The Funeral of the Old Mind

Metaphorical Narrative

Imagine a worn-out machine kept alive by garbage fuel. Its pipes choke, its gears grind, and yet it insists on running. This machine is the old mind—powered by worry, judgement, sibling rivalry, and the humiliation of mocked affection. It smoked and coughed, but you kept feeding it scraps of pain because you thought that’s what kept you safe.

But today, the engine stalls. You wheel it to the graveyard. A coffin waits, lined with every print: ignored affection, competing for care, being looked down upon. The lid closes. Dirt falls. And for the first time, silence.

No more garbage engine. No more drama theatre. Just you, standing in the sunlight, alive without it.

Core Insight

The old mind was not your ally. It was a parasite—running on recycled pain, keeping you trapped in endless loops of fear and performance. Its fuel was never love, never truth. Its only sustenance was garbage.

The moment you stop feeding it, it dies. Sovereignty begins not in a war of strength but in the refusal to waste another ounce of energy on a broken machine.

Saturday Experiment

1. Notice when the garbage engine spins up—worry, judgement, or replayed old prints.
2. Say aloud: “The old mind dies today. I do not fuel garbage.”
3. Picture the coffin being lowered and the dirt sealing it shut. Then, turn and walk into your day light-footed.

Sunday Reflection

• In what ways has the old mind tried to run this week?
• How did he (or she) notice the difference between garbage fuel and real energy?
• What emerges when the machine is no longer in control?