and gone straight to battle, hijacking her with its relentless, judgmental energy. It judged the ineptness of life and those around her, granting her the illusion of being exceptionally capable, shining in her power as she demonstrated how much she could handle. Pearl realized these moments held her, identified her, and contained her in such a way that she might at least guarantee some control. She couldn’t imagine her life flowing without such demands, and yet, it was that very flow she longed for. Until now, she had prided herself on her ability to conquer, fighting any obstacle to the end. But she was beginning to see how this quest for superiority had diverted her attention from deep presence and clarity. Her goal had been to aim for supremacy, driving not only her problem-solving antics but also her quest for spiritual grandeur. This was a monumental realization. She saw that blaming, shaming, and victimizing others in the wake of her illusory power had to stop if she were to elevate her consciousness further. Pearl gazed down at the water and saw her reflection. She saw two parts of herself: her wise, true self and the protective part that sought to shield her essence. She understood how the protective part always needed a steeper mountain to climb, while her true self had no interest in conquering the world. She longed to flow with life’s events with peace and ease. Pearl’s best friend often advised her to act differently—“Do this or that,” she would say, “and everything will be fine.” But it never worked for Pearl. Instead, she willingly welcomed the feeling of anger, choosing not to hold it in disdain or resentment, nor to merge with it entirely. She learned to relate to this part with empathy and compassion, growing to give this genius part a place in her heart for its long-time efforts. Pearl was tired, and the adrenaline needed to sustain this angry part had taken a toll on her beautiful body. Feeling mildly disheartened that it took another crisis to truly see how long this reaction had been present, Pearl relaxed back and allowed the river of thoughts to flow. She accessed space around her breath, energy, and sensations, melting the apparent boundaries of her body and that part, softening into the essence of space and nothingness. Here, she experienced a nonnegotiable peace and here she remained, so that life could flow without hooking any historic parts into action. She was deeply grateful for learning not to conquer her own protective part, but to surrender, integrate, and rise like the sun and the color of the sky. See less He sat with spine slouched and chin down, describing a vast black hole in his chest. There was an imminent threat of his being pulled in, sucked into that hole, by the pressure he self-imposes to be like his high-powered colleagues. The terror is in losing himself to a way of being that his peers demonstrate, and I mean all of them. Every single one. They have all lost their soul to their hard-earned dream job, thinking, contemplating, problem solving, fixing, all day during and after work, and even in their night dreams.
” How do I not lose myself without quitting?” “Do I become like everyone else?” “It’s my dream job and I could lose everything that is important to me!” His paralyzing, just on the verge of terror, was real, palpable, and totally disorganizing to his sense of self and it waffled between two distinct and direct messages: On the one hand, ‘If I am different than them, I won’t be accepted’ and on the other the fear shouted, ‘for God’s sake do not lose all you have come to be!’ This was both impersonal and personal for belonging was always a precarious status for the young engineer. The fear was so imposing as his job was earned after the years of study that his parents had insisted on so that he could be a good citizen and earn his belonging in the family. And his fear screamed of his rebellion to claim his right to be in all the ways that he had discovered throughout his life. He did not want to throw the baby out with the bath water so he considered, for the first time, what it would mean to stay at his job where he truly knew that he belonged, while simultaneously ‘not belonging’ to the ways of the work tribe. Oh, this elicited an indescribable threat to his existence and yet he held the paradox gently, maturing right in front of me, from one way of being to another. Now, I remember my first master teacher describing how one would know that they had transcended karma when a different and new thought naturally rises. For him that thought was ‘I can keep my job and be myself at the same time!’ This sounds incredibly simple and worthy of celebration, however the depth of this new thought had the clout able to rewire his whole inner world. His spine straightened, his chin lifted, his tears cleared away, and he opened his eyes. Finally, he felt the deep and unrebellious knowing ‘it is safe to be me. I am new, I am!!’ A few years back, the tiny woman dangled her thin legs over the edge of the high stone wall that overlooked a vast and quiet valley. Her busy mind was consumed with devastating thoughts. As she gazed out at the sky, each cloud she witnessed came to represent a memory and the slew of feelings that for her, were simply indigestible. They were not thoughts about a specific series of memories, but thoughts of what she could do to permanently escape the lingering and insistent feelings that would not go away. She had tried, over and over, to sincerely and openly welcome each of these feelings so their energetic movement would subside, and it helped. But, only for a while. Now these thoughts of escape were getting more real and justifiable because she was just so tired of trying to deal with the feelings, the memories, the images, the consequences. It was too much, plain, and simple. As she sat there, in the fresh newness of dawn, her favorite part of the day, she had not noticed the golden angel with enormous wings resting on the ledge beside her. The angel dangled her legs too and empathically sensed the woman’s contemplation. The sun was just peeking above the horizon to the east, displaying a world of possibilities, but even so the angel had sensed the burden of polarity and paradox crumbling her precious human . The golden guardian was there to protect and guide her spiritual kin. And that day her human felt trapped, recognizing a need for freedom while simultaneously feeling excluded. The angel sighed quietly as her human paradoxically felt honorous of others while also needing to honor her own broken heart. In truth, the angel knew that her human had felt this way for years for she had sat beside her on that stone wall on many a morning. The angel recognized that her lovely human had learned to welcome so many layers of grief and relief. She had earned grace, space, and a healthy distance and intimacy with the energetic movements of her humanity. Even though she had truly mastered an embodied intelligence without distracting or ignoring the depth of her struggle, she still struggled. The woman needed help and angel knew what to do. The golden angel extended her silver cord of Love from her heart to the woman’s heart. Because the angel felt a sacred connection with her keep, her cord grew thicker and thicker. The tiny woman began to feel gently uplifted and even more connected. In turn, she returned to a sense of possibility, feeling less alone, expanded, and yet wisely aware of her limitations. The golden angel was especially helpful as in truth she preferred to be called a “Servant of the Creator,” and as such, her special human began to feel a connection with All that is. The golden angel spent days and weeks accompanying the woman so that the cord of Love could grow stronger and brighter. And as it grew, the cord emanated a bigger and bigger light force transforming dark and shadowy energy into light and wisdom. The love that arose from their connection had the power and force for replacing churning and open emotional energy with the forms and structure of deep understanding. This sacred cord wove the web of manifestation in such a way that the woman came to love herself and her Self. Only then could she also love another and maximize her potential for forgiveness. Ultimately, and in the right timing, the force and tapestry of Life organized itself, mirroring her inspiration and catapulting a series of synchronicities to create and co-create a universal law – as within so without. And so, this early morning the golden angel with enormous wings sat alone dangling her tanned ethereal legs off the ledge of her human’s new rooftop. She sat with great pride and love, enjoying the early morning sounds, the breeze, the view, knowing that her keep was sound asleep and under her protection. Only the angel did not know that her sleeping human had also taken her, the golden angel, into her heart with immense gratitude and knowing! Oh goodness! Chloe was telling her partner how hesitant she felt about her mother’s upcoming visit for Easter while sharing a drink on the front porch of their country home. The twilight air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, their fragrance mingling with the memories of past holidays. She recalled her mother’s last visit, a storm that left no room for respite, much like the oppressive heat that lingers after a summer thunderstorm. During that stay, Chloe began to see her mother’s personality and patterns as clearly as one sees a forest after the fog lifts, revealing every hidden path and thorny bramble. Everything seemed more evident as her Mom had stayed in their small guest room, leaving no space from her mom day or night! Chloe realized how, as a young girl, she couldn't doubt or question her mother, or her father’s way of being. "As we all do," she shared with her partner, "to one degree or another, I learned to cope with my mother’s extreme rigidity, control, and most alarmingly," she whispered, "her disgust and hate towards all people." A nervous energy rose, and Chloe stood up, pacing the porch like a restless breeze stirring the leaves. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the porch, mirroring the turmoil in her mind. She walked and reflected, beginning to better understand her own coping mechanisms, some as twisted as ancient vines clinging to a crumbling wall. She stopped, eyes wide, and looked at her partner as he gently shared. He had noticed the impending feelings of loneliness, helplessness, and feeling unwanted rising in Chloe in the days leading up to her mom’s visit. These feelings, like a dark cloud gathering on the horizon, were too big and unbearable to manage for her, and actually, for him too. He knew Chloe had, what had become, predictable thoughts about leaving this earthly life. Her partner was grateful to see that Chloe had enough distance from these urgent escape patterns that any follow-through would never happen, but it would leave Chloe bedridden, consumed with sadness and a deep sense of betrayal. Chloe leaned against the banister, feeling the cool, rough wood beneath her palms as she reflected on her adult life. Like a clear lake reflecting the stormy sky above she saw that she mirrored her mother’s perceptions about people . Her shoulders slumped forward as she realized she had inherited her mother’s view that all people are bad. A lifetime of living with crippling social anxiety and a string of failed relationships weighed on her like heavy stones. To her shock, Chloe saw that she herself communicated much like her mom and, frankly, began to see how similar she was to her. Chloe turned toward her partner, needing to emphasize that she also loved her mother for her wisdom, helpful advice, and great sense of humor. She was clearly deliberating about her ability to grow out of her inherited ways of being while maintaining a relationship with her mom. Chloe sat back down. They both sat quietly for a moment, sipping their drinks and appreciating the vast night sky. The stars twinkled like distant hopes, each one a reminder of endless possibilities. She looked at her partner and wisely said, “I love mom with all her limitations. I pray that I still belong even as I outgrow these ways of being, and I take her into my heart, just as she is.” It was a true declaration that promised the space Chloe needed to individuate and love without rebelling, withdrawing, or excluding her mother. It was quite a night, and she began to see that the space and nature around her reflecting her newfound inner order. The line of trees created an innocent boundary between the meadow and the woods. The garden, bursting with all kinds of flowers and shrubs, lived in peace with one another. The tops of the trees reached for the sky, and the endless sky took them in. Chloe breathed in and out, deeply and slowly, as if setting this new thought, these new perceptions, into the depths of her body. There was nothing left to say, so the two sat together, touched by the grace of the natural world and feeling that upward pull of healing and higher consciousness. The two sat on the leather couch, shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip and holding hands. It was obvious that they were utterly enchanted with one another. From the outside they were beautiful to look at, he with big fluffy blond hair and she with perfectly straight and shiny brown hair with natural copper-colored highlights. They shared that they were considering moving in with one another. She would leave her city dwelling to live with him in his home in the country which he shared with two other housemates. It was a big decision for both. He has a nine-year-old child that visits every weekend, and she cherishes her huge circle of friends and community above all else.
With eyes flickering and a quiet intensity, he shared one more complexity: “She is monogamous, and I am attempting to move out of my chosen polyamorous lifestyle - for her.” He shared how he had discovered sexuality as the part of his life where he could explore intimacy. It was safer to be vulnerable with a sexual partner then with a life partner, so he wanted to have any opportunity to stay open and spontaneous to future sexual encounters for this is where he belonged. He knew this, that a singular relationship would keep him from experiencing the power of sexuality and attention, yet he had stayed true to her for now. With a tinge of bitterness, he pulled his hand away sharing that in his opinion she had ‘bent the rules’ by being overly physical with men while at weekend dance parties and summer festival events. “Where does she draw the line?” he complained. And just like that, a bit of space appeared between the two sides of their bodies, a sliver of separation as they pulled away in growing confrontation. He was not ashamed of the intrigue he felt, seduced by a hunger to be powerful and desired, something he had not experienced enough of. She liked sex well enough and found their encounters satisfying, but the hunger in him was searching for more, and this was confusing to her. He knew that she could not understand how joyous it felt to have the inner, empty void within filled with the power of sexual connection. She knew that he could not understand the joy she would love to feel in a secure, stable and monogamous relationship. She began to realize that his search for more would interrupt her own hunger to live a safe and ordinary life, something he abhorred. By now their bodies had separated completely so that they were able to turn toward one another. They quietly gazed upon each other while holding the paradox of their dilemma; they could not be together if each were true to their hunger. That was the best they had for the moment, so with a bit of healthy distance, and the truth spoken, they simultaneously reached for the others hand once again. She fought a feeling of guilt for wanting him to be different, healed, and he fought his huge, horrible fear of being ordinary and unwanted. They discovered that they could stay connected while holding their differences and this gave remembrance to a feeling of love. Visibly, they landed in their hearts. As each of their hungers subsided into the background of consciousness, they could see each other a bit more clearly. They reached for the other hand too, creating a firmer emotional connection with enough physical distance that they could be together, and unmerged. A silent wave of wisdom filled the room as their demands quieted. She could appreciate the part in him that longed for excitement for she was this too. And he could begin to feel an appreciation for her longing for security and love for he was this as well. They had an uncanny ability to be comfortable with uncertainty, eclipsing any need to guarantee an answer or an outcome. And so it was for now, a situationship that warranted more patience, something they seemingly had plenty of. He was a stunning bird, especially during mating season with black feathers on his whole body and white, white wings. His inner and outer migrations had taken him beyond the hurdle of victim consciousness into an empowered expression of being. It was obvious, as his demeanor was innocently proud and his eyes direct. However, he still experienced a pull of neediness when attracted to a potential flying partner and this would snap him right back to judging his weakness for relying on others for validation or approval.
He truly did not want to inconvenience any other bird, believing, in his weaker moments, that his mere presence was too much. Beak chattering with anxiousness in his belly, he would replay scenarios over and over wondering what he should or could have done differently. This immobilized his lovely wings rendering him incapable of finding a mate while his family group were depending on him for just this. They needed to bolster their numbers before winter. He had already meandered through the spiral work of inner healing and was now confronted with reconciling the deeper contractions he felt around attachment and love. These birds displayed human-like behaviors and just like humans at this level of awakening, this bird knew the answer was within. He was beyond giving himself validation and approval and was ready for an entirely new level of consciousness. He perched on a sturdy branch with head upturned toward the bright sun, eyes closed. He basked in the light coming in through his eyelids and feathered skin taking comfort in the warmth. The outer light saturated his inner body becoming inner light. He surrendered as the light penetrated and liberated even the densest parts of his core energy field. Light. Bright. Untethered. Everything took on a deeper meaning as he gleaned insight into the inner workings of his mind, thoughts, and life! He shook his body and wings as birds do when they are releasing energetic holding patterns at a deeper level. This instant maturing process evoked a natural calling for Love to further transcend the mind, opening him to the whole ocean of Higher consciousness. What an achievement, what a transformation as he became a carrier of Light and higher consciousness. From the depth of his being he felt calm and peaceful, with no evidence of lack to be found. He does not know how long he remained on that branch. A minute? An eternity? But, when his eyes opened, he saw with a new perspective. Several females lit upon the branch on either side of him taking refuge in his brightness. They all rested together as his inner light expanded into a field of light around his body, and theirs. And then, at a certain moment, all the females flew off save one, the perfect one. Life and love brought him the one he needed to fulfill his role in the flock. The two closed their eyes and leaned in, head to head, with unbiased satisfaction and gratitude. With a keen memory, the little mouse vividly recalled being in her mother’s womb feeling disconnected and ill at ease. The dreadful familiarity of the womb-like void made it easy for her to access whenever she felt threatened by her current and most meaningful relationships. It was also very challenging for her to feel the difference between the void as a place to check out from her feelings, lost in the absence of love, versus the void or womb as an atmosphere of letting go where it is safe to relax and renew.
Within the womb that she knew so well there quickly grew a wall she named ‘safety.’ The job of safety was to play the game of protection tricking her into a false sense of love. When safety executed her job in a practiced and expert way, the little mouse believed that love would flow under impossible circumstances with unavailable friends. This meant that she could habitually settle for emotional breadcrumbs, putting her faith in those who could not show up for her. This would give her a false sense of security that in turn created a flexibility in her that allowed the absence of love to feel normal. She reflected upon her relationships with humility, realizing the depth of her dilemma. She was at the origin of her attachments, willing to martyr her presence for a drop of apparent care. So, she felt into her place of refuge, experiencing it as both frightening and enticing. A mixture of a drug-like addiction to feeling aloof and superior to the pain of abandonment and an invitation to a larger version of the womb. The little mouse realized that she could enter the womb as the child of her mother, or she could enter and surrender in the great universal womb of creation. She shuddered at the difference between her two options, feeling powerless to the experience of being in the maternal womb, and powerful in her choice to allow the great and mighty cosmic womb to hold her with divine love. The sweet little mouse realized that both options were true, her mammalian experience and her divine heritage. The agony of her life origins haunted her yet surrendering to the unconditional care of her greater origin finally loomed larger than her little life. She was no longer afraid of the vast, empty void, entering as the radiant light of awareness, identified as nothing, and feeling connected to everything. She began to taste freedom and even bliss as she relaxed more deeply into the mystery of emptiness. As she was freefalling, her body/mind cleared the deepest of unconscious mental and physical patterns, beliefs, and assumptions. She could finally trust the journey. And in so doing she was led by the hands of pure grace into her higher nature, shifting into the upper room perspective and experiencing a divine love that she now knew could and would hold all flavors of misery. The womb of the divine radiated an undeniable and unconditional love that the little mouse received. It healed her hurt thereby relinquishing the role of ‘safety’ in exchange for presence and peace. She could now move through the world as a child of God first and the daughter of her mother second. Her primary nature permeated the shadows of her mammalian life experience and she too radiated with the vast light of love and innocence. She could envision her life and relationships differently now, knowing that love attracts love. “So be it,” she proclaimed, and the universe gladly responded. Titrate: Place your soft open attention around the periphery of sensations that you call ‘overwhelm.’ No need to dive into the epicenter at all. Keep your soft attention around those sensations until you need to shift and look out your window at that beautiful tree dripping with spring buds. Back and forth, as slowly as need be, to make friends with the sensations in your sensitive body.
With each pendulum movement from sensation to beauty her capacity to be with overwhelm changed. And the feeling of overwhelm changed too. She could now speak of two incidents, generally, no details needed, from childhood. She began at the outermost periphery: “Where were the parents? Why were we so unsupervised? I needed protection!” she exclaimed with an immense grief. She looked out the window and relaxed into the beauty, breathing through her mouth, taking all the time her body needed to re-set. She had never spoken these words, much less mentioned what happened. Mentioning what happened is not necessary anyway, I assured her. New periphery: Asking her to find one word to describe what happened she chose “inappropriate.” My parents had creepy friends with creepy kids she shared, explaining their track record of lawless acquaintances. At least the ones she knew of. She was very young when ‘things’ happened, and while she had tried to tell her parents, they kept inviting those same friends over for weekly visits. Still leaving her unsupervised with their children. Window. Looking out the window, she sighed, long and slow sighs, breathing slowly through her mouth, returning to calm. She took her time demonstrating excellent self-care. The periphery of pain was getting smaller now and the next layer revealed a buried rage. What would rage say? Rage, her protector, was very wise. Rage, now turned outrage, knew exactly what she needed, what was missing, what needed to happen, no, what should have happened. This time she felt relieved for it was the rage that she had been managing to bury. She suspected that the effort to manhandle rage turned into overeating and the habit of filling up shopping carts on her favorite clothing websites. Window. Window. Window. The periphery narrowed yet again, and she could see herself as a child feeling confused, lost, and very scared. She noticed that these feelings created the belief that she was shameful and broken too. She has young children now and could see her young version of herself as she would her own. Instead of ignoring the feelings of her young experience, she allowed them to be as if holding them for her: The shame, confusion, loneliness, and feelings of fear. No window needed, just a loving warmth emanating through her body allowing all these new sensations to rise and integrate. Her ‘radar detector’ for zeroing in on people who are untrustworthy and potentially misleading is well cured. She realized that instead of scanning for danger, she could notice all the other people. The ones she could not see before; those who are trustworthy and honest. Oh, this would make for such an easier life, for her and her children. This time she looked out the window with awe and wonder. Together we repeated: “All of life comes to me with joy, and ease, and glory!” five times. Who knows why five, but it was enough. Her body tingled, a growing excitement in her belly, and a smile on her lovely face. |
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