“I’m sad, mommy,” said the pint sized polemist.
“Why is that? ” I asked.
“I’m sad that we are never going to see him again,” she replied, in reference to a family friend.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered.
“No. That’s only giving it more energy and that’s worse. Let’s talk about the people we love,” she proposed.
The psychologist in me would have pushed her to talk, to work through her grief. But the awakened part of me saw her consciousness refusing to energize and identify with the story. That is living Truth.