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Family Legacy
I frequently see infants and children in movies and wonder what it’s like to be handled by actors as you emerge from the womb. To coo and cry on command, smothered by attention or abandoned according to characters on script? What’s it like for a child to play the part of an abuse victim? Do they have natural Method Acting skills? Do they unconsciously access their Intergenerational, Cultural, and Family Legacy database?
As I approach my sixty-ninth birthday, I reflect on my journey uncovering my Inner Metaverse, all the Side Loops I got stuck in, the Slippery Slopes and Meltdowns, and Identifying & Naming a multitude of Inner Personas engaged in fulfilling my scripted role handed down and adapted through centuries. Time is one construct for narrative framing. I can place myself in history, the daily calendar, the hands of the clock now digital numbers clicking over.
I can be something — a Writer, a Coach, a ShapeShifter on the hunt for ShakeOut, an instinct in which the body shakes off trauma. If the wild animals didn’t have this ability, they would be terrified to walk the grasslands, trapped in memories of attack. They would live as Victims or, at the other end of the range, as a Savior Bully. It’s a narrative I have lived to the fullest, trekking every inch of the terrain in all kinds of weather.
