Okay, things were a little rough ever since you got a body. There were hurts, disappointments, anger. You learned things about yourself that weren’t true. You learned you aren’t good enough, your learned that you don’t deserve this or that and you thought that others were so much better or fulfilled or whatever.
Or at least they had what you didn’t have. You constantly compared yourself to them, sometimes to your advantage and sometimes to you disadvantage. You desperately tried to hold on to the more advantageous comparison.
You often felt lack – a big, gaping whole of something missing. You tried to fill it with different things. Some were good and some were not so good. You developed addictions to things, people, experiences. You developed habits that helped you keep on track but that also, in the end, became obstacles.
There were good things too, of course. So many exhilarating things happened to you and those you loved. It made life bearable and also believable.
You developed a lot of opinions about yourself and the world. You liked your opinions and felt they were right. You felt your opinions defined you and made you who you are.You congregated with people who had the same opinions as you Others with different opinions were wrong. Sometimes you tried to convince them that they were wrong. They never changed and nor did you. You were often angry.
You also felt hopeless. The world was bad and you wanted to save it. The world didn’t show any signs of wanting to be saved and you felt even more helpless. You tried to be good and useful. You tried not to be a failure. Sometime you were so convinced of your own virtues that others became sick of you. Other times you were so convinced of your own uselessness that everything felt meaningless.
Sometimes others said you were good. You wanted to believe them. One part of you believed them another part didn’t . You had learned to trust the outside/others more than the inside/yourself so you never understood or believed your natural goodness. You felt you couldn’t be happy if others were unhappy. You were convinced those feelings were noble. You worked for others’ happiness so that you, eventually, could be happy.
Or: you had never stopped to think of others’ needs and wants. Your own desires were always more important, your own personal dramas more real than distant wars and famines. You were preoccupied with the maintenance of your body and its relationships.
You felt your life had to have certain elements, otherwise you couldn’t be happy. You looked around at what others did. You tried to value what they valued. Their acceptance became what you thought was your happiness. It didn’t matter that it was fickle. It didn’t matter that you settled for powerlessness. All you cared about was having a place and a function. And you suffered. And you cried and you wished for things to be different.
But you never trusted yourself. You never saw yourself for who you are. You never even dared to ask “who am I?” with the intent of finding out exactly what you are. You never dared to be still because then everything welled up and you had to put the lid back on.
You were afraid. And then you felt stillness and it was wonderful and then you forgot and forgot again when life got in the way. You didn’t remember your own, free unquestionable magnificence. You kept forgetting about yourself and who you are.