A self-inquiry

Who's looking through your eyes?

Most of us don't see life directly. We see it through a story we started telling a long time ago, and we mistake the story for the way things are.

This isn't a test. There's no type at the end, no score, nothing to fix. It's a mirror. Six questions, a few minutes. Answer them honestly, or don't answer at all and just let them sit. What comes back to you is yours to do nothing with, if that's what you choose.

Anything you write stays in your browser. It isn't sent anywhere.

One
When something you want comes close — real closeness, real recognition, something good arriving — what happens in you first?
Not what you'd like to happen. What actually happens.
Two
When you were small, what did love or safety seem to depend on?
Three
There's a sentence you've carried since you were young. Something about you, or about how life is.
It's often short and flat, said in your own voice. "I'm on my own." "I can't." "I mustn't need anyone." Write it if it comes. Leave it if it doesn't.
Four
When you protect yourself now, what does your mind call it?
The protection is rarely called protection. It's usually called something more respectable.
Five
Where in your life are you holding the armour up and calling it wisdom?
The risk you keep not taking. The thing you keep not saying. The closeness you keep at arm's length, with a good reason ready.
Six
This one needs no answer. Let it sit.

If you weren't protecting yourself right now, what would you be free to do?

Answer the first, second and fourth questions to see your reflection.