The Most Powerful Meditation EVER for Feeling Worthy, Whole and Complete

YouTube Video by Aaron Doughty

https://youtu.be/urLm5MfM1Tw

Aaron Doughty has become a YouTube sensation by creating daily content that are usu-ally about fifteen minutes long where he speaks on the childhood experiences that made him feel unworthy. After going through a shift, reading, learning and meditating he decided to share his experiences with his audience. He talks about letting go of the past and aligning with our higher self, by detaching with negative life experiences that can pigeon hole us into an undesirable life.

I began following Aaron three years ago when he had approximately 200k viewers to cur-rently, where Aaron has over 1.14 million followers. He has reduced his content creation to three videos weekly instead of seven videos per week in order to have time to be involved in other ar-eas of self-help and creating an app to connect like minded people.

A few days ago he reposted a message about his most watched mediation, in which view-ers confirm feeling a shift in their lives after listening to the meditation for 21 days. The medita-tion helps the viewer re-experience a traumatic childhood event that subconsciously makes them feel stuck.

I had listened to it two years ago and experienced a release. In the past two days I began listening to it again, because I finally got to live out my desire of being a writer as my main means of income and I did everything I could to sabotage it. I was in the midst of knowing I was sabotaging it, yet I couldn’t stop myself. Thankfully my Producer could tell what was happening and not once, not twice, well I don’t remember how many times I did it. YES! It was that many. So when I ran into this reminder from Aaron I decided to try the meditation again, and by the third time I listened to it the memory came up. This memory has been haunting me since 2nd grade and I thought I had dealt with it, but since it came up again I asked why, what is it about this story that is still haunting me?

This was in the 1982s, Iran. The war between Iran and Iraq began in 1980 and I my happy home was torn apart. I was born and raised in the city of Ahvaz, which is the capital of the state of Khuzestan. Ahvaz is an industrial city where the oil and gas is distributed to the rest of the world. Therefore, we were the number one target for Iraqi bombers. Wishing the first year the train track behind our house was bombed which cracked the walls of our house and shattered all the windows. Our house was no longer livable. We moved around to relative’s homes until my dad finally found a house to rent. It was war time, a lot of the homes were bombed and the

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home we finally found was tiny, in a bad area and close to the oil and gas targets. My uncle Shokri came to visit us, because he was concerned about the area. He took one look and said: “You are moving in with us.”

My parents said no at first. He was married to my aunt Sima and had three kids; one was my age the other two were younger. I had a toddler brother at the time. He didn’t take no for an answer. He insisted we moved in with them until we could find a safer home. He didn’t care how long it took. They were very hospitable. My aunt and mom prepared meals together for us. We all ate together and it made the war situation somewhat palpable.

My cousin Pejman and I went to school together and were in the same grade, but because it was the Islamic Republic boys and girls were separated by a fence wall. It was weird to walk to school with him yet we had to separate to go to class. I had to wear a uniform with a burka that covered my hair. We were still getting used to the transformation from living in a religiously free country to a mainstream Islamic country.

The school we were in used to be one of the castles where the Shah of Iran and his offi-cials lived. There were many rooms. Therefore, it was big enough to transform into a primary school. The windows were almost floor to ceiling with a three foot give off the ground. The teachers would leave the windows open for a breeze to come in. During recess some of the kids were jumping out of the windows to go to the playground and had fallen and hurt themselves. The principal made it a rule that no one was to walk out of the windows because of the danger it posed. Everyone would have to leave from the classroom doors.

Of course, we were kids and we had all jumped out of the window prior to that, but once it became a rule we stopped doing it.

It was two weeks into the year and my biggest concern was becoming a great artist. I sat next to this girl who drew amazing drawings and my goal was to learn how to draw like her or at least create my own lovely art. She would draw a house, with a picket fence with colorful flow-ers around it. It was beautiful.

One day during recess I decided to stay in longer and practice drawing. A girl from my class rushed over to the window from the yard and said, “Hey I think the vice principal has your math book.” I said: “I didn’t lose my math book.” She insisted that it was mine because it had my name on it and if I didn’t hurry, she was going to give it to another kid who was pretending to be me. She posed a very compelling argument, but deep down I knew I had my book in my

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desk. Which I said let me check and she said: you don’t have time to check she is going to give your book away. I had no reason to think that she was lying so I got up and went to the class-room door. She said: no, come out of the window, you don’t have time. I said: it’s fine I will go through the door. She said: don’t worry no one is watching. Just jump out and I won’t tell any-one.

I followed her to the vice principal who was not holding a book with her by my side. The vice principal was watching the several 100s of kids to make sure they were playing safe. As soon as we arrived to the school official: my supposed friend told the VP: Mr. So and So Anahita just jumped out of the window. I told her it wasn’t allowed, but she jumped out anyway.”

At that moment my jaw dropped and I couldn’t believe someone could go through this much trouble to kiss up to the teacher. I felt betrayed and not only did it feel horrible then, but it stuck with me all these years. It also closed my heart to friends, I have often expected the worst from people, thinking at the end everyone only cares about their own wellbeing.

The VP didn’t care and just said: Don’t do it again. Which made the girl feel horrible, I hope. However, it damaged me for years to come. I have lived through that memory several times and I thought I had dealt with it. Yet, today as I listened to Aaron’s meditation about self-worth it came up again. So, I asked why? Then I finally realized the reason it affected me so much.

Up until age 5 I had lived an amazing life with both parents and loving extended family. We went on family road trips and spend time in the mountains camping with my family. We lived in a middle-class neighborhood. I Was well fed and well dressed. I didn’t feel any lack. When the revolution started in 1979 it was scary. Our neighbor’s teen daughter got shot in the street while she was shopping. My young uncle who was only 16 at the time broke his leg in a motorcycle accident while going out to look for his brother. My dad came home one day with his head wrapped in bandages. Some kids had thrown rocks at him for fun and broken his head. The country was in unrest and you could see it all around. Within the two years up till that point we had moved to two different cities to seek shelter and we just didn’t fit it.

The first city was Masjed Soleyman which is where king Solomon (from the Bible) is from. It’s an ancient city and it is very old fashioned. Small town full of gossip. We were too much city slickers and didn’t fit. That was first grade. That summer following first grade we moved to Isfahan, which was in the middle of the country and away from Iraqi bombers. This

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time we rented a huge beautiful home in the suburbs. Many of the homes were ranch homes who grew Persian cucumbers, fruits, and nuts. The house we were in was the biggest house in the area and it was adjacent to their walnut farm. Which was protected by eight feet tall brick walls.

Isfahan, consists of predominantly Islamic and very religious families. They didn’t like that all of a sudden people from the south all of a sudden came into their neighborhood. We had two handsome uncles who lived with us and their friends would always visit so the Isfahani’s would call the cops us on for no reason. Only because their daughters liked my uncles. They wanted to make our lives miserable so that we would leave. We were raided by the Islamic po-lice one night with semi-automatic guns one night looking for anti-government material. Obvi-ously, they didn’t find anything but they still wanted to arrest one of my uncles. My father was at work in Ahvaz and he’d visit during the weekend. This issue made my mother say these words which I have never gotten out of my head. She said to my father: “We are moving back to Ah-vaz, if we live, we all live together and if we die, we all die together.”

The next week we had moved back to Ahvaz and I had started school. I believe I had fi-nally started to feel like I could let my guard down. I was practicing my drawing, which is what every 2nd grade student should worry about. Instead, I had to protect myself. You see, I never had a moment to feel safe. I felt as if I was under attach at all times. Being a kid with a wonder-fully loving family all these events were shocking and painful. I never had a moment to deal with one thing and soon I was bombarded by another traumatic event.

I was at a new school and I was feeling insecure about finding friends and fitting in. I was a very shy kid, and having gone to a school in another city the year before I was insecure about making new friend. I decided I will just focus on art and friends would come later.

The following year we qualified for housing which was provided by my father’s work. It was a nice neighborhood. Most of the families had kids my age and I started a new school and from 3rd grade till 6th grade we lived there and lived a semi-normal life. This time every time my dad left the house to work or my mom left the house to get groceries to take my brother to the doctor’s office, I’d feel like I may never see my parents again.

That second grade incident was a trigger sandwiched between the loss of my childhood innocence.

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The Arron Doughty video helped me release that childhood trauma. I will continue listen-ing for the suggested 21 days. I believe there is a lot more there to release. I made a vow to my-self to stop self-sabotage and release past trauma.

With that being said, I suggest you listen to your body and release past trauma. Most dis-ease comes from stuck energy. Not to blame you if you are sick. We don’t have all the answers, but we can certainly help each other make a life a little more palpable.

I wish you all a happy, healthy and joyful life.

Anahita Namavar.

P.S. I celebrate everyday people on my YouTube Channel @AnahitaTV and I also have a pro-duction company called A Hit Production, where you can hire me to write your stories into book format or a Screenplay. www.ahitproduction.com

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A writer and lover of life. Fascinated with the question of “who am I?” and spaces I juggle writing and Real Estate. Living an inspired authentic life.

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Anahita Adivi

A writer and lover of life. Fascinated with the question of “who am I?” and spaces I juggle writing and Real Estate. Living an inspired authentic life.