Angels and demons are the same.
I fear meditation, as I meet my demons there. Yet my demons are there all the time, shoved below consciousness yet affecting me in different ways; and meditation is like a pentacle, where the demons cannot harm me.
Perhaps the demons can never harm me, not really. What harm can they do? They could pop out at inopportune moments, scare others and make them hate me. Perhaps that’s what the demons did, when everyone was taller than me and could pick me up, or ignore me. They threaten my extinction: as a parent can cease to communicate love, which the child experiences as an imminent threat to survival, so I still fear my demons will kill me.
-What’s the worst that can happen?
-I shall die.
But that cannot kill me, any more.
The demons cannot harm me, but they can stop me from certain things. They scare me into suppressing feeling, so I am not aware what my feelings are. I can no longer do that. Perhaps the oestrogen makes them stronger, or my resistance less. I still reflexively suppress, and my feeling bursts out. I realised over a year ago that it was like a toddler, pulling on Mummy’s hand, that will not be ignored, so the toddler eventually shouts for all to hear. Mummy really would be better to pause a moment and listen. The toddler will feel respected. Her perception has been received and honoured, and she can let Mummy decide what to do with it.
Of course in this analogy I am the toddler and the parent. The toddler can be perceptive, even wise, saying things Mummy needs to hear. I thought I was doing teenage, but in part I am relearning lessons ideally learned as a toddler such as how to sit with feelings and contain them, and act informed by them but not forced by them- “respond not react” my wisdom-addict friend would say. Life long lessons.
Demons become angels, I say, poetically, allusively, elliptically, even cryptically and when I painfully translate that to prose it becomes the feeling that terrified me so that I gave all my energy to holding it down becomes the motivation that lets me fly. And then qualifications come in, for we act with other people, and make mistakes, and see things differently, and encounter opposition, and misunderstand…
Still, the feeling was terrifying.
Still, the feeling is perceptive.
Still, it took energy to suppress and is better acknowledged.
Suppressing it makes me stuck, slow in response. Ceasing to suppress is the start of a whole new learning process, but a necessary step.
Demons guard doors. I slammed the door on something, long ago, too difficult to deal with, and all the fear of that difficulty stops me going there again, though now I might have the resources to deal with it.
Demons drive, and angels energise. When I work on something I give it my all, and my fear and rage drive me on.
Learn to trust what you fear. Love drives out fear.
Positive thinking: appreciating openings in the brick wall, light in the darkness, possibility in [oh go on I can’t be poetic all the time]. Hope in despair, found not by denying the despair or belittling it, but working through it so that my eyes adjust.