Organizational Change for the Soul

I am pleased to announce some very exciting changes happening in the life of This Soul.

Effective immediately, the Ego, who has served as CEO / Tyrant for many decades and perhaps centuries, is being demoted to Occasional Consultant. We won’t get rid of her completely — what if there’s an earthquake or a squirrel picks a fight with us? — the Ego has skillz to shut down feelings and act, which is useful in times of crisis, but not on a regular basis.

The Heart, who has been with us from the very beginning (and I do mean the very beginning), has served faithfully, despite often being drowned out and neglected by the screaming and maniacal Ego. But patience and love pay off, as the Heart is being restored to its rightful position as leader of this soul.

Transitions occurring at the highest levels naturally impact other departments. Under the Heart’s leadership, departments being promoted include: 

  • Inner Child – individual contributor, and perhaps our most important team member
  • Silly Antics team
  • Trust department
  • The “Dreams I Forgot About” team is being moved from the crappy basement to the Executive wing.

With the Ego’s reduction in responsibilities, the following departments are under review: 

  • Regret & Remorse team – these assholes will likely move to the crappy basement. They will be consulted in times of pity partying.
  • Get More Stuff team – these guys have been mostly irrelevant for a while, actually.
  • Caring What Other People Think team – fired. No severance.
  • Unworthiness subsidiary – this group has been accidentally set on fire.


Please note: The Ego will still have domain over driving activities. While promising to refrain from flipping the actual, physical bird, the Ego is sanctioned to perform mental bird-flipping and to call people bitches under her breath.

On Being Sovereign in Love

It’s important to find the balance between allowing the fires of love to transform you, and separating yourself from enmeshment.

Facing the fires is brave, as you can see where you are dissolving your conditions to love. Yet this must be done while remaining sovereign, not chasing after another.

There are relationships in which people make agreements about their wounds: I’ll allow you to abandon yourself using the method of your choice (alcohol, food, sex, gambling, shopping… ME), if you allow me to gain purpose and existence via my rescuing / tolerance of you. And vice versa.

This arrangement can work, if both agree, but for how long? This house of cards cannot last. Eventually one of you will grow tired of being responsible for another person’s perception of self, for another adult’s sense of identity. Should they miss a day of administering your drug of approval, of safety, will you unravel? And blame them for it?

I should like to be with a person who is sovereign in his love, not dependent upon me for his wellbeing. Instead we shall be whole, complete unto ourselves, fitting together not from need, but from desire.

On Diets and Regimens

You are not a person who needs to be controlled, regimented,  monitored.

Are you afraid that left to your own devices and desires, you will implode and explode, an out-of-control maniac who eats 12 boxes of donuts and screams at squirrels?

Our entire society is built upon the premise that things external to you are the answer — lovers, diets, regimens, clothes — fuck, even books that tell you to go within are books that are outside of you, are not your own internal guidance. I’m taking it a bit far there, because if you’ve forgotten how to “go within”, such books can guide you back. (I’m not hating; You should see my library!) But you get my point.

I say eat the damn donuts, and scream at that squirrel, if it’s what you truly desire. And then notice how delighted your insides feel, to know that you can do whatever you want, and it is okay.*

*please don’t commit murder or cut me off in traffic.

Zoom Out

When you look at yourself from 30,000 feet or more, and see the soul amongst billions, you can regard Life as the adventure it is. A game.

There’s nothing you can do to screw it up. You struggle so much when you resist life’s “failures” or what you deem as such, but your soul remembers a place of unconditional love and acceptance, which can make it difficult to care about a lot of the nonsense that is current affairs. Because it doesn’t matter. This is liberating.

Even if you don’t believe in souls or eternity or some kind of God-like presence, you can likely agree that certain things feel “bad”. By that very truth, you’d have to acknowledge that if there wasn’t a part of you that knew it was supposed to feel better than this, you would never feel bad at all.

Where do you think your reference point comes from, if not the soul, if not for the soul’s remembrance of something grander, more loving?

Every time something feels bad, zoom out, for in this you’ll notice that your feeling bad is only more proof that your reference point is LOVE.

And you can continue to feel bad if you want to — that’s up to you — but now there’s space between the Feeling Bad and the Love that is your nucleus.

Return to Self: Frame This

Some people are determined to be mad at you. You can apologize, acquiesce, negotiate, reason. But those who are constantly looking for ways to be victim, constantly searching for a weapon with which to injure themselves, may make *you* that weapon.
Do you want to engage in that? You have a choice. You can continue to do backflips for them, bartering your own boundaries, or you can return to self and realize that this person may never be satisfied, and that’s not on you.
Hang out with those who are looking at your light, who are looking for reasons to love you, instead of those who want to frame you for their own acts of self-hatred.

Whole Enchilada

When I was told I couldn’t have something, I tried to manage down my desire, instead of barking up another tree.

I thought “Right, who am I to want this thing?” And so I accepted crumbs when I wanted the whole enchilada. We accept crumbs because we’re afraid that’s all we’ll get, that there’s actually a shortage of enchiladas, and the enchiladas that do exist are tagged for special people other than myself.

The world is covered in enchiladas of all kinds! Including the ones you can make yourself, if you would just get your ass in the kitchen.

To Do: Get a Guru

I was trying to explain (that in itself is a mistake — never try to explain yourself — that means the person already doesn’t get you) to my well-meaning mother that I’m having a spiritual crisis.

She suggested I see a therapist.

I snorted contemptuously. “Listen. Not to sound like a dickhead or anything, but I’ve never met a therapist who’s smarter than me. And anyway, THIS IS NOT MENTAL. THIS IS SPIRITUAL.”

I kept going, scrambling for the magic words that would make her understand. But in the trying, I was making it worse. And then she was at a loss for words, and I was feeling guilty and somewhat angry that now I had to soothe her response to my affliction. I was the one in pain to begin with! Now I gotta fix you, too?

So I threw her a bone. Told her I’d like to get a guru. I mean, I had this idea anyway. I need someone to look up to. Because no offense, but most people I’ve met in the last few decades have turned out to be utter assholes.

A guru sounds really great, mostly because they’re calm and smart and won’t get offended when I’m in an arrogant mood, waving my hand around going, “Yeah, yeah. Breathe in, power of now, et cetera. I got this.”

I don’t want to cuss out a Tibetan master. But if I did, I could show up the next day, sheepish and somewhat apologetic, and my guru would be outwardly gracious but also slightly smug (I pick up on these things, not because of paranoia, but because of genius / empath qualities), because gurus have that inner knowing that We, The Dickheads, always return. 

Anyway, where do I get a guru? Craigslist?

Grasp, Release. Repeat.

When I let things go, accepting whatever happens, they tend to work out really well.

The problem is, once I notice how well things are going, I don’t want to lose that feeling. So I set up reinforcements, try to control what I’ve manifested.

Not only does this fuck it all up, but then I also have really white knuckles.

So I begin again.


Ye Are Dogs

When you see two dogs meet and immediately start barking at each other, you don’t see them discussing reasons why. They simply respond.

They don’t try to find proof to justify their feelings. “I saw your left eye twitch, and your shoulder moved a little, so therefore I’m justified in barking at you.” “Oh really. You’re sensitive. It was just my eye, you make too much of things, so I’m justified in barking back. You started it.”

What the hell.

They bark because they read each other. End of story.

We spend so much time looking for “logical” reasons and “you said, I said” nonsense to explain why we are correct in what we feel, when the truth is as simple as, “I feel uncomfortable, so I’m gonna bark.”

I’m so over reasoning with others, explaining, justifying, and letting other people talk me out of my own instincts.


You Stress Yo’self

“Relaxation is what you are; Stress is what you think you should be.”

I like this.

There seems to be some kind of warped competition for how much sh*t you can cram into your weekend, into your life. Badges of honor dressed up as how many errands you ran today, how little sleep you got last night, while also fighting allergies and trying to make six casseroles for dinner as well as decorate your house for whatever-the-f*ck holiday is next.

I used to look at relaxed people with suspicion. Like they’re too stupid to notice all the things they should feel terrible and/or triumphant about, all the things they should be resisting, then analyzing, then overcoming, then celebrating. They fascinated and annoyed me at the same time.

But these days, when things stress me out, I leave. I don’t stick around to get bloodied up just to prove that I’m strong.

Life is not supposed to feel terrible.

Guess what we all get in the end? Death. That’s not morbid; that’s an equalizer, baby.

When I’m on my deathbed, if I get one, I’ll be thinking about how brave I tried to be, how I endeavored to do my best, to open my heart to life so that it may open its heart to me. I won’t be thinking about how many people thought I was sufficiently stressed and a “go-getter”.

“Go get” yourself! Everyone else is using their own personal measuring stick anyway.