Once you surrender to the wave of Truth, your journey has just begun. The journey of a million sorrows! You will be taken backwards, a life in review. You will walk with small feet, little hands, and big eyes, walking through places most adults fear to go.
No one can walk with you, for most of the walking is inside, felt inside, and inside is where the only work needs to be done.
The outside is the cause, the affect of the not looking earlier. If your parents can’t look the child is asked. It seems mental to have a little one hold what a parent can’t, but that is the way of it.
The sins of the father onto the children rang true for me. It seemed that not only did I carry a mess I carried generations of messes!
I recall saying, “I cannot fix what I did not break.”
What I also recall reading is IF I could correct my ‘thinking’ that my children’s thinking would automatically adjust. That if I could do the walking correctly, their feet would fall into footprints free of the legacy.
I wasn’t the original sinner so to speak, however, I was taught by those who missed the mark! I followed, I trusted, I walked as they walked, did as they did, and when I questioned, I felt like I was betraying the family crest. And I was!
What we are asked to do is to change the legacy of generations of dysfunction, beliefs cemented in brains, groves worn deep due to traditions that are nearly impossible to break.
This is asked of the child. An adult child, one who has never questioned freely, for the love was always attached to the affect.
If you were the one to stop the behavior, you stop love.
Love and disease are mixed together like a comedy of horror.
The child has to strike out on his own, away from his parents, away from their image of a perfect child. If they refuse to see her damaged, refuse to see the affects, she will have to walk away alone.
Unescorted into a sea of rising gales, swells and storms of feelings, emotion and confusion. Alone to be battered about.
It is hard to believe that beliefs and prior thoughts mean more than the life of a child. Feeble thoughts, I think not, for they can and do come before a life of a child.
Surely no knowing parent would do this.
I see both sides, I see the fight that ensues, I see but I am unable to do anything. For the child is on the outside in reality, and the parent is in the mind.
I have read “A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still” and that is spot on.
If reality can’t convince a mind, what can?
What seems to happen is that most children follow the lead of the parent, and if the parent can’t see, the blindness is handed down along with a funky rulebook of what not to say and do!
“The blind leading the Blind”…. unless you have ever seen, you think blindness is normal.
Learning to see as a blind person is hard. Learning to un-think as a blind person is harder.
We do this mostly alone, in our heads, while keeping our hands on reality, and using reality, reality is our Braille.
Pictures become our words, “pictures are worth a million words” is that how the saying goes. It truly is.
The hardest part is our first glimpse at Reality is Dark.
And we are pushed back from that. Our thoughts never allowed us to go there, so we have no clue what to do.
WE are asked to come in cold turkey, no aids to make it better. Nothing can we bring on the Bus to Reality.
Again naked we walk on, we are the bus driver heading to God knows where, naked, alone, without one secure thought.
Yet on we go, no maps, no begin point and we surely can’t see our destination.
Yet we go. Why? For it is either keep moving or die.
I somehow felt better alone on the bus, like I had gotten off of one driven by really mental people, and now even if I was mental, I was driving.
I drove, like a two year old handling a big city bus!
Destination? The Land of Peace Love and Joy!
A student driver in the seat of awareness, consciousness, I drove on.
Amazed, delighted, horrified and filled with grief.
The two sides merged, flowed together, apart, intertwining until the darkness receded in the Back Mirror.
My brother says “Look back but don’t stare” and I say especially if it is in the rearview mirror and you are driving the bus!
My bus is fueled by hopes, dreams, sharing my experience, doing what I love to do.
Every now and then I pass the bus from hell, and I look skyward with
Thanks and Gratitude, with reverence, I swerve around.
With my hands firmly on my wheel, I never know what is around the next bend, but know that I will always be given just what I need for this journey.
My bus, I love my bus, my bus of Freedom.