When you entered this life, you came in with a blank book with a few agenda items in it that were set up before you were born. In the first act, when you were born, your parents were the directors and writers of the script for your life. If you were a child who allowed your parents to control every action in your life, you had no choice in how you were treated. The way they wrote the script in your database still makes up much of the programming on which the balance of the play hangs. We all want love, recognition and approval. We have the ability to receive love as a baby. Since our parents were programed, they lost their concept of what love was by the time they were four years old. How can they provide love for their children if they do not know? They are not able to do so. If they were strong controllers and manipulators, you will usually have given in to their control. Instead of showing you the way, they ordered you to do what they wanted. You were not given any choices. There will have been traumatic incidents that would have caused you to escape from fear and separate from self, going into magical child and inner child. When this happened, you lost control of your life. You went on autopilot, with no control over your life. You were upset that your mother could not provide these qualities of love so you became angry and terrible two's began. You kept pushing for love because you were sure she was withholding it from you. This made her angry too, so you were disciplined. You began to feel maybe she does not know what love is, or she would not get angry and reject you. During the three period, you lose the concept of love and sink into self rejection. You were upset that your mother could not provide love and recognition. A little examination and much less melancholy would have proved to us that our seeds were not the only ones that did not sprout; nobody's did. Not even the gardens fronting the lake showed marigolds that year. But so deeply concerned were we with the health and safe delivery of his baby we could think of nothing but our own magic: if we planted the seeds, and said the right words over them, they would blossom, and everything would be all right. It was a long time before my sister and I admitted to ourselves that no green was going to spring from our seeds. Once we knew, our guilt was relieved only by fights and mutual accusations about who was to blame. For years I thought my sister was right; it was my fault. I had planted them too far down in the earth