I went with a friend to the Dr. to check on his skin cancer lesions. They looked like harmless little dark moles, but when the nurse magnified them for photos they took on a completely different existence entirely. They became grotesque, rotting, oozing, and repulsive. They became a threat to the life force inside my friend’s body. Suddenly there was an urgency to remove these tiny little spots. There was nothing harmless about these little spots. These were ruthless, burrowing killers!
As I stood in disbelief, I realized this is very similar to how my judgments have looked over the past weeks. They started as mere thoughts, randomly interrupting my pleasant encounters throughout the day. Then, like an incessant child they became louder and more obtrusive. I began magnifying them and dissecting them one by one. I felt broken, hopeless, dark and beyond a cure. I became identified with the cancer cell, hungry to consume every last healthy particle of Misha’s essence. I split myself apart, the dark vs. the light, the good vs. the bad, the appealing vs. the ugly. This has taken me deep into the rabbit hole of my psyche, ripping pieces of the whole, tearing innocence from hate, trying to hold onto any morsel of goodness. At the same time, being tantalized by the alluring wickedness of what was left. Illusion became my Master until there was nothing left to identify with.