Feelings of anxiety constrict my chest. “Now you’ve made a mess.”
I cringe. I say that sometimes, when my kids make a mess. It’s a funny thing to say. We already know there’s a mess. Why say it?
I begin to wonder if it my voice? To ask the question is to answer it. It’s not my voice. It’s another parasite.
I marvel, for awhile, at the immensity of the goodness of the mother-father God. The depth of peace and equanimity granted by the Creators is truly unfathomable. It must be met with such ferocity of conviction that breaks my trust in my Self for a moment to feel this anxiety. This fear. This sense of doom. Here, all I can visualize is GIR singing the DOOM SONG. lmao.
Laughter. Mirth. This humor has undone my fear and anxiety totally, but not before a realization did. Not before answering the question did.
The DOOM, doom, doom, doom de de doom is all there to create a sense of urgency and coercion. It’s an or else threat. And, it’s telling how far the threats have to go in order to have any effect. They have to go straight into the heart and deconstruct the human being from the very foundation. Unworthy. Inconvenient. No one would love you unconditionally. You don’t deserve a house unless you’re a slave to the system. You’ll be out on your backside, freezing to death. Not only you, but your family and young children as well.
It is satanic. Give up your faith. Give up your very substance, for a little peace of mind. Except when we do give up our very substance, those demons laugh at us and call us stupid and idiotic for thinking that we could ever have peace of mind. They draw us in with their lies and then torture us with our mistakes.
But the mistake is in believing it is a voice of my own mind in the first place.
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