Wound Like a Spring
Dear friend,
Wound or wound?
We’re leaving Antwerp station for Brussels and then London.
Last night while dreaming I woke with terror. It was World War Two, I was being asked to climb down through the springs of a car seat which wound down into the earth to reach the bottom of the Eiffel tower.
Ahead of me a family of refugees had begun their descent, but I refused.
Maybe we would become trapped on the way down. In my dream I imaged one body above the other caught in the giant spiral. My arms pinned to my sides.
Unable to move back or to move forwards.
Being trapped, physically hemmed in has been a terror ever since I saw some film where a guy had been buried alive with a straw so he could breathe and he was left below ground in a remote forest by his tormentors.
I was too young and impressionable to see that.
Before roughly seven years of age we’re in a hypnagogic state. Our mind doesn’t have much leeway in distinguishing between something happening in the world and something happening in our mind.
You can think something when you’re a kid and a part of you believes you did it.
Buddhists teach that our thoughts make impressions on our mind. They use putty as a metaphor. These impressions are like finger prints in mind putty. Tiny minnows that swim down into the depths of our subconscious mind where they grow into giant whales.
When the whale surfaces we are forced to experience the consequences of the thought.
In this way the way we think and speak and act now sets the ground for our future experience.
Hence the wisdom of switching from blame and recrimination to acceptance, non judgment, kindness and forgiveness.
Also to imagine our future as we would have it be.
Peaceful.
Prosperous.
Beautiful.
Safe.
Loving.
And maybe we all have some healing to do?
From the wounds of our past.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey