The Great Depression

Just reading my old posts, I can't go back to Kilkenny Street. That would mean all the fear, doubt and poverty still exist in me. I don't have to go back to care for my father, who I was like a spouse to as a child, who I listened to his cries over mom's insanity all the time, tried to pep him up and convince him to get a divorce, whom I gave so many ideas to and none of them came about. So he is my original wounding. I can't go back. That would be the worst wounding of all. Instead, I mirror myself. Nobody mirrored me as a child. It was just Patti Straub on her own, as Dad and Mom drained her of her talent because of their neediness. So Kilkenny will sit. I will focus on work. I will manifest my thoughts. Just like the Yoga Vasistha story says, "There was once a monk devoted to meditation who had obtained the power to materialize his thoughts." And I just empty myself out. All the fears and worries and feel the brightness of my life now, clean and happy, self-fulfilled. There is no turning back. There is no great depression coming. At least not for me. Things are getting better. They are getting better all the time. The more I meditate, the more I realize this to be true. A new identity outside the pain, outside the fear, outside the concentration camp of my own mind.