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HESITANT HEALING OF THE SELF
Painful to heal? An understatement for sure. Illness comes first. If not then no healing is necessary. So you have it come one way or another, a sore, a failing, ailing organ of the body and included is that broken heart which is the grandest illness of the world. Pain then lets you know that something is amiss. Energies are misguided, diminishing or gone. Strength leaves you.
Medicaments are offered in many forms. Mostly palliative rather than getting to the root of the problem. Pain formulas for instance are not a curative agent. We know this.
Then of those illnessess that are not for fevers or abscesses. Those are those relationships that are masked as beautiful and working. I have been there that is why I can detect when one is ailing. It is heard throughout eons, "We are doing just fine." "We love each other." "We do everything together."
My reply is as it was many times said to me. "Oh, really?" Yes you speak the truth. You are just fine, but you are not FINE. You love each other, but you do not LOVE each other. Yes, you are together. Yet you are not TOGETHER. How do I know this? I said the same things over and over again. I was repetitive for the sole purpose of trying to convince myself that I was FINE, in LOVE, and TOGETHER. However, my soul was purposeful in not allowing me to feel this as it was not the truth. The truth was I was just fine, just in love and just together. I could not admit it though. Because I had my pride of course. Me, deal with the fact that I was human? NO way! I was perfect rather than striving for PERFECTION. The change came when a friend asked me, "Do you LOVE yourself?" I could only answer with what is known as a 'pregnant pause'. That space where you fall into the abyss of oblivious thought, provoking none other than the response, "Would you please repeat the question?"
That is what I ask of you now as I repeat it for you, "Do you LOVE yourself?" "Oh, really?"
Then young lady, may I ask you something? What is that bruise about your eye and cheek? And you sir, can you explain what is that syringe filled with that is stuck in your vein, of your arm? And miss, why is that your third scotch on the rocks? Careful your tears are dripping into it. Tell me why then, have you just returned home from your seventh, eighteen hour day at work? Reverently, young person. Why are you prone before me, now pulseless, breathless and pale with the life just finished pouring from your wrists? "Do you LOVE yourself?"
That four letter word is such a confounding set of type! whether it be written, imagined, or stated, can stir a room full of the most learned, intelligent, stable persona. It could cause a conflagration of emotion, physical reaction or cause the busy pace of the mind to that of dead stillness. For me it caused the latter, stopping me dead in my tracks for I once knew the taste of scotch, that almost led to the alchemy of vehemence into my veins never minding the blood gushing from wounds numbed by exhausting eighteen hour days after days after days of... of...running from that very question. How dare someone be so obtusely impolite to ask me such a personal question! Thank God I had finally had enough of NOT doing so. It set me on the path of exquisite hurricanic cleansing and investigation of the self even though my self was almost extinct. I started asking WHY hundreds of thousands of times. I found shortly that I did not LOVE myself. I was illumined into the reality that I had work to do in order to find my self and pretty damned quick as the me in me was almost no more.
So, this green stuff started happening in rushes and rapids of answers from with in this now perceived mess. I heard and learned of forgiveness. Directed correctly to selfishly and healthfully forgive my frailties. To lay claim honestly, ownership, of disadvantageous baggage that I carried, some of which was given me and most of which I gladly took on. Oh, I stumbled and I bruised and I hurt but it felt great after I stopped screaming about it. I took notice of the presence of an incarnate Being tapping me on the shoulder instructing ever so carefully, "Okay, now untie the binds of this one and let it fall." My whinning even desturbed me, "Do I hafta?"