Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the
children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. -Helen Keller
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The Power of Mindfulness
https://www.dropbox.com/s/z6dmwaoaxcpiv1a/The%20Power%20of%20Mindfulness.pdf?dl=0 The Ugly Duckling
https://www.dropbox.com/s/qqdbet1ogsqkq35/A%20The%20Ugly%20Duckling.MP3?dl=0 The Psychology of Self Criticism https://www.dropbox.com/s/8e9o25xtn27ui2r/B%20Psychology%20of%20Self%20Criticism.MP3?dl=0 Self Hatred Exercise https://www.dropbox.com/s/mrjau8kn4dj4p5g/C%20Self%20Criticism%20Exercise.MP3?dl=0 Fred LaMotte
My Ancestry DNA results came in. Just as I suspected, my great great grandfather was a monarch butterfly. Much of who I am is still wriggling under a stone. I am part larva, but part hummingbird too. There is dinosaur tar in my bone marrow. My golden hair sprang out of a meadow in Palestine. Genghis Khan is my fourth cousin, but I didn't get his dimples. My loins are loaded with banyan seeds from Sri Lanka, but I descended from Ravanna, not Ram. My uncle is a mastodon. There are traces of white people in my saliva. 3.7 billion years ago I swirled in golden dust, dreaming of a planet overgrown with lingams and yonis. More recently, say 60,000 B.C. I walked on hairy paws across a land bridge joining Sweden to Botswana. I am the bastard of the sun and moon. I can no longer hide my heritage of raindrops and cougar scat. I am made of your grandmother's tears. You conquered rival tribesmen of your own color, chained them together, marched them naked to the coast, and sold them to colonials from Savannah. I was that brother you sold, I was the slave trader, I was the chain. Admit it, you have wings, vast and golden, like mine, like mine. You have sweat, black and salty, like mine, like mine. You have secrets silently singing in your blood, like mine, like mine. Don't pretend that earth is not one family. Don't pretend we never hung from the same branch. Don't pretend we don't ripen on each other's breath. Don't pretend we didn't come here to forgive. I know how important it is to give up our expectations of perfection in any arena of our lives. I know I've tried hard to do this and yet I know that every once in a while the old pattern emerges. “Maybe if I've could make at least one proper segment of the program”, and I find myself in the trap again. That doesn't mean that we can't produce highly satisfying moments for selves and others but it is important to give up, maybe daily, trying to be perfect. Of course I think we want it so strongly because we reason that we if we are perfect, if we do a perfect job, we will be perfectly lovable. What a heavy burden! Thank God we don't have to earn every bit of love that comes our way!
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