When last we left this saga, I had come out the other side of two intense years of obsessive hate games a newer, lighter version of myself, the result of the gifts of my required spiritual growth. (Do you need to catch up? Hate Games. What To Do When You Are The Target of Someone’s Hate. From a Spiritual Perspective). Or listen to the Audio Version, read by me.
My teachers came in the form of two neighbors who I refer to as Mr. and Mrs. X. To briefly sum up the situation: I was President of our neighborhood Home Owners’ Association Board; they decided to paint their brick without permission; we asked them to stop and take the paint off; they asked me to intervene on their behalf to sway the Board in their favor. I did not. They retaliated by spying on my husband and I, taking photos and videos of us and then creating stories about all the nefarious ways in which we were a neighborhood nuisance.
Early on in my personal spiritual journey, I went through a phase of watching and reading stories of NDE’s or near death experiences. It was an integral part of shedding my ingrained catholic beliefs of heaven and hell and life ending at death.
This led me to the work of Dr. Michael Newton (Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives), which quite literally blew my mind and made me eager to experience my own past life regression; which I later did with the fabulous Nancy Hajek right here in Nashville.
We can get attached to who we think we are. We can be downright stubborn about it. Our identity seamlessly and completely intertwined with what we do. What we do becomes what we are. But what if what we do is taken away from us in the blink of an eye? Who are we then?
In the words of Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu:
I have a sentence that sits on the vision board above my desk. It says: I have been radically transforming. When I was drawn to those words, less than a year ago, I was decidedly not in the midst of a radical transformation. I didn’t even feel as if I were approaching one.
And I knew just enough at the time not to question. So I cut out the tiny sentence and placed it in the career and life purpose section of my vision board where it sits at eye level.
I love you, but I’ve got to let you go.
Each time our paths cross I open my heart with renewed hope that it will be different somehow. And each time I walk away feeling empty.
My dear (____________), I realize now that at some point, I gave away my power to you. I was rebuilding my life, creating it piece by piece, and in all of its uncertainty and tender roots, I shyly let a chosen few in to tread softly and take a peek. I wanted to share my trepidation and fear and doubt and exhilaration and sheer anticipation with you. So I gave you permission to validate me. In no small way I longed for it. But it never came.