‘Wee-me’ loves to think of itself as being ‘what-one-really-is.’ And with the application of very odd logic it also claims to be able to change, train, control and make-up its own mind.
I looked everywhere for it, within and without. Being led to believe that I’d found it – by believing others’ stories about me, I tried all the tricks to train it, heal it, change and control it. I became a better story – again according to others.
But I knew I was a phony, a dissembler.
I couldn’t live with such incoherence. I had to take the inquiry deeper.
One day, having tracked the poor ‘wee-me’ thing to its archive in the thought-stacks, I gazed into its pathetic, cowering, tear-brimmed eyes and saw my shimmering mirage-self. I saw its terror at being exposed. I hugged it and told it not to worry. It fell into this Heart.
The gap between wee-me-myself and Selfing snapped shut.
That was the day the weeping ended.
mmmmmmmmm m m m m m m . . .