Tag: inside

  • Inner Level of Truth

    While I thought that we all see life from different angles, I had thought it was from the level of our experience, but it may be more from the level of our awareness. 

    David Hawkins writes a neat example of how we see the world.  

    "Imagine a "bum" on a street corner: In an upscale neighborhood stands an old man in tattered clothes, alone and leaning against the corner of an elegant brownstone. Look at him from the perspective of various levels of consciousness, and note the inconsistency in how he appears to different people and viewpoints.

    "From the bottom of the scale, at a level of 20, (Shame), the bum is seen to be dirty, disgusting, and disgraceful.  

    From the level 30 (Guilt) he'd be blamed for his condition: He deserves what he gets; he's probably a lazy welfare cheat.

    At the level 50 (Hopelessness), his plight would appear desperate, a damning piece of evidence to prove that society can't do anything about homelessness.

    At the level 75 (Grief), the old man looks tragic, friendless, and forlorn.

    At a Conscious level of 100 (Fear), we might see the bum as threatening, a social menace; perhaps we should call the police before he commits some crime.

    At 125 (Desire), he represents a frustrating problem – why doesn't somebody do something.

    At 150 (Anger), the old man might look like he could be violent; or, on the other hand, one could be furious that such horrible conditions exist in our country today.

    At 175 (Pride) he could be seen as an embarrassment or as lacking the self-respect to better  himself.

    At 200 (Courage), we might be motivated to wonder if there is a local homeless shelter – all he needs is a job and a place to live.

    At 250 (Neutrality), the bum looks okay, maybe even interesting.  "Live and let Live," we might say – after all, he's not hurting anyone.

    At 310 (Willingness), we might decide to go down and see what we can do to cheer up that fellow on the corner; maybe we'd be motivated to volunteer some time at the local shelter.

    At 350 (Acceptance), the man on the corner appears intriguing; He probably has an interesting story to tell; he's where he is for reasons we may never understand. 

    At 400 (Reason), he's a symptom of the current economic and social malaise, or perhaps a good subject for in-depth psychological study.

    At the higher levels, the old man begins to look not only interesting, but friendly – and then lovable. Perhaps we'd then be able to see that he was, in fact, one who had transcended social limits and gone free a joyful old guy with the wisdom of age in his face and the serenity that comes from indifference to material things.

    At 600 (Peace) he's revealed as our own self in a temporary expression.

    When approached, the bum's response to these different levels of consciousness would vary with them.  With some, he'd feel secure – with others, frightened or dejected.  Some would make him angry, others would delight him; some he'd avoid, others he'd greet with pleasure.   (And so it's said that we meet what we mirror.)

    So much for the manner in which our level of consciousness – that is, the world we encounter as passive observers – decides what we see. It's true that we'll react to things in a fashion predicated by the level that we perceive them from, that is to say, external events may define conditions, but they don't determine the conscious level of human response.  " David Hawkins

    What I failed to take into consideration, along with the truth, is that we all see what we see depending upon our level of awareness.  It isn't so much that the truth has different shades, but that we do.

    We have darker shades of viewing life and you see how you feel or by your level of being.

    I have learned that who I am to others, way depends on how they see themselves…and really their total understanding not only of self, but life and the Universe too.

    I have felt many differing viewpoints of me…and how I was so wrongly perceived. 

    Just as this bum, I am a lady and they bring their own definition of me to me, and it is colored by their own self awareness.  The lower the level, the worse of a person I become.

    This has freed me to be me…and to make choices based on what I felt was the best for my soul.

    What is also interesting, or at least it bears noting.  It seems that the choices that are good for the soul, are not so good for the pride/ego person.  

    My old choices that helped me thrive in the lower levels are now extremely unappetizing to me now.  It is like you lose the taste for old habits…the magnetism loses its attraction to you

    What is also very cool, is that no one but you can change the level of your consciousness, its energy field is derived by your thought patterns and beliefs.  What you believe…is your level of consciousness.  

    David Hawkins writes about making a leap in awareness.

    "On our scale of consciousness, there are two critical points that allow for major advancement.  The first is at 200, the initial level of empowerment; Here, the willingness to stop blaming and accept responsibility for one's own actions, feelings, and beliefs arises – as long as cause and responsibility are projected outside of oneself, one will remain in the powerless mode of victimhood. The second is at the 500 level, which is reached by accepting love and nonjudgmental forgiveness as a lifestyle, excercising unconditional kindnes to all persons, things and events without exception.  (In 12-step recovery groups, it's said that there are no justified resentments -even if somebody "did you wrong." you're still free to choose your response and let resentment go.)  Once one makes this commitment, he begins to experience a different, more benign world as his perceptions evolve."  David

    Beauty indeed is in the eye of the beholder…You simply can't see that which you are not aware of within you…the less of your self you know and undertand, the less of me you understand and know.

    The more I have learned about me, the broader I view the world…the world is seen from our inner level of truth.

  • Not being Free.

    I listened to a woman speak yesterday in her audio book, Carmen Bin Laden “Inside the Kingdom”, my life in Saudi Arabia… She was raised in Europe and married the brother to Osama Bin Laden. 

    So she had to do as women do in that country… she lost her freedom as she covered herself up. 

    She married her husband in the 70’s. Both had lived in the United States and went to college here, so her vantage point is as a woman who was free going to not being free. 

    It was interesting to hear that the women and men felt they ‘respected’ woman by making them hide and not show themselves.

    How odd.

    We respect you so much that you are to become invisible???

    She explained how the world looked from behind the dark veil, how you cloudy and dark all things were.  How when she left the country and could be without the veil, how crisp and clear and fresh all things looked.

    And how when she was in a large group of women, she lost her sisters, for they all appeared as dark triangles.  There was no way for even the women to tell who was who; they all just blended into covered triangles.

    She said it was like entering a parallel universe, for it was completely foreign and she said little by little she allowed her self to be taken over.

    What is so interesting to me is that she is a grown woman, who in order to be ‘loved’ by her husband and his family had to hide behind the veil, giving up all her free rights as a human being. 

    Coming from the outside she could see things so differently than the women born into this society. 

    The ones born in this didn’t even know that they had another choice available.

    While listening to her, you can see how the beliefs and lifestyles mindlessly get handed down.  Girls are treated differently from the day they are born; they are never groomed to have rights.

    What is so odd is that the men/boys would get in trouble for seeing a bare unveiled woman. So they are taught it is wrong to see a women without her being hidden. 

    The value systems are set in place in childhood…

    The extreme societies are extreme examples.

    Yet on the scales of freedom, a loss of individual power is still a loss.  Some of us are in the process of getting our power back, enabling us to shed the veils or silken chains of not being able to own our own lives. 

    Carmen is showing me the extreme cases of women being brainwashed into succumbing and giving up the right to breath fresh air, to see clearly, to walk freely…and yet it is my belief, that while many women in the FALC don’t wear a darkened veil, they are just as imprisoned.

    Albeit on a lesser scale, but not being free is not being free.

     

  • Felt Its Worth

    Before beginning yoga today, I cleaned the mirror I stand in front of, it was layered with weeks of dust, and I appeared fog like behind it. Today I felt the need to wipe it free, as I did so the line from a song arose in my head, “I can see clearly now the pain is gone…”

    Then into yoga I went.

    I was on the third part of the Awkward pose, where I go from standing up to squatting down, and Bikram asks us to descend slowly, and I lost my control and fell into a squat and smiled as I did so.

    This smile took up my whole face, my cheeks, my eyes and my mouth rose into a delightful bend, and inside I felt its wonderful wave of joy.

    I smiled at my rendition of his yoga; I smiled at me and the transformation of my face and received fully my smile about me.

    A smile about me isn’t something I have any memory of ever receiving.

    I was shocked first at the way this smile changed my look, and even more stunned to receive its full value inside.

    To feel myself worthy of a full-blown smile.

    I froze for a half of second to feel such sheer delight inside myself.

    My smile quickly disappeared and I struggled to smile while tears of sorrow dampened my face.

    Imprinted in my minds eye is my smiling feeling being over swept by sadness as memories flung themselves upon me, one on top of the other.

    A 50 year long life review flashed before my eyes, all the places where I mistook myself for being bad, wrong, and despicable, how I had not seen my own worth or how I had lost sight of myself inside myself.

    The simple fact that I was unworthy of a smile from me about me is so harsh and tragic; yet it was never my smile I sought. I didn’t even know I was missing my smile for me.

    The mouth I tried to change was my mother’s.

    Before putting my words to paper, I spoke to my brother and then did some mindless cleaning, and it came to me what love I had for my mother.

    I literally gave my soul, my insides away in order to bring a smile to her face and to keep it there.

    How tragic that she wanted my smile more than she wanted my tears and my sorrows, and even more dreadful for a little girl to be left with such sorrow inside, such darkness.

    In denying my abuse, she left me in the dark.

    It is funny in a sad way, how I wanted her to have a smile, more than me.

    I could cry a river of tears for the little girl who wasn’t allowed to feel her sorrow out loud, to be heard and valued as abused.

    Valued as abused and not having to hide this fact.

    I can see I took up my mother’s view of me.

    My mouth and facial images reflected hers in my mirror and even more tragically inside.

    Inside I knew my mother blamed me.

    I took away her sunshine, I stole her lovely story, I was darker than the darkness that abused me.

    I changed her smiling face to anger.

    And it was my job now to put her smile back.

    And I tried and danced, and pranced and worked and slaved and toiled to bring it back, and to keep it in place.

    When I was tired of holding up those cheeks, when I simply didn’t have anymore to give, or when I tried to tend to myself, I heard her angry response, “How dare you Beth Ann…” and up I got and began dancing again.

    Six years ago all my dancing for her was over, done, finished, the end.

    I stopped where I stood and in the middle of the darkness began to see what I did for me and what I did for others.

    Life offered up to me a million situations for me to choose again, their pleasure or mine, their smile or mine, their feelings or mine.

    Each and every time I found the strength to disappoint my mother and chose me; I opened up inside, made room for that smile.

    Today, I feel that I have made it to the other side, to the side of worthiness, or at least I have felt the wave of joy lap at my feet, I feel that I am worthy to now frolic in the ocean and swim to its depths.

    I look forward to seeing another one come out of me and shine upon me and for me to welcome it in!

    I have been waiting in vain for her to arrive and tell me that I am a good girl, that I am of value, and that the abuse didn’t change who I am, in her eyes.

    I wanted her to smile that it was okay that I was abused, it didn’t matter to her, and she loved me any way.

    Again, the smile I sought was hers and the one I found was mine.

    What I love is that the first smile I was able to receive was mine!

    A smile in full acceptance of all of me, the darkest dark and the brightest bright.

    I smiled at me and felt Its worth.

  • Follow an Impulse Fearlessly.

    “Every day we slaughter our finest impulses.  That is why we get heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognizes them as our own, as the tender shoots, which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty.  Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths.  We all derive from the same source.  There is no mystery about the origin of things.  We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, to discover what is already there.” 

     ~Henry Miller, Sexus

     

    Slaughtering our finest impulses…is what leads us to not doing what we feel inside.

     

    What stops us? 

     

    I am learning to follow the impulse, to listen to the voice inside, whether it be to steer away from things or to be drawn towards them.

     

    Our lives are lived from the tiny impulses that happen as we move along each day.

     

    Impulses to take a new path, to speak to a new friend, to call an old one, to send a card, to make a call, to say words we fear, to try a new idea, a new hobby; all are sparked by an impulse within.

     

    It isn’t so much that we don’t have impulses, but fear quickly comes between the impulse and us halting it from happening.

     

    To follow the lead of the impulse fearlessly, knowing you are in fear, but to feel the excitement of doing something new, daring to express or share a part of you that needs to be voiced, to be a playmate with the impulse. 

     

    Be a willing playmate, stop sitting on the sidelines of your life…get up and follow an impulse fearlessly. 

     

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