I had some packing to do in my mind this morning.  The movers came and filled an 18 wheeler with pallets of “Construct,” “Projections,” and “Withdrawals.”  I helped carry the boxes and stack them on the pallets.  They were heavy, but each time I moved one my mind felt a little lighter.  The truck driver guided the forklift operator and I stacked and wrapped.  The three of us climbed into the cab and headed for the incinerator, a place in my mind that I built for just this purpose, knowing that I am only human and that I would collect or construct baggage now and then.  I located it in the middle of a grassy field — a low building, covered in polished stainless steel.  (In your subconscious there is no limit to the building materials available and cost is never an issue.)  There is a large door that rolls up, opening to a brick driveway.  And there is a screen mounted to a pole near the door.  Its there so you can watch what you came to burn go up in flames.  A conveyor belt embedded in the brick reaches out past the door.  The first pallet was placed on the belt, a stack of “Construct,” and headed toward the flames.  I had developed this construct over a short time, a response to influences and reactions, something my mind had constructed to deal with what I thought all those influences and reactions meant.  I had forgotten, for just a moment, that nothing has any meaning until I personalize it.  I had personalized it.  But the influences and words and actions of others were just that, “of others,” and that is what “they do.”  I cannot and could not control those actions, words, and influences.  But I could just let them flow through my mind, instead of stopping them and turning them into something (constructing them.)  So on down the conveyor belt those “Constructs” went, one pallet at a time until they were all turned to ash. 

I made a physical adjustment in my mind right then.  I mean a real, tangible, physical action.  I brought someone back into my life.  For real. 

Next to hurl towards the fire was “Projections.”  There were plenty of pallets of these.  Projecting is a weakness, conditioned in a state of exhaustion.  I had gone through a spell of low energy, spending what I had on too much, and not replenishing it.  I had learned, just yesterday, how to replenish.  Projecting is not fair to those who are the targets.  It is putting words in their mouths in an imagined state.  It is not what they say, it is what I project they will say based on how I feel about who they are at the moment, a feeling determined by what I have constructed of them by their actions, words, and influences.  Projecting the person’s thoughts and actions is not listening to and feeling the energy of the person I know.  Projecting does not serve me.  So I let it burn.

Finally, I watched as the last of the cargo was loaded onto the belt.  “Withdrawal” is something I have beat in the past.  But in my weakened state it had crept back in.  I had a hard time finding it because the grooves I had carved into my mind to replace the grooves of withdrawal were difficult to step over.  But withdrawal was deviant this time, disguising itself as politeness, telling me it would be better to “give someone their space,” and stay away.  It suggested that I change my path.  Change my routine.  Give up going to a class that I love.  Find some solace in just being alone. 

 I like my path.  I like my routine.  I gain and I give within the life I currently have.  Watching “Withdrawal” head toward the flames and vanish into nothingness was an enjoyable relief.  I’ll be watching for it next time, this deviant, manipulative, worthless ideal.  I know it has many coats it can wear.  I know the smile and warmth it can bring to the table.  But it is hollow.  It does not serve me. 

The truck was empty.  The door to the incinerator was shut.  The building glistened in the sun.  Just like I designed it to.  I wanted it to be beautiful, a work of art in the middle of the field that receives the turmoil and baggage of my mind and shows only an outward glow.  I watched it in the mirror as it faded into the distance behind me, knowing that today would be so much better, so much healthier, and so much happier.  And I put my arm out the window, and let the wind flow through it, just like I’ll let what people do and say and think flow right through me for now on.