Maybe (almost) everything we do is learned behavior, passed down to us. Maybe our true state is one of peace. If we are not in peace, we are not in our true state. Our truth.
As Dave Asprey says, if we are not the masters of our impulses, they are the masters of us.
I recently had an experience of being filled with a disturbed energy. Wanted to be left alone. Everyone was pulling on me, all I could feel was pressure. And, I was aware that it was all in my head, no one was actually pulling on me. Those that wanted my attention, were simply offering love and connection, but it felt like pressure. I was in it, it had me. And then, I became aware, somehow, of my Nana. She is a painful figure in my mother’s history. Out of nowhere, the words "Is this what it was like for you Nana?" came to my mind. If what I was feeling was even a fraction of her pain - because, based on her actions, it would’ve been only a fraction - then I have no right to judge. I simply have no right to judge. Feeling what I was feeling, in that moment of blinding pain, I could understand the actions she took. In this state, I could understand how her actions made sense.
We do what we do for the reasons that we do it. And, our actions have an impact on others, sometimes a terrible and painful price for our behavior. And, in that moment, I could see how it was all that could be done.
Astonishingly, as I asked the question, I felt the disturbance lifting. When I lifted the judgement, the feeling lifted as well. I was no longer carrying it, and all that remained was a loving peace.
And so, maybe this is a tool: when we are gripped by something other than peace, the question is this "how it was for you, ________?" Fill in the blank of whatever name comes to mind. Because how can we judge when we feel the same feelings, when we’re gripped by a rhythm, a resonance, a refrain, of an ancestors experience.
We are born so pure. And then, we are imprinted by those around us. Those that love us the most. We receive imprints of their coping techniques, their perspective, their ways. They become our ways, without any decision on our part. The same is true for them. They received the ways of their people. And so on. And so we carry refrains of the ways of our predecessors, our people. And we pick up our own as well. Hopefully bending toward the light, as possible. But that means we carry much that is not ours, that we can sit down, that we do not need. That blocks the signal left our true self.
Norma Van Horn