I was walking my dog in the woods and what kept coming up in my mind are these scenarios where I save the day, where I save people, where I am placed in a role of showing people what is right.

So, in this I am telling my mind to stop. And then in the next few minutes I realize I am doing the same thing again. And then again.

It is such a drug to imagine righteousness, to imagine my self in a righteous position.

So, I thought about what would come next, I thought about scenarios/memories/events in the past where I was thanked for something I did, or given words of gratitude for something I stood up and said.

Which just brought up a memory of such an event that I had forgotten.

My son was in Montessori school. In this school was the child of a prominent psychiatrist . The child had been adopted from a country in South America. This child had been scratching the other children and bullying some of the children.

One day I received a call from the teacher of the school, my son had had an accident and I should come and pick him up. ( now, understand that my child had come home previously with the scratch marks down his back, two sets of five somewhat symmetrical scratch marks running down his back- I had said something to the teacher and she had told me she would keep an eye on my son. She had also appealed to my sense of compassion and said that it was an adopted son of Mr. So and so- this having meaning I was supposed to accept).

When I arrived at the school I promptly found out that my son had had the forskin of his penis ripped off by this adopted boy.

I simply said to the teacher that either this boy left the school or my son would no longer attend. ( I knew that I might just be the one to leave, because I did not have the social status that this “doctor” had, this doctor who’s wife was a prominent architect- the husband of the school teacher also being a somewhat prominent architect. )

What the teacher did was call a meeting. All the parents, many parents came and we sat in a circle. I was asked to speak first. I talked about the scratches and the penis, how two other boys had been told to hold my son down while this adopted boy did whatever he did to my son’s penis. I remember being very scared, that it was difficult to talk ( in German) because I was emotional and felt like I was the one pointing the finger, as in having to stand and say that this was unacceptable alone.

No one else spoke. Even though they had the opportunity. We then had a vote and it was decided that the adopted boy find an environment that was more able to deal with his emotional problems. We all stood and left.

As I was standing outside, one woman came up to me, only one woman and thanked me for standing up about this boy, Evidently this boy had  scratched and terrorized many children. But no one had said something, or was willing to say that something had to be done, or even stood up and at least spoken during the meeting.

I was shocked.

Anyway, when this women came and thanked me, I became very upset. It was as though the burden of standing, actually realizing that I might not be able to return to the school. that I had to also face all these people and speak up was very difficult. I had to say that this child had to be eliminated because he was not being controlled and actually hurting other children.

I had to be righteous. The feeling of righteousness in the imagination and the actual standing up are two different things. Standing up is hard, one faces rejection ( all but one of the parents basically never said a word to me) and I felt that I had this huge burden on my shoulders.

Standing up makes one think, “Am I doing the correct thing?” “is this really going to be the best thing, to decide that this child would leave the school?”

Being righteous is actually not fun.

I also notice that I have these righteous imaginings more often just before I get my period. They seems to just be a running stream in my mind. And so easily consuming, so trance-like!

Stop this mind game, direct my self as principle, in realizing what is best for all, breath, understand the physical, model and speak as equality, one and equal within my words.

remember that everything is me, is my self.

My righteousness is my self, is the mind as me fearing being nothing.


About rebeccakarlendalmas

Desteni I Process Equal Life Foundation livingincome.me eqafe.com
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