We are each prisoners of judgment, shame, guilt and fear. I sit and I watch the defensive postures of those around me in the café, each unaware of that very fact. Each believing the defensive mechanism they have chosen truly hides their insecure condition. The tattooed man with his armored ink believes he cannot be seen, the rabbit hidden within the bush holds stone still, but those of us skilled in sight spot the vulnerable creature nonetheless.

The fear that carries us daily propels us into the hardened world we continue to create. The one faced with deathly images of children, men and their mothers being raped, murdered and killed right next door to us and yet, nothing stops us long enough to feel their death upon our hands. We continue forth believing we are innocent because we are suffering too, but we do not stop long enough to accept this fact. Rather we move forward with our hard bodies, hard minds, hard breasts and ever growing hardened hearts.

Perhaps the ink on the next tattoo will actually penetrate the veins of life and pull blood from ourselves, a blood that within it’s vibrant red flow causes us to pause and feel the trickle of life it provides. We rush past and through our existence either praying it will end or believing we are invisible (I meant to write invincible, do you suppose that’s a glorious faux pas of the unconscious trying to teach its lesson?) and never really ever feeling the glory of God within.

The struggle runs so deep because we carry so many layers of pain of mis-belief. We store lies within our system of judgment. They feel like truths because they have logic and sense attached to them, or so we think. They make sense because they are true for us. The words we hear in our head we automatically accept as true. How often do we question the thoughts we carry. We see someone look at us and make an instant deduction of what the persons could be thinking and of course, whatever it is, it’s generally about us. About our good looks or fat body, about the bad hair we feel we have or the great sense of style we project. I wonder how many times that person we believe is thinking about us in that moment, is actually looking past us and wondering about what the person behind us is thinking about them!

How often do we have a thought that actually is incorrect? How often is our perception of why what another person does is actually being colored by your current mood ? Have you ever noticed that your mood actually is the determining factor of what someone is thinking? Have you ever noticed that your own guilt can provide the very reason that the person before you is being judged?

May want to visit the Byron Katie website for more info. on questioning thought patterns. She is genius.