The process leading me to the place I’m currently in started about 8 months ago. From one day to the next, I decided to take my website off the internet and quit doing any coaching and energy/healing work. The reason I did so was because I felt there were just too many questions that remained unanswered for me in the realm of spirituality and mysticism.
A few weeks prior to the mysterious day on which I eliminated my entire spiritual identity from the web with one single, unemotional click I had had this thought …
… that very thought kept fluttering through my mind like a caged bird, frantic of despair, driven by a deep longing to be set free. That thought was being born in various recurring instances in which I had caught myself doing something I no longer liked: talking about the past. For some reason, I had reached a point where I simply could no longer stand listening to myself when I was sharing "my story." I found myself in the position of the observer, watching my 48-year-old body sitting in a chair, sofa or passenger seat and telling that same stuff over and over and over again. Listening to my own words, I not only realized that I was repeating the same old crap so often that listening to myself became as exciting as cleaning the toilet, I also became aware that there was a part of me that seemed to fully identify with that very story I kept repeating endlessly.
As I was getting really tired up on my observer balcony (yup, I too had that image of the two old cranky dudes from the Muppets Show!) I noticed just how bored I had gotten from watching myself, and slowly … very slowly … in the back of my mind a question began to form. On the day, I clicked my old spiritual identity into nothingness that very question hit me with full force:
What if my story wasn't even true?
I remember the moment when the actual weight of the question descended on me with all its implications. Yes, we are all a product of our past - the good, the bad and the ugly - and when meeting new people we bond with them over our past experiences, which form our identity. In observing myself, I knew that I was no different than everyone else, even though I considered myself much more aware and spiritual than the average person. But, oh crap, I was doing the same thing as everybody else, only on a different level. Different channel, but same program. “Regular people” bond over the loss of loved ones, breakups, messy divorces and diseases, I bonded over “spiritual paths,” mystical events or so-called truths. But it was all the same nevertheless. My story was a patchwork of tragic childhood and life events interwoven with spiritual awakenings, dark times and rebirths. What most outsiders considered an “adventurous and interesting life path” I now saw as a boring old story, endlessly repeating itself with no end in sight. What was even more stunning to me was that, all of a sudden, I found myself fearing that I might be so trapped in this ever-repeating cycle of this boring story that I might end up not just repeatedly telling about it but actually LIVING it over and over again!
I was truly stunned.
I had always thought that one of our main challenges in life was to make peace with our life and all that had happened, to make peace with our life story, but I would have never dreamed of reaching a point where I would question things the way I did now.
Soon, as I found myself really heating up that seat in the observer balcony more often than usual, I began to ask myself whether or not all the shit I was talking about all the time was actually true. When I was being deeply honest with myself, I had to admit that most of the things I was talking about I no longer remembered clearly. It seemed that, over the years of telling the story, I had added, eliminated and changed content depending on how deeply I was immersed in the victim state in order to gain empathy and understanding from others — and myself. Over the years, all of these things - true or not - had become such an integral and steadfast part of what I considered ‘my story’ that it never occurred to me to call them into question! The more I pondered this insight, the more I had to admit that I remembered very little of all the stuff I was talking about, and as I continued to observe myself, it dawned on me that I had formed an entire identity around events that supposedly happened in my life of which I no longer knew whether they were actually true! The F-word escaped me quite often in those days ...
Just think about this: when we think back to things that happened, quite often we interpret them differently now than we did back at the time when they occurred. So, if our perceptions of events change over time due to increasing awareness and the wisdom we gained, how can we possibly consider them crucial moments that defined our life and thus allow them to form who we are today?
Needless to say that the question threw me off for some time, although it is such an important one to ask.
So, if the story I was telling about myself was not true, and I had based my entire identity on that very story, then WTF was actually true about myself and my life?
Months later, I found my doubts confirmed when I learned of Dr. Joe Dispenza and his work. In one of his talks, Dispenza mentions that neuroscientists have found that 70% of the story we tell about ourselves and our lives are actually not true, and 95% of the decisions we make originate from the subconscious mind. If we add the fact that we think about 70.000 thoughts per day and the vast majority of them is negative, it doesn't take a brain researcher to guess what that means. It means we are living by a program, and even though we might believe to have control over the channel, we don't. This, to me, explains why - like many, many others - I kept repeating the same old crap! I did it re-affirm my identity, so I wouldn't lose track of who I thought I was.
And so the natural question to pose at this point was: Who in the world am I really?
Such were the questions that started my quest and opened a new chapter in my life ...