Blah, Blah, Blah

The joy of being me is erratic. One moment I am trustworthy and the next moment I am not.

I am speaking of the woman named Vicki who is in charge of her inner child. Last night I dreamt that Bob and I left our daughter to go on a trip. I knew she would wake and have no one to care for her. But I went anyway and while I was away, decided that I needed to come back. In the dream, my inner child was represented by my daughter. I went into her room and found her distraught, as I knew she would be. No one had fed her and there was feces on the floor. In the dream I was also pregnant and Bob had fallen out of love with me. I knew I needed to go to the hospital and finally did, only to find that it was a small cot in a restaurant kitchen. My inner child was screaming at me to “Pay attention.”

At night, the hauntings of the soul come to whisper in our ear, “Wake up. Love yourself before it is too late.” And so I awaken, glad that I have another chance to love and tend myself consciously.

I am clairsentient and know character instantly. I think that is one reason I have never felt at home in the world. I see too much. But the path is also about seeing our own “too muchness,” the parts of us that would abandon our inner child and not take care to see to our own inner rebirth.

I know, this is a strange note. For some of you it will strike a chord and others will want to assure me that if I were awake, I would know blah, blah, blah, you are the Self, blah, blah, blah. The days of listening to that voice are over, for they are coming from those who haven’t seen deeply enough into the hell of how it is when one sleeps. I am learning self-mercy slowly, one baby step at a time. Yes, I know that I am the Self, blah, blah, blah. But sometimes I need an arm around me; I need to remember how love feels and how it heals the broken places. No blah, blah, blah can be of help. It’s the music, folks, not the words.




  1. I’m going to go out on a limb here, and be perfectly honest. Who says that? “You are the Self.” Some guru who sits on a hill with a little basket next to him, looking so wise in his long beard and robe?

    I never had the luxury of visiting such a guru. I had no spiritual teachings. I was an ordinary child who went to ordinary school, and I was told what to do and how to think by ordinary people.

    I knew what no guru could teach me. I could think whatever I wanted to think as long as I kept it to myself. I knew instinctively how to sort out the truth from all of the lies that I was told, in order to keep me in line.

    So like you, Vicki, I know when something is told to us to keep us in awe and have us follow the lead. I know what is real and what is just a bunch of blah blah blah.

    You are awake. You are aware. You are dancing to your own music.

    Good Post!


  2. Sometimes I wonder if I should post such and such and essay. This was one, so I’m glad it rang a bell with you, Carolyn. You are so right; we are born with this knowing. Using it consciously is a wonderful experience. Thank you.


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