A Place called home and sacred stories

     The first time I woke this morning I was being given to know experience that from which we all come. Whether we've ever experienced it or not, whether we've ever been told of it or not we all come from this 'place'. I was filled with well-being and quiet joyousness.
     The second time I woke it was again, or still, as one with this 'home' from which we all come and I was being given to know that even if we had never personally set foot in it, we could all, each and every one, "return" to it.
     The third time I woke, again or still, in this state of oneness with it I was given to know in reference to irritation I had been experiencing that a man had injected me with his resentment. I was reminded in thought as I woke more fully and knew I wasn't going back to sleep; it would not have 'stuck' to me if I didn't already have some of my own. And who doesn't become resentful as a teen or even as a child?! Nothing to be resisting.
    I was then given in thought: those stories our children tell that do not agree with what we know to have happened are important SACRED moments. They are choosing their reality that they are being given to experience.......from this place called "HOME". Now this is not going to be at first an easy acceptance for most. It is known in our world as "psychosis".
   I began to notice the phenomenon with my oldest child. She would tell me what was going on recanting stories of her own experience. "Trouble" was: they were a mish-mash of memories of my own I had shared with her or with someone while she overheard. So, for instance, in one 'memory' of 'her own' which she shared, she had combined a memory of my own with an experience I would have told that belonged to my sister.
   When she was thirteen years old the movie "Thirteen" (or "13") came out. I saw the preview and thought off-handedly it was something I wouldn't rent because it was something she didn't need to see. Within days she came back from a friend's house telling me about how she had seen the movie. She was enchanted by it. She wanted that experience for herself: mother and daughter violently dramatic conflict. It simply wasn't given to me to embody. She hit me and I flattened her out without blinking or harming her in any way. I was too "mature" and energetically "too big", too much a 'master' of these things to play out the little drama of high school level girl fighting between mother and daughter. No judgement against it, I could see the allure of it: the adrenaline, the passion....the 'fun' of it. It simply wasn't for me. that was when her step-mother became her mother. They've gotten into fist fights and play mental and emotional games with one another, undermine her father together, etc. A head trip in spades.
  As a child and teen I did not have the ability to rebel against my parents. I would be punished for things I didn't do but would never argue it. I would never try to explain. I simply took and accepted it. Whatever. I was good at being alone anyways. Grounding me was never really a punishment. If I had any resentment it was too deeply hidden from me. So, my daughter is living my "unlived life" of a teen in conflict with her teen mentality mother being embodied by her step mother.
   That is the paradox of parenting. We ARE absolutely responsible for how our children turn out and at the same time, we absolutely are NOT and what your child becomes has nothing to do with you: it's given them from this place called "Home".
  As I process all of this morning's gifts, I'm practicing that which I have been given to practice recently: let my subconscious process it. Remind the brain to give it up and give it over. It'll come back to 'us' all clean and with perfect clarity until it meets something that causes it's expansion and then back into the subconscious/"home" it goes. The brain's only job in this case is to remain open for what is going to come up out of the 'subconscious', deep within the body/"home". Allow the pain to flow without needing to explain-if explanation is needed it will be given so that the mind can 'click' with a new perspective of understanding.
  A part of me that still wants to be a 'dependent' comes up with it for loving attention and acceptance.
Gut seering pain, an etheric need to puke it all up out of the subconscious and hidden parts of the body. Rejoicing at knowing resentful people will no longer be a regular part of my reality. Knowledge we are never alone and will always be 'dependent' upon the subconscious, home and outer reality for a complete experience, for expansion comes softly, resentment from parts wanting 'independence' and the spiraling process begins against, energy surging and flowing throughout the various levels of that which I call 'me'. Knowing if we resist our children's 'psychosis', try to argue them out of it, refuse to accept it....we only make it larger and more determined to exist on some level in them and in some place in our reality. It's simply a consciousness they're given to play in and can last for only a single moment if allowed to simply be. It can be personal but doesn't need to be taken personally. Sometimes they give it up quite abruptly when we play in it with them as 'just play' I've learned. The enchantment dissipates quickly. In the end, it is our lies that are the truths our children are given live in. We call their stories "lies" and psychosis, to them they are the truths they're given to live. At the same time, the lies we live (I experienced no resentment) become the living embodiment we call children to live in the truth of their existence.
  I love the feeling of 'home', the well-being, perfect harmony of the body in it's presence...no aches or pains, no uncertainty, no worries, no judgement of anyone or anything, no "need to do" anything....it's a blissful place to be. And heart melts with appreciation: it's a place I have been given to be! I always have a place with it and it always has a place in me. I can return to it time and time again. It is an answer to my dream of a big old house out in country where my family could come between life's storms. A place where one is always welcome, fed and kept warm with a 'grandmother' who always listens and always cares, full of wisdom and acceptance and compassionate understanding born of experience...."I know, my child, I know", even when it is all unaccepted because there is more of a 'drama' needing or wanting to be explored. HOME with "Grammy". Home with the sage old woman. Home with any flavor of personality present we are wanting or needing at any given moment. Home tailor made for me ;)