How To Train A Guardian

Director's chair icon

Director’s chair icon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I can see myself in a vast camp of strangers under a blood-red moon, casting a veil of hard light against the ground against silhouettes moving in a constant graze.  Just as with every other moment, this is my time to stand on the edge of a choice.  I get to use my brain and act in a way which will earn me both discomforting remarks and a chance to answer questions.  My role as a person will take on much more color and depth.  The connection between me and other people will grow in substance, because actions must be driven by profitable thinking instead of emotion.

Sure the anxiety is there.  And so is the anger.  It’s all part of the human experience and the way my body tries to make sense of a new environment or way of doing things.  The usual script for my role includes the same old’ lines and routine.  But now it’s time to break new ground and deny the unofficial rules written by years of memory of what lines haven’t been crossed up to this point.  Now we practice in a place on the other side of the line.

It takes a new habit of facing into the wind, walking into a different door and painting with different colors.  It means to purposely do something new again and again, regardless of how I feel about it.  The new action and the rules I set for myself are now based on reaching a goal which will take me forward.  I have to convince my old rules and the tendency for my body to act in the name of safety against the fictional threat.

To train a guardian means I have to write my script on purpose:

The fear of failure is a lie written by my own expectations.  It will invite support from others.  I will learn more on what not to do repeatedly.  So, the action is followed through on to the hilt.

The fear of success is a lie written by memory of past committments broken.  It’s a script written by emotional reactions.  And emotions are nothing more than the physical alarm system of blood pumping faster.  This is nothing more than an evolutionary mechanism built to get me running from danger.

By itself, there is nothing dangerous about presenting an idea or breaking out in song.

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