Shooting in the Dark
Weekly Reading Topic for June 8, 2019: Shooting in the Dark
Well, good morning, love! I just opened a Reading for you, my newsletter subscribers and here’s what I heard in answer to the following:
What do my readers most need to hear this weekend? What is the most important message to send to my beloved readers?
The answer was: “Shooting in the dark.”
What follows is your weekly reading.
Weekly Reading │ Shooting in the Dark
Q: What does “shooting in the dark” mean?
A: Good grief, what a loaded phrase, am I right? [Pun intended/not intended depending upon your pun tolerance, of course.]
Shooting in the dark is something you do when you’re desperate. When you don’t know what the danger is, where it is coming from, or how to face it.
You shoot first, ask questions later when you KNOW that whatever that thing is that is making bumping noises in your dark, it’s BAD.
It’s reflexive, and it’s fear-based, and it’s not something you willingly engage in. You don’t make a plan to shoot in the dark.
Unless you DO, by setting yourself up for fear-based, reflexive responses by refusing to acknowledge something, by metaphorically refusing to turn on the light.
So when we are in a situation where we’re fighting the darkness, imagining there’s a threat and defending ourselves by shooting in the dark, regardless of what’s actually happening out there … it’s time to take a breath and turn on a light.
Somewhere in your life, right now, you’re in the dark. For some, it’s a relationship ending that is causing a feeling of emptiness, or deep anxiety. For some it’s a relationship that SHOULD be ending that is causing numbness, deadness, emptiness.
For others, the dark is about career, and for others, it’s parenting, and for many, it’s about the self.
It’s easy to be in the dark about ourselves. It’s easy to think the worst of ourselves, over and over, and not question those thoughts at all. That’s just habit, right? Those are thoughts we’ve been thinking for years … so why not think them again? And again?
And again and again and again. And meanwhile, we’re sitting there, in the dark, afraid of the thought, and we reach for our handgun and point at the place we think is where that thought is coming from.
And sometimes we shoot. And if there’s a thud, we turn on the light and see it, the body of our fear. Only sometimes it’s the body of the marriage we sabotaged, or the business we ran into the ground, or the child left to fend for themselves … all because we sat there, in the dark, clutching our gun instead of reaching over to flip a light switch.
So let’s do a little meditative imaginative journey now, to find the dark and to see what we’re shooting at. Here’s what to do. (Argh, this would be better as a guided meditation! Let’s all do our best.)
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Lie down or sit, and get really comfortable. Take a few relaxing breaths, and close your eyes.
Now imagine that someone is coming toward you, beckoning you to come with them. Look at your guide on this journey and follow them. They take you to a method of transportation, and you get in/on it with them. You move over a landscape, and you can see a long way in all directions. As you travel, you notice that you are getting closer to a landing of some sort, and your vehicle gently arrives.
You get off, and wave goodbye to your guide, continuing on down a path or road or street that is clearly marked in front of you. As you turn and wind your way along the path, you see a place where there is another guide waiting for you. That person has something for you. Accept their gift, give them thanks, and carry on.
Farther down the path, which is winding steadily up, you see another place with another guide, who also offers you a gift. Accept that and give thanks, and then move on up the road or street.
You will come to a third place, with another guide who gives you another gift. Take that one, also, and move along.
You will reach a high point on your path or road, and you will be able to see a beautiful place all around you. You’ll also notice that there is some sort of enclosure or space to the side, with some sort of opening or door. Inside of this is your Fear, the one that you’ve been shooting at in the dark up until now.
Go inside, and there is a beautiful space for you to meet your Fear. And there it is: your Fear.
Take some time to greet your Fear, whatever shape it takes, and make conversation with it. Ask your Fear:
What do you want to tell me?
Give your fear thanks, and if one of the gifts you have been given was for your Fear, gift your Fear with it.
Leave the enclosure and follow the path or road back down a little way until your guide meets you again with your vehicle, which you can take back to the place you started. Enjoy the ride, and reflect on your fear and what you have learned and been given.
When you arrive back at your starting point, say goodbye and thank you to your guide, and watch as they take their leave.
When you are ready to open your eyes, do so.
Make some notes about what you’ve seen and felt and experienced. It’s all fodder for your life!
If you’re like most people, your Fear wasn’t nearly as scary in person as it is when it’s hiding in the dark.
Just like a parent turning on the light to send away the bogeyman, turn on the light in your mind the next time you feel fear.
It’s almost like we can flood the brain with light, which by definition fills up the spaces that dark takes up.
And when there is less dark, there is less fear.
And less shooting.
And that’s always a good thing.
Shooting in the dark leads to bad accidents and property damage. Minimize the likelihood by squaring off and facing your fears. Turn on the light and take a good hard look at what’s actually sitting there.
It’s nearly always much, much more mundane, prosaic, and tepid than it seems when we’re jacked up on adrenaline, turning this way and that, pointing our gun.
Shooting in the dark is never a good idea. Unless you are a trained assassin. Then it might be a job requirement. But otherwise? Not a good idea for us laypeople.
Turn on the light. Breathe deeply. Put down the gun. Take a look at your fear. You might find what I did, when I just did this exercise: that your fear looks like a little squat blue monster guy with silly putty snake hair and thin little arms attached to furious little pumping fists. And when I greet him, and say hello, he runs over and embraces my legs, just like a four-year-old who loves me.
And when I pet his little snake-haired head, his hair twines around my wrists and hugs them, too. And when I say “what is it that you want to tell me?” he answers:
“You should laugh more often.”
I hope your fear is as silly and endearing as mine turned out to be. Or at least as surprising.
I am always here to serve in any way I can.
Much Love to You!
Molly
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