Re-Accessing The Guardian: Inner Child Mind-Dump Vol 1 πŸ™‡πŸ»β€β™‚οΈπŸ§ πŸ’©

All, Inner Child, Poetry

I did not receive the programming for peace early on,
Which means neither did my parents, so the cycle went on

Now I’m finally giving me,
What I wanted all along:
The self-esteem and inner-security, oft accordingly passed on,
Based upon the family, into which you were born
And perhaps like me,
You were similarly forlorn,
In not being destined
To be enpowered as something handed down

For we learn young,
Our adult disposition formed earlier than we know,
Out of the impressioned youth,
Into which we grow
“Give me a child till the age of seven, and I will show you the man”, goes the Jesuit maxim,
Spoken by thise who understand,
A way of thinking that’s taught,
Learned secondhand

Scared nervous people,
Raise scared nervous kids,
Lacking the psychological security,
The ‘fortunate’ give theirs
Yes, it’s a class issue,
The socioeconomic status of those from whom you receive your DNA
But birth is not a fair lottery,
And it’s always been that way

Until we can time travel,
We will never have a say,
In the life we were given to,
And what led us to today
So reject the fatalistic resignation,
Which the victim always sees at play
And nurture your nature,
With what you think and say

And neither be afraid to ponder,
The past and the role it played,
Because we have to understand,
Or we make the same mistakes again and again
Yes, I’ll be 35 in a year,
And I’m just now here:
Seeing why I am the way I am,
And how I can change my thinking, to change the way I live

And I know it all goes back to the start,
Inner child, sometimes without dinner child
Whose magical consciousness is full of gifts to give – inner truths
Yet eterneally vulnerable,
To how you feel and live:
Needing the ever present safety and security, like you needed as a child – but from you,
To express through you –
Given that, just imagine,
What the two of you could do:

If you could give him,
The worth he’d want to give to you
For there are no time machines,
But there are centers, containers of consciousness, called archetypes –
Through which we can reprogram the inner you –
And the inner-child, most deserving and pure (Does not mean non-sexual – love, sex, between adults can also be pure :)
Warrants nothing less than a seat at the table, replete with a voice
For he has much to bequeathe unto you, deserves your heart and the power of choice

And we ourselves most should invest here;
For inner child wants the best for us,
Just to share,
In the dreams he can conjure, and the desire to get there;
We ought give the reigns to inner child
– As is their proper inheritence –
But this is not to give license to the puer,
The eternal child, who likes too much to be master of his lair:
Think Peter Pan: he’s rather Lizard brained,
Whereas inner child is now wisened, with access to his guardian and not control over him

It’s a choice distinction,
Between the two
For we want to open to life,
Not be swallowed by its shadow
For that’s what this is about:
Re-accessing the truest part of you,
Who is always there, though sometimes long unbeknownst to you,
For inner child often goes “underground” to protect itself:

As is the case, when we have not made inner child feel safe
And silenced the vulnerability,
Refused our softest-self space
Yes, even inner-child hides in the shadow,
Repressed
In the unconscious,
Without the means to express
For if we don’t listen to our little self, we’ll have neither the wings nor the breath:

To reconnect with us,
And work together on what’s ahead
Focusing on the future,
And not living in the past,
But never forgetting, the rawness of our path:
But what breaks my heart most, is that my inner child is older than I,
Had to face all that without so much as a ‘Self’ – much less a persona to chill behind
Dearest inner child!,
Greatest hero of mine!

Tell me where you want to go,
And I’ll take you to the stars!!
We know I’m sorry, for all those nights spent in bars,
Or behind them,
Once or thrice
You suffered most, through all my vice (fear and self-pity greatest among them)
Betrayed my very heart, and put you in the dark –
Had no time for something I didn’t know held my brightest spark

Till I re-membered you,
Put you back together, and me too,
With compassion for what I never could forget:
The childhood we endured –
You without my strength around,
For so mang years,
When it felt natural to be down
Oh man oh man, we finally made it out – what a mindfuck that was

Till together again at last, a second childhood of sorts,
Me like your adopted dad,
Reunited with my boyhood self –
And I could not be more glad

Nor more surpised to find myself a solid man,
Who knows that without the boy, I could never create such rich, exciting plans πŸ₯°β›΅οΈ

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