As I prepared to do year 17 several weeks ago I took a hit from the fact that I do not have permission to speak about the deep personal encounters that arrived in my life in 1984-85 through the life story of extended community. As I contemplated one specific event that shook apart the very foundation of a family I visited in the fall of '84, I knew that I could not simply use coded language to transmit the full significance of an ancient wound arriving at the surface to be reclaimed and then released.
Due to this perceived dilemma I took a hiatus from recall and really didn't know what to expect as a response from my Self as my commitment to recast the story of my life went into a spin mode without draining the wash water. One thing became clear though, the soiled water that had been soaking the fabric of my storyboard needed to be replaced with fresh water. Kind of like selecting the 'extra rinse' option on the front loading washing machine...
It was as if my emotional network over rode my conscious commitment to remember and release in order to move on, and I entered the premise that 'others' would use those troubled years as an indictment in some court of judgment. Knowing that there is no 'other' out-there to judge me, I spent time with my inner judge, giving a listen for a while.
It seems I had indeed left a piece of Self fragmented in exile without knowing that I would never be able to leave this dimension behind as long as there was one piece of Self I judged as not worthy of being me. If all doubt is self-doubt, then indeed it is true that all judgment is self-judgment and the true gift can only ever be that all love is self-love.
I had forgotten this.

So, shall we continue…?