The Inner Metaverse Game, aka IMG, is a remarkable place, providing me with Xtreme Treks beyond my imagination, mainly because my early years of wiring, downloading, and repetition included memory suppression and creative repression. But, the IMG design features allow me to pair difficult Feeling Navigation with enjoyable physical activities, such as drumming, canoeing, running stairs, or hills. In this way, mild anxiety could be a warm-up run, with a Panic Attack requiring Xtreme Anchoring, like the scene from Singing In The Rain when Gene Kelly swings from a streetlight post.
Helping release my mother's soul fragments trapped on this plane was relatively uncomplicated. She did much of the work before she died, accessing deep wells of love and compassion and sharing it with everyone she met. On the other hand, my father contributed significantly to my inner trauma weave. He took nine long years for the final checkout, so I never got to know him outside of a chaotic story and memory jumble.
I recently signed up for Qigong Practice and devoted the first few Warm-Up Practices to Unbearable Shame Release. Unfortunately, as in Xtreme Treks, things get worse before they clear up and let go. I repetitively Opened and Expanded Unbearable Shame Portals until my Look Around caught a flicker trigger. Following the trigger flash, I linked to several Medium Short Reads about annihilation simply for existing. A connectivity blast immediately hit me, a paralyzing shame for daring to be myself. It's not exactly a human experience; more like death in the shadows, a bleed out of self-worth.
In storms of this magnitude, it's best to insert my Silver Light Pole Anchor in the Mycelium Network and hang on! Sometimes I watch YouTube videos of different forms of pole dancing, like Gene Kelly and his light post, male gymnasts, or Shaolin Monks and their monkey sticks. Walking through a Land of Annihilation is tricky. First, I felt an inner shattering as some part of my accustomed balance fragmented. I didn't recognize the sharp ridges emerging on all sides and froze, clueless about where to go. Then, the strangest thing happened. Purple, blue, and piercing yellow brush strokes painted my fragments together, and I had the distinct sense I was in a Van Gogh creation.
