Essence process day 2
What is my game? What is my protection?
Getting up, I thought “I want absolution”. I thought of my previous experience, of weeping then finding myself Open, feeling my emotion more clearly. At 9.50, in the workshop room, it seems that we are in cocktail party mode, with polite conversation, so I go out to connect with myself by connecting with sight and feeling. That velvet cushion. The trees outside. Then the pictures of the hotel’s wedding services- the restaurant seats have white covers like bridesmaid’s dresses!
It seems to me that one of us rebels against the exercises, and I really want her to participate: I am projecting again. On one, I note I hate you because I cannot play my usual comfortable games with you, but I am still playing games. Menis comments that people orientated on achievement choose people who would complete the task. Ah, that is me. Still achievement-orientated, after two years without any work. A great gift, to see oursels as ithers see us. I love my drama. If you play your game, you lose and everyone else wins. Give up your pride and you will be happy.
It seems that all I do is Game, whether I express emotion, perform as to an audience, whatever.
My protection is,
I push people away.
Yes. Just about all of them. One said that something wound him up, and I treasured it: I can use it if needed. My needy self is like a helpless baby. It terrifies me- Menis says, so I terrify others.
I am ready to share. I have a new conscious awareness which I find intensely valuable. My protection is that I push people away. I request that when I push you away you will give me time to notice this. Menis suggests, hold my hand. He does. It feels good. Everybody needs a connection. I will continue using my protection, pushing people away, but I will be more aware and more at choice. They applaud me, and I stand at the front to drink it in.
After a break, we play-act our protection. How do I avoid intimacy and being real? I play-act, smile, do the useful thing, find the rules and obey them. It seems to me that performance, which I use to protect myself, is the real me, which I could use to be authentic before others. So I name my act- “Goody two-shoes” and mime her. One of us shares something in the small group which makes me fear and despise him and want him out.
In the evening, we did work on parents. I have done a lot of work on my parental relationships. I have had people play my parents before, and been held. However when told to tell them what I am proud of, my self-knowledge, acceptance and spiritual growth seems not enough. I am so ashamed. Then- after we imagine ourselves as babies, tucked up beneath my soft warm blanket, I write these words about myself: I am- beautiful, strong, loving, creative, resilient, nurturing, intuitive, intelligent, worthy, excellent, holy, vivacious, sweet, sensual, physical, exciting, perspicacious, supportive, musical, Good, loyal, witty, entertaining, a survivor, Open.
Or- not ashamed. I have climbed so far out of a pit. It has been such a great effort for me, and at the end of it I am alone and vulnerable. I have nothing.