Hi Everyone

I hesitate to comment, but I feel moved to share a perspective on Stream of Consciousness Journaling (SOCJ).

To me, SOCJ resembles dream interpretation where every figure, object, and event is a reflection of the dreamer’s inner world. Just as only the dreamer can truly understand the meaning of their dream symbols, so too is SOCJ a deeply personal process. Commenting on someone else’s SOCJ can be like waking a sleepwalker well-intentioned, but disorienting or even painful.

It also occurred to me that our waking life may not be so different. We often seek others to mirror us, to help us see ourselves more clearly. But in doing so, we sometimes forget that there is a person behind that mirror, someone with their own depth, sensitivity, and story.

I’ve written about mirroring before, and how moments of tension, when we feel offended, hurt, or our boundaries are tested can be powerful opportunities for growth. These are moments of revelation. Just as dream figures reveal aspects of the self, so too do real-life encounters, especially those that challenge or move us deeply.

Tinny Buddha is a space that encourages vulnerability. That means boundaries will be tested, and yes, sometimes we will feel hurt and misunderstood. But I believe that if we can sit with that discomfort and not rush to fix it or assign blame, we find healing. That tension, that pause, is where transformation begins. It’s part of what makes life rich and worth living.

I hope I have not oversteped

Mirrors in the Garden

Amin sat quietly beside Layla beneath the flowering tree. He had been tending to a small patch of soil, but his thoughts were tangled.

Amin: “Teacher, I had a dream last night. There were many people in it, some kind, some cruel. But they all felt… familiar. As if they were me.”

Layla: “That is not uncommon. In dreams, every figure may be a reflection of the dreamer’s own soul. Jung called it projection. The dream speaks in symbols, and each symbol wears your face.”

Amin: “But what about waking life? I feel the same sometimes. I meet someone, and they stir something in me, anger, admiration, fear. It’s as if they’re showing me something I didn’t know was mine.”

Layla: “Yes. Waking life is a mirror too. But it is subtler. In dreams, the mirror is curved and close. In life, it is distant and moving. Yet both reflect.”

Amin: “So when I judge someone, I may be judging a part of myself?”

Layla: “Often. And when you love someone deeply, it may be because they awaken a part of you that longs to be seen.”

Amin: “Then how do I know what is mine and what is truly theirs?”

Layla smiled and touched the soil.

Layla: “You listen. Not just to them, but to what stirs in you. The garden does not blame the wind for bending the branch. It simply bends and learns its shape.”

Amin: “So others help shape us?”

Layla: “They do. Not by force, but by reflection. We seek mirrors not to admire ourselves, but to understand ourselves. And sometimes, to forgive.”

Amin: “And what if the mirror shows something I don’t want to see?”

Layla: “Then you are close to truth. Sit with it. Ask it what it needs. Even the shadow is part of the garden.”

Amin looked out over the valley. The wind stirred the leaves. Somewhere, a child laughed.

Amin: “I think I understand. The garden is not just mine. It is made of every encounter.”

Layla: “Yes. And every encounter is a seed. Plant it wisely.”

Hi Anita
Yes that resonates. To all seasons their is a time where each season carries its own kind of transformation.

I’d like to add a nuance. I do feel that all tension is transformative, though not always positively or in ways that feel healing or safe in the moment.

I aim for inner resilience, and I’ve found that often requires holding the tension without resolution, and not escaping the pain. That can feel like retraumatization, but I don’t believe it necessarily is.

I may even argue that my past methods of trying to escape the tension, my go to, were re-tramatizing. The paradox were transformation kept me stuck, transformed but not released. A cocoon that hardened, protective, yes, but also confining. I was changed, but not yet free. That I think is the season of Fall.

I think of it as a partial transformation a shift that occurred under pressure, without integration. It may have helped me endure, but it didn’t help me evolve. Yet, even that stuckness can be a teacher. It shows me where the tension still lives, where the story hasn’t yet been told all the way through.

To me, the difference lies in intention and awareness. When we consciously choose to stay present with discomfort and not to override it, but to witness it we create the possibility for integration. It’s not about forcing healing, but allowing space for something new to emerge.

Maybe that’s the invitation, to return, gently, to that place. Not to force resolution, but to listen again. To ask: What part of me got left behind in that transformation? What still needs to be witnessed? This I believe is the possibility behind spaces like Tinny Buddha.

And when we fail and we will, and when the community fails us, and it will, may there be grace to forgive.

I will be off line for my weekend free of electronics.

I’m afraid I’ve not be clear or answered the questions well.

A thought occurred to me that when we engage in a space like Tinny Buddha, we may be seeking validation from outside ourselves. That’s not inherently wrong. Sometimes we need to feel seen, heard, and held by others. But when that validation doesn’t come, or comes in a way we didn’t expect, it can feel like a kind of betrayal. And for those of us with tender places shaped by past wounds, that moment can feel re-traumatizing.

Here I see my own bias, my own reflection of past pain, and the transformation-in-progres towards a inner resilience. Where I can still wish to be seen, without being re-traumatized when I’m not.

Here I see that bias has sometimes clouded my view. In seeking to be seen, I sometimes miss when someone else is struggling to be seen too. This, too, is part of the transformation-in-progress learning to hold space not just for my own wounds, but for others.

I posted without seeing your comment.

I agree forgiveness is journey and perhaps a skill, the space between a place for grace.

Ahhhhh Peter…these are beautiful posts.

Hi Anita – I’m so happy to read that you’re doing well. I also hope I’m not overstepping. “That tension, that pause, is where transformation begins”, Peter so eloquently shared. I think of, let’s say, a war veteran who was emotionally traumatized in battle. Many years later he’s triggered by words, actions, sounds, etc., that well intentioned people are responsible for. They’re not trying to retraumatize him, but it happens anyway. What is he to do? Should he confront/cut-off the families in his city who set off legal fireworks on July 4th? Should he write a scolding letter to the police department that flew a helicopter over his home? These actions would only create more hurt. The world is imperfect. We all hurt, even traumatize, others without intending to. In order to live peacefully in an imperfect world, we need to figure out a way to not punish those who hurt us unintentionally. “That tension, that pause, is where transformation begins. It’s part of what makes life rich and worth living.” Thank you, Peter.

“I am learning these days that grace can mean honoring my own healing first. That includes naming harm clearly, and not rushing toward forgiveness to preserve comfort”, you shared above, Anita. What about unintentional harm? Is there a difference, in your mind?

Love to you, Anita.

B