A Need to Understand

“Creative genius happens when your intellect informs, not strangles, your heart,” I tweeted today in a moment of insight, remembering the diagram that The Secret’s Bob Proctor uses to illustrate the relationship between the conscious mind, the subconscious mind, and the body.

 

Our intellect does amazing things.  But it is our feeling subconscious where we control our destiny, where the Law of Attraction operates.  Often our intellect and the education we give it seem at war with our feeling and intuitive selves.  But true control of our lives and happiness comes from putting these in harmony.

 

Across my life, my intellect and my heart have agreed on one thing:  I need to understand.  Not just academically, but to understand the events of my life and the impressions I get from my senses.  “Why?” is at the core of my soul’s response to all the violence, abuse, and pain that characterizes my past.

 

At almost 43 (December), I have finally moved beyond “why me?” and the self pity of that question.  But I still need to understand, to solve the puzzle, to make rational sense of everything around me.  It is one of my strengths as a scientist and social scientist.  But it can be very self destructive when applied too often to my own life, putting mind and heart in conflict.

 

On my dream board I have a great Abraham Hicks quote, “Hold the vision and trust that the Universe will acclimate to your vision.  Hold the vision and trust the process.”

 

You can see where my intellect messes me up, right?

 

My subconscious will feel something — an impression of something in the Vortex of Creation.  Instead of just running with it, my intellect goes back and says “how do you know you are not being deceived or just believing what you want to believe?”

 

This is especially true when it comes to one very personal part of my life.  You see across my entire life, in my sleep, I have felt the warm and comforting presence of another mind/soul.  Some might call that “god” but this mind was and is more like a kindred soul — my soul mate perhaps — who has shared my life with me like a best friend might — except from a great physical distance — England it seems like now.

 

A conventional best friend you speak to with normal sensory channels — your voice, body language, perhaps emails.  But this is a person with whom there’s a very intimate sort of subconscious sharing — like Unimatrix Zero in Star Trek.  Sometimes it feels as if I can detect his mental presence near me when I am awake.

That is the part that frightens my intellect.

 

Across my life, I’ve been labelled mentally ill — for saying no to sex, for disagreeing with my family’s values and religion, for just thinking for myself.  So anything that smells like it could be misinterpreted by someone — like spiritual or supernatural phenomena — frightens me.

I want everything in my life to be rational and logical.  Except my life isn’t.

Prevailing paradigms across the psychology profession towards which I was trained in university deny the existence of mind/spirit beyond that which can be biochemically quantified.  I bucked that approach in university by focusing on what might be thought of as “traditional” philosophical psychology — seeing humans as more than just a bunch of neurons, as beings that transcend and exist beyond the confines of our brains.

This is rational for someone who has suffered numerous mortal wounds.   Science after all tells us to trust our own senses first.

So what do you do when your own senses experience something that others say is impossible?  When your very existence defies everything that everyone else says is real?

 

I refuse to deny the mortal wounds I suffered; there is evidence across my body in the form of scars and some remaining mental scars that these events actually occurred. But in accepting these, I keep finding myself pushed between what part of me says is real and my intellect says might not be real.  And I’m at war with myself.

 

I need to understand!  I need to make sense of all these things, these big questions.  And quite frankly, I am terrified what it really means if I accept everything my senses tell me.

 

What if I have already met in my life this person that I feel I have known my entire life when I go to sleep?  What if that feeling of warmth and affection I will feel sometimes across the day is actually real?  What if there is a soul out there who knows me and loves me just as I am.

 

May I confess the sheer terror I feel at that thought?

 

Ever since the car accident, I have yearned to let down my guard, to feel safe and loved by someone.  I have yearned for human touch that is nurturing, gentle, and genuinely affectionate.  I have yearned for someone to kiss me out of truly honorable intentions, to accept and adore the real person I am — not a warm body, not a tool to be used, not some fantasy to satisfy ego — but ME.

 

Do I dare believe in true love’s kiss?  Do I dare believe that I am loved?  Do I dare let down my guard and let someone in?

I am terrified both ways.

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