In life, I have begun to notice the small changes. The small things.

I am less angry now. I would like to say forgiving. That would be a lie. I just tend to ignore things that hurt. As if they don’t touch me. But I am not healing myself. It has been an awfully long time. I have to learn, not to take things for granted. Even the energy.

Today was an exception. Yet, I am less angrier than before, yes.

The first positive I write is probably a negative for someone else. A relationship was broken. I am happy about it. The other person is not. I am happy that there will be no long term hurt. Short term; it may hurt like hell. Somehow I knew it was not going to last. The relationship, i.e.

I don’t know if this is a positive. I think it is. So.

I have stopped the cleansing. I haven’t gone back to drinking the way I used to. I have just stopped. I smoke as much. No change there. And it doesn’t bother me. Much. I think about death too often. Mine. People around me. I think about it. The events unfold. It is not a vision. There is some trigger — and I keep building the negative story. Till I ask myself. What the hell I am thinking of!

This is not positive. But it will come. The Positive.

I fall sleep in the small hours of the morning. I think I am wide awake. I almost want to start my day early and skip sleep. I dream of cancer. On me. It is a long and protracted dream. It carries on at a feature length. Something happens in the dream, where the dream repeats itself and I discover I don’t have cancer. It was a mistake. It is an infection.

I am not sure what to make of the dream. Was it triggered by the movie I saw? Did I make a conscious choice and effort to rid myself of the cancer?

I was a bit gloomy all day because the dream stayed with me for a better part of the day. Things changed, slowly. It turned out to be a nice day by evening.

I can see myself less aggressive and uptight than I was before, but it is not completely blissful. I have a sense of detachment. Out of disgust. Not very healthy. Small nags remain somewhere in the mind. I am allowing people to be. Not controlling.

Is that good? We’ll find out.

I am more confused and blank than ever. I cannot concentrate. Cannot go past three paragraphs when I am reading. Don’t absorb what people say. I care less, I feel. I am anxious and excited of the newness, simultaneously.

I have to start writing everyday. I am losing the moments of experience. I will back-write what I have felt. Of what I remember.

I restarted today.

I am not sure that the 21-day thing holds true anymore. Because I have had more than one breaks in the process. Perhaps I will do 21 days again later. Perhaps I will stick to it. For now, I will just strive to heal everyday as and when possible.

I am still unable to let go. Completely. The base instincts I have nurtured for so long, hold me back. Security. Protection.

I am facing the second of the Four Obstacles, Paulo Coelho mentions, Love. I disagree with him as far as what he calls it — but I agree that it is an obstacle. I am afraid of doing what I want to do. I have people to take care of. To walk away from what I do now would hurt them. They may be willing to join me, am I willing to see them hurt? I am not. Being spiritual and being practical are in conflict.

For me.

I opened the door. I saw him through the keyhole, first. When I opened the door, he was smiling. The smile I have seen for years. I hugged him long. Very long. It had been years since I had seen him. Or hugged him. He told me where he was all these years. I don’t recall now.

My father died a few years ago. To see him in my dream as alive as today, was nice to see. Not nice, but, to know that it was all a dream. I liked it that he was smiling. I liked it that he was happy to see me.

There is always a rational reason in my dreams about his absence. This is not the first dream I have had about his absence. And his eventual appearance. They are consistent — in the concept. Different in presentation.

I slept all day, willing the dream to come back.

I didn’t do the healing today.