What’s your personal Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy? [For my non-U.S. readers: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was the official US policy on how to deal with gays and lesbians in the military. It was repealed shortly after this article was written. In this article, I’m expanding the sense of the phrase beyond sexual politics, into spiritual politics.]
Are there big obvious parts of your being that you habitually squelch? To what vision of yourself do you turn a blind eye – or cringe in hope that others won’t see? What do you want to avoid being asked, at all costs?
It’s time to come out of our spiritual closets. Human evolution has progressed too far for us to stay in hiding. From sexual preference, to religious, philosophical, class, national, tribal and political preference, and even our choice of food, fashion and fun… we humans must embrace the yin-yang of our inner diversity as well as our unified wholeness.
But there’s lots of hiding places in our psyches, where da sun don’t shine. Time to let the light into the closet.
So how can you tell whether you’ve got a Don’t Tell spell that’s operating under cover of darkness? You observe the things you’re most defensive about, most reactive to. Defensiveness always hides something that needs defending, something that won’t stand on its own.
One foolproof way that I use to de-closet my crap, is to observe my mental arguments. For instance, I often find myself debating a straw man – a recurring, annoying, foe that resides in my mental chatterbox. He’s a skeptic, and he argues with me about why all this woo-woo stuff… like homeopathy and acupuncture… couldn’t possibly work. He’s obviously a part of my psyche that I’m still trying to convince, having grown up with mathematical-physics-professor father and biochemist mother.
Of course, it doesn’t make sense that I’d need to prove anything to any skeptic… I have daily experiential proof that this woo-woo stuff does work, really really well! But I must still be in some closet, somewhere, coz these arguments keep happening. And even now I still find myself a teeny tiny bit embarrassed to talk about what I do, in front of my old friends that knew me B.C. (Before the change).
So what’s my Don’t Ask Don’t Tell here? That I’m a snake-oil salesperson, and I’ll be subject to a Python-esque witch hunt? That I’ll fail at a critical moment, betraying trust and be flayed alive? Yep, mmm-hmmm, that feels about right. Irrational fear or traumatic resonance with the archetype of failure — I sure didn’t want to ask or tell myself about that!
I hereby ask myself: who am I and what am I?
I hereby tell myself: I am Infinite Self, and so is my snake-oil, my witch-hunter, my worst-case scenario. Ok, I’ve asked and I’ve told… what was untold before. I now submit these information patterns to the light, to be cleaned and cleared. I see that my worst fears are distinct and separate from my self.
Look ma, I’ve dropped the soap in the barracks shower, and yet I’m still intact!
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