Deeper truth suggests that the human spirit, as strong as it is, needs to buoy itself with bursts of courage from time to time. As time spent in reflection suggests, I've climbed up rungs one and two of my ladder of courage without ascending so high as to dizzy my mind, and with the clarity of today's first insight in mind, my sense of courage feels inspired to fuel my spirit with sound reason to ascend to rung three on this step stool, which oversees my brain's ability to simplify emotional complexity.
If you ask why the human spirit finds itself in need of refueling with courage (as well as with bursts of pure joy), I'll readily reply: The human spirit, like the mind, has two sides. and with that insight in mind, here cimes a memory, which has just popped into my conscious awareness, exemplifing the ease with which parental over-reaction is empowered to deflate an innocent child's natural, strong spirited connection to self worth (thank goodness today's reflective sense of clarity invokes insight concerning my innate ability to disarm the original sting of my beloved parent's impatient outpouring of negatively focused words, which wielded the power to wound me more deeply than I'd chosen to show, because thoughts of openly confronting authority aroused my anxiety. And as my parents' generation had never so much as considered taking an immediate time out on the spot to calm an emotion-driven attitude of impatience, insulting misperceptions were frequently voiced before deeper truth had time to shine a spotlight on the bigger picture, which haste had failed to absorb ... hence doth haste distort the truth, whereas a calmed, re-balanced sense of mutual respect can more readily review both sides of any situation before an eruption of emotional conflict can raise its thorny, little head ...
And now, hoping to have whet your appetite for pertinent details, let's approximate my age as somewhere between twelve and fourteen (at which time I'd felt overwhelmed with an on-going bullying situation on a school bus that had pummeled my self esteem to a pulp), when on this specific day that sees me as the sole passenger in the car sitting next to my dad, who's whistling contentedly while steering his two-toned, yellow and bronze, 1955 Chevy Belair down a busy, midwestern thoroughfare as we two are companionably lost in our own thoughts while our vehicle cruises breezily toward a specific destination in the major metropolis that's the city of my birth until Dad, applying the brakes, turns the steering wheel toward a vacant parking spot, which seems to be awaiting our arrival.
Upon parking, Dad opens the driver's door and saunters around the front of the car to my side, curbside, where, upon opening the back door behind me, 'my hero' begins to fill his arms with boxes, holding garments for Goodwill. Then, breaking the silence, my father angrily exclaims: "Well—Aren't you even going to get out and help me?"
Dad's unexpected outburst, arousing my sense of inner conflict, catalyzes a sudden spike of anxiety, I mean, here I am, concentrating unconsciously, solely and industriously, mind glued to my homework, only to find my character insulted by a person who is supposed to know how eager I am to be of help in any way! Now what's up with that! I mean, if Dad's impatient attitude sees me as inconsiderate, does that mean I AM inconsiderate—or are both he and I blind to the highly complex, inner workings of the human mind? It's of interest to note that deeper truth suggests that I was utterly unaware of this fact: Dad's impatience was actually inconsiderate of my feelings ... as though I didn't have feelings at all!
Though my conscious mind rebels silently by thinking NO WAY! UNFAIR! I'M NOT INCONSIDERATE! subconscious fear of any confrontation with authority swallows my voice, and as is commonly true of my submissive pattern, I choose t suppress my ire while apologizing for my lack of awareness, because I have no clue that each time a flash of anxiety suppresses my self-respecting voice along with my anger, concerning Dad's lack of awareness and consequent misjudgment of my inaction, my silent submission unknowingly empowers my father's impatient attitude with the dominance that deflates his doting daughter's sense of self worth, and in the absence of self confident self worth, the human spirit droops as quickly as a pin prick flattens a balloon. On the way home, Dad, who's good cheer was regained as soon as my arms were filled with garments, asks: Why so glum, Annie? to which I reply: I don't know. Just sick and tired of studying, I guess. And thus, when skillful communications are nil do both sides falsely presume to know more about what's just taken place, concerning each other's emotional reactions than insight, concerning denial of deeper truths, proves true.
Upon reflection, between the ages of twelve and fourteen, my spirit was often
Sick and tired but not of studying; my spirit was sick and tired of how often
A flash of anxiety unconsciously swallowed my self assertive voice—and as
Fear-based thought patterns, born of childhood's deeply repressed, subconscious
Anxiety (of not ever being good enough to feel consistently loved) are hard to
Identify, much less change—often times, even today, my mind tires and
My spirit deflates until Tim spent in peaceful reflection frees intuitive thoughts to
Fly into my conscious awareness as though out of the blue, and each time
A flash of insight brightens my conscious mind, common sense floats
Serenely out of my mouth (or onto my screen) and as one string of insights
Continues to ignite more, thus does my ever deepening sense of clarity free
My mind from confusing the past with the present, and on that up note
Let's switch tracks toward positively focused reflections, concerning
Personal growth spurts, which, over these past twenty years has seen
My think tank consciously working toward actualizing attitudinal
Changes for the better, resulting in my assertive (mutually respecting)
Voice piping up with greater frequency and clarity due to the fact that
Less inner conflict constricts my throat than had been true to my nature during
The fifty years, which had passed before, and even though that
Change for the better is undeniable true, old patterns of thought die hard
Suggesting why I feel need to grow ever more attentive to those times when
Too many emotional reactions in need of release suddenly refuse to
Remain suppressed inside my head behind my defense system's many layered
Self protective wall of denial, catalyzing a build up of anxious tension, which
Tightens my gray matter into knots offerung us reason why my wealth of
Communication skills can get to feeling utterly jumbled and unorganized
Until my intelligence takes hold of my brain, and I remind myself to
Call forth my line of control in hopes of self soothing my processor on the spot ...
As you may remember, I entertain myself with the newspaper's
Daily horoscope by adopting each one that appeals to me as my own
And lo and behold, here's what today's horoscope (which is actually
Written beneath my sign) has to say:
"As it is with anything, what you pay attention to loves you back. When you give attention to your deepest feelings, and the subconscious layers of yourself, too, you start feeling more resoundingly fulfilled."
Over these past twenty years, I've been growing ever more intuitively attentive to pensively establishing 'good' reason to fuel my spirit with the courage that's necessary to voice my self confident sense of self respect, calmly, clearly and responsibly, and here's why that change for the better is mine much more often than not: The more I come to know both sides of my nature in depth, the less anxious (defensive) I feel at those times when my character is being interrogated in the hot seat, because I choose to draw forth humility to tame my ego from feeling inflamed with indignation much more readily than had been true when subconscious inner conflicts (carried forward as excess baggage ever since childhood duress made mincemeat of my self worth) had daunted my intelligence with puzzling emotional reactiveness that I've come to understand and tame, and having spent these last forty-six years (beginning when Barry was a toddler of two) consciously stuffing my brain full of knowledge, concerning the complex, interconnected, highly diverse functions of the human brain, Ive gained insight into how best to calmly clarify that which my intuitive powers believe may be most effective to say or do at those times when my hard won character traits feel pressured to save my composure from burning to a crisp under direct fire—thus saving my connection to clarity from spinning into a reeling spiral of tightly wound, deeply repressed (or suppressed, as the case may be) emotional complexity that bursts out of our mouths, because tis not enough to pile knowledge into our brains; intelligence suggests the wisdom of soothing an over active mind in a peaceful place until our power of intuitive thought releases insights that steer your ship and mine clear of icebergs that will make mincemeat of all our hard work to remain on course until calm waters appear directly ahead ...
So, though all I had to say was: Dad, I was lost in my homework—my sudden spike of subconscious anxiety shoved that simple explanation right out of my head, where, having been swept to the curb by by a brisk hot, undisciplined wind, my processor's connection to common sense had shattered into as many disorganized pieces as would a jigsaw puzzle that had been blindly shoved off a table, leaving my self perception with naught but Dad's negatively focused, subconscious mindset, which matched my own, beginning at the age of three, when my subconscious self assessment had secretly disrespected my human lack of perfection, condemning me as being too bad to deserve love ... for decades—food for thought, right?
(Did I say that the complex thoughts that comprise each of these forgotten posts would be published without editing? Ha! Fat chance of that happening with my brain at the helm of my blog—I may no longer disrespect my human imperfections; however that doesn't mean I can sit idly by and clearly watch clarity (concerning my ability to clean up messy trains of thought so as to convey insights from within the inner sanctum of my processor into yours as smoothly as possible) go down the drain and clog up the works, day after day ... LOL!)
No comments:
Post a Comment