Sunday, May 13, 2007

philosophy

Today I will forget
that I am a precious child.
Today I will disregard my birthright
to happiness and prosperity.
Today I will struggle against my being
exactly
where I am supposed to be,
doing exactly what I am supposed to do.

Today,
the people and situations
placed lovingly in my path
as opportunities for joy,
I will fail to see them as such.
Today I will believe in the illusions
of lack and scarcity.
Today I will doubt possibility.
Today I will resist reaching out for
healing.
Today I will compromise my integrity.
Today I will defy fulfilling my purpose here.
Today I will react from effect
instead of create from cause.
Today I will dignify nonsense.
Today I will live down
to the standards of the world.

Tomorrow
I will give it another try.

~Debra Schanilec

May 13, 2007 10:41:44 AM | Best of 28 Years Later Posts and Photos

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permission granted OK, I lied. A few blog posts back, I proclaimed that I was taking a kinder, gentler approach to developing my latest stretch of spirituality real estate. Rather than launch an all-out assault, I would go for subtlety, hanging out with the Observer while abundance consciousness permeates the interior, taking its own good time. Ha. Two days later, I had bumped into several books and a 40-day prosperity program to jump into. Trouble is, participating in the latter requires getting up early, and the story I tell myself is that I just don't do that very well. So I decided to do what makes the most sense to me when approaching uncharted bodies of knowledge or boxes of accumulated wisdom. I sail the waters, unwrap the packages, take what works for me and leave the rest. Which in this case means extract the juice, and leave the dead husk of wrapper behind. The inspiration and effort that went into writing those books and choreographing those programs before they found their way to me will come alive again when I pull the ideas through my juicer, and add the twists that will make them my own. The phrase "permission granted" popped into my head during this flurry of activity in my brain, and while I was certainly doing that for myself in this situation, it didn't seem to go far enough to describe what was really happening. It felt like the hatch on another layer of existential mechanization had flipped open, and I was climbing out into new surroundings like an 18th century citizen transported to the present, wide-eyed, jaw-dropping. Only the stint of time travel I was riding involved primal hunting grounds. For permission to be granted, I reasoned, there was another more basic tenet involved: indigenous release. "Indigenous" meaning...
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Deb Schanilec

Connected and Committed relationship transformation strategist.

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