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There has always been the giant. It sits waist deep in the murky waters of the unconscious.

Persistently obstinate, its body is the enduring repository of the past, the inertia of karma from persistent habits, habits from tendencies of life, habits which ultimately craft one’s fate.

Pervading all waking moments, beyond those of sleep and daydreams, the giant is a weighty hulk which presses down on all struggles against the inexorable momentum for history to repeat itself. I can’t overcome my key weakness, you can’t surmount a personal limit, s/he can’t overcome the fatal flaw.

So you would beat your naked fists against its stone-wall-like torso, or perhaps just its elephantine legs, bloodying yourself in futile vicious cycles against tardiness, dread, insecurity and ill health. But you will certainly flop, time after time, at upward mobility and worldly success.

Until you finally accept that the giant is not outside to ruin you, but within and part of you.

Perhaps only after that would one begin to notice the rest of the council of one’s mind and life. These include the fearless dragon of true self, the ever hero of the eternal now, and the long-enduring cockroach consistently autonomous.

I sit with them, and we talk about everything, but I am not mad, communicating inside me. Rather, gone insane are the ones, who continue their lives denying most voices of their personality. Yea, even ruthlessly suppressing them with repeated brutal agony.

And as you listen, you learn so much more. Even the giant awaits restfully now. In time, it behaves in harmony with your most honest desires.

Lost is the smallness, gained is one’s very own domain.