The Healing of Emotion - Awakening the Fearless Self

Leavetaking

Our lives seem filled with separations, schisms, leavetaking. We take leave of someone, we terminate a relationship, there is a death. We separate after lovemaking. We divorce. Children leave the house. The infant stops suckling at its mother’s breast. At birth, we separate—or are separated—from the protective shield of our mother. And to go back even farther: at some point, somehow, our spirits, our divine spark, separated from God.

We have emerged from the formless. The soul has decided to become incarnate. Thus we create the body that is to become our new home of existence. It is a “young” expression, which means the externalization of the source energy that moves toward our manifestation. By means of the yang energy, we surge outward from creation, and then suddenly find ourselves in a body and in a new environment. The door behind us gradually closes, the connection to the creative source, to our divine self, becomes nebulous as our consciousness narrows down into the realm of the physical. Unacknowledged by the world of form, the divine self retires into the formless—and thus our fear begins.

We know that we want to acquire form. Our souls have made this decision. With our own creative powers we execute a conscious act, that of incarnation. But as soon as this act is executed, and the concomitant separation takes place (the body is the separation), doubts crop up, as do fear and anger, because direct recognition of this choice and knowledge dissolve. Our memory of the conscious decision to become incarnate disappears, and for the first time, the body has to orient itself outward to seek survival. Thereby, it begins to experience fear and anger and anguish about the separation. Deeply imbedded in the blueprint of embodiment is this memory of oneness, the universal mergence of all life.

Every separation enhances our desire to regain the lost connection with an essence we don’t consciously remember. With every new separation, we experience different aspects of our vital dilemma: to be cut off, isolated, divorced from an overall, embracing life context, to be isolated within a limited consciousness. No matter how often we may have chosen these separations ourselves, perhaps in order to progress in our individualization, the actual separations of consciousness nonetheless keep triggering an impulse to regain the lost wholeness.

Typically, two basic archetypal emotions, fear and anger, characterize these cyclical separation processes. Fear and anger are two different manifestations of one single, fundamental reaction on the part of the emotional body. They are the two core emotions that express the separation trauma—whether it is one of the big, original separations such as the separation from God or the separation at birth, or whether it is but one of the everyday separations.

As we consider the “hologram,” the totality of our experiences, we see that birth or some other profound process of separation sets a kind of energy in motion. In the course of our further experiences, this energetic motion leads us back to the point of departure in a circular way. The separation or isolation or divorce cannot completely cover up our memory of what is real. The limitations and obstacles we experience in our “new identity” as isolated beings—at the same time as we are experiencing new possibilities and challenges—evoke fear and anger.

In this book we will explore the fundamental aspects of fear and anger and investigate the ways and means of overcoming them. Fear is the “feminine,” the “yin” way of experiencing our hurt of separation. Fear is that yin energy that often finds its manifestation in defense, rejection, and resistance against someone or something. Fear is a form of energy that literally drowns the vital forces and is far more dangerous than anger. For while anger keeps the organism in motion and lends the organism vital forces (albeit possible destructive forces), anxiety and fear swallow up and gnaw at the organism.

Anger represents the “male,” the “yang” way of expressing our pain of changing dimensions. We are human beings who possess a multifaceted consciousness, we are “multidimensional” beings. In the final analysis, we are consciousness! Hidden within us lies a primarily buried treasure of knowledge, of love, happiness, strength, and life! As we acquire the limitations of a body, coming from this almost magical omnipotence and omniscience, as we gain a “human” perspective through our terrestrial incarnation, as we incarnate ourselves in the standard dimensions of time and space, we leave the main part of our holographic, multidimensional consciousness behind us. We emerge as limited, separate beings, as individuals; we separate ourselves from the direct, immediate experiencing that is all-pervasive being.

Initially after birth, we are still open for psychic, spiritual experiences. But as time passes, we forget more and more how to talk with fairies, elves, angels, and other forms of consciousness. We are governed to an ever greater extent by the adult world with its analogous, linear way of thinking. Fear and anger become our companions more and more consciously. We are afraid not to be able to cope with life. We are afraid of snakes, spiders, and rats, or afraid of flying. We are afraid of our parents or siblings or friends. We are afraid of punishment or violence. We are afraid we will not have enough to eat, afraid to descend into the dark cellar, of getting lost in the forest; afraid that this or that person does not love us, that we will be rejected by him or her. The fears are without number; and, as we know, they exist not only on the level of waking consciousness but also within our subconscious. Often our dreams reflect even worse fears than those experienced during the daytime.

Just as we are not conscious of the reasons we experience fear, at least not in the first months, years, or even decades of our lives, we also frequently find ourselves or others being angry without reason. We know the temper tantrums, the rage, of children, adolescents, and even of adults who want to impose their will on others with all their might. We know that we are capable of crying from sheer anger. We know the rage at “life” or “the world” or perhaps at “the others” for not conforming to our images of them, for not fulfilling our wishes.

One could say that fear arises because we feel incapable of getting involved with life, of accepting life and embracing it. Anger, on the other hand, arises when we feel unable to express and live all of who and what we truly are.

All of us have squeezed our divine energy into a specific form. We have, in truth, caged it therein, and now we seem unable to liberate ourselves from this form we have chosen. As a result of the separation from universal consciousness at birth, fear and anger become powerful impulses that impel us over and over again to regain our original, holographic being by striving to return to that celestial womb that we sense is our MOTHER, our source.

The difficulty of coming into body (incarnating in physical form) is that we are exposed to an entirely different set of energy laws that govern consciousness. In the realm of the formless, there is no filter that interrupts the endless stream of pure consciousness. On the contrary, our physical world forces consciousness through the sieve of the perceptual modality in which cognition describes, weighs, and measures every particle of awareness in such a way that the vast interweaving latticework of holographic reality is lost. Our perceptual or sensory reality is attached to the biochemistry of our physiological system from which stems the emotional body.

The Emotional Body

We are not just one concrete physical organism. We are a dynamic, living tapestry of several bodies woven together in such a way as to facilitate an integration of very complex deductive, sensory, and experiential realities. These are the physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional bodies.

The emotional body is paramount among the bodies because of its overpowering influence upon our view of the world and ourselves in it. It is literally an entity of consciousness who lives, for the most part, an obsessive, destructive, yet hidden existence within the unexplored reaches of the subconscious void. The dislocated emotional body is the epitome of our separation from all that is divine, universal God. Yet we must look within the mirror of the emotional body to know the truth of our illusions, so that we can clear away the debris and the sludge and return untarnished to the pure, liquid light of our true selves.

The emotional body represents an aspect of ourselves that is not subject to time and space. If we lose our physical body, our emotional body remains whole nonetheless and merely seeks to connect with a genetic code, the DNA of a new body in a new lifetime, which we then inhabit and through which the emotional body can continue to operate. The “old” emotional body brings all those perceptions, experiences, reaction patterns, and conceptions of reality that it has acquired in our other incarnate bodies, in other times, with it into the “new” physical body. Thus it is not subject to the one-dimensional illusion of the time and space of one life.

Sadly, the repertoire of the emotional body is bound by imprints that are mostly slow and dense in nature. These are the frequencies of anger, fear, remorse, negativity. In fact, the higher, faster vibrations of ecstatic emotions such as love, bliss, and rapture are almost too...