Most of what we absorb on a daily basis in our conscious and sub-conscious are untrue messages which unknowingly affect our self-image, value and esteem.
Picture being in a room of noxious invisible fumes…slowly forming cancerous plaques on our lungs.
Ok, maybe not as dramatic but certainly just as damaging.
The thing is, we hear these messages every day, everywhere and somewhere in there we adjust and start to depend on an external voice of approval, not what we feel is good and right but what the masses deem to be good and right.
Add to that my favorite riding horse, “Humans are social beings…blah blah blah….. Their environment influences their behavior blah bi di blah!! [Read: Lifting of the Edges
So with all this false junk entering unprocessed and definitely not questioned, we end up with a rather lazy thinker or a sleeper as I will describe this passive thinking individual.
The slavery trap: Get a good education, then a good job, then a good mortgage, then a good married, then a good child, then good education for the child, then a good retirement, then a good coffin. Your entire life disappears and you have not grown one bit along your spiritual path. Wake up! You are caught in a net, but all nets have holes, find one and escape. Courtney Kazembe
How many of us would consciously describe ourselves as slaves? We have become so good at it that we’ve actually tricked ourselves into thinking we are happy like this.
I was born to dance. I know this by the way my feet and body move rhythmically and uncontrollably over the beats and lines of a song, any song…. I like ballet, dance, rock, modern and I dance all equally well. Because of this I love music and my likes vary dramatically.
I was born to write. I know this because the sight of a starched white empty page pulls me in and I feel joy bubbling over as I fill it with my words (I’m in bliss now).
I was born to change the world. I know this because of the way my heart swells and my indignation flares at the mere thought of injustice of those weaker or unable to defend themselves. I know this because in a very controlled (cult-like atmosphere) I stood up and disagreed with the main leader (extremely legalistic) even though my heart was trying to escape my chest and I was shunned for weeks afterwards.
These things strike up a passion in me that cannot be put out by failures, mistakes or a mob of townspeople with hooks and pitchforks. (Umm, yeah.. they are there!)
This is my purpose.
For years I had been asleep. I danced in a tight tutu on a Sunday afternoon to Tchaikovsky (my favorite composer) as a six year old. As a preteen there were hours, practicing the positions of dancing, flexing and pointing as I experimented with different music.
Then started the writing… Pages and pages of books upon notebooks. Pretty soon I would stand in a stationery store and lust after notepads with unusual covers. Just to attack them with prose. I have never considered majoring in Language or Literature or even dance in college. Well, I applied to Edna Manley for Dance major, but was too young to be admitted… the dream slowly died.
Naturally as a sleeping person, I made myself believe that a 1st degree, followed by a job would be better. After all if I couldn’t be happy, I could at least have the respect and prestige that everyone else was using to compensate for lack of true happiness…you know, join the rat race. Plus a degree would please my mom…that seemed good enough at the time.
Through college, I danced in a group, took active part in cheer leading and even did a little choreography. J It so happened I was editor for my faculty in final year as well…Oh well!!
The little hints I got were muffed out by reason and logic and by running in the damn rat race!!
Science was interesting and reasonably easy enough, so I did that. Majored in Medical Technology just to later on despise being in the lab! Forensic Science offered another side to lab work but that job soon lost it”s appeal (lack of resources) and made me paranoid about crime coming to my doorstep!! I starting carrying around a switchblade in my purse… .oh yeah!
Throughout, I wrote. I wrote of steamy superficial experiences (which were later burnt) *giggle* but nothing deeply reflecting or earth shattering….and definitely nothing that changed the world. The thing I have learned is that wisdom comes at a very high price and being a so called deep individual does not happen suddenly by choice.
You have to face your demons… And you just may lose too…. In fact there is more depth in failure than success!
Sick of the superficial club life with no definite meaning, I fell into a legalistic religious organization and promptly conformed to their every whim and fancy (there were many)…That’s where the awakening process began….
Not in the enlightened world of flashy city Kingston,
Not in college (great place to find oneself) …
…but in a very dark, cold and superstitious place of mystical beliefs and rules that stretch the holy book and lump over into tight traditional, patriarchal opinion. …That world of anarchistic control rooted in fear and almost every psychological principle of social cognitive behavior….
Now this was the real learning ground.
Naturally there was no dancing…. That was not allowed as discussed I a very divided, heated debate aptly called Agree/Disagree.[ I can barely write this without the stirrings of some subtle symptoms of PTSD].. sigh, anxiety.
It was here that every truth I was to ever accept was to be tested, stretched, examined, discarded and regurgitated….
It was here that I understood how Adolf Hitler could get peaceful Germans to rise up, assume superiority and at the flick of his swastika tattooed wrist, exterminate an entire race!
It was here that the psychology of human behavior became so palpably real that I feared for my own imagined perception of reality.
It was here that I grasped how charismatic leaders got others to kill themselves (the Kool-Aid guy, Hello!!), kill each other without remorse but with an air of authority and justification…. And feel closer to god for it!
In whispered tones, we discussed what was wrong with everyone else and why we were perfect.
Why love was indeed conditional and giving to someone should be predetermined by whether or not they paid their tithes.
Grrr… PTSD kicking in! Must abort post!