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— "

Seth, ESP CLASS SESSION, OCTOBER 14,1969 TUESDAY

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!

In Which There is Ranting about Hypocrisy and Love

Why is it easier for people who claim this is a Christian country to support killing people halfway across the world than it is to feed and shelter those at home?  To want for them to be healthy and healed?  If you value your money/things more than someone else's life, you are no Christian.

Those people have remade God in their own image.  They must be questioned, their corruptions brought to light.  Why accept the bold faced lies that are used to manipulate the population into compliance?  Can so many so-called Christians forget the one thing Christ said was more important than all others:  "love thy neighbor as yourself."   I'm not a Christian by any terms, but that is what I aim for on the daily.  That is the goal of life, the universe, and everything.  Love thy neighbor.

Love them because they are you. Love because it is the only way to unify and heal.  Love whether or not they deserve it but because of the person you are. Love because of the person you wish to become. Love because it is the only way to peace, equality, and real freedom.   Love until you forget about you and just become love itself.

The teachings of religions have the potential to unite people, but they are used as tools to divide us. Rather than cloister ourselves within the exclusive walls of particular faiths, why can't we just agree that we value life?  When I see the news, I see human suffering in an astounding array of forms.  It does not matter where, it does not matter who, what nation, what color, what thoughts they have about the history of humankind or the nature or preferences of the creator (which, by the way, would have created EVERYONE, if you believe there's only one God).

It doesn't make any sense to me.  Have your faith, have your beliefs, fine, but if you think you have the right to kill someone because they disagree with your beliefs, it makes you as equally radical as they are.

If your God is Christ, bloody well act like it.  Get your little egoic self out of the way and be love.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

In Which Love is Discussed

When we fall in love with someone, it is our own feelings that we get so caught up in.  We get hooked on what we feel in response to them.

There can be an adjustment period, where we really learn how this other person is as the boundaries lower and we become closer. 

Our love can deepen and expand, where we appreciate their little quirks and idiosyncrasies and truly admire this person.  And it can be mutual and beautiful. 

Of course it exists, and of course it is real, but it's in us, always in us.  Our ideas of reality,  of what the other person feels or thinks can be flawed, but our love isn't really misdirected; it's just that sometimes we don't realize that the light/love we see shining from someone is really our own.

Some people blaze their own sunlight right back at you.  It really does exist.  It's no guarantee things will work out, unfortunately, regardless of how powerfully you both feel, but it exists.

You know that song,  "if you love somebody, set them free"?  It's one of those things that always struck me as being true, and it made it easier to let people go.  If I love someone, I always want what is best for them, and to let them make their own choices.  If they choose to stay with me, wonderful.  If they choose their own path away from me, I respect it, even if it hurts.  I wish them the best on their way.  It's also helped me respect my own choice to leave when a relationship had run its course.

We don't choose how we feel, but we can choose how we act on those feelings.

We never know what someone has planned when they come into this world, and maybe our paths coincide for a long time, or maybe only briefly.  Maybe they came into our lives to show us how profound our own hearts can be,  when the light of our own love can be so brilliant we think everything else is shining too.

If you cultivate your own light, eventually it's not going to be such a heartbreak when you don't see someone shining back at you, because you can see your own way.  You won't need a lighthouse in the distance to reach for, because you are your own sun.

So many of us confuse want, need, attachment, and control for love.  Love is an outward radiation.  It is light.  It is not something we need from other people to fill ourselves--if we look at it from that perspective, we will always be disappointed.  We will feel as though no one reaches us because we're not meeting their light with our own.  And if we are busily radiating our love, there is little darkness left within us.

Note: this was initially a reply on Facebook but I considered it relevant enough to make into a post.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

In Which I React to Cosmic Disclosure (Gaiam TV/Gaia)

I was going to mention this in a comment on the Gaia TV show Cosmic Disclosure, but I didn't want people to think I was trying to grab attention for my stories or anything--and besides, only one of them is published at the moment anyway.  So I'll leave it here.

Last week's episode covered some of the internal races living in the Earth, and when Corey said there was a race called the "Derro" I shouted, "what?!?" and rewound, turned the volume up and tried not to get freaked out when I realized I'd heard him correctly.

In the fantasy/sci-fi series I've been writing since I was about fifteen, there is a race of beings who live in the planet called the "derrin."  They're not the elephant faced people described in the episode.  I imagined them looking more like a cross between a grey and a human but a little more stooped, but no one has seen them for centuries because they left the physical and only interact with the surface population telepathically through emissaries (a clan of Draige called the Emer).

In my stories there are also what just look like simple altars, a solid stone block, but you can interface with it mentally/spiritually.  They're actually called consciousness interface devices, or CIDs, and were used to attune people to higher states of consciousness, or, in the case of more selfish and insidious leadership, to brainwash/program everyone during this initiation everyone underwent to become an adult.

The thing that mentally nags me the most in Comsic Disclosure is the description of the smart glass pad, because in the story that I still haven't completed (I started it in 2008 or 09?) there are tablets that people use, and later in the story the holographic component had been figured out (one character, Caelais, has one that looks like a piece of glass that only one of the other characters, Zyll, innately knows how to use) but Zyll finds this box in her attic that her father supposedly left (she never met him) with documents and photographs of secret facilities, including a drawing of herself at her current age, even though she didn't even remember meeting her father.  Also in the box was this little flexible rectangle of plastic (but they don't have plastic on that planet, for some reason) that has a bit of a wobble to it that I imagined looking like plexiglas.  I was going to have that as a more advanced tablet, but it's been so hard to write that book.  Usually I can get a draft out in about a month or two, but I was stuck on that one for two years before I decided to just go edit and publish the older stories in the series.

In one of the other stories set into current time, there's a character who is switched between the two souls sharing his body by this tone signature/flashing light, sometimes over the phone.  He doesn't remember until later in the story, but he's an experiment of splitting spirits/consciousness and putting them into other bodies to be activated when needed.  There are always portals and other lives in my stories, but that's pretty normal fantasy fare.

Any time something comes out that's in one of my stories, I'm kicking myself for not publishing them sooner.  By the time I get them out there all this stuff will be science fact instead of fiction.

Also, I'm one of those people who have seen orbs of light as a child, which was described as Corey as a sort of awakening tool for Wanderers, so that verification was awesome.

I intended to just post up to this point, but when I realized I was actually kind of afraid to mention it, I figured it was a pretty good reason to do so.  I have a few weeks of my junior year of high school that I don't quite remember.  I took the ASVAB pretty much to get out of class.  It was a low income area, so we constantly had military recruiters trying to prey on the kids.  The Navy recruiter gave me a copy of the video game Resident Evil 2, and I was afraid to put it in my Playstation because I was afraid there was something running in the software.  I ended up playing it, but I never saw him again to give it back.  Later, one of his superiors called and asked me if he'd been pushy or too insistent or something, but I said no, he hadn't been, I just wasn't interested in joining the military.  I didn't ever want to hurt anyone or enable someone else to harm others.

And then one day I was sitting in class, reading a book, and I looked up realizing I didn't quite know where I'd been.  And I couldn't remember the day before specifically, or even any moment specifically in the last few weeks.  No one mentioned anything about me being gone, so I assume I was there.  I didn't remember getting up, what I'd had to eat the day before, if I'd talked to my mother, what we talked about in chemistry class, nothing.  I only remembered the book I was reading, which one of the teachers had loaned me.  I just kind of shrugged it off and went on.

It didn't start to bother me until this girl came up to me in a Jimmy John's one night and sat down and talked to me for the next four hours and told me about getting electroshock treatments that wiped her memory of the prior few weeks.  I mentioned my few weeks of time I couldn't quite account for, and she got wide eyed and said, "I hope no one hurt you."

So in Cosmic Disclosure when David mentioned the Mars Records, I decided I had to read them, but I couldn't read much at a time.  I'm a very fast reader, but I just couldn't do it.  I got a horrible headache after reading a few minutes, and I keep going back to try to get more and more, but I was sick for weeks and just at the thought of it my neck hurt.  I don't know if I'm picking up the feeling of the person in the book itself, or if it was my own feeling.

Note:  I wrote this several weeks ago and saved it as a draft... and then forgot about it. I want to go through later (when I have internet besides just my phone) and add links.