It’s being fascinating going through the LD book and media lessons about the open centers. At first it seemed to be satisfying a thirst to know, but soon it became clear that this is not just a sophisticated theoretical system, but a most powerful practical knowledge operating through my body. All kind of insights have been emerging, at all levels, from the amused “a-ha” of recognition of old habits, to the startled “oh my god” of glimpses of unacknowledged patterns. And then, in the regular situations of life, this manifests in an increasing tendency to catch myself “red-handed” while operating under the influence of those habits and patterns, which again brings about all kinds of reactions, from the private chuckle, to the feeling of an abyss opening in my perception.

I have five open centers: head, ajna, ego, spleen and root. To begin with, it was liberating to hear that my pressure to think and my actual thoughts come from others. My relationship with my own mind has always been ambivalent. Since childhood, I have been praised for my intelligence, but already then I intuited that my mind was dangerous in its chameleonic ways, its ability to grasp instantly what people wanted to hear. So, while it was providing me recognition and a talent to manipulate my way out of trouble, it was also making me feel increasingly lonely, confused, and lost inside, cut off from what I really was. This led me to meditation in my early twenties. Meditation proved to be great for me, providing me with a way to use my mind but not identify with it. It also helped me see that none of the significant events in my live had been the result of a mental decision.
So: Am I still trying to answer everybody else’s questions? To some degree, yes. But in a more loose way than before. Am I still trying to convince everyone that I’m certain? Oops, yes, that still happens, and in proportional relation to how tense I am. Mental uncertainty is no stranger to me. Sometimes I can see the beauty and freedom of relaxing into it and let the moments flow, and other times I find it scary, and overcompensate it by trying to appear ultracertain, both to others and to myself. I know this is a central issue for me, and I also
get external corroborations about it. When I took sannyas in 1981, Osho gave me the name Dhyan Mandir, temple of meditation, and explained to me that my way was one of totality in the moment; instead of looking for mental certainty, I should jump into the experience of the now. And Human Design tells me that I’m born without a single definition in my head and ajna centers, and on the Left-Angle Cross of Uncertainty...

“I hardly ever make promises to anybody”, was my first reaction when reading about the open ego center. But then I saw that, although I do not always verbalize it directly, I do sometimes promise things tacitly or, at least, feed expectations in others. It is mostly to prove how generous and caring I am. And then the moment comes when I resent having done it and feel trapped by the “promise” I’ve made. Wow.
I also feel very uncomfortable when I think that I’m not being valued by somebody I consider “important”, and then I put myself under pressure to prove how smart and interesting I am.
On the positive side, I see that I don’t make as many promises to myself as I used to, and, even better, I don’t give myself such a hard time when I don’t keep them. I still can get into being a perfectionist, but in a more playful way than before.

Do I still hold on to what’s not good for me? This is indeed a big issue that I am just beginning to see and tackle consciously. Until now, I had considered that my remarkable capacity to hold on to certain people and circumstances was just evidence of my loyalty and trustiness. But, of course, I got often the nagging feeling that this was not the real —or at least not the whole— story. Because of my difficulty with letting go of stale or damaging relationships and environments, eventually I would let them “die a natural death”, or terminate them abruptly. In the first case, I would apparently do nothing, but —most often unconsciously— I would be contributing to create the circumstances that would make it impossible to go on. In the second case, I would suddenly pack and go, with a minimum of explanations, afraid that if I stayed one more day I would not have the courage and clarity to leave.
There must be a healthier way to deal with this...

And finally: Am I in a hurry to be free of the pressure? Again, this question opens a whole world of awareness in me. Only when I‘m really loving what I’m doing can I enjoy being put under pressure. For instance, teaching, or playing music with the “right” people. Otherwise, I go to great lengths to avoid it. I see now how this has affected my life, making me miss a lot of opportunities and challenges, professionally and socially. Because of this aversion to pressure, I sometimes can be cautious to the point of isolation, avoiding situations —and certain persons— that have the potential of putting me “on the spot”. This can include, for example, not applying for certain jobs, not attending a particular dinner-party, having a big resistance to play the violin in public,...

All in all, Human Design is proving to be perfect for me right now, just what I was needing to continue my journey. I love the width of its scope, how it doesn’t draw a line between the practical and the spiritual, how it unites depth and playfulness. I feel fortunate that I have found it and grateful to you all who make this possible.