MODE of Cosmic Therapy Esoteric Psycho-Analysis How to Peel Back the Layers of Superficial Antagonis

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Enacting the Sacred Desire to Cease Unnecessary Striving, Competing and Contending
Human beings are in constant motion, an unswerving hurried forward thrust. An oscillating spiraling movement may be more accurate by definition. Moreover, the conscious motion, we are involved in, is NOT the primary force of continual awareness propelling us ahead. We are in perpetual motion inadvertently detached from the motion in which we are aware. In a rushed habitual state of unconscious movement do we make our contrived ways through our carefully planned, socially accepted and familiarly accustomed days. Sort of like a programmed robot in methodically synchronized fashion.

We breeze through the hours, with hardly a moment's mindful observation, of what is truly taking place. We gauge our so-called progress by what others THINK we are doing and how they respond to it. Their unsolicited opinions seem to make a difference to the substance of our plight, somehow. Rarely do we suspect, or stop to entertain the thought, what they or we believe about our plight doesn't matter at all. In fact, the dramatic sensations enacted do not even register on our designated course.

We ascribe to a certain method of doing things and follow that way religiously. Our minds are so saturated with the ideas of 'getting ahead', we hardly recognize the trenched lines carved into our brows before they've etched themselves so deep in our faces, creating the undeniable evidence, we are numbed by the movement while carried along by the homogenized current. We believe our worlds will be shattered IF we stopped to question the incessant movement of what it meant NOT to be successful.

"Success at all costs!" We continuously drill into our brain's receptors. That's the reason we so easily and pitifully fall victim to unexpected circumstances, unplanned events and unapproved situations. We prepare our hooded red cloak of vulnerability, sewn with the threads of fear and trepidation, due to our inability to ride the bull of proposed mediocrity. We frantically want to be applauded and hailed for our glowing achievements and will not halt in our wretched climbs of despair until we have MADE IT.

When we were young, the "I'm so proud of you" chicken feed was hurled at us unconsciously. We grew up yearning for someone to whisper those sweet words of incurably infectious balm to our ears. So much so, we incredulously began to commit our ways to nothing short of performing at the drop of a hat, so that we earned the lauding remarks from anyone who would yield them propitiously. In the meantime, we lost our instinctive primal sword of authenticity.

The unearthed, untried and unconventional method, whose merit and value cannot be readily appreciated or valued, when wielded spontaneously, was cast to the wind and in its place; we carried out our staged acts for peanuts. In the advent of wanting and needing praise and support so earnestly, we sold out to the 'less than what we can be without all of the unnecessary fanfare' to the highest bidder. We boarded a carnival ride whose only movement is round and round and round the land of phonyville.

No wonder we are asleep, half dazed and three quarters dead. We are so unconsciously driven by the luring motivations of others (coupled with our own unresolved issues of neediness); we haven't a rat's clue about the cosmic plan unfolding right before our eyes. Though we are indelibly implanted with stupendous gifts, we can't see the stars for the sky.

We run from tragedy at every turn. We actually believe haphazardous occurrences are not part of the divine plan; reacting in ways that support and fuel dread, trepidation, worry, unsettlement, and unprocessed anger. Running so fast, we honestly believe we can outrun what will be and that we can somehow, prevent the unalterable trialed courses of our destinies.

If we could simply see that EVERYTHING relates {is connected) to EVERYTHING else and that it's pointless to strive to 'get ahead'. (ahead of what, who, where, why, how?} Why do we unceasingly compete and fret over what is to be? If we would cease with the nonsensical 200/110 blood pressured striving, we would all live much happier, longer, more passionate and truly genuine meaningful lives. But, the reality of our being carried by a ship whose depth is incalculably conceived is not good enough for us. We want to see the height of the bow so that we may display it to others as our deserved trophy of worthiness and 'specialness'. Nothing is as bleakly unfulfilling and unrewarding as needing to RUSH though our lives. When we are unaware of exactly what it is that is pushing us to 'succeed', we miss the train, altogether.

We must stop to evaluate the temperatures of our inner barometers. IF for any reason, we are not acting out of sheer unadulterated passion, then, we are like numbed crazed zombies looking for the next shooting of the film, "Night of the Living Dead." We must not continue to be pushed, prodded and pulled by outdated enslaving ideas, whose sole purpose is to 'supposedly' make us better people than we already are. Not so. We're as good as we're ever going to get. Can't improve the human being; most especially by adding things from the outside. {An impossible task to undertake to begin with.}

Without getting too scientifically technical, we, like any object in space, compulsively remain centered in our own gelled vibratory field. Whatever movement we supposedly take on purposely establishes a definitive course which potentially closes in on itself. [Wow! Did that ever sound like super-duper galactic talk.] In other words, whatever motion we intentionally involve ourselves in, (by setting up intentional peak accelerations) will 'shut itself out' based upon the depth of the stress applied. Bottom line: We set up, for ourselves, the barriers which restrict us!

We put so much effort into a mad dash to the finish line contriving, competing and confronting others (who we deem as competitors) only to meet our supercilious selves at the end of the exhausting road. We push ourselves to the point of oblivion with our senseless striving and contending only to ask, "What am I doing this for?" The enemy of time and space, we thought we were running against, will meet us at the finish line with results attached to another leg of the same debilitating round about journey.

We need not be in such a hurry. We're not going anywhere. We're not going to get anything. This is it! We already have what we're so desperately trying to achieve. No longer do we look for our ships to arrive. We are sailing on them. The gig is up. The big show date is now, right where we stand. We are slowly learning how to remember who we are and what we genuinely want. Deep within our guts we know how to peel back the layers of superficial antagonism.

A new slowed down version of the glorious day is dawning; we are standing under Happy Rain. We realize with full consciousness, there's no one to blame. How could there be? Nothing is wrong. We have nothing to prove. Everything thing is ALL right. We can leisurely savor the moments. We can't possibly move faster and further than ourselves, ever. In order to move with the velocity of the inherent speed of the celestial intent of which we are traveling, we can never know where we are, exactly. So, how could we possibly gauge our level of earth success? Ridiculous, to even try...

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