Day 86 A day of the mind
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to have a constant broadcast of conversation entertaining myself as myself in separation in and as mind.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to have a reference to a man, as the god, as the self as myself existing within a belief that I need validation as conversing in and as my mind as though I have a partner, which I actually started after the death of my husband, sometimes even saying things to myself like, “ why the fuck aren’t you here to help me with this,” which many might say is normal, yet it is not normal to have a endlessly running conversation in and as my mind.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to believe that, as a woman, I need help in making decisions.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to believe that I actually need some person/man/god/friend to be an echo in and as my mind of myself considering what I am doing as though I need a reflection to tell me that my decisions in everyday little things , and in projects and other scenarios needing direction,are ok, where it is all insane, because in the end it is me that is walking and doing, this invisible hand holding is just this, not here, where this interactive movie is redundant and unnecessary.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to not see, realize and understand that this “buddy” is something i am focusing on that is not real, and when I have to go back and redo something because I was not fully attentive on what was actually physically here, as I was partially - and thus divided- here, was probably the cause of having to go back and redo, where had I been here, as myself in totality without the radio in and as my mind turned on, I might have accomplished more than I had as a gossip of comparing what I was doing as knowledge and information based on experiences of my past.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to not realize that if I look at the quality of what the radio as the conversation of my mind exists as, is a fear of repeating losses in the past, and hopes - as longings- for a future of success.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to have all the characters of my fears and my hopes blabbing away, all wanting attention, all consisting of a singular point of view, which we know is insanity, yet we watch soap operas where such characters are formulated to entertain, thus we watch what we know, within and as us is insane.
I forgive myself for not allowing and accepting myself to specifically, be the character of having my house in order, where I walk from one room and have a voice say, “ you need to get the closet organized.”
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to be embarrassed that my closet is not organized in some supposed “perfect” way, where even if I organized it, I would continue to want to improve upon what i had done, and thus I will never be satisfied in the way my closet is organized.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to believe that if I am completely organized - whatever that is- I will be successful.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to believe that my house and yard is not organized enough.
I forgive myself for not allowing and accepting myself to see realize and understand that within this idea, my yard and house will never be organized, as I will perpetually feel that something is out of place.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to believe that within organization something is “out of place.”
i forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to feel that something is out of place and that there is always something that can be organized.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to not realize that I started organizing things so that I could have time to ponder the world, and time to read, and so I would organize things in one moment, mapping out the whole thing in and as my mind, to “buy” myself time to read and ponder the world.
I forgive myself for not allowing and accepting myself to see realize and understand that I was organizing things, as I could see that the paper work of this world could be consuming, so I organized to “get ahead of the game” to allow myself time to read and “think.”
I forgive myself for not allowing and accepting myself to see realize and understand that I have allowed myself to become obsessive about organizing things.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to have done most of what needs to be done in my house, where I did not have my children do much, because I would do this in as little time as possible to have time for other things, and thus now my children are not aware of what needs to be done within the home.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to not realize that, yes, organization is important but to allow this to become a constant voice in and as my mind is my self having trained myself to organize, and to walk and judge what has been done - obsessively- is not being here, as organizing in many ways, as mind, is preparing for the future, where if I, in common sense put things away as I exist, there would be no need to have something to organize.
I commit myself to stopping the voice in and as my mind, the character of organization, suggesting gloom and doom and judgement from others unless my home is organized.
I commit myself to realizing that it is not organization in and as itself that is good or bad, it is the voice in and as my mind, being addicted to criticizing things as being organized or not organized.
I commit myself to listening to myself here, as silence, and to no longer participate in and as the judgements of the mind, where I place value on opinion and idea as to how things should be, and instead walk in common sense equal and one to the physical in practical consideration in the moment, where the being of myself is not pondering a future, a past, a fear of judgement as I am here, in and as breath, and as breath I direct myself here, where all that is here is one and equal to me, as me and all ideas and projections as belief, opinion and idea are illusions that burden and stop, that make movement seem impossible, where it is the emotions and feelings and thoughts as idea that are the thickening of myself in and as fear of judgement, disabling myself as life, as the actual physical world right here as what is real and not that voice in the head.
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