Letting go of the control we have on our personal energy seems to be a point of focus in the Shouds these days and I can see why: we can’t move forward with those controls because they stand in the way of Realization.
I don’t know about you, but I have done some really strange things with my personal energy and brought in silly things like hardship, suffering and lack, and I must have got really bored because I threw in a few restrictive physical issues as well.
Personal energy is important to me because I know it’s the holy grail, the place within us that Adamus and Tobias have been lovingly guiding us towards remembering for eons of time. Just recently, I went through an experience that made me face facts and I had to acknowledge that I have been participating in the game of denial and have been actively engaging in restricting my personal energy.
My partner and I recently moved to a new house. Now, at the risk of sounding a little bit odd, we both like toys. I am a Star Wars nerd and he likes cars, models, military tanks, trucks, helicopters and so on. Part of his fun is putting them in specific formations that make sense to him, and part of my fun is to watch him do it. And, because the model table is not set up right now, some of the toys are laid out with military precision on the spare room floor. The thing is, we haven’t yet finished unpacking, which means this room is full of boxes, making it a bit of an obstacle course to get to the wardrobe that holds my partners clothes. He has used this to his imagination’s advantage however and has staged a complete military takeover stationed on and around boxes, furniture, floor and window sill.
Not being the most coordinated person, I know it’s only a matter of time before I wander into the room – head in the clouds, distracted by some inane thought – and take out a couple of tanks with my feet, hips or backside. It’s happened more times than I care to admit. I’ve even laid on the floor with a blasted ruler, trying to realign vehicles in a vain attempt to hide my indiscretions, but partner always knows; seeing something out of place is his superpower.
Twice a day now I creep between the lines of military defence, gingerly slip past the precarious positioning of war ships, and breathe a sigh of relief if I make it to the window without incident. The window ledge is the final frontier of defence, complete with a row of helicopters – with the most delicate blades you could imagine – poised and ready for takeoff.
I carefully lower the blind, trying to gauge where to stop without snapping one of the delicate communication wires connected to the makeshift helicopter landing pad. While this simple task is perfectly normal and easy for my partner, for me it’s a living nightmare. I’m not good in spaces without plenty of room to move about freely, and it challenges my ability to walk like a lady. Worst of all, my clumsy aspect goes nuts in this space, making me feel about as dainty as Briana of Tar (from Game of Thrones) in a china shop.
My partner was home from work for a week, which gave us an opportunity to unpack and reorganize things. Standing behind the imaginary boom gate (I think other people call this a doorway), being sure to keep my feet out of the hazard zone, I observed as my partner stood in the middle of his beloved war zone looking at his wardrobe with sad eyes. His clothes were crammed haphazardly into the small space, and while I understand this wouldn’t affect a lot of men, my partner is hyper organized and this is the kind of thing that tips him out of balance. For years I have marvelled at the perfectly straight lines he manages to achieve with whatever he touches.
I caught the look of discomfort on his face from not having the space organized to his standards, and realized how challenging it must be to live with ‘a thousand garments Leigh.’ I thought about how, even at the risk of his own sanity, he surrendered the main wardrobe to accommodate my clothing obsession. Seeing his pain, I knew then and there it was time to fix this. He would be going away for a few weeks, it would be the perfect time for me to bring balance to this situation. The decision made, I moved away from the doorway, and immediately began feeling very off, out of balance and suddenly disconnected from life.
Many of us know by now what an incoming aspect feels like. The energies gather, tension builds and then we’re hit with experience after experience that’s related to or triggered by the aspect in question. Experience has shown me that the energies will only intensify until they reach their intended peak, while the human self feels unprepared, taken by surprise, and wondering what the hell has happened to their life. That’s exactly what was happening – one minute life was great and I had a plan; the next minute the only voice I could hear was the one declaring my clumsiness and reinforcing the belief that everything I touched collapsed, broke or fell, including my body and work situation.
My initial intention was to simply swap wardrobes, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of having to negotiate a safe pathway to my closet every day while battling the clumsy, judgmental aspect storm. So, in defiance I simply emptied the clothing from my wardrobe into the bin. I could solve the problem of wardrobe placement later.
Now my aspect did its best Gollum impersonation (from Lord of the Rings), and totally lost the plot. We argued back and forth, it telling me why I can’t throw my things away, and me telling it why I can. It felt a bit like having a good old-fashioned fist fight. Something must have shifted within me because I just ‘knew’ I had to let go of all this stuff, which left me well positioned to be the observer of my experience.
For maybe the first time ever, I tuned in and really listened to what the aspect had to say. I noticed that my stories were neatly packaged as ‘valid reasons’ justifying why I should keep my things. It was regurgitating the same dialogue I’d been listening to and buying into for years. Even more astonishing was how repetitious it was. I mean it has literally been banging out the same lines all of my adult life and I never noticed!
There was always an excuse for why I should keep an item of clothing, the most over-used one being ‘I will wear it when I lose weight’ (Leigh, you’re not 20 anymore). I may as well have said ‘I am keeping it until I grow taller, get younger and regain my virginity.’ It was never going to happen, that ship sailed years ago, but hey, what a simple way to keep me on the never-ending treadmill of victimhood and powerlessness.
So, in terms of personal energy, if I was truly allowing and not restricting or controlling my energy in any way, why would I need to store and hold onto things for a later date? Why wouldn’t I just buy things that would complement the one who I am now? (head smack moment) I kept and stored what no longer served me because I didn’t trust myself to give to myself! Which, in my world, translates to ‘’I do not trust myself to have unrestricted, untethered flow of my personal energy.” Instead, I’ve been trying to control it for whatever stupid reasons my aspects had come up with.
Oh God, I am the control freak! The Gollum aspect is my creation, he’s still a bastard and I am responsible for limiting my energy. Yeah, I don’t much like that story, but it did alert me to the ways I sneakily put restrictions on my energy.
Have I mentioned I also like Marvel books, movies and figurines? Take Wonder Woman (Lynda Carter) for example. She is hot! What I would give to have those curves (not to hold them). Let’s play comic book character for minute and imagine that I am Wonder Woman’s clumsy twin.
I too have an invisible golden lasso – except mine represents control and restriction – and somewhere along the line I tripped, fell, and my lasso got all tangled up and wound tightly around my body. (Remember, I don’t know it’s there because its invisible). While my beautiful twin is off saving the world, I’m flopping through life like a wet fish. I would love to be a heroine too but alas, I am a Shaumbra Wonder Woman with an aspect that resembles an invisible golden lasso, a lasso that is squeezing the life out of my personal energy. It is restricting my experiences, my opportunities and my movement; except I don’t know that restriction exists because my arms and legs are free to flap about, thus creating the illusion that I can move about freely, albeit awkward and ineffectively. (This explains a hell of a lot about my life.)
This realization brings me back to the significance of how something simple, like walking into a spare room to close a blind or emptying the contents of a wardrobe can trigger and embolden an aspect and even give it a voice. That clumsy, judgmental aspect knew my vulnerabilities, weaknesses and sore spots.
For years one part of me just wanted to be able to glide in and out of a room without causing any damage. She knew there was an inner delicate something somewhere that could make her glide; she knew she was graceful. But how can grace exist if half my body is bound, tied and twisted in controlled restriction, while the other half (that has believed the lie and thinks it is free) is flapping about like a stranded fish, completely unaware the other half exists? One refuses to allow any kind of grace and flow, the other is a sleeping puppet who acts out the energy distortion. Without coordination or cooperation, it’s no wonder I kept colliding with the military tanks! And meanwhile, the bored Master is sitting on the ethereal park bench saying, ‘Would you just untie the lasso already?’
Wonder Woman Leigh looks down and realizes her hands are free to do just that.
It was never about getting back into ‘that dress.’ It was never about my clumsiness. That’s the lie, the story the human bought into while the aspect remained hidden, camouflaging itself beneath a barrage of put-me-downs. And each time I believed it, succumbing to the lie and handing my authority over to it. No wonder the simple task of culling my things became unreasonably challenging. No wonder time slowed down and I felt so heavy and low. I was meeting the gate keeper of my personal energy, and I don’t mind saying it’s been an un-holy bastard.
Personal energy and allowing are one and the same, or at the very least they have the same meeting place. In its arrogance, this aspect insists that it can do a better job of allowing than allowing itself, and it proves it every time it tries to control my personal energy. It doesn’t want to give freedom to my personal energy; it doesn’t trust it and doesn’t like it. This aspect (part of self) doesn’t want or believe in allowing, and if there’s a part of you telling you otherwise, then you have been sold a story, a lie, because true allowing tells you nothing. It simply allows.
Restriction borne through control was my Creative Expression. It is how I was expressing my personal energy and so it only makes sense that the experiences that came to me were restricted, controlled, contained and small. Control is the story teller, the one that whispers the subtle untruths in your ear. Control wants you to forget your true nature. It doesn’t want you to remember who you are and will do anything in its power to make sure you never find out what you are capable of.
Fear is the enabler of control, for control cannot exist without it. Fear is merely a prop, a tool used so that control can keep its stranglehold on personal energy. Without fear, control has no power. When left unchecked, this thing had free reign to restrict flow in every possible way in my life, which it did very well. And the older I got, the better it became at its job, or perhaps the more I got comfortable not having to take responsibility for the things that ‘happened’ in my life.
The beauty of this lifetime is that we are armed with awareness. Without it, I would be lost, confused and in a pretty dark place right now because I would not have understood what is happening to me and why. But I do, and I have Crimson Circle to thank for that. I have the tools, I have the wisdom, and I know exactly what I need to do to take this aspect down.
I remove the lasso, buy a new outfit and call my twin.
It is interesting to note the repercussions of throwing all my things away and releasing control of my personal energy. First, I flew to see my youngest who is now 17. He is a hoarder, and the whole family knows how hard it is for him to let anything go, even a random looking stick. He has years’ worth of stuff that he refuses to let go of because every piece of clothing or item in his room is attached to a memory or person he loved. The first day I arrived, he asked if I would help him clean his room. I said sure, but we didn’t do it then. The following day he spontaneously emptied his room and threw everything away by himself! This is a BIG deal! He even emptied his beloved gadget making drawer and kept his room free of junk the whole time I was there!
Second, after discovering how restricting my personal energy can affect my physical body, I had a spontaneous, inexplicable recovery and no longer needed surgery to correct what was wrong. The docs couldn’t figure it out, but I knew what had happened. I just smiled and went home.
And third: I just got a high paying job! Yeah baby!! FINALLY!
Leigh has been with the Crimson Circle since 2003 and states, “Shaumbra children are not children at all. They are teachers waiting to be awakened.” Leigh is interested in connecting with other Shaumbra parents and kids and possibly creating a virtual meeting place for them. She may be contacted via email.