Overall, yesterday was a resounding success! The success was the energy and focus that I brought to tasks that once I resisted because they seemed overwhelming. I looked at the task, looked at what I would need to have on hand before I started, and began. Solutions to small problems just came to me and i was having so much fun that I was sorry that I had to stop before the job was done. Furthermore, (I can hardly believe this myself) the cat vomiting up piles of undigested breakfast left me unperturbed. I simply cleaned up the messing, using a new way of doing this that I had never used before and that really worked.
Moving into Day Two
Today is about shedding an entire “tapestry” of a subconscious doctrine that I wove from the threads of thoughts, feelings, ideas, and inaccururate believes about my father. If I choose to operate from Neville Goddards point of view that everthing in my immediate environment reflects myself, then my job is to proceed undoing the threads of that relationship by looking at it with new eyes. It’s not even 9 a.m. and here I am in a new place. “Daddy” have many genuine gifts, and I appreciate them and love him for them, while leaving the elements of angst and storm and drung behing. Had I been less resistant and resentful, I might have benefited more from those gifts and benefited from them much sooner.
The immediate task requires me to transform the habitual fear and resentment that I have concerning the recurring Friday task. Accomplishing this requires a prescription. “Active belief that everything is always working out for me in ways more wonderous than anything I could plan”
This is a private journal published publically. When typing thoughts feel more focused; I dont drift and dwadle as I do when I write script in a journal; somehow black ink on a pristine white page calls for a perfection of expression that intimidates me. It is prosdaic and dull; therefore safe from other eyes. So, why do I publish it at all? Having asked the question, I am not going to bog myself down looking for an asnwer. Whatever that answer may be, it makes no difference. The clock is quickly ticking out my alloted thirty minutes so needs must move on.
Heard of Emmet Fox? He wrote the book(let) “The Seven Day Mental Diet.” I start dieting today. No calorie counting. No going hungry. No sacrificing the cream in my coffee. This diet requires internal monitoring of thoughts and moods. and shapeshifting the negativity into a more positive form. I had started paying attention to this in lacadaisical fashion before stumbling over the book. By that time I was already dismayed that my mind is such a weed patch of resistance, resentment, lethergie, and self -pity.
Will I stick to this diet for seven days? If I do, will I feel more light in my ways of interacting with the world? A week of hours will tell.
If Wanda the fairy godmother shimmered into my living room, wand at the ready to grant three wishes, the first wish I’d spill is to produce an eight-episode television series from “The Curse of Chalion” by Lois McMaster Bujold. I read this book at least three times a year. It’s my opinion that it’s a masterpiece of world building. The linchpin of this story is the elegantly constructed religion base upon Five Gods: a god for each of four seasons, and a fifth god for chaos. Perhaps chaos misses the mark. The fifth god governs the unexpected the misplaced. When I find my engine idling, I entertain myself by imagining myself as a producer of this show. Oops! Times up! Hit the publish button
The sun is rising, bringing with this new day more accounts of death and destruction in Ukraine. More lives lost, more buildings razed, more rubble piled in the streets, and more fertile farmlands strewn with metal detritus instead of young, green plants.
This morning I read billions have been donated in support of Ukraine’s resistance to invasion. Of course, it is heartening that such support is being provided; still, I ask myself why such huge support is triggered by such destructive activities as war, and such meager support is provided for more positive activities such as solving the issues of climate change, pollution, and famine. One wonders if humanity will ever outgrow romanticized view of war.
Yielding to depression helps nothing; it only adds another grain of sand to the pile of despair. Once I read about a World War II fighter pilot, who said he never allowed himself to fly a mission until he felt happy. The “lightness of being” he experienced in his state of happiness opened his senses to enemies lurking behind the glare of the sun. True, that was lifted from a novel, not a biological account. Nevertheless, it gives me a reason to elevate my mood