I experience occasions where the world or others seem to be exactly designed to deny what I love, who I am, what can be truly shared. I have felt this as personal tragedy, determined attack by others, or I may feel it as 'the way of the world' with its seeming scripts of self hatred, writ in every kind of form. But in time I have come to recognise a pruning love that addresses what I am ready to accept and thus freely release.
I once felt violated by truth and tried to call evil that which pulled the rug out from under me - but in truth I just couldnt do it - nor could I call my own self illusion evil either, though I did feel unsane. I couldnt get a solid floor back over the basement hatch and had to start owning my own thought. I write this of long ago but I review it and see that nothing has changed! Smiling... (Excepting the capacity for love came forth in its own light and lives and grows the truth of what I am).
I carry agendas with me that I dont recognise until the experience of suffering feeds back.
I may use friendliness as a cover for insecurity and yet am surprised to be met with guardedness. If I dont recognise that as a wake up call, I may try to reach another and discover I invite a conflict of wills. I may employ well articulated understanding to 'communicate' and yet am still perplexed when others enact opposition. I see others in terms of a script from my past and so dont see them at all. I am most likely to be wrongfooted when I think I have something to share and that I need to share it. I choose to stay with that which seems unlovely and unsharing at least enough so as not to be animating a sense of self that could maintain that it has been wronged. This is practice of always being present amidst resistance or fear and at some point I realize my gratitude to the situations that brought me to a real world where all of that stuff is mine and reflects only the use to which I put my mind and does not witness to the truth of anyone or anything.