Old Friends: A Letter on Old Patterns and Repatterning

Old friends who want me to hang out and do the old things we used to do. Feel the way we used to feel. Think the way we used to think. It is almost like we never skipped a beat. You know that kind of friend. When you reunite, everything feels so natural and smooth. Like you had never spent a moment apart. Everything falls into place so easily.

When I say old friends, I mean my old patterns. My old programs. My old perceptions.

As I am in this process of consciously repatterning my mind, these old friends appear and things feel so normal. I just go right back into my old way of thinking. That well worn character with a powerful neural network established. Old perceptions reemerging around what I am capable of, what is possible, what I deserve. All of it based on what I have accomplished thus far and what I have already created.

I love my old ways. I love me. And I am excited to see what is just over the horizon.

Dropping into this book, letting myself spend a moment contemplating the principles in it, to the point where I am off somewhere new, hanging out with new friends, doing things I have never done before, makes me realize how easy it is to drop back into the old ways.

This book has been a beautiful exercise in recalibration. A practice in playing with discipline.

I recently heard someone talk about the word discipline. They said it means to be a disciple of oneself. So I looked up the word disciple. The definition that jumped out at me was this: one who accepts and assists in spreading the doctrines of another.

This made me think about the parts of myself. The part that judges. The part that limits. The part that carries shame. And then there is another part. The part that is whole, pure, limitless. My authentic self.

When I think about becoming a disciple of oneself, I picture myself becoming a disciple to that authentic limitless self. I picture the separate limited self surrendering its role of leadership to the limitless self. To the spirit within.

A sort of resurrection.

I just want those old friends to know that there is a place for them within this limitless possibility. That they are a part of it. That they and all that they carry are welcome to come along.

It is not either or. Everyone is included. Everything they carry too.

If this letter found you at the right moment, we’d love to have you join us. The Vital Field Collective meets every Thursday, in person in San Francisco and always on Zoom. [Learn more about Thursday gatherings