Saturday, April 14, 2018

October 23, 2017; Talking to myself

It astounds me how much has changed in my perspective, how much more I see now, how many things I always took for granted even when I thought I was questioning anything, and I am so grateful to everything that has been a catalyst.  There have been a lot of catalysts.

I am not doing anyone any favors by refusing to acknowledge my personal power.  I don't mean this in the sense of "me" being the Source, being a do-er, being anything at all.

Everything is divine.  I don't know how to express this as fully as I feel it.  We define ourselves by embracing and rejecting.  We create boundaries based on our beliefs about what we wish to express.   It's all divine.  You, with the the temper and dissatisfaction, you are divine.  You, with the million watt smile and the children who adore you even though you put your dreams on hold.   You, who ventured off on your own and left everyone behind wondering what the hell was wrong with you and how you could be so selfish. You are divine. 

You are perfectly expressing this nexus of concepts and ideas, refracting that exact spectrum of light through you to create this divine aspect with your particular name and face and the very song of your energy that is being expressed on the threads that weave the tapestry of the infinite.  There is nothing that could be outside of the Absolute.  No moment that could be beyond it, no circumstance.  We can express that, or not, as we choose.

This is part of stepping into your own power, your ability to affect the world.  This recognition is the moment you begin to co-create our reality.  You can continue to wait for things to happen for you to react to, or you can get up on the horse of time and steer it down the timeline you wish to experience.

I came here thinking I had to try to blend in and go unnoticed.  I might have had a mission to write stories and share them, introduce or develop some ideas or considerations.  But we are past the point where fiction is needed as the vehicle.  People are actively seeking now.  We can all seek together, and build a new future together, and become conscious of what we are.

We have to shine a light into all the shadows of our subconscious, so we can consciously respond for ourselves rather than operate on unconscious knee-jerk reactions.  Otherwise we are running a program rather than creating.

November 3, 2017; Seeing the End of Inauthenticity

It's 2:30 A.M. The moon is almost full.  Personally, I am feeling disheartened, isolated, stuck, and unmoored, with the belief that I have a destination but no compass.  It's the belief in a predetermined destination, in "I should be going there" that is most negatively impacting my well-being.

So many pieces about what we really are and how things could really be keep coming up, and it's so beautiful.  It's so beautiful.  It's changed my perspective of everything, deepening the level at which I sense other people.  I used to think about people on their mental level, overlooking their emotions for the rational truth behind them.   I had teaching moments as a result; I learned, I grew, I recognized in others what it took me too long to see in myself.

Now that I understand that I am moving toward the type of being that I've always wanted.   The pieces are coming together.  The world that I want cannot come from people as they are now.  We cannot fully realize ourselves as one until we feel our connection to one another.  That is something that cannot be dictated, regulated, or enacted into law.  You cannot force someone into unity.

I disregarded the idea that healing was the answer, and in a way, it isn't, because we are infinite and eternal.  We can really lose nothing.  We do, however, deny ourselves over and over and over.  We turn parts of ourselves away because we don't know how to deal with them.  I don't think I really understood this before.  Considering it a preprogrammed, knee jerk reaction rather than a mindful choosing, I was still neglecting the part that allows the programmed, conditioned response to exist in the first place.

Our emotions are communications to us from deeper parts of ourselves.  When we are desensitized (I am very desensitized), we have buried our feeling about something so much that our awareness is programmed to skip over it.  We don't want to feel the horror.  We don't want to feel the betrayal.  We don't want to be afraid or in mourning.  And so, when I hear about the latest tragedy, or some heinous act of senseless violence, I don't register a reaction.  It's par for the course.  It's become normalized.  I'm not afraid, I'm not upset, I'm not affected.  It's not even news anymore.

When I was a kid, I imagined myself in every horrifying situation I saw on T.V.  Many of my earlier memories are not good ones.  I remembered people dying, baby Jessica in the hole, the Challenger explosion, the San Francisco earthquake where the overpass had fallen on the people below, bodies floating in the water after a plane blew up over the ocean, old footage of the Civil Rights movements where fire hoses were turned on people crouched against a building.  There was also the Easter I spent with chicken pox and a raging fever watching (and feeling) Jesus getting nailed to a cross.

And because I just naturally tend to do this, I imagined myself in those situations.  I laid in my bed trying to contort my limbs to match the body floating in the water, imagining what it was like to have my body crushed beneath tons of concrete and cars from the road above, being blown apart, burning as I fell from the sky in pieces.  I'd try to imagine what it was like to have a dead body, to have everything so quiet, no breath, no heartbeat.  I remember trying this while I was still in my carseat.  My heart stopped for a moment (maybe it just skipped a beat, but it certainly felt longer) and I still think about it when I pass that part of the highway.

One night I laid awake in tears because I was asking God to give me all the pain in the world so no one else would have to ever feel it.  I totally believed that God would do as I asked.  I was bracing myself for it.  This perfectly kind feeling came over me, calmly, assuring me that God wouldn't do that to me.  I thought about heaven a lot.  I never believed in hell, not actually.  Not as punishment.  I didn't believe God got angry.  It wasn't the idea of God I had, anyway.  If I could understand other people, certainly God could.

I went to church camp when I was 12 or 13, and they did this passion walk that left most of the kids in tears thinking about what Jesus went through during the Crucifiction.  And then there was me, with the totally numb and desensitized reaction of "are you kidding?  Yeah, it's awful, but there are -way- worse things people have done to each other." 

The world is full of people who want us to be afraid.  We are afraid of being afraid, of being weak, of being emotional.  We bury our emotions.  We don't tell other people our feelings because we've been taught that our feelings don't matter, that we're wrong, that something is wrong with us.  I was having a conversation with a man once, who was in his 70s, and I, this 23 year old kid, was telling him that I was not afraid of anything, and his response was a furrowed, confused brow, and the response, "That scares me."

People's thoughts about things can be mistaken, persuaded to change.  Our feelings about something are instant and true to ourselves.  We deny them, bury them behind masks, layers, and more fear.  We paint over them with a collection of other feelings (perhaps more acceptable ones), concepts, distractions, intellectual reckonings.  We are all hiding ourselves from ourselves.  I know it sounds totally cliché, but I mean it in total seriousness:  I -get- it now.

We see people making fun of the idea of "getting in touch with our emotions" but that's all out of insecurity and fear.  We are hiding from ourselves, layers and layers because we have a genuinely unhealthy way of viewing ourselves, of elevating intellect as superior, of making our feelings only selectively permeable.  It's getting worse.  People wouldn't run around killing other people without trying to escape from their own pain.  People wouldn't get road rage if they could process feeling powerless or being treated as less than human.

I know it's super obvious, and I know it's rote for a lot of people, but I had a relatively good childhood with a Moma I love and who loves me.  I've had a comparatively uneventful life.  I can't imagine how much pain and hurt is being carried around in everyone else.  How can I help people?  This seems like the most obvious problem with the most obvious solution.

Friday, October 20, 2017

October 20, 2017 When I Grow Up, I Want to Be the Universe

When I grow up, I want to be the universe.

I have many ideas about how to go about growing toward this.  I have a natural inclination to be theoretically inclusive, because that erases boundaries and soothes divisions.  In practice, I isolate myself.

People of Earth can be hard to take.  It's a clashing collision of opposites, duality, polarities, gulfs of difference between what is said and consciously accepted and the way things actually seem to play out.

I learn what I can from wherever I find what seems to be an accurate reflection of reality.  It can be a line of movie dialogue:  "We accept the love we think we deserve;" a song lyric: "if you love somebody, set them free;"  a teaching from a book:  "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you;" an out of context quote: "You never change things by fighting the existing reality.  To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete."   Anything is a possible teacher.  Everything is a possible teacher.

In New Age thought systems, there's this idea of taking what resonates and leaving what does not.  It's what everyone does at every moment, but it's often used as an excuse for evading reality or catering to cognitive dissonance.  Avoidance does not help one expand the horizons of consciousness.  Denial is a hindrance to growth.  It can all be carefree, it really could, but there are shadows in our psyches that have to have the spotlight of our attention directed upon them before they can be truly cared for and integrated.

We are an integrated collection of countless beings who generally work as one.  From our cells, to our families, nations, galaxies and forever outward, each entity can be an agent of peaceful togetherness, joining with others to make something greater than themselves alone.  If the heart, lungs, or brain turned on one another in competition, everyone would lose.

This is why I hold love in such high regard.  It is that which unifies us, accepts, soothes, heals.  It is the fuel of creativity, that which frees us from our fear, the gravity that draws us together.

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

In Which Much Shifts in a Short Time

Now, this may sound a little woo-woo, but if you know me relatively well, you know that is where I dwell.  Leading up to the eclipse, it felt as though everything was getting faster:  time, expectation, restlessness.  The general feeling of "I've been waiting my entire life for this," swarmed up around me, boiling within.

Here we are, today, a moon and a day later, and things in my life are cycling into a new sort of dawn.  Meaningful people have fallen out of my life, concerns have dropped out of mind, and the sense of consciously trusting my heart and my intuition has never been so prominent.

Everything really seems as though it is for the best right now, regardless of how it will be in the future, regardless of how it was in the past.  It is all love.  I may see love differently than most, I understand, but when you recognize all beings as the same consciousness, flowing through perspectives, filters, stories of the perceived past or hopeful futures, you respect it.

The "other" person is you, not figuratively, not metaphorically, literally and completely you.  This lets you free them entirely from your own expectations and demands.  Recognizing them as an equal creator, as equally divine, their path as equally valid, lets you gift them with absolute freedom to be as they are without attachment or demand.

We are all.  There's only one of us.  The more time goes by, the more obvious this becomes to me, the greater the pervasion of this perspective on the surface of my awareness.  Now I recognize that attachments are fear based, because there can be no loss if you are all and all are you.  You can choose to be with those you love freely, and when they choose otherwise, you don't hold it against them because you recognize that they are choosing/creating their own experiences just as you are choosing/creating yours.

It really is geometry, shape, and tone.  It is all vibration.  We are everything simultaneously, but we focus our attention in such particular ways we perceive time and singular lines of that time.  But it is all love.  It is all you.  It is all me, free to experience anything at all.

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Identity as attention

"Now, you are an identity. Pretend that you hold a flashlight. The flashlight is your own consciousness. Now. You can turn this flashlight in an infinite number of directions. These directions are always available to you. But instead, you get the habit of directing your flashlight in one particular direction. You hold it in this direction constantly and you have forgotten, you see, that there are any other directions.

All you have to do is swing the flashlight in other directions. You must momentarily, for now, shift the focus of the flashlight. And when you shift it, the direction in which you are used to looking will momentarily appear dark, but other images and realities will become available to you. There is nothing to prevent you from swinging the flashlight back. And when you learn what you are doing, when you learn what you are doing— "


Anita Moorjani, Dying to be Me:

"Although I try to share my near-death experience, there are no words that can come close to describing its depth and the amount of knowledge that came flooding through. So the best way to express it is through the use of metaphors and analogies. Hopefully, they capture a part of the essence of what I’m trying to convey at least in some small way.

Imagine, if you will, a huge, dark warehouse. You live there with only one flashlight to see by. Everything you know about what’s contained within this enormous space is what you’ve seen by the beam of one small flashlight. Whenever you want to look for something, you may or may not find it, but that doesn’t mean the thing doesn’t exist. It’s there, but you just haven’t shone your light on it. And even when you do, the object you see may be difficult to make out. You may get a fairly clear idea of it, but often you’re left wondering. You can only see what your light is focused on, and only identify that which you already know.

That is what physical life is like. We’re only aware of what we focus our senses on at any given time, and we can only understand what is already familiar.

Next, imagine that one day, someone flicks on a switch. There for the first time, in a sudden burst of brilliance and sound and color, you can see the entire warehouse, and it’s nothing like anything you’d ever imagined. Lights are blinking, flashing, glowing, and shooting sparks of red, yellow, blue, and green. You see colors you don’t recognize, ones you’ve never seen before. Music floods the room with fantastic, kaleidoscopic, surround-sound melodies you’ve never heard before.

Neon signs pulse and boogie in rainbow strobes of cherry, lemon, vermillion, grape, lavender, and gold. Electric toys run on tracks up, down, and around shelves stacked with indescribable colored boxes, packages, papers, pencils, paints, inks, cans of food, packages of multihued candies, bottles of effervescent sodas, chocolates of every possible variety, champagne, and wines from every corner of the world. Skyrockets suddenly explode in starbursts, setting off sparkling flowers, cascades of cold fire, whistling embers, and animations of light.

The vastness, complexity, depth, and breadth of everything going on around you is almost overwhelming. You can’t see all the way to the end of the space, and you know there’s more to it than what you can take in from this torrent that’s tantalizing your senses and emotions. But you do get a strong feeling that you’re actually part of something alive, infinite, and altogether fantastic, that you are part of a large and unfolding tapestry that goes beyond sight and sound.

You understand that what you used to think was your reality was, in fact, hardly a speck within the vast wonder that surrounds you. You can see how all the various parts are interrelated, how they all play off each other, how everything fits. You notice just how many different things there are in the warehouse that you’d never seen, never even dreamed of existing in such splendor and glory of color, sound, and texture—but here they are, along with everything you already knew. And even the objects you were aware of have an entirely new context so that they, too, seem completely new and strangely superreal.

Even when the switch goes back off, nothing can take away your understanding and clarity, the wonder and beauty, or the fabulous aliveness of the experience. Nothing can ever cancel your knowledge of all that exists in the warehouse. You’re now far more aware of what’s there, how to access it, and what’s possible than you ever were with your little flashlight. And you’re left with a sense of awe over everything you experienced in those blindingly lucid moments. Life has taken on a different meaning, and your new experiences moving forward are created from this awareness."

In Which I Offer an Unedited Stream of Consciousness Without Apology

I wish I'd taken at least one poetry workshop (did I ever? I don't think I did) at some point.

I know I'm no poet, but I think it would have shown me something about pacing and phrasing and keeping a musical rhythm.

Poetry is a finer art than prose; a novel can tell you a story, but a poem makes you feel what it's about.

I think about all the experimental short stories I put forward for workshops because they were nothing I really cared about.  I never really risked myself, did I?  I feel a bit fraudulent.  That's not much of an artist, is it, to disallow vulnerability, to only put forth the events that I'd already processed and healed?  There's no rawness or growth from such a practice.

Maybe I don't really know myself after all (and how could I?); I only know what is past, not at at this moment, and certainly not where I am going.  I don't ask "who am I?" because that assumes I am a "who," when "what am I" --no, "what is 'I'?" is the question I am really pondering.

I don't consider myself a writer anymore, because I don't know what it means.  I'm not an artist because I'm not expressing anything real.  I'm hiding.  I'm always hiding, or running to some new town, or coming back to an old one to rest.

What is real is that I'm empty, and cluttering up the space with ideas about reality that I can never confirm, identities I as a human can never truly know.  I select aspects of a persona to present because they are the most pleasing, all the while I am an empty eye staring out from behind a rotating handful of filters to shape my perspective.  I'm not a person.  No one is a person.  That's just another filter, another shape to take.

People will insist that I am loved, but to be loved, don't you have to be known?  How can emptiness be known?  How can an eternal, infinite, undifferentiated void be known or loved or understood to be different from anything else?  You don't love me; you cannot.  You love your perception of me, and I love my perception of you.  "I" is a mystery, perhaps the only unsolvable one, and it is the same for all of us.

Is it a shape we take, is it a story we tell ourselves? Is it the pages and canvas upon which we are scrawled?  So many times we look at what comes next, as if we are drawing a line through time, when perhaps we are painting a portrait, revisiting our definitions and contrasts through the use of negative space.  We may not know what we are, but we usually know what we are not.

People who try to control you try to tell you what you are.  They're just telling you what lenses they use.  I have no interest in control.  I have an interest in love, and I love you so much I will always let go of my idea of you, to allow you to be whatever you choose, for you are not your portrait.  You are the canvas, the artist, the paints, and absolutely nothing in particular.

I will love you by believing that you are free, completely and entirely.  You do not need me or my ideas or my stories.  I will not tell you a story about time, beginnings or endings, because I don't know if any of that is real.

I don't know what I am, or what you are, but I cannot be convinced that the you beneath the you you think you are is temporary.  What can exist without the whole of itself?  What could exist without you or I, because I am certain they are the same, although I can never convince anyone of anything at all.  I wouldn't want to, though, because that is an attempt at control, and control is the opposite of true love.

All we ever really do is use our ideas to fill the empty space of self and tomorrow.  The more we let go, the clearer the void becomes, until even the questions go silent.

I lied in the title; I do apologize.  Thank you.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

In Which I Update my Circumstances

I moved from Florida (apparently, I can't do large cities) back in with my mom in Michigan in March. We got a car, which I am driving much better than I thought I would (haven't driven since I was 15). Thanks, years of video games!

I was fired August 18th.  I was told bereavement wouldn't count against me; I just wouldn't be paid for those days.  I was told this by personnel.  Well, apparently they do count (eventually, because I checked and they were not on my record).  The next day I got sick, I was fired outright.  No coaching, no warning, nothing.

I did not fight it.  I don't want to be there.  If I'd known they could hold up my unemployment pay for at least a month, I might have fought it.  Fight for a job in retail that was killing me slowly?  How twisted and sick is that?

I haven't been so happy since I was in college.

September 9th, I published part 3 of my series.

September 18th, I published part 4.

September 27th, I will (just kidding!... maybe).

Happy Equinox everyone!