By Steve Beckow, August 20, 2020
I continue to observe the changes within me. Concurrent with feeling happiness for virtually the first time in my life – within memory – the other day, I also notice that I’m wandering around without something.
I was repositioning a picture and, having accomplished something, I found myself waiting for the spoilers to come along and criticize me. And, on top of noticing them in the first place, I also noticed that they didn’t start up on me.
The spoilers are the cacophony of critics, sitting on my shoulder and travelling with me wherever I go. Constant Comment is no longer there.
I feel like someone who wakes up one day to find that the war has ended. The shelling has stopped. Quiet reigns over the battlefield.
So I look deeper. I become aware of an inordinate amount of criticism as a child and the violence with which it was delivered. That memory arises.
Another memory is of being constantly disappointed in something like going on a planned trip. Nope, cancelled at the last moment because Mom and Dad could not get along.
So here I am, the spoilers, the critical lot that travels with me, are not there. And even if I feel annoyed, they still are not triggered and do not return. Is it safe to hope that the whole lot of them have packed up and moved away? Dare I get my hopes up?
Now I notice that I feel tremendously tired of being disappointed. Bringing myself back to life in this area seems a mammoth undertaking. No, leave me alone over here. At least I have only myself to blame. I hear Kathleen saying: “How’s that working for you?”
Not at all.
I’m cautiously optimistic that my band of critics has departed. Not like I ever foresaw this happening. I’m as amazed as anyone else.
When the band of critics left, I felt the return of happiness. Interesting.
I’ll have to explore what it’s like to live life without my band of critics.
I’m ecstatic. I’m out of jail at last.
Combine this with the great honor I have of being able to practice happiness over this next, cloudless day. What an honor to be alive and have another day to create in.
Tomorrow I may practice optimism, positivism, the glass half full. Who knows? The sky’s the limit.
Source: Golden Age of Gaia