External reality is a projection of not only everything one thinks, but also, everything one rejects: every thought, belief, and emotion that one does not accept within oneself is projected outward and enters one's realities through others.
Everything someone says to us, we are saying to ourselves.
Everything someone does to us, we are doing to ourselves.
Every action that is part of our reality, in whatever manner, is a part of ourselves - often a part that we disown and are not looking at.
It is a radical idea; to use one of my favorite terms that Joel Osteen uses frequently, it's "far out." Absolutely. We don't want to see our ugly bits, so we project them out: our greed, our hatred, our anger. Our repressed parts meet us in the "real world," taking on the form of others - what they "do" to us or say to us, how they treat us.
The only way we can shift is to shift our internal reality. First, we shift our internal world, then our external world shifts. It is a metaphysical principle. The external world is merely a mirror of our internal consciousness.
Yesterday, my boyfriend told me that I have no life. "No life." Ouch. Right away, my ego looked for all of the proof as to how I clearly do have a life: I have a career; I have wonderful, positive friends (whom I don't see as often as I'd like because I don't enjoy commuting to Manhattan on the weekend); I have lots of family members who love me; I have hobbies, like writing, running, and making jewelry; everyone at my workplace loves me. Does that not count as a life? I suppose, in comparison to him, I don't have a child, nor an ex-husband or ex-mate.
I suppose I never filled the traditional role of wife or mother. I never took a child to amusement parks and threw birthday parties and gave birth. Maybe at the age of 33, this is an anomaly. Maybe because I prefer, mostly, to sit by the water, read, and be silent, this is a great aberration from the lifestyle of most people my age.
And so, while my ego says that my boyfriend said something stupid, the voice of my inner-being knows that he just said something to me that I thought (some part of my conjured), and there is some thoughts in my mind about how I don't "have a life."
And there is also some acceptance for me to do regarding how I don't WANT a life. I don't want to go to amusement parks, or to video arcades, or to baseball games. I'm a fairly simple person, truth be told. I don't want traditional. Even when I imagined that I would have a family, I always thought we'd be a bunch of hippies, and I'd name my son Rivers, and we'd go hiking on the weekend and lay in the grass and have picnics.
I never really wanted traditional. The truth is, I'm anything but traditional.
Of all the places I could be, I like to sit by the water and stare at the sky. I like to close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I have let go of all WANTS. I am only accepting.
I am accepting that I don't have a traditional life.
I am accepting that I am an unconventional person, and my beliefs are unconventional, certainly.
I am accepting that the words of others is merely the expression of some part of myself that I don't want to see, that I project outward.
I am accepting it all - and that whatever I choose in this short, fragile existence, is all perfect.