Dramas, anxiety, and gnat leg hairs

Oh, the little dramas that play out in my mind.  It's a constant stream of interpretation, an attempt to assign some meaning to the meaningless. Often, the little clues and signs, stories and events get strung together by my mind like beads on a necklace.  I put them together, then put them on. I wear them out and about, like a dime store wardrobe accessory that identifies me to others in that moment.

The accessory announces -- "I'm the person who knows something, has assessed a situation accurately, who has been slighted somehow or who has slighted someone else, who needs to worry about her child, worry about her future, who needs to fix a situation, heal a person, make amends for the past, etc. etc. etc."

Yes, it's all a sneaky way to make "me" -- the little 'I' -- right by making someone else wrong.   Sometimes, though, it's all about making "me" wrong, thus reinforcing the idea "I'm bad."    Either way, since "ideas leave not their source," guilt gets an extended invitation to stay.

I've also been tuning into this low-frequency anxiety within me.  It's almost imperceptible usually...but also almost always a hidden undercurrent, informing the upper spectrum of emotions and behaviors and thoughts that paint a picture of me day to day.

It's like I'm living under a giant power plant and being bombarded by electromagnetic "anxiety" emissions 24/7, but can only sense them by their absence -- and my involuntary deep sigh of relief -- when the power is shut down.

Peace makes visits now and then, thankfully, but, alas, has not unpacked to move in permanently.  Peace powers down the anxiety lines.  When Peace visits, all my stories and problems make a hasty exit out the back door without even so much as a "see ya later, bye." All that static energy gets absorbed into a great, beautiful resonant note of Quiet Joy that makes me want to sing.  Peace comes -- sometimes by surprise, most often as the result of some drama-induced epiphany -- and suddenly I'm like a rescued drowning victim, gulping huge lung-fulls of fresh oxygen.   I can't get enough.  My feet hover above the ground, and I get "the glow."

And then it slowly fades, and I hear that low "hum" again in the very depths of me.

I think there's no mistake that the stories, the dramas and the 'hum" coincide.

I'm learning to slow waaaaaaaaaay down when I perceive the hum and/or stories.  Instead of trying to do something -- even fix my thinking -- I just notice.  I try to really understand the stories being acted out inside me....give them all my attention for change, instead of trying to change the channel to something "happier."   I've even stopped trying to forgive.  I just add commentary -- like captions for the blind -- as in "I think that X is true."  (i.e. I did/said something wrong, someone else thinks I did/said something wrong, someone else did/said something wrong to me, I'm worried about the future, etc.).

And then I add,  "that means that I think God is wrong."

I do it with each part of the story....bit by bit.  I get lots of practice being as authentically honest to myself as I can.  I don't have to announce it to the world.  Just to me and Jesus.  He never judges.  And then whatever the sin was -- mine, his, or ours -- I just remind myself that it's all an "opposite" to "God is."

Half the time that's enough to make me laugh myself out of whatever snit I've been in.  It's the Laugh of Freedom, of recognizing how the impossible can never be true.

The other half of the time, it doesn't seem to "work."  When that happens, then I remind myself, "It's okay -- I'm afraid of God's love right now.  No problem.  I'd rather have my drama, my anxiety, and my me-ness. There's truly no rush."

Usually, right about then, I start getting a Peace flashback.  I may not melt into it entirely, but I can't forget it entirely either.  I feel better, too.

I think that's how this stuff works -- at least for me.  Everyday, just tuning into what is happening within the ordinary moments.  Trying hard not to run away, doing my best at the Honest Looking Business.

I used to see Peace as a destination at the end of a long journey.  Now it seems like my field of vision has warped, and I'm no longer focused on the the snowy, jagged peaks a 1,000 miles off in the distance, but on the tiniest hair on the leg of a gnat crawling on my little toe.  My eyes have looked right past a gazillion gnat leg hairs in these 46 years, and everyone of them held the Key.

The ego wants us to think waking up is a BIG LOUD THEATRICAL job with lots of excitement and Moses movie moments. But this Miracle mind training stuff, for me, is like being stranded outside the door to Home because we lost our Key.  The Holy Locksmith helps us undo each driver pin in the tumbler, one by one by one.  It's a job that takes Quiet and Focus and Nuance.


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