Wounds of the Arrow

I have thoughts about him in my mind, more often that I’d like. This state is unsettling. I was even feeling guilty for becoming obsessive. Then I remembered; this is not a coincidence; this is not just a random state. When the mind is so pre-occupied with something (someone) specific better look into it. The more I look into it the more I realize it is not about him that much; but more about a feeling of unfulfillment. I am not getting what I need.

There is something fundamentally wrong about insisting on the way I want to be loved. Not being happy when not getting the attention I’d like. That’s obvious; this is about my expectations and how I feel in control of my life. Nobody has the obligation to fulfill my expectations and being in control of my life is an illusion and a limitation of the mind. However the feeling is there; crystal clear. I am not going to cover it up with some text-book self-suggestions. I feel sad because I am not getting what I need. Not only sad, but also lonely, unworthy and contracted. I feel like a helpless baby. Or a little girl, who wants her father’s attention but he is just busy and she pretends to be OK with that not to further lose his love.

Wounds of the Arrow

I watched a movie some time ago; about a funny and sweet chef who loses his job and had to start from scratch. While he was struggling to get back on his feet his 10 year old son was pretending to be cool with his father taking him to movies and parks but never really connecting with him. Eventually they ended up having a road trip on a food truck with the son helping his father, the father teaching him how to cook. That was the turning point for them, the father being able to share his gifts with his son. He knew how to do that and more importantly he didn’t need to understand what is really going through the mind of a smart and pretentious 10 year old. Simple, direct. This sharing completely changed the dynamics of their relationships, made them a team. I was so sad to realize that my father and I couldn’t find our food truck. That made me cry a lot. Then I also remembered his joy and pride the few times we could play volleyball together; a game we both love, enjoy (and kicked ass!) It felt so good to be in the same team with him. I can remember clearly how he opened up to me when we could do something together simply because we both liked it. No sense of obligation, no calculation, no life lessons to learn or teach. That made me smile a lot. I just wished we could have played more. Maybe my shell would be softer; maybe I’d try less to run inside myself and play cool, constantly attempting to be in control; not to show how hurt I am for not getting what I need. Or maybe not.

And I had to laugh really a lot when my beloved Prem Babaji said not to share such inner journeys with others, because that simply makes us a boring person. A very valid reason indeed! There is also the reason of ego games. Who in you wants to share these processes? Do you need to convince others that this is the way to go; going deep into your patterns and dissolving them? I used to get really pissed off by some friends constantly preaching me with spiritual crap, ‘showing’ how to be or do. Fuck it! So not interesting! In case you are reading these lines, the author is enjoying her journey by playing with words as she loves this toy. Nothing more, nothing less!

Here you go; the words took me from the sharp pain of the arrow to the angelic, child-face of Eros. Walking on the path, jumping up and down, picking up a flower, hiding behind a tree, up and down, up and down…

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