Good old Adamus Saint-Germain nailed it. For me, awakening was painfully brutal:
I put myself through hell in order to motivate myself to wake up. I creatively lost a boyfriend in a motorcycle "accident." I lost my beloved home on the farm, my pets, more friends, parents--myself. Shattering old belief systems in order to shake myself awake from the layers of hypnosis of the mass consciousness of humanity involved all kinds of physical, emotional, mental and spiritual pain.
See related post by clicking here: Physical Symptoms of My Awakening Self-Awareness. The rest of my blog is about all the other types of aforementioned pain that I used to help me step back out of the reality illusion I'd unknowingly created when believing I was an all-alone Little Insignificant Human Being, being tested by, and trying to please, some god "out there."
It was the only way at the time to get myself to look more closely at, FEEL more SENSUALLY--this life I was complacently and unquestioningly inhabiting.
You know, when you're deep asleep in a hypnosis and if life is always pleasant, there is no passion-fired desire to change it, much less explore the possibility of there being more to it. But pain (imbalance)--that motivates one to more quickly shift perspective and try new ways. One even begins to imagine, and to go beyond into, things once believed impossible!
I was taught to be considerate of others, to be sensitive to their needs--over and above my own.
Being polite kept me outwardly focused. We are constantly inundated with stories of the wrong and bad things in the world--and we're constantly bombarded with guilt-laced admonitions to get out there and fix it! That's our responsibility, damn it!
That POLITELY-CARING outside-of-me focus was the hook that repeatedly snagged me into playing in the perpetual game of pity for others in their stories. I hadn't realized how much it was still a culprit in my own life until Adamus pointed it out. Especially in times of chaotic distress and tragedies in the world around me, I have to constantly remind myself that it's all just illusion, that those experiencing it are doing so by deep inner choice, and that everything is okay. But I KNOW THIS, without a doubt, WITHIN MYSELF--it's not something I was taught.
In order to become self-aware--you have to literally close your eyes to the outside world, breathe, and feel into your beingness within. You become aware of your PRESENCE.
Pity and Compassion are two very different feeling energies.
After reading each of the two energies' statements below, CLOSE YOUR EYES (it's the quickest and easiest method of self-awareness) and feel into them. How do you feel inside? Does one make you want to jump up and try everything you can imagine? Does the other just make you want stay in bed hoping to not have to wake up to another dismal day?
Pity says,
"I'll pray to some god out there for you, you poor thing. You're in the clutches of the whim of some being that you can't possibly know or understand the reasoning of."
"Let me hold your painful baggage for you. I'll sacrifice myself and haul it around like it's my own cross to bear, and hopefully I'll figure out how to fix it for you..." (I was an expert at ENERGY HOLDING--and it sucked the big one. If I did find a solution for someone, they didn't want it--they wanted their experience--and to commiserate with me about it).
"You poor, meek VICTIM of life. This experience you're having is NO GIFT. It's your sad cross to suffer and bear...until you die."
"Hopefully--who knows?--your reward in Heaven will be great for enduring the pain and misery that you're living right now."
"Sorry you're stuck with it. I feel powerless to fix it for you. You don't deserve this. One, or both, of us must have done something really wrong to have brought ourselves this punishment."
"You poor, poor thing...I'm so sorry for you..."
Compassion says,
"YOU are the CREATOR of your own REALITY."
"You're choosing to immerse yourself in an experience! Dive in, have fun! Explore! If things get tough, all you have to do is choose to release yourself from the illusion you've created. You can't get stuck--not really--but you can pretend that you are stuck."
"If it's in your life, YOU put it there--and, appropriately so--ONLY YOU can choose to let it go."
"Isn't this grand illusion of the human virtual reality game an amazingly ABUNDANT gift? YOU ARE a GIFT!"
"Enjoy your life, and remember you really don't ever do anything wrong. It's just illusion--A SAFE and SACRED SPACE to experience and discover all that you are."
"And I honor and allow myself and you in however each of us chooses to play the game, the current scene--whether we choose to play it the same way or not."
When I was in fifth grade I had the hard measles. My perfect attendance record was blown all to heck by being kept home for a week or two. I was afraid of missing too much school and being held back. I remember Mom finally giving in to letting me return to school, only to have the school nurse do a scoliosis check on everyone that day, and discover I still had signs of the rash. She told me I shouldn't have come back to school so soon.
It was the first time I remember being so ill that I fainted when getting up in the night to use the bathroom--an ancestral biology trait (another type of story you can release yourself from by simply choosing to do so). My point in telling this story though, is that I overheard my mom talking on the phone to a neighbor lady, telling her how sick I was--and I didn't like being discussed that way. I didn't like being thought of, or perceived as "poor Penny"--ever.
Feel into that act for a moment: Close your eyes and Feel as your own energies deflate and your radiation dims when you immerse yourself in the role of "poor, pitiful me."
Shortly after Mom died, Dad had a physical done in order to get qualified to drive bus, and ended up being diagnosed with an erratic heart rhythm. It not only prevented him from driving a bus, but with the diagnosis, he believed himself to be a sickly man. Suddenly he was caught up in the mental belief system trap of trying to keep track of the symptoms of bruising too easily and bleeding out, versus, a too slow and sluggish movement of blood out of his heart.
He was prescribed medication where he had to try to figure out, by trial and error, how much to take to regulate his body. I watched him quit eating anything green (this is the guy who believed in organically-grown food and vegetables) because of the fear of the vitamin K in such vegetables causing his blood to thicken, thus counter-acting the thinning properties of the Cumadin medicine. Does anyone else see the irony in that whole scenario? He gave up eating foods that he believed healthy for him in order to take a medication.
When the arsenic drug (a.k.a, "rat poison," according to Dad) failed to help regulate things, he opted to have the out-patient procedure done where medical professionals stopped, and then restarted his heart, hoping to get it back in rhythm.
I observed him enter the hospital that day, acting kind of poorly and pitiful and scared--and then saw him shift out of the role shortly afterwards. While walking the hallway in his hospital gown after the procedure, he stopped, suddenly shook his head, and acted like he felt foolish, silly and disgusted with himself for playing out the act of "I'm the poor, sick, helpless patient." He didn't like playing the role of being ill and pitied by others anymore than I did.
I had an epiphany similar to Dad's the day I CLEARLY CHOSE to take responsibility for my own health and well-being while meditatively walking things out. I was in the midst of chiropractic therapy for scoliosis-related symptoms--and it wasn't working. The discs were still shifting out of alignment almost daily, weeks into the process, and I'd feel myself tense up (not a good thing) when he would adjust my neck. I didn't want to do medications, nor did I want surgery, or trip after trip to doctors and appointments.
It was truly an inner knowingness moment--I have never felt more certain about a choice than I did about that. Even afterwards, when I was literally told by the chiropractor that I would "crash and burn" if I didn't stay with the program, I walked out of that office and never looked back or second-guessed my decision. This was my life--and I was taking charge of it my way.
And it helped that the chiropractor pissed me off by acting so egotistically that day. He truly served me well, both by compassionately helping me through a painful and terrifying experience at the beginning of our relationship, and by playing the role of antagonist for me at the last. It helped me see clearly, and finally experience feeling with certainty, my own determination and conviction.
Anger--I know it's not comfortable feeling it because we're so deeply ingrained with believing it to be wrong to feel--does help to shake a person awake and into self-awareness. I've gotten much better at acknowledging it and allowing it. I now know that it doesn't mean I'll be stuck permanently feeling angry if I do experience it. Anger is just an energy--and all energy will naturally flex and flow easily when we allow it.
Thank you to the doctors
Who could not cure my ills.
All you seemed to see was the "sin" in me,
Which we tried to fix with pills.
It made me look past my pained condition
To the perfection that's my Soul.
I never would have seen it,
Much less, believed it--
Had you done anymore than my will!
I was born in 1964, so the consciousness that I grew up in was focused on pitying the poor, the sick, the helpless and the meek. We saved old clothes to give to the "poor" people in some other place in the world. When I turned up my nose at something at the dinner table, I was told like every other kid my age in the western world, "There are starving kids in Africa who would love to eat that!" I admired the kid who had the audacity and wit to respond to that manipulative guilt trip with, "Then why don't you feed it to them instead of me?"
From my beloved mom's example (much more powerful than lecture), I learned the art of pitying. She listened patiently and endlessly to the relationshit dramas and aches and pains of others (who chronically happened to be the same people all the time).
I searched for methods and practices to help heal those less healthy than me. Sometimes it felt like I was more invested in healing the perceived sick person than he or she was. I actually got to the point of feeling apologetic for being healthy! Imagine that--a low sense of self-worth for not being a drain on the health-care system or friendships!
I respectfully drove elderly people to doctors appointments. I visited and assisted them (not looking for compensation), and I politely listened to them and felt sorry for their circumstances.
I had people befriend me only to find myself guiltily feeling resentful in a supposed friendship that seemed one-sided. The other person was always sick or in the midst of some trauma or drama (which they seemed to always attract). She or he always seemed to be commanding and demanding to be the center of attention in any room. Those were really sucky experiences.
I have watched people line up and discuss all the medications they're taking--with pride. It's a subject matter that I find boring.
Sometimes people like to see if they can trump all the others sitting at a table of commiseration of physical ailments in a weird type of contest where the most miserable person deems himself superior to all the others. "Nobody has been through pain like I have...blah, blah, blah..." I may be bursting bubbles here, but, frankly, everyone's pain is unique. You really can't compare pain.
I observed a mother-daughter moment while they tested their blood sugar, took their shots and meds, and discussed all their latest ailments--they actually cliquishly flaunted their illnesses in my healthy face. It was so obvious that they were enjoying themselves in the story they had going. Who wants a cure when you can have that?
Too often, I heard the biggest (funniest, in retrospect) manipulative friend statement ever, "You're the only one who understands me...You'd never do or say anything to hurt me or betray me...YOU'RE ALWAYS THERE WHEN I WANT and HOW I NEED YOU TO BE THERE!"
I see those "poor, pitiful misunderstood me or some other people," and whining "how only true friends should be," B.S. statements on Facebook and catch myself gagging.
In my book, a true friend will remind you that you are the creator and master of your own gift of life. If you have a trauma-drama going and I'm not rushing to your side to carry your bum over your mud puddles, it's because I love you unconditionally and I'm going to compassionately allow you to immerse yourself fully into the experience you've created--oh, fellow sovereign.
And when we're done with that scene, the two of us can sit together and laughingly swap stories of our experiences and share how it felt to play such-and-such a character role.
PITY and EMPATHY are two highly seductive energies that have had me playing in old icky, so-not-fun-anymore stories with others way longer than I've wanted. I don't like seeing anyone in pain, because I--out of old defaulting habit--energetically feel myself rushing into their story, clothing myself in all their stuff, literally weighing myself down with the weight of their world.
And that doesn't compassionately honor either one of us in the experiences each individual wants to have. It also distracts me from my personal pursuit of changing MY WORLD. In my world, I choose to make some changes--drastic ones. I choose to see if I can create a personal world free of disease and the fear of death.
So when someone is sick or has an "accident" (I don't believe in accidents anymore), I don't go rushing to the people involved--AND THAT CHOICE IS NOT MADE LIGHTLY, because I DO CARE in the sense that I'd enjoy living in a world of stories beyond the old dramas and traumas. I actually stay put, and give myself the opportunity to step back and out of the illusion, in order to more clearly see the dynamics of whatever is happening--and to better understand the gift that particular experience has for me!
I remember that when Lazarus was sick, Jesus didn't rush back to take care of him. One of the women actually was a bit angry with him, and admonished him for dilly-dallying, when she had to tell him he was too late, that Lazarus had died and already been entombed a few days. Did Jesus apologize for betraying a friend in need? No, he had the audacity (love that word today) to reprimand her for having a lack of faith--for just giving up and believing that Lazarus's death was the end of the story.
And it wasn't the end of the story. Lazarus did come back to life in the body he had left for a little while...
Could I be wrong in believing such a miraculous and magical story to be a true possibility? Of course! I could be totally wrong, but I won't know unless I give it a try in my own life, and I can only do that by changing the commonly practiced rules I once accepted as a way to be in a POLITE SOCIETY--one where I used to just shake my head at the injustices in the world...here goes another funeral, here goes another loss that I'm powerless to change...alas!...woe is me...woe is you...
If I don't allow myself to even consider it as a possibility, it'll remain an unattainable dream, a wish...and that's no fun for me.
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