Did you know the subconscious mind perceives time in the present? The only path your invisible inner self can see and or follow is connected to now, which means everything it feels, hears, smells and tastes is 100% unconditionally timeless.
Introducing…the always assumed prepared; horribly decorated landing strip for two of the world’s largest most out of control emotions; fear and jealousy. Tack on some heavier than normal memories and the mind, body and soul are brimming with seared cells that wreak havoc on the core energy source.
Welcome to another workday filled with blah, blah and blankety blah, blah. What gives? How can you be incredibly happy driving into the position you hold but the moment your feet touch the well behaved black tar that makes up a farther than normal parking space…Mighty Mood Mouse consumes every breath you take.
You cherish the people you work with! Ok, a few of them get under your skin but it’s so much better than other chapters you’ve written. What keeps you from growing? Is it something you’re doing at home? Is it the scent of fresh hot coffee sending your memories back to a more innocent time? The elegance of life is knowing the scent of each day is meant to never be the same.
If the subconscious mind perceives time in the present and highly trained think doctors believe the only path a subconscious mind is connected to is now…how important is the term timeless?
In his book Talking to My Selves: Dr. David Quigley teaches us about the doors hypnosis has opened taking those in question into a far, far away universe fed by rivers of high hopes that could unlock what’s kept them blocked for a year, decade or the entire span of a life they’d love to one day own.
Are the items of past choices stored in your subconscious mind currently making giant ocean sized waves on the white sandy beaches on the one you call self?
One of the main battles behind the lagging decision to add more profits to unemployment benefits were the genuine fears lawmakers had on the concept that extended stays away from the workplace physically taught people how to stop searching. It’s easier to receive than it is to earn. There were voices that stood out when saying, "Jealousy will clean the way for people to turn unemployment is a profit maker."
Fear and jealousy...
Boldly printed in the first paragraph of today’s U.S. Money Talks, it reads: After passing the unemployment extension of benefits through the Senate last night, many people are wondering when can they expect to start receiving their reinstated benefits. Talk about feeling like we’ve just been catapulted back to middle school and the only place to move is one step forward in the cafeteria line?
If Dr. Quigley is correct in his unveiling of the subconscious mind and how it devours only the present then acts as a feeder line to jealousy and fear…what did we just give to the future?
The last thing I am is political. Not my game in the world of things you can’t change. Being one who studies human behavior, I’m deeply influenced to participate by walking peacefully toward a shaded tree with incredibly green underbrush, to which I will sit within like a patient white haired Wolf with barely a growl yet being the Cancer I am, there’s always that dull roar of worry that stares into the actions and reactions of the passer by.
Mind sets, mood swings, brother and sister battles four decades thick…nothing suddenly appears on a map—like the Great Wall of China, each of us carry bricks, branches and crates of mud that seem like it could make a thousand pots and dishes only to learn it only made more mud.
Native American’s teach us: What you do today will affect the next seven generations. How you are today probably isn’t something you’ve done but was planted in the soils of challenge and survival and somehow it landed in your ear of corn, which is why I cherish every opportunity to watch popcorn explode…after all those years of being trapped inside a journey you couldn’t escape…boom! Let life begin.
I remember standing on the unforgettable manmade designs of South Beach in Miami thinking about the view of the world the unbelievably talented Versace had—everyday thousands of beach dwellers, party animals and extremely famous slowly paced by his giant pink home…they’d stand outside the gate looking up, around and through their imaginations believing something would touch them by way of inspiration. A white feather floated through the air during my time there…chasing it like a child, I raced to hold an object that literally appeared from out of nowhere…then it occurred to me…South Beach is where the final wind blows before being set free to chase new dreams in lands farther away than your in laws.
If what we do today affects the next seven generations…what has a simple breeze stolen from you on its journey toward South Beach? What timeless message did you slide into the bottle now floating on the surface of an ocean decorated with BP oil, trash from NYC, tossed away beer cans, sandwich baggies and a beach ball a little boy named Kevin thought he packed away but discovered when he got home that the only thing that kept him from boredom on the family vacation no longer has a connection to his current ticks on a wall clock.
Lawmakers didn’t bypass the bill; by passing it the unemployed now have an extension…I see the good and fear the bad. What did we just give the future?
Oh…before I forget: If you’re one who is incredibly happy driving into work but the moment your feet touch the well behaved black tar that makes up a farther than normal parking space…Mighty Mood Mouse doesn’t have to consume every breath you take. Snap a photo of your car and put it on your desk…when you’re beginning to take a nose dive like a kid discovering the deep end of a swimming pool…look into that photo like a white haired Wolf and watch the passer by (You) reignite.
7 generations is longer than a lifetime...
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Showing posts with label talking to my selves learning to love th voices in your head. Show all posts
Showing posts with label talking to my selves learning to love th voices in your head. Show all posts
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Who's following you?
I’ve spilled ink on more fingers and clean sheets of white paper than most people spin from spools an arms length from the stool. Hello, my name is Arroe and I’m addicted to the intertwined thin shreds of a once living tree during an age of texting, emailing and Skyping.
Absolutely it’s because of the multitude of voices constantly heard inside the thickness of my thinker. Think I’m alone…or we’re alone? Prove to me there’s only one of you stuffed into that giant human of a shell. Not gonna believe it.
We hear them speak while driving, folding clothes, shopping at the mall or itty bitty flea market. The voices interrupt our workday begging you to locate a reason to go home early, tell you to drink more wine or beer, ask politely for you to dump more BBQ sauce on your plate of beef or chicken. You hear words when confronted with bills that need to be paid. One look at your parents or family member and quickly you’re driven across a speed bump because of an event that unexpectedly unraveled three decades ago.
You can hit control, alt, delete ten billion times and just like a computer…your mind, body and soul never dump what the FBI and CSI can always find.
Debbie Unterman has released a book that dives into a pool of water a snot canal deep, revealing the identity of the voices so often heard even while trying to sleep. Talking to My Selves: Learning to Love the Voices in Your Head gently explains the ins and outs and whoa so way out there twists and turns that reek havoc until you’re willing to give them a name and face…therefore your identity won’t be part of its theft.
She says, “Decide if any of the voices are likely to be external characters. Allow yourself to divide them up.”
Arroe is a writer, producer, performer, musician, artist, worrywart Cancer, husband, radio addicted geek, dreamer, Wal-Mart shopper, heart attack survivor, animal rescuer, Native American spiritualist, black belt martial artist, works for movie companies and blah, blah, blah. None of these voices have anything but my two eyes and booger filled nose in common.
Through 48 chapters of life…I’ve given each person a voice, identity and place to escape.
Debbie’s next goal is for you to locate the source of where your voices come from. When you hear the inner mingles of thoughts on the loose, is there someone or has someone in your life been the key source of making that voice happen? For an example; my drive to succeed is my mother. My hardcore tell it like it is way to teach future Broadcasters and Tae Kwon Do students is 100% stepfather World War II Vet Joe. The passion to perform on any stage available to hold my frame is owed to The Osmonds, The Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family…I loved music so much as a child, to see them perform on television forced me into a state of mind that I too could do it. When I paint I hear Peter Max still talking to me. Sharp pointed anger? Let’s save that for a different blog. It’s nice and juicy and who wants to mess up this picnic table?
According to Debbie, hearing voices in your head isn’t a bad thing. We hear heroes, words of wisdom from Grandparents, teachers who opened new avenues, a boss that believed in you, neighbors that shared more than their shovels and backyard pool.
Clarity is key…
The daily goal is to protect the core of your system from accidental visitor’s who have stopped in for a mental visit and you can’t shake them free from your living tree. They want one thing...to move in and mess up your life nice and good, better, best.
Marriages shatter because those we love remind of us of the paths crossed years earlier and you guaranteed the many selves you are that it would never happen again. Friendships collide, working conditions worsen, doctors visits become frequent, self doubt sets in, life gets boring, holy cow God…when are you going to ring the dinner bell for me to come back home?
Mountain’s on both sides of the coast and around the world withstand winds of many change and passing storms can be violent or as peaceful as spring and they still have the energy to make the human say, “Wow…”
Why?
A single mountain has many personalities with centuries of chapters written about who, what, where, when and how. Like an old house whose paint has cracked and the stairs weeble and wobble like a old time carnival ride…its history might speak in the way of many languages but for some oddly shaped reason…its character enhances the location of self love, for if it didn’t cherish the ground to which it stands…there wouldn’t be a shadow on the west side of an eastern sunrise.
The reason why I can be in so many places at all hours of the day and night isn’t an ego stretching its self thin…I have a lot of friends all baring the same last name…Me. When you stop to take care of Me first…those connected to “You” become important too.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Absolutely it’s because of the multitude of voices constantly heard inside the thickness of my thinker. Think I’m alone…or we’re alone? Prove to me there’s only one of you stuffed into that giant human of a shell. Not gonna believe it.
We hear them speak while driving, folding clothes, shopping at the mall or itty bitty flea market. The voices interrupt our workday begging you to locate a reason to go home early, tell you to drink more wine or beer, ask politely for you to dump more BBQ sauce on your plate of beef or chicken. You hear words when confronted with bills that need to be paid. One look at your parents or family member and quickly you’re driven across a speed bump because of an event that unexpectedly unraveled three decades ago.
You can hit control, alt, delete ten billion times and just like a computer…your mind, body and soul never dump what the FBI and CSI can always find.
Debbie Unterman has released a book that dives into a pool of water a snot canal deep, revealing the identity of the voices so often heard even while trying to sleep. Talking to My Selves: Learning to Love the Voices in Your Head gently explains the ins and outs and whoa so way out there twists and turns that reek havoc until you’re willing to give them a name and face…therefore your identity won’t be part of its theft.
She says, “Decide if any of the voices are likely to be external characters. Allow yourself to divide them up.”
Arroe is a writer, producer, performer, musician, artist, worrywart Cancer, husband, radio addicted geek, dreamer, Wal-Mart shopper, heart attack survivor, animal rescuer, Native American spiritualist, black belt martial artist, works for movie companies and blah, blah, blah. None of these voices have anything but my two eyes and booger filled nose in common.
Through 48 chapters of life…I’ve given each person a voice, identity and place to escape.
Debbie’s next goal is for you to locate the source of where your voices come from. When you hear the inner mingles of thoughts on the loose, is there someone or has someone in your life been the key source of making that voice happen? For an example; my drive to succeed is my mother. My hardcore tell it like it is way to teach future Broadcasters and Tae Kwon Do students is 100% stepfather World War II Vet Joe. The passion to perform on any stage available to hold my frame is owed to The Osmonds, The Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family…I loved music so much as a child, to see them perform on television forced me into a state of mind that I too could do it. When I paint I hear Peter Max still talking to me. Sharp pointed anger? Let’s save that for a different blog. It’s nice and juicy and who wants to mess up this picnic table?
According to Debbie, hearing voices in your head isn’t a bad thing. We hear heroes, words of wisdom from Grandparents, teachers who opened new avenues, a boss that believed in you, neighbors that shared more than their shovels and backyard pool.
Clarity is key…
The daily goal is to protect the core of your system from accidental visitor’s who have stopped in for a mental visit and you can’t shake them free from your living tree. They want one thing...to move in and mess up your life nice and good, better, best.
Marriages shatter because those we love remind of us of the paths crossed years earlier and you guaranteed the many selves you are that it would never happen again. Friendships collide, working conditions worsen, doctors visits become frequent, self doubt sets in, life gets boring, holy cow God…when are you going to ring the dinner bell for me to come back home?
Mountain’s on both sides of the coast and around the world withstand winds of many change and passing storms can be violent or as peaceful as spring and they still have the energy to make the human say, “Wow…”
Why?
A single mountain has many personalities with centuries of chapters written about who, what, where, when and how. Like an old house whose paint has cracked and the stairs weeble and wobble like a old time carnival ride…its history might speak in the way of many languages but for some oddly shaped reason…its character enhances the location of self love, for if it didn’t cherish the ground to which it stands…there wouldn’t be a shadow on the west side of an eastern sunrise.
The reason why I can be in so many places at all hours of the day and night isn’t an ego stretching its self thin…I have a lot of friends all baring the same last name…Me. When you stop to take care of Me first…those connected to “You” become important too.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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