I also know that some situations require us to either take a different view or suffer with worry, but it is surely easier said than done. My son’s illness is certainly one of those situations. I take ten steps forward, and a hundred backward in that regard. This is because I get burned out as a caregiver and my only options for help are professionals who have not shown to have my son’s or his family’s best interest. I think if I had community and help, finding my true Self, the quiet mind, the place of peace where there is not good or bad, would be so much easier. I regress.

I know this is a long comment, but I want to share something. My son and I were recently staying in a hotel (because of a crisis so anxiety was high) –he went swimming. I sat by the pool. Only one other person was there. He was on his mobile, not paying us any attention. My son began walking slowly in the water and laughing loudly to himself, the latter of which he does a lot. At first, I saw only beauty. I saw a person who can experience the fullness of life in ways that most of us can’t get close to doing. I saw a person in the moment. Fear set in. Fear of what others would think, and not even the man on his mobile, but of the people who might judge my son in the future, after I’m gone. Now, isn’t that really messed up? The beauty I saw was in my heart, but my mind took over and the experience surely didn’t feel good.

Thanks for the ear, and as always, your very good posts! Will check out your links.

Peace and Blessings,
Michelle.

Here’s a taster …

“And When we find that Quiet Mind, we often will come face to face with ourselves.. And The Quiet Time is a time when we are searching within we often are given our answers.“

The example given of walking into a room and forgetting what you going there for is not necessarily fear driven, it is also an example of being in a natural trance where your mind is so focused on something else you forget what you were doing.

Anxiety can indeed cause forgetfullness. Nancy once sent me to Sears to pick up a mail order package and I had to wait in line to pick it up. When it came my turn the lady behind the counter barked at me “what are the last four numers of your telephone number?” Well on a good day I might be able to remember my telephone number but the last four digits, never. I just froze with anxiety and finally I just blurted out four random numbers which she looked up and said there is no package available for that number and I just slinked out of there with my tail between my legs.

Lee