Last week I heard myself trash talking. It was sarcastic and funny, but hurtful. If I had been talking about a friend, I would not have wanted them to hear. This was not about a friend. The trash was about me. Once again I had found a sneaky way to open a well-worn scab, gouged since childhood. Aside from feeling disappointed I had pinioned myself to that old wound, I was pleased that this time I heard myself.
Why does it take most of us so long to hear our stories binding us as prisoners to the past? Why is it so difficult to hear how we unconsciously create our lives? Hopefully, when ‘enlightenment’ does occur there is enough shock value that we stop to reassess. Instead of washing my tongue with soap, I’ve decided to re-script the old myth. In creating a new story I’ve needed to ask: Who and what formed the original version? What mythos moved into place when I began believing and speaking that story? How has it served me? Have I made my external world match my internal script? What requires liberating in order to no longer unconsciously trash talk this wound? How conscious must I remain in order to participate fully in a new script? What is the muscle I need to move into the yet untold story?
With ears growing more acute, I hope to feel into energies that create assumed myths. As I choose to un-hook from well worn inner identities, I seek useful tools to make myself known to me. I shall rely more on symbols for they are more powerful than words. I will turn ever more strongly to music and dance for they are far more compelling than lectures. I shall remember that joy trumps fear every time. I am committing to a daily practice of listening to what is. I know that new consciousness will eventually give birth to a free-radical. The freedom in this radical illuminates a different path. As I refuse to bow down to old gods, and honor the divine within, I change myself. I change the planet.