After listening to a half-hour of Neville Goddard this morning, the following recognition of years wasted by carping negativity, and self-criticism sank me deep into the bedclothes. Somehow, it is not accurate to say “negativity and self-criticism.” I actually thought that unhappiness was the best way to operate in this world. I thought if I were unhappy long enough I would earn happiness. I held a mistaken belief that happiness was earned by racking up sufficient points “doing the right thing.” Of course, the “catch-22” was I couldn’t identify “the right thing” and spent decades vacillating among this, that, and the other.
Such a relief just being happy. There are no strings attached. Happiness is a state of being, independent of circumstance, environment and well-meaning relatives who know all about the best way to live their life. Adding to the all-around fun is the discovery that I can be happy as a singing bird at the same time burning with desire for something I want.
Having listened to a half-hour of Neville Goddard this morning, the years of unconscious negativity and self-criticism sank me into the bedclothes. It’s not accurate to say “negativity and self-criticism.” It was the mistaken belief that I had to earn happiness by “doing the right thing.” Of course, the “catch-22” was I couldn’t identify “the right thing” and spent decades vacillating among this, that, and the other.
I now know I can just be happy. There are no strings attached. Happiness is a state of being, independent of circumstance, environment and well-meaning relatives who know all about the best way to live their life. them at the end of a good start. Adding to the all-around fun is the discovery that I can be happy as a singing bird while burning with desire for something I want.
This afternoon I engaged in an event in which I missed the mark by a mile in terms of desired outcome. BUT it led me down a new path of thought that I will be testing for this week.
Since third grade, I’ve feared people disapproving me; for decades I’ve allowed fear of people’s reactions to turn me away from from goals. So, this afternoon, I was determined muscle my way to a specific result when engaging with a stranger. Instead of achieving the result I wanted, I got a lap full of disapproval. On the one hand, it was a win in that I stood my ground for once and “waded in” instead of my usual cowardly retreat from the field of battle. The disapproval slid off like water from a duck’s back. For that, I award myself a gold star.
However, I failed to achieve my objective. Keeping a blind eye on my objective, I expressed myself in forceful manner which immediately elicited resistance. Now I am re-thinking what it means to be powerful. It could be a mistake to define power as “the greatest application of force.”
What if power results from focused imagining of the desired outcome before engaging in activity?
What if I actively imagine a desired outcome, then stand aside and allow the desired outcome to work itself out using resources of which I am unaware?
What would have happened if I had taken ten or fifteen minutes to actively imagine the desired outcome, before engaging myself in that event?
Had I not been so blindly determined to achieve my outcome would I have been smarter and taken a breath and taken time to assess the energy in the room and assess the other person’s state of mind?
Funny thing, the interaction that occurred was an exact reflection of myself.
My dreams, at least the ones I remember, arrive in the early morning, rattle around for a second or two, then exit leaving no trace. This morning’s dream lingered. It did more than linger; it clamored for attention. A set of serious men in grey suits were interviewing me for a job. They asked what school I attended before transferring to UCLA.
I was flooded with memories of my time there, yet I simply could not recall the name of that school. It was a prestigious school, with a name once as familiar to me as my own. As I failed again and again to capture that elusive name, my distress increased. Finally, I just gave up, thinking that my three years at UCLA had to satisfy the interviewers.
The moment I woke up, I knew immediately that I had attended Otero Junior College for a year. However, the memories I was recalling while dreaming were vivid memories of an experience I never experienced in a school I never attended. Nevertheless, I felt there was validity in the experience.
If there were anything more to that dream than simple reverberations from my recent reading then I leave it to my subconscious to sort, while I go clean the bathroom.