The mind is an incredible thing. It processes information and somehow brings it to our attention. But to the attention of what exactly? A yogi would say, to the attention of the seer. The instance, that sits there, in the background, behind the layers of flesh, that we need to interact with this world. But this mind is limited. It is so limited in fact, that it loves to put things in boxes.
The people I’m most concerned of, are the ones that have a box for everything. But what, if something does not fit in a box. Like a transgender person. Someone who looks like a woman but speaks with the deep voice of a man. What do you do? How do you cope? I can tell you, that some people get aggressive, once you don’t fit their two boxes for males and females.
But what if the mind encounters something immaterial, that it does not know? Like an old memory of a traumatic event, pushed away and forgotten for decades? I have observed myself many times by now and my mind presents such “information” as a monster. A monster with strange fingers and head(s). With a deformed body, usually dark and lurking in the shadows. I see them in the corner of my eyes. I see them, when I sit in the dark in our camper van and look outside. I feel their presence, when I walk through the house in the dark. I feel observed and anxious. How do I react? Aggressive? Angry? What is your trained reaction in this case?
I have re-trained myself to not be angry, but welcoming. To not push it away anymore. But to ask it to stay for coffee. After all, this is just information, which my mind does a poor job in processing and presenting it to me.
The interesting thing is, my kids have that, too. Periodically, they see monsters under the bed and somewhere else in the room. In my opinion, their monsters are also new information their mind can’t process for now. Growing up, they have to incorporate new skills, an extended sense of self and so much more. They don’t know it yet and their minds present those changes ahead as monsters on the ceiling or under the bed. We have fun with them and catch them. They themselves decided at some point, that they want to eat them. In my opinion the best possible solution.
While my monsters stay for coffee, I ask them many questions. I want to get to know them. (Just to clarify: I actually do talk to them) They are a part of me anyhow. A part, that I sometimes haven’t met for decades. We have a nice (sometimes loooong) chat, where it is very important, that I trust my own answers. It does not matter, if my mind says the answers are wrong or incoherent or any other judgement (aka box) it passes. I trust the answers I get.
If I ask the monster, where it is from and the first thing that comes to mind is Ursula from “The little Mermaid”, then I just go with that. It does not matter, that my mind tells me, that there is nothing to fear, blah blah. It’s Ursula, period. I then inquire further: “Ursula herself or something that she does/says/implies/pickyourself?” Pling, the worms come to mind. I don’t really know anymore, why they are there (I think something like enchanted merpeople or so), but I think she eats them. It haunts me. To this day. Don’t get me started on “The Rescuers”. The skull! OK, back to the topic.
This conversation with the monster usually gives it a form. More details than just “dark” and “scary”. Now it maybe has a texture, a smell or a feeling. I fill it with details, just like a book author would do with a character. I can work better with something I know. After the conversation, I always invite it, to come home. Home to me, through my heart.
Yes, this sounds scary. And the longer I deny a monster entry, the more scary it becomes. But this is my most reliable way to resolve the issue. Once I invite it back, I am able to feel the emotions, that I didn’t allow myself to feel. Like the feeling of horror, when I saw the scene in this children’s-movie as a child, who was too young for it. It’s all about the energy of the emotion. It stays with me, until I resolve it.
I try to approach my monsters with love and gratitude. None of them want to be judged by being put in a box. They are all unique and only want to return home.
Love, Julia