Obedience to the light, the authentic self-image felt from deep within, a calling. It is set against an illuminating seductive “delusion” developing, in a lifelong desperate striving to succeed, to become the ace in a gambler’s magic deck of cards… the false self. A solution felt to be the answer to human suffering, an identity, an embodiment of the honored heroes we have seen or imagined, the learned impact of strength, now an internal quest for personal power. Abandoning our inner truth, pushing aside, tamping down the emotional reality bubbling from deep within, that ace in the deck haunts us as a desire to be more than we are, the answer to a soul lost from its basic moorings, to just be, seems not enough. We have lost the light and come to the darkness; glory sought in the grandiose desire of self-adulation for becoming one to be ‘recognized’ as important, powerful, more than we are or need to be.

Bring out the big guns; stand against the bullies, the ones who command and dominate. Forceful standing strong, exhilarated, and exalted in the image of power and strength. I shall be a god. The tanks in our minds were rolling, and the massive thunder of war birds armed to the teeth emanated a deep message: Do not mess with me. Not only from its roar but also from the truth known about its potentiality. An individual’s secret hidden inner powerlessness aches for opposing shadow deployments from a want-to-be warrior. Do not mess with me! I have seen and I have become, more than who I am. I command the darkness of my false self, no longer bound to obedience to the light, my inner truth. My imagination has been let loose.
To dream of being the pilot commanding the cockpit of a thundering war bird, with wings that flame amidst the rocketing image, the image of brutal force… forbidden power. POWER, to stand deceived in the answer to your deep inner wounds of powerlessness. To witness the war birds flying in unison guided by men with nerves of steel; oh, if only to be the pilot in life of such a murderous image.

The innocent fellow humans, children, women, and men are all vulnerable to the launched rockets of death from the one that stands ten miles high with pride of having achieved the image… of death. FEAR me for I am the commander that controls the weapons of life and death.


Photo by Victor on Unsplash

Who is the true hero in this life? The talented vagabond with bones of steel, shadowing power and glory, or the meek drifter that feels the pain in the wounded child before him, and within, kneeling to aid the suffering seen in the moment? Bombs or love… where and why do we choose the paths of this dichotomy?

If the man of steel knows the honor found in simply having access to his feelings, if he or she has ‘reclaimed’ the lost empathy, in other words, to have found himself again from whence he was lost, he stands a chance to become that God so desperately sought after. But it is and can only be in the eyes of one that sees and feels the buried empathy for the innocent child, for the innocent men and women, but most importantly, having re-ignited a healing empathy towards oneself and one’s inner struggles to find authenticity in personhood. These are the heroes of this earth, silent warriors simply coming to be themselves, reawakened to the lost world of compassion and empathy for all living creatures. Indeed, we come to love and accept our weaknesses as well as strengths. That is where true power originates, in becoming one’s authentic self… within one that either never lost the obedience to their inner light, or one who has returned home, clear, seeing in the light of obedience to self the pathway forward to becoming.

Featured Image: Photo by Matthew Ball on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.