The spirit is not a piece of jerky. It can't be drug along behind you. It is you. That invisible thing that rises out of you when you die. It's a real thing, as we all know, and as we all have no choice but to admit. But this thing is fed with different food. And though the spirit can't itself be seen, the spirit feeds on what it sees. Like a camera, we aim it, but we get lots of help, too much, from others we've let live inside us. What the spirit sees, it feeds, and feeds on. And this is how the body gets gobbled up.
Take control of your camera. Look at your pain. Travel toward it, introduce yourself, get to know it. Let it tell you what it wants. Stop trying to kill it. You'll never understand something you intend to kill.
In your journey to the center of your pain, step with respect, because it hurts, but drop all fear that your trip will lead to more pain. It won't. Walk inside yourself. Sit at the center of your pain. Sit there. Feel it. Listen to it. Don't argue. Accept what it says. And stay there, smiling. You are the smile, shining; your luminosity warms and calms your angry tissues. This is a place you can go to at will, a place you are known, not feared by the pain but welcomed as the master bringing balm. Let your spirit make a clubhouse there. Your pain will be suspicious at first, and irritated, annoyed, but that's what a pain is.
You have to say shhhh.
Which is what those of you in pain are probably saying to me right now.
Curt Fisher
