Inspiration Strikes

Writing, for me, is a process to connect to the ethers. I connect to different levels of consciousness quite literally. Lately, I recognize the different feeling in my head when I move from the here-and-now into another world. I enter that world when I read, too.

This morning, I was reading a few of the blogs that I follow, and inspiration hit me. It does that. Being in the state of reading, opened me up to connecting thoughts and ideas that are swirling around in my grill. I can just about feel the top of my head opening up, moving information in and out.

One of the clever blogs that I follow is You’ve Been Hooked, and Robert tells the funniest stories about life as a bellman. In fact, he’s published a book about them: The Bellman Chronicles. He also interviews celebrities and once in a blue moon, shares a tidbit from his personal life.

Reading a recent post, one of those blue moon posts about his family, he commented about his father being the monster in his life. Like a flash of lightning, everything I have learned about how my mother (my monster) affected my life, and how Robert’s father still affects his life, hit me. About how I saw the world through lenses that were created because of the relationship with my mother. And that I now see with crystal clarity the lenses that Robert still wears, courtesy of his relationship with his Dad.

I hit me square between the eyes how an abusive childhood still affects us, even when we are adults, out on our own, perhaps thousands of miles from the abuser, or even after they are dead. We carry things with us that I now see so clearly, only because I have the perspective of before and after. The perspective of seeing life wearing the “my family fucked me up and stole my power” glasses, versus the “I now see how and what beliefs I created in order to save my life when I was a kid, and now that I’m an adult, those beliefs can go now” glasses. The new glasses are also the “I am so very honored and proud of the child I was, to make it through the shit so I could grow up and rediscover her amazingness” lenses.

I recognize the self-talk of a wounded child living inside a person. I recognize the feelings and reactions of a wounded child acting out through an adult. And I think one of the most important reasons I’m here on this planet right now is to stand in my own authenticity as just one example that the wounded child within can be healed. It can be set free of the burden of survival.

All of those bits and pieces inside of me that have been afraid for my life, are being healed, and in the process, are finding more and more peace. And yes, it’s a process. I’m connecting with each one of them, letting them know that I’m ok now. I made it. And the truth is, a child’s perspective is one of survival.

It’s also one of play. Children are still so connected to following their bliss, their joy, and living in the moment. We adults sure do a good job of beating it out of them.

Today, when I hear someone put themselves down, I see that it’s not their authentic self talking, it’s fear. It’s the parent or person who threatened their safety. It wasn’t safe to be myself when I was little. It brought me pain. Being my true, authentic, curious, sparkly self was dangerous for me.

Even in my adult years, my mother would become jealous of me at times, and I didn’t understand why. It was because of the loathing she felt for herself. It was because of the childhood wounds she carried within herself. As my wounds have been healing, I’m able to feel joy for another person’s success, without it feeling threatening. As much as Mom was proud of my accomplishments, she still was threatened by me at times. But that was her crap, not mine.

I understand now that the feeling of less than, not enough, and other forms of lack are taught to us. We are not born this way. We learn very, very young that there’s only a finite amount of (fill in the blank) money, love, success, abundance to go around. We are taught limitation and lack. We create deeply held beliefs about limitation and lack, and because they are created when we are very tiny, we don’t even know that we can shift this crap. We can toss it out the window like a dirty snot-rag onto the highway of life.

Can you imagine what life would feel and look like if you knew that there are no limits, and there is plenty to go around for everyone? The world has loved to tell us otherwise, but they lie through their own programming. Close your human eyes and let your spirit remind that little child that they are fabulous. They are creative as hell. They are scrappy little buggers who will do what they have to in order to survive, grow up, and live a life. And it’s time for them to know themselves as the spark of all creation, the spark of life, and the spark of love that they are.

Robert, thank you so very much for inspiring me this morning, and I am wrapping that little boy inside you, with a big, fuzzy, soft, warm, peach blanket of love, that he will soon remember how truly amazing he is.


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