Let’s begin the story today with the proper pronouns. This is my story, not yours. Even so, there may be some common threads. And because it’s my story, I’ll tell you that I did go to bed on a good note, although the end is not yet in sight.
After hearing about her afternoon argument from my friend, I was strangely relieved, yet increasingly more perplexed. I’ve decided to take this into an inner journey to ask for more information. And before I tell you what I learned there in the other worlds, here’s a bit from a couple days before that will link the pieces of the story together for more poignancy.
I made an announcement to myself, as well as a couple friends, that I no longer wanted to identify myself as an angry person. In fact, I said to them, “I’ve been through the whole gamut at this point. I’ve experienced unconscious anger (in retrospect, of course); I’ve absorbed other people’s anger; I’ve avoided my anger; I’ve witnessed it’s hold on my family and I’ve often taken responsibility for all the anger in a given space or environment; I used to frequently react in anger; and, I’ve admitted I have a river of rage running through me. In fact, I’ve offered this information to the world, the Gods and the Goddesses. I’ve offered it to Jesus too, and I’ve asked over and over for help with this little rascal.
Or should I say, demon.
Generally speaking, I have taken on the world’s anger as my own, allowing what’s out there to reflect to me who I am. As ridiculous as that may seem to you, it’s true. And, there comes a point when the addict needs to awaken to the insidiousness of this definition and move on, recognizing that when we forever address ourselves by saying, “Hi, I’m an anger-holic,” or whatever, we not only hold ourselves in that place, we attract the same back to us, becoming and remaining enmeshed, until we stop. It’s one of those so-called vicious cycles.
It takes a lot of courage to say, “I’m done now.” What if I’m not done? What if I’m just fooling myself and I’m destined to be angry forever. What if I walk into a bar and immediately begin to drink in all that anger again. Really! What if I take this risk and end up looking like a fool, or worse, an anger-holic all over again?
For me, after several decades of life as this beast, I’m truly ready for a shift in how I interpret myself. I want this change more than anything and I’m willing to be a hard ass about it with myself if I need for some reason to fight off the projections and reminders of the past. I’m also willing to laugh it off, if that’s what works in the moment.
My awareness includes the fact that making this change doesn’t mean I won’t ever get angry again in my life. That would actually be pretty limiting. It simply means I will not hold this pre-conception over my head any longer. I’m creating some space for a different set of feelings, emotions, responses and attitudes to surface. This is an evolution in neurology!
To set the journey intention, I asked to be relieved of my preconceptions about who I am, who I was, and to replace them with the truth of who I am. Without telling you all the gory details, I’ll just say that this journey took me beyond the veils into another dimension.
Wearing gold bracelets and headbands, I was a powerful woman, surrounded by other equally powerful women. Someone betrayed us, sending a group of thugs to kill us off so they could re-establish a patriarchy of power in our place. I was put to death by snakes–massive snakes that choked and poisoned me simultaneously. I was so horrified, both in present time and whenever this crime took place, I hovered over my own dead body until it decayed; until the bones turned to dust. In that time, I couldn’t fathom the idea of such an end nor the fact that it was over. There was so much to do, so much I hadn’t yet accomplished. One of my guides who pulled me from the wreckage also identified the places in me that needed healing. There were black holes in my throat and my pelvis.
This is another beginning. I still have some healing to do on my Root, Sacral/Navel and Throat Chakra centers. This is one answer among many that will take me to yet another step in this process. Sure, I’ve seen many of my past lives before and I know about these links to voice, grounding and creativity. It’s just never come with the one crucial piece in place. It’s all so much more expansive because I’m now willing to become undefined by the old rage and even the hidden desire for vengeance that comes from such a death. I’m ready to be vulnerable in a different way.
In its wake, I’ve attracted many experiences related to death around speaking the truth in present time. It is the key reason for my rage, the incredible bursts of anger around, and feelings of oppression; the feelings of loneliness and being unheard, being soundless because of fearful self-suppression. Lately I’ve noticed there are times when I speak and although I can hear the words inside the tunnel of my own head, the sounds appear stuck and I cannot hear them coming out of my mouth.
Writing this blog, in the way I express and have been exposing myself these last several months, is my way of breaking through the armor and the fear; it’s been a vehicle for my personal evolution. And this story isn’t over yet. My old Irish sweater is slowly unraveling, yet still has a way to go. And I might need to knit it back together at least partially now and then to see the bigger picture.
Next Episode: the invisible connections between past and present, the outer and inner, me and everyone else I know. Why would I allow someone else’s anger toward me from miles away, infiltrate and seize my well-being to the degree it did yesterday?
