This is another supplemental entry. Casual readers may want to give it a skip.
Change is hard. The more significant the change, the harder it is. Our journey through the Masterkey System invites us to recognize our true selves. In doing so, we let the old self, patterned on others’ ideas, die. We are thus reborn, a new creature, fashioned on our own perception of our purpose or Dharma.
I am at this writing in my late 50s and have been gifted with strong passions, incisive thoughts and a clear mind. I invested 28 years in practicing law, and that practice disposed me to exude confidence in who I am and what I think. All of this adds up to deep ruts in the stone paths of my life.
Of late, the change process has prompted interestingly irrational thoughts, causing me at times to question my grasp on reality.
Reassuringly for me, we found out in this week’s MKMMA webinar that such things are common when facing wholesale change.
I feel blessed even so, because the flow of insight hasn’t failed. Every week has brought (or revealed) a new or deeper layer of thought and feeling ready to be layered in (or dug out). Recent weeks’ practice yielded insight that a significant portion of my adult interactions have proceeded from a place sometimes called the “less than” box.
Sunday morning this week brought the biggest insight so far. I saw clearly that I had been living my father’s life.
His father died young, when my father was 16 or 17. Previous to his death, my grandfather spent years away from his family at what today would be called an extended care facility. As a partial consequence of growing up poor and fatherless in the Great Depression, my father chose to live often seeking the approval of others, especially those with business or personal financial success.
For example, rather than spend his retirement years (few though they turned out to be) simply enjoying his family and serving in the community, to his dying day (almost literally), my father worked one unproductive business deal after another, always looking for a financial home run. You see, with financial success he would finally “be somebody.” My Dad stroked out at work, was conversant for only a short time, and never left a hospital bed again. He died about two weeks later after 10 days in a stroke-induced coma.
My insight this Sunday allowed me to see how many, if not most, of my personal, professional and social interactions were for the subliminal, subconscious purpose of gaining approval from, and/or access to belonging with, the “cool kids” in my life. Of course, this never happened in any significant or lasting way. I, too, sought the symbols of power and wealth, thinking, if you can call it thought, that those things would add enough to me to make me something.
In that way, as in others, without conscious forethought, I lived my father’s life.
Sure, I had a degree and license he never earned. I had skills he never possessed. I learned to network as he never did. But fundamentally, I was his son, through and through.
Lest the reader misunderstand that this was all bad, my father was a person of amazing good will, charity, and good character. He was admired for those things by all who knew him. His work ethic was all but legendary. His love for his family was beyond doubt. I also possess a fair measure of such positive traits. His example and teaching were instrumental in my adoption of that positive programming.
And, now, action beckons. Haanel’s promise that meditation would liberate me from the chains of dysfunctional beliefs is coming true.
I have gained insight into my true self, and I feel the heavens inviting me to give that man wings.
But, first, a funeral is in order. My old man of sin died and was buried with my watery baptism and subsequent, ongoing repentance. Now, my approval seeking, “wanna be” financial and professional adventurer has stroked out and will soon be comatose.
I had the courage to honor my father’s wish to not be artificially kept alive without any hope for a vibrant, quality life, and I can summon that courage again. I had the courage of my subconscious convictions to live a dysfunctional life in honor of my father’s pattern.
I here declare the exercise of courage needed to embrace vulnerability, pull the plug on “other directed” life, let that old life die, and experience every day the bliss of living by the internal, God-given compass of my divine purpose.
How appropriate that this week’s Ben Franklin value for me is courage. I chose that value three weeks ago, and my “subby” delivered me the prime opportunity and the power needed to display that virtue, right on cue. It will be fun to watch courage manifest, over and over again.
The power is within me now to live a life of effective, joyful, productive service.
I easily see patterns. That has served me exceptionally well as I work the current process of change. I easily see cause and effect. I discern with incisive facility. I infer with surgical precision. Humans are as habitual as any animal, and both success and failure leave tracks easily followed.
My experience of adversity gives me deep empathy. My years of advocacy yielded facile communication skills. I lived a good story, and I easily remember the good stories of others.
I am sensitive to my personal, pivotal needs, and I believe I can coach others to gain sensitivity to their own.
Most of all, like Frank Herbert’s Paul Atreides (Dune) or the Wachowski brothers’ Neo (The Matrix), my sleeper has awoken. Like them, I am initially reluctant to believe in my intrinsic greatness, but I, too, have great help and wonderful companions. I can learn to be one with them and with the world, living in perfect harmony.
It will be fun to watch me soar. My life is full. I have opportunity beyond the value of the treasures in Smaug’s hoard or the legendary Cave of Wonders. After all, I am made of God stuff, and trinkets, baubles and other shiny objects are of no eternal value.
Unlike most people, I have felt the power of a true mastermind. I know its potential, and I’m learning my own.
I revere my father’s sacrifices for me and my family. It will not honor him, however, to continue on his path when I can now walk my own. I promise, dear reader, to tread my own path. And, I always keep my promises.
Walk with me, will you please? Or, maybe you’d rather ride? We get to pick, after all.by