Each time the conscious portion of my brain feels constipated with a train of thought that's sruggling to tunnel its way out of subconscious storage, a sensation of heaviness along my forehead heightens my awareness of my intuitive powers hunkering down until the spotlight of insight highlights a fear, which, ever since childhood, has blocked my sense of clarity from identifying an inner conflict that will continue to thwart my determination to achieve a heartfelt goal as long as my conscious awareness cannot name a self defeating attitude that disables my intelligence from meeting with success.
Example?
I'm still working to change my subconscious attitude, which has habitually held my think tank personally accountable for maintaining the safekeeping of everyone I love, suggesting my need to calm my frustration whenever an unresolved conflict, which proves beyond my control, arises anew. In short, though I may not be able to resolve a conflict that proves beyond my control, I can work to modify my emotional reactiveness so as not toncatalyze anxiety to strike so high as to alert my survival instinct to pump an overproduction of adrenaline into my bloodstream, which in turn stimulates my overtaxed heart muscle to send out SOS signals of painfully stressed duress.
Each time I answer the phone to find that a loved one is experiencing serious symptoms of advancing age, I remind my connection to objectivity to maintain control over the fact that my reaction is not indicative of my need to tame preworry. Two cousins, who had been dear friends, both several years younger than me, died during this past year. And thus, while listening to additional loved ones express how their bodies are presently (though not prematurely) being ravaged by advancing age, do I remind myself to feel grateful that, thus far, Will and I are maintaining good health and enjoying our lives ... I mean if my dad enjoyed good health much more often than not for 87 years and my mom enjoyed good health, much more often than not, for 100 years, then I'll train my focus to concentrate on my good fortune to have my parents' genes, thus increasing my chances of enjoying the same hearty longevity as did they. Will's mom enjoyed good health until her mid eighties, and his beloved dad's early demise in 1958 left his family struggling with grief over the fact that an antidote to parrot's fever had not yet been discovered, if succumbing to parrot's fever was a rarity, back then, it's pretty much unheard of today ... and with these thoughts running through my head, pre worry over Will's demise of mine is shifted from the front burner of my mind to pilot light status, where my concerns rightfully belong. And on that upbeat note, I've readied my spirit to enjoy another healthy, sunny day, hot as it may be!
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