Oftentimes in life, the way we find our goals is by criticizing every wrong move we make. We think, “well, if I can avoid doing it wrong, if I PUNISH myself for doing it wrong, then I’ll end up doing it right, eventually.” Yeah but, how does it feel?
Today, a challenge was given to me: to accept death. My warrior encountered the side of myself who dwells in the knowledge of death (and all of the most horrible aspects of reality). This made me realize the warrior side of me was still weak, still not looking death in the face.
It turns out that the side of myself who appeared as a hawk with bloodstained wings (who I mentioned briefly here), and the side that keeps death in mind, are one in the same. Needless to say, many other parts of me try to ignore him or avoid him, thinking instead about particular aspects of life that favor what they want in the moment, rather than the whole.
For instance, think about goals. If you have a goal in life, thinking about how death would render that goal meaningless probably isn’t going to help you. It might bring you down, or, even if you do accomplish the goal, thinking about death might leave you with an empty feeling.
And warriors operate on goals: they see a goal, and break through the barriers standing in the way. But what is that warrior fighting for? If they kept death in mind, the impermanence of things, would they make the same choice?
Long story short for those who don’t want to read: Driving yourself towards dreams with desperation instead of love will create a controlling hypocrite in you. (Or something like that)
Last night I discovered that there was a part of me that got mad at myself for getting angry. Total hypocrite. After delving further, I found out that this part of me was trying to experiment on me, and make sure I would become a person without anger. This was all because it fit into his grandiose life plans – he wanted to become a legendary individual, far greater than anybody else, renowned far and wide for his deeds.
On asking why this was so important, it was mostly because he hated and feared the idea of living a “common” life, and started to get upset at the thought. But then, I challenged him, telling him that was B.S. because he was already great, and he did not have to stand out in the ways he described. He at first thought I was just saying it to make him feel better.
But after a bit more back and forth, I found out that the key difficulty with all of his grand dreams was that he was seeking that dream with desperation instead of with love. At this, he finally agreed with me, and we made peace.