In the interest of getting to know who I am, I’m sharing stories from my life. I call them Preliminary Files and I hope you enjoy them.

I was about six years old.

I was up in the corner of the kitchen when I saw the kidnapper drag me in and hang me on a hook with a rope and pulley.

I watched him hoist me up and tie the rope off.

He took a knife and skinned me. I watched him cut me into small pieces throw them into a hot frying pan with plenty of oil and I saw my flesh and bones cook up like a porkchop.

When I woke up, I didn’t feel a thing. No fear or disgust or anything.

I was up in the corner of the room so I felt nothing with my body. I was clearly witnessing the crime rather than being a victim of it, so I was not emotionally alarmed either. It was just a curious scene happening in my presence.

(My Lesson: There are two different forms of consciousness in each of us: one who plays out the drama as an actor in a play who forgets he’s acting, and one who simply observes it all taking place. And; from the point of view of the observer, all is well.)


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