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<blockquote data-quote="scent of cedar" data-source="post: 610778" data-attributes="member: 1721"><p>Regarding languaging our suffering, Recovering. I think that was fantastic. We see what we perceive and believe it into reality, right?</p><p></p><p>"Some things are because you name them. You perpetuate them in your language. You commiserate over the woe they have wrought you. Say simply that these things are <u>not</u> so. Do not change the label, but the labelness. Eliminate them from your life by washing them first from your tongue. Ignoring that which is false is also a knowing. Thus, learning. </p><p></p><p>To learn is to grow and to grow is to live. </p><p></p><p>You may practice forgetting and thus, learn. </p><p></p><p>Avata washes your tongue here that you may properly inflect the name and then, forget it. Avata brings you this to cleanse you of expectancies.</p><p></p><p>You are the observer-effect."</p><p></p><p>The Jesus Incident</p><p>Herbert/Ransom</p><p></p><p>************************</p><p></p><p>Another interesting thing for me to think about, Recovering. Each time I search for how to communicate my feelings to you, I clarify them to myself, push the borders a little further. </p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>I feel a sense of authenticity in holding strong for myself in my interactions with others. It's like I'm actually here, fully present ~ or at least, more present, which feels like fullness to me at this point. Part of this is the decision to ride that edge of vulnerability Brene Brown writes about. To do that, I have to address a certain amount of fear disguised as anxiety. </p><p>While I have known the anxiety was there, I have not been able to surmount it. Tried and true family patterns of dealing with anxiety ~ and for my family, that is busyness and laughter and blatant manipulation and rage (but the busyness, like the laughter, has a frantic, razored edge to it), have been automatic. At the end of the day, what I remembered was my own responses. Had I been funny, had I been given enough attention, had I been funnier than, been given more attention than. Had anyone exploded, been left out, been insulted, been ignored. Had I controlled my anger, had I been kind.</p><p></p><p>It was all about judging and having been judged and how had that all looked; all about me, all about nothing, because there was no center to it. Competition is big in my family, but never acknowledged.</p><p></p><p>Jealousy is big. (This last is according to my mother, who loves to stir the pot. She told me this summer that she gets such a kick out of the way my sister and I are both so jealous of the relationship either of us has, with my mother.) </p><p></p><p>Which is an interesting thing for that same mother to say.</p><p></p><p>("Cyanide, Cedar? Oh, before you go? I think I gave your sister the bigger piece.")</p><p></p><p>Grrrr.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>Jealousy would be what happens in a realm of scarcity, of withholding, of scorn. Jealousy is not about the object of the jealous person's affections, but is about the jealous person's frail and struggling sense of self. That sense of not enough, of fraudulence and failure at the heart of things.</p><p></p><p>Now, where was I? </p><p></p><p>Ah, I know. So yes, as I stay where I am without trying to laugh or busy or protect myself out of the moment, I am finding a certain sense of authenticity which is much preferable to the way things looked to me before. So many times, I tell myself that, as I already know what I think, I would like to be here this time, to hear what anyone else is thinking or concluding.</p><p></p><p>I never do this with my family of origin. </p><p></p><p>Too risky for me, at this point in my own awakening.</p><p></p><p>That is the only way I know to answer the first part of your question about wholeness and inner certainty, Recovering. I would say I'm having a look around. I am still sampling what this feels like, seeing what I learn. </p><p></p><p>Yes, on the question of Mission...only I would say sense of purpose. But at the same time, I am beginning to be aware that I never really know what happened. I think there are thousands of possibilities in every interaction, every thought, every choice. What happens, happens based on where and who each of the parties to the interaction is, right at the moment the interaction is taking place. </p><p></p><p>Like a kaliedoscope. The pattern you see depends on when you look.</p><p></p><p>It's like watching Sponge Bob. The story you see, and the meaning you take from what you saw, has to do with who and where you were before the cartoon ever came on. A two-year old sees the program in one way, an adult, because the cartoon is devised that way, sees something else altogether. The two year old will never see those parts, though they were there all the time, until she is not two, anymore.</p><p></p><p>So, it's impossible to know what really happened, to us or to the other guy, in our interactions with others. I do know that honesty regarding anxiety, the willingness to be exposed, to be without defense for a little while, the willingness to stand in the fire of it ~ these are good things. That is what I was trying to explain about my feelings for my daughter, these days. I don't know so much about anything at all, anymore. I love her. I enjoy thinking about and hearing from her.</p><p></p><p>And that is all I know.</p><p></p><p>Perhaps, as we go on, our definitions of what is happening, of what we are seeing, change and deepen.</p><p></p><p>I am apprehensive about being good enough, about performing well enough, about letting another person or myself down, again and again and again. But at the same time, I am willing to understand that it is what it is. That to move forward by increments is still to move forward.</p><p></p><p>And yet, right here, right now, is all there really is.</p><p></p><p>I feel like I'm in an episode of that show about the Buddhist warrior monk. You know the one. Where he brands his arms by carrying the cauldron of fire. I would like to see that, again. Wonder what that was called, Recovering?</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="scent of cedar, post: 610778, member: 1721"] Regarding languaging our suffering, Recovering. I think that was fantastic. We see what we perceive and believe it into reality, right? "Some things are because you name them. You perpetuate them in your language. You commiserate over the woe they have wrought you. Say simply that these things are [U]not[/U] so. Do not change the label, but the labelness. Eliminate them from your life by washing them first from your tongue. Ignoring that which is false is also a knowing. Thus, learning. To learn is to grow and to grow is to live. You may practice forgetting and thus, learn. Avata washes your tongue here that you may properly inflect the name and then, forget it. Avata brings you this to cleanse you of expectancies. You are the observer-effect." The Jesus Incident Herbert/Ransom ************************ Another interesting thing for me to think about, Recovering. Each time I search for how to communicate my feelings to you, I clarify them to myself, push the borders a little further. :O) I feel a sense of authenticity in holding strong for myself in my interactions with others. It's like I'm actually here, fully present ~ or at least, more present, which feels like fullness to me at this point. Part of this is the decision to ride that edge of vulnerability Brene Brown writes about. To do that, I have to address a certain amount of fear disguised as anxiety. While I have known the anxiety was there, I have not been able to surmount it. Tried and true family patterns of dealing with anxiety ~ and for my family, that is busyness and laughter and blatant manipulation and rage (but the busyness, like the laughter, has a frantic, razored edge to it), have been automatic. At the end of the day, what I remembered was my own responses. Had I been funny, had I been given enough attention, had I been funnier than, been given more attention than. Had anyone exploded, been left out, been insulted, been ignored. Had I controlled my anger, had I been kind. It was all about judging and having been judged and how had that all looked; all about me, all about nothing, because there was no center to it. Competition is big in my family, but never acknowledged. Jealousy is big. (This last is according to my mother, who loves to stir the pot. She told me this summer that she gets such a kick out of the way my sister and I are both so jealous of the relationship either of us has, with my mother.) Which is an interesting thing for that same mother to say. ("Cyanide, Cedar? Oh, before you go? I think I gave your sister the bigger piece.") Grrrr. :O) Jealousy would be what happens in a realm of scarcity, of withholding, of scorn. Jealousy is not about the object of the jealous person's affections, but is about the jealous person's frail and struggling sense of self. That sense of not enough, of fraudulence and failure at the heart of things. Now, where was I? Ah, I know. So yes, as I stay where I am without trying to laugh or busy or protect myself out of the moment, I am finding a certain sense of authenticity which is much preferable to the way things looked to me before. So many times, I tell myself that, as I already know what I think, I would like to be here this time, to hear what anyone else is thinking or concluding. I never do this with my family of origin. Too risky for me, at this point in my own awakening. That is the only way I know to answer the first part of your question about wholeness and inner certainty, Recovering. I would say I'm having a look around. I am still sampling what this feels like, seeing what I learn. Yes, on the question of Mission...only I would say sense of purpose. But at the same time, I am beginning to be aware that I never really know what happened. I think there are thousands of possibilities in every interaction, every thought, every choice. What happens, happens based on where and who each of the parties to the interaction is, right at the moment the interaction is taking place. Like a kaliedoscope. The pattern you see depends on when you look. It's like watching Sponge Bob. The story you see, and the meaning you take from what you saw, has to do with who and where you were before the cartoon ever came on. A two-year old sees the program in one way, an adult, because the cartoon is devised that way, sees something else altogether. The two year old will never see those parts, though they were there all the time, until she is not two, anymore. So, it's impossible to know what really happened, to us or to the other guy, in our interactions with others. I do know that honesty regarding anxiety, the willingness to be exposed, to be without defense for a little while, the willingness to stand in the fire of it ~ these are good things. That is what I was trying to explain about my feelings for my daughter, these days. I don't know so much about anything at all, anymore. I love her. I enjoy thinking about and hearing from her. And that is all I know. Perhaps, as we go on, our definitions of what is happening, of what we are seeing, change and deepen. I am apprehensive about being good enough, about performing well enough, about letting another person or myself down, again and again and again. But at the same time, I am willing to understand that it is what it is. That to move forward by increments is still to move forward. And yet, right here, right now, is all there really is. I feel like I'm in an episode of that show about the Buddhist warrior monk. You know the one. Where he brands his arms by carrying the cauldron of fire. I would like to see that, again. Wonder what that was called, Recovering? Cedar [/QUOTE]
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