Have no fear!
The long train of thought, which stoked my processor with courage, has readied 'the little engine that could' to switch tracks and pull into the station where a frightened little monkey face has longed to understand and unload a ton of baggage, which she'd unawarely lugged forward throughout her life.
Upon achieving this uphill climb to push past anxiety and pull into the station, I need a sec to breathe in deep, remove yesterday's blinders, sweep left over static out of my ears, and pour Drano through the clogged pathways of my brain. In this way I'll wash away the last visages of latent fear, which might block the channels by which a series of fireflies may brighten these dark corners of my mind.
Whew! With nothing to lose other than another chunk of that brick—here we go ...
Holy smokestacks! News flash! Hold the presses!
I have a strong feeling that all of this ghost-busting-brick-vaporizing stuff has actually cooked up an insight that my engine has been chugging toward since I wrote post 263 on Sept. 17th!
You know, which post I mean... The post targeting our need to rescue ourselves—from ourselves! The one pinpointing my need to stop reacting like my own worst enemy—unnecessarily. Wow! How about that!
Took several weeks to pull into this station, but—hit a bulls eye right off the bat!
Guess this is why:
I value the instinct to trust my process without knowing where my path is heading, next.
Just need to revisit where I've been—open my mind to absorb that which made a small child feel good or bad—and deepen my understanding as to why changes, I choose for myself, today, expand judgments, which had once been too narrow in scope.In other words—
The path of self awareness deepens my understanding of emotional maturity.
And having expressed today's eye-opening awareness, let's take the little girl securely by the hand and gently guide her toward revisiting the scariest day of her life, so I can more fully absorb that which I'd misperceived at three ...
The long train of thought, which stoked my processor with courage, has readied 'the little engine that could' to switch tracks and pull into the station where a frightened little monkey face has longed to understand and unload a ton of baggage, which she'd unawarely lugged forward throughout her life.
Upon achieving this uphill climb to push past anxiety and pull into the station, I need a sec to breathe in deep, remove yesterday's blinders, sweep left over static out of my ears, and pour Drano through the clogged pathways of my brain. In this way I'll wash away the last visages of latent fear, which might block the channels by which a series of fireflies may brighten these dark corners of my mind.
Whew! With nothing to lose other than another chunk of that brick—here we go ...
Holy smokestacks! News flash! Hold the presses!
I have a strong feeling that all of this ghost-busting-brick-vaporizing stuff has actually cooked up an insight that my engine has been chugging toward since I wrote post 263 on Sept. 17th!
You know, which post I mean... The post targeting our need to rescue ourselves—from ourselves! The one pinpointing my need to stop reacting like my own worst enemy—unnecessarily. Wow! How about that!
Took several weeks to pull into this station, but—hit a bulls eye right off the bat!
Guess this is why:
I value the instinct to trust my process without knowing where my path is heading, next.
Just need to revisit where I've been—open my mind to absorb that which made a small child feel good or bad—and deepen my understanding as to why changes, I choose for myself, today, expand judgments, which had once been too narrow in scope.In other words—
The path of self awareness deepens my understanding of emotional maturity.
And having expressed today's eye-opening awareness, let's take the little girl securely by the hand and gently guide her toward revisiting the scariest day of her life, so I can more fully absorb that which I'd misperceived at three ...
Back in the car, Thanksgiving is just around the corner. (Just got chills. Thanksgiving, 2011 is in exactly two weeks.) As my parents oversee a jovial, openly affectionate family, Jennie and Jack are aware of how much they have to be thankful for while preparing for the holiday season ahead. As Jack reminisces about being an immigrant lad, whose family of five had once called the storage room behind his parents' deli—home, Jennie, who’d never owned a doll to cradle in her arms, has not forgotten that dining room day bed, which had offered a budding, young woman no privacy from her mother, father, and four, rambunctious brothers. In addition to enjoying each other, their two little daughters, both extended families, a wide assortment of friends, and good health, Jennie and Jack share a deep appreciation for their hard won economic security. So while driving along the street, this healthy young couple’s future shines bright. In fact, upon reaching the shopping district and parking their shiny, black sedan, they feel so far ahead of personal misfortune that no ominous instinct arises to warn the young (and thus, naïve) couple that FATE will electrify their emotional security in a darkly unpredictable way before nightfall.
As for me, upon awakening on that same November morning in 1946, I, too, had enjoyed the start of an ‘ordinary’ day. And if, when day turns to night, I sleep fitfully, there’ll be no way for a child—two weeks shy of three—to have a clue as to how—changing circumstances—will alter the ‘natural’ course of my development from that day to this.
At this tender age, I'll not begin to surmise how deeply my reactions and decisions will be based in the domino effect that destiny has in store for my family when tragedy strikes within seconds after my parents, laden with groceries, return. And as everyone's sense of security is about to be rocked to the core, it's easy to see why none will fathom the depth—and far reaching effects—of tragedy upon everything that I'll misunderstand. (Dare I mention that before writing this post, today, a new batch of fireflies swarmed into post 304? Though I tried to stop them from flitting around inside my mind, common sense suggested that I welcome them in. Also, in case you'd like to check it out, I found reason to simplify post 303—again. Conveying one's thoughts with clarity depends upon thoughtful editing.)
At this tender age, I'll not begin to surmise how deeply my reactions and decisions will be based in the domino effect that destiny has in store for my family when tragedy strikes within seconds after my parents, laden with groceries, return. And as everyone's sense of security is about to be rocked to the core, it's easy to see why none will fathom the depth—and far reaching effects—of tragedy upon everything that I'll misunderstand. (Dare I mention that before writing this post, today, a new batch of fireflies swarmed into post 304? Though I tried to stop them from flitting around inside my mind, common sense suggested that I welcome them in. Also, in case you'd like to check it out, I found reason to simplify post 303—again. Conveying one's thoughts with clarity depends upon thoughtful editing.)
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