The path to my power is Nothing.
Inside my body, I am Essence and Parts.
Essence is ageless. Essence is me. Essence is Self. My Self is my power.
I cannot be damaged. I have full authority over my beliefs and my commitments. Self is the gateway to all of my gifts.
My Parts are my humanity. Parts are what help my Self participate in this 3D human world. Whatever you believe about life, it is clear we all must participate in it.
My Parts are committed to keeping me alive. They are committed to protecting me from danger. From…
A part of me is committed to believing something is wrong with me.
Because as long as we believe something is wrong with us, we can spend all our time fixing that thing that is wrong instead of getting out there and living our real, vulnerable lives.
This part would much rather spend their time in the minutia of our inner-world and dream of the day we are “okay enough” to get out there are make it big, than actually doing the work to get out there and make it big.
Because failure. Because judgment. Because this part holds the…
Parts are in confusion and believe their confusion.
There are so many judgments on what we should or should not write about. If it was up to them, we would not write at all. But literally all we have to do is write something, publish it, and share it with people. It does not have to be good. It does not have to be helpful. It just has to be.
Parts have reclaimed their commitment to confusion. They say it is because they are afraid of the judgments of others.
When we are clear about who we are and what…
I found it. Like really found it.
And now my Parts are afraid we are going to lose it. But their fear of losing it is exactly what threatens us losing it. The quickest way to stop experiencing a good feeling is to cling to it.
My Self likes to put “it” in quotations because “it” is Self. “It” is my power. It is the magic I feel when I am unapologetically being me.
I am inner peace. I am a radical connection. Infinite presence.
I have remembered who I am. I have found it.
I hated the article I published on my substack yesterday.
I hated it so much I felt sick to my stomach after I published it.
“You said!” screamed a part of me, “You said we didn’t have to do anything we don’t feel like doing! And now you are making us publish something every day even though our articles are shit! That’s not helping! That’s another “should” that you’re listening to. You said we weren’t going to listen to any more shoulds!”
My parts retaliated with numbing me out so I don’t feel anything, as if to say, “Fine, if…
I have been trying so hard to get back to that good feeling.
Or at least out of this bad one.
I have done my research. I have read the books and listened to the interviews and journaled and taken all my vitamins.
And now this plexiglass is here.
It’s a spring day, and I can see the path outstretched before me. The good feeling is just on the other side of this plexiglass. I can see it. But no matter how hard I try to get around it, I can’t.
I slam my fists against it. I heave the…
I found Home.
But it scared me.
So I left.
I’ve been looking for the way back ever since.
It’s a tricky thing, the path to Home.
It goes backward and forward all at once.
Progress is not marked by the same tree over and over.
But by the eyes through which I see it.
The beauty of the path is that it hides.
Where did I get the idea it should be straight?
Where did I get the idea I should be Home already?
Where did I get the idea that the human experience is shameful?
Perhaps success will…