It wasn’t him, and it was. Like an indecisive ghost in a mirror. As usual, he was driven by a carnal urge he could not resist. Again, and again, and again he would hit a wall of repressed desire. Lacking the courage to trust another with sharing his drive in the light, he resorted to hiding it in the dark. With each passing devastation, the realization of what he had done brought on an unwelcome shock form, resulting in the insistent burial of another guarded secret. No one can ever know. Remorse cut the mind like an antique plow through helpless earth.. Tendrils of denial pealed down like savaged cellophane in a hurricane. Preserving favor, and unfounded image, now ranked as an exceedingly high priority. Rationals of denial race, and rage, to desperate panic. “I’m not capable of this! I would never do that!”, his inside screamed. A hideous lie of unexpected proportion presents itself in an imagination flash. If I never do it again, it’s as if it never happened! The destructive nature of this lie, the inherent conflict it seeded, and the inevitable collapse it forebode would be as sure as gravity.
Favor has fallen. Here, dressed in the dire consequence rags of grief, he began to wonder, “How did this get so screwed up?” Each compartment of life which had provided effective secrecy, satisfaction, and safety delay for so long, was crumbling with surges of exposure panic. Now the alternative versions of himself, that had allowed him to pursue unadulterated pleasure on impulse, began to conflict in convulsions; spastic pulses of rejection, misery, and failure. Hardship jolts vaulted on him from every angle. Identity trouble now slammed, as full on, identity crisis. Seemingly everyone, and everything was bearing down on him with feverish demand. Down came the demand for payment, compensation, and answers. Conflict reigned supreme. Now abjectly torn, emotionally blown apart, shredded, and left for forgotten waste. It sounded like a siren going off in the head. With no relief or reprieve, ideas of panic, and survival screamed. Alive!? In the colossal rip down he fell apart.
As had the internal collapse proceeded, so had the outside experience reality. Linked, the internal conflict had borne the external one. Proportional, outer manifest inner. Without effective realization of the kind, he had actually, inadvertently, created his reality. Indeed a prisoner of his own device. Presently, with all his potential harmonies asunder, He’s reduced to a walking, talking, creaking, contradiction in terms, arriving at the threshold of a death trip, to be known in the form of a supreme paradigm challenge. By choice, break and shift, or break and continue to the next level of intensified discord. Bleary exhaustion poured on like lava at night. With no push back remaining came resignation in peace and a voluptuous vision of curiously known hope. Alive breath streamed a fashion formerly unbelievable. It’s ok. Gratefully smashed, all resistance is totally lost. Through the vision emanates a personally full mandala. Requisite with the harmony of full on horror and majestic bliss, the formerly divided versions of his self united. In spite of imperfect recognition, the conflict melts into the All in All. By means of this exploded concept field the psychic growth spurt responds pleasantly calm to carry the dark gently, effortlessly into the withholding light field. Harmony and the instant eternity awareness now sinking blindly and deafly to a sensation suspension equaling purity. Hello. Welcome. You’re welcome alive. With conflict in retreat, souls heal, worlds streamline, promise blossoms, and spontaneous fruition joy explodes in mass gestures of copious volumes of love driven help and support. It’s ok!