From Chapter 1 – What Goes In… Eventually Gets Out
June 23, 2016 at 11:21 am PST / I’ve connected to a version of me who is living the life I never thought possible. Being held captive within, the man I wish I could be. He is living the life I never thought possible, one filled with joy, prosperity, and love. The best part? It’s mine for the taking. All I need to do is shut up… and listen.
Over the last year, I groomed this relationship as I would a dear friend. But, one who controls my air. It has become a partnership. The lofty and wordy incantations I once spoke with grand gestures befitting a Salem witch trial have been replaced with humorous banter and a lot of yelling. A call out for help is now, “hey you” or “hey buddy.”
What began as a murmur, agitating my youthful instincts, guiding me, urging me, is no longer a whisper but a boom that shakes the ground. With the war cry of an army, it soldiers me forward when I reach for the white flag. Fighting for his throne, the voice of a king who speaks victory without battle. Solemn and wise echoes a prophet whose rantings flow through my veins and forecast my every move. Yet, even this trifecta is no match for the one hiding in the back, lurking in the dark. Last and most powerful, Mr. Saboteur. The villain. His rhetoric tortures me at night, poking my brain with limiting beliefs, mocking the feel-good affirmations I passionately recite. He likes shadows and chaos. He’s wounded, angry, hurt.
The business idea that was spawned after the Dark Days is imploding. I’ve risen from the proverbial ashes for the fifth or sixth time, but there is nothing left to save. The patterns and cycles that haunt me have returned with a vengeance. Spinning out of control, again. Mr. Saboteur is chiseling away at all my hard work, hiding landmines beneath my feet. And, I keep running ahead as fast as I can.
I’ve been knocked down enough to know there’s only one place to turn when I need advice – within.
Ceremonies and rituals aside, I sit on the floor facing north. Right foot over left knee. My body knows this position and falls into alignment. Three deep breaths, I’m in.
“How are you?” fills my head. This is my signal. I’m not sure why all our conversations start out this way, but I play along.
My social skills kick in. I silently reply, “Good, and you?” There’s an immediate sensation of laughter pulsing through me as the corners of my lips are pulled into a peaceful crescent.
Whatever this is, a spirit guide, my higher self, or some new age mumbo-jumbo bullshit people try to label, it is void of human niceties. I’m in panic mode. There’s an eviction on my door, and the repo guy is out for my car. I’m hungry and so fucking tired of the same fight.
“Everything I worked for is falling apart. Why is this happening?” I ask.
“You were given signs, warnings, and you heard me scream, ‘That is a bad idea!’ Still, you repeated the same patterns, made the same choices. With each revolution, more distance separated you from your Personal Truth.”
My arm twitches. Fingers coil. I steady myself. Exhaling and suspending my breath for a few seconds before curiously mumbling, “Personal Truth? What the hell is that?”
I think only minutes pass, but it’s been over an hour as the first line of my stone tablet is carved.
“Shortly after conception, along with form and spirit, you are bestowed a path designed to follow a series of milestones. Some milestones are fixed and unchangeable, like birth and death. Most are moveable, transforming until reached. These fluid milestones are intangible. Such would be an awakening to a Personal Truth, the ending of a hereditary cycle, or falling in love.”
“Personal Truth is the sole proprietorship over your life path. It is incapable of understanding more than the individual. It is solid and transparent. It has no requirements or conditions. No rules or restrictions. A Personal Truth is a divine right. A sanctified endowment. An ethereal inheritance.”
“After reaching each milestone, you rise closer to the version of you who can Guide your greatest happiness and is holding everything you desire.”
“You strayed from your path and ignored your Personal Truth. Now, the hands of God are pulling you back.”
I nervously respond, “So, what happens now?”
“It’ll be over soon enough.”
Having reached apocalyptic proportions I query, “Is something bad going to happen?”
“It is time to release what no longer wants to stay. This is the unchangeable part – Purposeful Order. You can join in, go along with the flow but, most likely, you will fight against it. Either way, your next milestone is exactly the same.”
Bringing my hands together, I lower my head. The fear of what tower is about to fall shrivels in the knowing that something greater resides within.
Reading through the notes I jotted down, I’m in disbelief. It is my hand penning these words, but I don’t remember writing them. I take the opportunity to express my thankfulness and have a little fun. Wondering if I should call a priest or exorcist, I ask one more question.
“I don’t know where this is coming from, but I have faith that whatever is placed in front of me, I will be led to my Truth. Thanks, umm, umm… who am I talking to anyway?”
A gust of warm air shoots across the back of my neck. Silence followed by a piercing ding. Ears pop. Still with my eyes closed – I can see. Frightened, I wave my hands in front of my face and gasp for a breath.
Nails tear the sides of my throat, speaking aloud, “You may call me Adam.”
With those five words, a new cycle begins – a pursuit to find my Personal Truth. But, like all great stories, this one began with failure.