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My parents were good people and I don't wish to criticise them in any way. I know how much they loved me.
But always in my childhood was an atmosphere of "perfectionism". My parents were both creative, and whatever they created had to be perfect.
Now in the case of my father that was important as he was also an engineer, and there is no room for any form of "sloppiness" in engineering! Otherwise -systems don't work....planes crash....water pumps fail! ...etc
He was also an extremely talented pianist. So when I started hitting the keys myself, making up tunes, I was guided into "piano lessons" which were too rigid for me and became work instead of joy. I did later manage to break out of that and spent hours making up piano music which was almost out of control for the high musical standards which surrounded me.
I was not stopped from doing that or anything. But sadly the rigidity I sensed about the piano lessons meant I didn't progress, and always found it hard.
My first piano composition was weird and unusual but had structure and form and strange key-changes which I loved. I took it to my teacher. She played it terribly, then slammed the lid shut. Told me it was awful!
My mother was a talented artist, and her work was of a "photographic" style....so my love for swirling colours together and making a mess, just because I loved colours....was often corrected, or I was advised not to mix this with that colour....etc.
She meant well! I know that. She saw I had a little skill and was doing her best to encourage it. But by her own standards of style.
I was brought up to be impeccably polite always. Never to cry (that was considered self pity) Never to complain.
I was brought up to dress in a certain way, with colours that didn't draw dramatic attention to oneself. A brilliant fuchsia-pink dress I chose once was looked on askance by my mother who said I should have chosen a paler colour. She didn't forbid me to wear it, but each time I did, I was aware she didn't like me to wear it....
My heart was blocked.
They didn't know that. And I didn't know it.
I was much wilder than them. I think they didn't know what to make of me. I used to feel literally sick as a dog sometimes, and walk endlessly in the night. It felt like a literal weight on my heart....but I hadn't a clue what it was, or how to fix anything.
Okay....fast forward.....that heart block more or less ruled the rest of my life. But being wild, I always managed to break out of the box....usually with a slightly haunting "guilty" feeling, but the box was broken out of nevertheless.
So I carried on breaking boxes and sometimes getting inexplicably angry, and crying my eyes out from time to time.....for a heck of a long time.
I think it took the approach of old age, plus a fortunate and lovely unconditional love in my life, to help me release those blocks.
I still get pain from them sometimes. I am a work in progress.
But I now have a way to see what's going on, and work with it, and when I get blocked I just do things that raise up my heart and Soul. Those things definitely carve a pathway in space time.
When the blocks hurt, I think they are remnants. Old wounds. Old wounds do ache sometimes. No huge deal.
And by the way, love to my parents whom I know for 100% sure loved me very much and meant me not the slightest harm bless their Souls. Kindest thoughts to them always.
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