I lied in the last blog. Of course I didn't forget about entering Whispers into the competition. It would be nice to think that I could be that blasé, but there was too much emotional investment every time I sent off the manuscript. Also, I worried about Rupert and Neti. I know that probably seems odd, but they are the 'children' of my creation. Rupert is a grown man, able to look after himself, you'd think, but if you've met my Rupert you'd know what I mean. Thoughts and their adhesive emotions fluctuated between envisaging my dejection as the envelope rebounded, and the elation of winning. Unfortunately, the former was too easy to imagine. It might be pleasant to daydream of a better outcome, but sometimes our fibre resonates at a much lower frequency. How could mine do much else when it was already fine-tuned to the vibration of disappointment? There, you might say, was my problem. I was failing in the 'Course of Miracles', the critical stage in The Secret ... For someone who claims to be a positive thinker, I was feeling very negative and I just wished those self-help books would shut up! There was one though that did help. Margrit Segesman, the founder of the Gita yoga School and my own teacher's mentor had a bit to say about such things in her book Wings of Power and here I'll paraphrase: 'the subconscious is the servant of the conscious mind', 'the subconscious does not discriminate between positive/negative thoughts and directives', and, more profoundly for me 'the subconscious responds to images as this is what was active before the development of speech in the human species'. Now this appealed because it was in a pseudo-scientific form that I could relate to. She really believed in imagining the outcome you wanted - picturing it over and over, instead of thinking it, and then letting the subconscious tick away at its outcome and let it go. I was getting desperate and thought I'd give the positive imaging a try. Better still, I'd try to let it go. Too easy. (Really?)

Anyway, life did push the whole thing to the background to some degree and so by the time December 2010 arrived, I was in the middle of the familiar 'burn out' from a hectic term of teaching and, I can truthfully write, had let it all go. 

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AuthorAmanda Apthorpe