Sunday, May 5, 2019

2 IF THE BARD ASKETH: WHY DOTH THIS RETIRED TEACHER OF COMMUNICATIONS WRITE FOR HOURS EACH DAY?

I would graciously reply—my choice to air insights relating to my personal quest is twofold:   First of all, each time my power of intuitive thought guides my intelligence to dive ever more deeply into my past in hopes of stirring a deeper truth to break through my defense system’s wall of denial so that, upon surfacing, I feel self-empowered to clearly revive the assertive portion of my voice, which, no longer feeling need to remain fully anesthetized, re-energizes my own forward moving momentum in which attitudinal changes for the better (concerning my self disparaging misperceptions, which had remained subconsciously repressed since early childhood) feel ready to spotlight each next insight awaiting my arrival at the end of each tunnel that has existed inside the dark side of my head ever since 'this one or that one' had thought to cast a disparaging insult in my direction, which, as proves common to every young child, had been absorbed by my processor as unquestionably true.

And if clearing my brain of a build up of tension by way of laboring to deliver yet another deeper truth, which hath been banging against my wall of denial in hopes of freeing me from carrying a growing sense of repressed pain throughout this last stage of my life (hello, my friend migraine-strength headache) then, during each next deeply painful, relentless attempt to regain my conscious awareness concerning lifelong need for yet another attitudinal change for the better, we watch my emotionally matured readiness stop clamoring to catch onto whatever deeper truth has been laboring to make itself known by rerouting its exit course away from banging angrily and thus ever more painfully around the womb of subconscious storage toward tunneling calmly and thus painstakingly through the narrowly focused darkened birth canal, which leads my processor toward engaging with intuitive thought ever more calmly, expansively and thus productively once my ever heightening enlightened sense of self awareness spotlights clarity awaiting the emergence of each next classic string of insights, which has historically been known to slide yet another missing 'peace' of my life’s puzzle into every open minded nook and cranny of my heart, thus freeing love to inspire my conscious mind with sound reason to recreate reality’s bigger pictures before my wearied mind seeks asylum within a nest built to rest until ‘something’ stimulates my sense of intuitive intrigue to feel compelled to dive down from my present perch of conscious awareness in hopes of surfacing from my thought processor’s subterranean wellmof knowkedge with a scholar’s increased capacity to continue to reassemble emotionally rebalanced bigger pictures as I age rather than watching my persona’s false self image falling to pieces right before my own eyes, thus causing me to feel ever more abandoned by those who love me as deeply, today, as those who had continued to love me when tragedy descended upon our home, frightening a small child into feeling as if her emotional needs had been dismissed forever at a time when the intelligence of every adult who'd comprised my extended family had been engaged in surviving their own wrestling matches, pitting their heart-wrenched intelligence against combatting overwhelmingly painful odds of their own.  And if at that early stage in my life my intuitive intelligence holding hands with my defense system had conjoined to conjure up a subconscious plan in which the sincerity of my smile had been guided to revive and thrive rather than barely survive after three year old me had wandered through that dark and lonely emotional wasteland of personal crises on my own is not enough reason to write conscientiously, day after day, in hopes of disseminating information concerning the human brain's capacity to heal itself of overwhelming pain by way of calling forth that same tag team of intuitive intelligence matched with a positively focused sense of defensive denial, which, working together, guides my conscious mind to freely impart insight-laden trains of thoughts concerning personal experiences throughout the world by way of cyberspace, then how else can the teacher in me illustrate how often, throughout the ages, subconscious attitudes that formulate the words, actions and decisions on the part of our leaders (including parents whose attitudes are unconsciously adopted by this child or that child) prove to be based in negatively focused fears, which, having remained repressed, go unidentified and thus, unresolved, so as to influence your decisions and mine, to this very day.

Why is today’s run-on thought (which is wearying my sense of clarity) true?  Because in the absence of insight, self defeating attitudes (based in a primary unidentified unresolved inner conflict, buried alive subconsciously beginning in childhood) continue to serve as invisible stumbling blocks over which many decisions on the part of leadership tumble, repeatedly, during every stage of our lives as long as repressed patterns of thought offer us no conscious clue as to when classic spikes of angst, based in yesteryear's fear of failure or fear of emotional abandonment, dictate our present fate to be smacked upside the head with a latent strike of anxiety, which, acting like an invisible hurtle, has, once again, laced fogginess (unknowingly) within the logically clear-minded vision of our paths, based in 'something' stimulating yesteryear’s primary unresolved inner conflict to snap into and out of our minds so quickly as to leach today’s connection to clarity, leaving us with no conscious clue as to how often (and thus classically) everyone’s brain repeatedly stumbles unconsciously into a foggily repressed, primary fear, now and again, and thus is it my choice, as a certified instructor of clarified communications to identify, acknowledge, publish and muster the courage necessary to leap over my greatest fears so as to exemplify a person who has conscientiously and determinedly decided not to allow foggy fears to delay my step-by-step advancement toward achieving heartfelt long range goals, which prove unrealized, based in the fact that earlier in my life when I'd devoted the bulk of my time to ministering to the needs of others, very little free time was mine to dive, introspectively within the depths of my past in hopes of gaining one clue after another, all of which band together as insights, which spotlight answers to questions concerning why the pinnacle of personal or professional success (or both) remains just beyond the grasp of most of us no matter how intelligent, well educated or naturally talented we prove to be, and as that reality continues to prove classic throughout the world, from one generation to the next, here’s my plan to counteract the self defeatist track, which causes the majority of adults, who huddle, blindly, so close together, within the rising center of the bell shaped curve on the timeline, as to miss one opportunity after another to see their way clear toward mustering the humility, patience, courage and self confident determination, all of which prove necessary if an individual (of any age) is ultimately to break away from the cycle of classic mediocrity so as to greet the future, which lies immediately ahead of us all with attitudinal changes for the better filling his/her head—and hopefully, while my friends around the world are consciously concentrating their mental focus upon my unconscious stumbles against yesteryear's unresolved fears while I quest toward freeing myself of latent spikes of inner tension, which, having layered up, has been carried forward, unnecessarily, from one stage of my life to the next, my reader's processors will remain so calm as to invite their intuitive powers to emerge, thus inspiring their thought patterns to switch tracks from absorbing my fear-based stumbles toward spotlighting repressed fears of their own. 

At this, The Bard, locking eyes seriously with mine, replies:
That's a pretty manipulative plan, Annie.  And a tall order—how do you plan to increase your followers by writing anonymously?

Yes, that is a tall order.  Once again, thee proves justified in thy insightful perception.  On the other hand, I wonder as to thy attitude.  Did thou makest use of the word manipulative with a bent toward objectivity or negativity?

Good question, woman.  My tone definitely offered thee 'attitude'.

Yes—thy tone alerted my basic instinct of self protective defensiveness to raise my antennae in readiness to engage your intelligence in this debate.  All in all, 'manipulation' doth not portend to be a bad trait lest we be the only ones to gain from employing a bit of mind control—on the other hand—no one, pray tell, is better at mind control than thee—and as I laugh at the truth, The Bard can't help but chuckle while my train of thought chugs on—Thy dialogue-laden scripts manipulate the minds of thy audience to think more deeply and astutely upon exiting the theater than had been true before the curtain arose on act one, suggesting that mind control, directed toward cooperative positivity can be as productively constructive as is true of—placing a wee child in a playpen, knowing that a two year old sibling is afoot, and thus doth thee manipulate the wee one’s whereabouts for safekeeping, just as we place covers over electrical sockets, manipulating the environments of two year olds to keep inexperienced brains safe from feeling electrocuted by the nature of their inquisitive minds.

At this Shakespeare’s inquisitive mind seems puzzled—“What pray tell is an electric socket?
Ah—thinkist me—I’m getting way ahead of myself.  This time travel thing is a bit tricky ... so, once again, the sincerity of my spirit's smile leads the way as I say:  I've found that at all ages, minds are inquisitive, and since spiking anxiety electrocutes intuitive thinking skills from developing naturally, my long range goal while writing serves to offer up vital information, concerning upping our capacity to gain control over the complex functions of our own brains by way of engaging my 'listeners' minds in my saga, and if that's manipulative then who’s to say that the definition of manipulation can’t go both ways—I mean, after all is said and done, the mind, which I hope to manipulate for the better more often than any other, is my own.  And hopefully, each ‘current’ change for the better, which I’ve been working to advance forward, day by day, spotlights my leaps of faith, which follow one another, showcasing my brain's natural potential to progress ever nearer to completing this circuit of healing, which, over recent weeks, has clearly been gaining ground within the reprocessed portion of the traumatized part of my brain, and as today’s awareness stimulates my self confidence to brighten another notch, I feel us drawing nearer to returning to the flash frozen couple of pre-teeners on the stage, because once these next few (pain driven) trains of thought  (which still feel fuzzy) have had time to couple together with clarity intact, I’m aiming to readily free my storyteller to separate Annie from Joseph's impulsive lip-lock, knowing that both of those youngsters are going to have need of chapstick, big time ...

At this point, The Bard flies off on a tangent concerning the merits of employing a lengthy soliloquy to drive home a point, and that aspect of our conversation runs so deep that I forget to answer Shakespeare’s question concerning how best to expand the range of my followers without taxing my brain even further; good thing the astute mind of The Bard, whose soul proves as actively inquisitive as anyone's (if not more so), swoops down, yet again, to ask about that very plan, which my patient frame of mind finds simple to outline for a brain as brilliant as Bill’s—As you know, people feel need to talk about topics that hold their interest.  If my insight-laden trains of thought, which prove to be highly personal yet classic in nature concerning subconscious desire to name and tame self defeating traits so as to move forward past latent angst toward attaining a greater sense of inner ‘piece’ missing since childhood then what I feel need to say proves of interest on a worldwide scope suggesting why I believe that, over time, a word-of-mouth, grassroots movement will continue to build momentum on its own.

Bill, seeming impressed upon hearing me disclose that my thoughts are being  read in more than 80 nations and counting, replied—somehow momentum building on its own,  over time, rings a bell, and with bells of communion ringing in both of our ears, he flew off to his unfinished business, while I, called out—oh wait—one more thing!  Please tell Socrates that my quest to know myself more deeply, today, than had been possible in the absence of additional insights, yesterday, continues to bear fruit so sweet as to nourish unmet needs, all around and with that, I turned toward the next leg of my humbling path, while Bill (soaring upward, smiling down upon one of his countless disciples who had no conscious clue of choosing to challenge her intelligence to rise to the lofty level of his, one rung at a time, until just now) waved one wing in my direction as if to reply—Will do—and until we meet, again, keep up the good work, knowing that ‘the struggle’ is what inspires your spirit to strengthen, so, please, take your own sweet time as your mind-quest chugs forward, thus ensuring that you'll not miss out on barrels of fun, personal delights, and just rewards which lie directly ahead and are yours for the taking over the rest of your ride, which, take my word for it, always proves shorter than we think is true during youth ...

And at this late stage of my earthly life, I, hearing my voice agree wholeheartedly, smiled as these words floated clearly through the air—Yes indeedy, once again, you're on target—OMG!—wait a minute—I didn't explain electric sockets ...

No worries—laughedThe Bard (just before soaring above cloud 9)—we have lots left to discuss and debate as the future unfolds; as for now, tis more than enough for thee to figure out why that dreadful tension-filled migraine bangs so often, as of late, against thy wall of denial—and then, I couldn’t believe my eyes when a large earned, small green head poked its way through Cloud Nine with need to say— Until peace be within thee, may The Force of insight continue to guide thy way ...

Wow!  I thought—I feel truly blessed with Socrates, The Bard and now, Yoda watching over me from on high—not a bad supporting cast to offer me spiritual guidance during good times when my path feels clear and smooth as well as when my path feels as spooky and smoky as if hot rocks of latent lava are, once again, pouring forth from a molten place at my core, banging away at my wall of denial, trying like all get out to filter a deeper truth through the subconscious portion of my processor ... Ouch!  OMG!  Not again!  Hey, Shakespeare, what happened to my over active brain’s rest period?

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