There are innumerable ways we give away, lose, or are stolen from, energetically, physically, and in this linear place, temporally.
Time is, quite literally, stolen from us — in the sense of our precious limited number of moments, minutes, hours, days, and years we decide to stick around and explore life, and let things play out. If we are living unconscious and unaware, never present and never noticing what can tend to be autonomic and automatic, those who are aware of and consciously manipulating the strings benefit from our squandered powers.
One of the most effective, and destructive, insidious ways we do this is through complaining.
While there may indeed be a constant stream and plethora of things to complain about in the world (consider, perhaps, how many of them are blatantly manufactured, or at least inanely superficial), one fact that is certain, is that our practiced habits of internalizing any of it — of griping, whining, railing against and thus the victimizing of ourselves — serves only to poison the spirit, and to drain the precious resources that would be better used elsewhere.
Look around. You’ll see it in your frowning reflection, in the faces of others, hear it in the old routines and grumblings of unfulfilled family and friends, you’ll feel it in classrooms and seminars, and you’ll taste it in your processed food.
If we submit to these rituals regularly, our physics adapt to embolden and enforce them. Our reality is thus shaped in accordance to these perceptions and woefully limited perspectives. And that’s fine, if it resonates and fulfils your choices and preferred directions in life. But, I would wager that it feels . . . off.
It starts with being here again, in the now. It starts with active listening, to your inner scripts, internal critic, and external impulses to chide and chastise, to blame that tailgating son-of-a-bitch, and to goddamn the evil corporatocracy ruining the government, planet, and unbalancing the universe.
Get real. Remember who and what you are. These stories and constructs may certainly feel as real as a hangnail, stubbed toe, or rolled ankle, but they are at best mere slivers in our minds.
Reinvest and redirect your divine energy into your countenance, courage, creative flow, heart and soul. Engage in the changing, uplifting paradigms, and embrace the amazing.
It’s your story. It’s your legacy.
Love your life,