Over the past few months my moment has been more painful than neutral. The pain comes from the guilt I feel from withdrawing from my performances. In my relationships with the people who remain I pretend to be one of them. I pretend to care about the things they care about. We make commitments to one another, and I endeavor to uphold those commitments, even when I do not want to. As I withdraw from the last few performances I maintain, I am experiencing the dull pain of guilt as I witness myself fail to perform.
I have decided that the pain of the guilt I feel by skipping family events is lesser than the pain of actually attending them. So I make a choice: skip the events. It is better to end those performances than to keep them going. A few months back when I returned to India from America, I firmly declined an invitation to visit a friend in Delhi. No matter of coaxing could change my mind. That was uncharacteristic. And the latest victim — if I could call it that — would be my dog. He is lucky to get one good long walk every evening, but has to spend the rest of his waking hours sadly moving between the bed and the front yard, wondering why his best friend no longer wants to take him on multiple long daily walks.
And then there are clients. I just don’t care anymore about certain professional relationships. This will impact revenue, but what to do? I don’t care to run the extra mile anymore. As I withdraw from my Character and embrace my Creator, this will increasingly become the way I move about my awakening. Those who could always rely on me to show up or at least inform and defend my decisions, will have to do without. The guilt and shame will fade away as I embrace the Creator and understand that the people are merely my creations, anyway, and their own hurt is merely imagined. The foundational pain is that I awaken here. Once I solve that issue, the rest will fall away. I need not fuss about the smaller eddies of pain that swirl about me; I need to focus on reaching the shore and solid ground.
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