Checking in to where I am checking out always takes courage for me. I would far rather drift in some limbo of not bad, not workaholic, not cortisol, super mediocre than really look into the face the place I now claim as now.
Last night, I had a long, drawn up multi -phase dream about the disengagement that my family chooses as it default setting modus operandi as I spun out a narrative of failure to protect, fear of connect.
When I have these vivid dreams, I am also very grateful. It is like watching my computer “repair a link” and the bar slowly fills up with the message of mending.
To see clearly is not something that comes easily in this human state. We are all clumpish, physical, and inefficient at making change.
I think about the old mimeographs I had to make when I was teaching. I would crank the handle and the room would fill up with the chemical smell, the paper would be coated in a bath of oil like residue and the original master would slowly degrade.
Where I am now is not much beyond that mechanical turning of the print. I can see where I am stuck. I can see where I am handicapped. But my dreams……
My dreams give me the bigger view. They show me exactly where the monitoring is failing to make a clear, total imprint.
The very fact that I am surprised that I have put on weight and 1/2 an inch on my waist when I have been systematically working toward that goal.
The very fact that I have not finished editing my book Walking the Streets of Blood for the 5th edit when I made that promise to myself is obvious if I look at it.
I go to the calendar and see the stickers I have put on for exercise, meditation, writing and I argue with what I see. NO!
“NO!,” I say. “I meditated every day. I wrote many blogs. I worked out I am sure of it. I remember being sore.”
The ego is such a child that when I have lost focus and gone into distraction mode, I refuse to admit to it. I deny it.
So while I was hiding from myself and making excuses, the days have kept coming. And as a result, my goals have slipped past me in January.
I have even gone into loss land. Oh, I can argue until the flying pigs come back to roost, but there it is.
What I do at these times where the monitoring is revealing a truth, is I attempt to buck myself up. A depressed person does not achieve a lot of growth.
So I look at how much social contact I have had over the past month; I look at how many Oracle Readings I have done; I look at the food I have been eating which is organic and wholesome.
These things exist at the same time: the growth actions and the self sabotage. And the real gift of self monitoring is to simply see the whole picture and to know that resetting, beginning again, renewing the vows that I made to myself are simply an organic part of the process.
I stood on Knox Mountain today and looked at the vibrant blues and saturated whites of the land and lake below me and I patted my inner child self and said, “Good job.”