When I worry about being rejected, I reject myself in favor of a manipulative false self that’s willing to fold itself into a pretzel in order to keep others’ acceptance. It’s a fool’s errand. It cannot be done from my side of the equation (which is the only side there is).
Who would I be if I couldn’t believe the thought, “I can’t handle rejection?”
I would stop arguing with what is.
I would be generous with people’s reactions and see them for what they are: the unseparated “one” giving itself information about the way of it, about reality. An opportunity to experience and question any stressful thoughts about the world.
I would live true. I would live freely out of my own true nature.
I would allow the universe to carry me in its benevolent flow.
When I worry about being hated, I hate myself. I view everything I do with suspicion in case it might cause someone to hate me. I take responsibility for things I have no control over and drive myself into the ground.
Who would I be if I couldn’t believe the thought, “To be hated is hateful?”
I would take responsibility for loving myself
I would have infinite love for others
I would see people’s hate for what it is: suffering brought on by confusion. And it wouldn’t be able to cause my own suffering.
I would be able to listen to the world
I would be able to watch the universe unfolding and drink it in. And let it teach me whatever it has to teach me.
I would be able to release myself from the false need to be understood by anyone but me.
I would see that I am one with everyone and everything and there is no separation and therefore no hate in reality.
I would see that hate is confusion.
When I worry about being persecuted, I persecute myself. I put myself in a cage for my own sake and torture my free spirit with obligation and isolation.
Who would I be if I couldn’t believe the thought, “I must never endure persecution?”
I would be open.
I would be free to live out of my own kind and peaceful true nature.
I would be able to meet anyone with love.
When I worry about being robbed, I rob myself. I steal precious moments of peace from myself believing that it’s possible to lose anything I truly need, anything that truly belongs to me.
Who would I be if I couldn’t believe the thought, “I must keep what I have?”
I would let things flow into and out of my life, grateful for what I have AND for what I’ve been spared.
I would be generous with myself and with the world.
I would not be able to experience a robbery.
When I worry about being killed, I kill myself. My joyous, open, loving, free and present self.
Who would I be if I couldn’t believe the thought, “Being killed is unacceptable?”