REALIZED – SACRILEGE AHEAD

I heard that the Essenes in particular were experts at forgery. They would make three or four seemingly authentic and legitimate religious texts, and only one would be 100% accurate, the others just varying shades of bogus.

I have thought a lot about that lately. After several months of everything being highly significant and relevant, some things have finally begun to fall away from my awareness.

It is as if I have gone through a long period of trying on everything in my closet. Every trend and fashion, from, “Without you, I am nothing,” to “A woman needs to have a career before she settles down,” to “Death is the end of my imagination.” I have twirled and sashayed in these old outfits, some for the last time. Many have disintegrated since I last tried them on. Some are lying in my dresser drawer, waiting for me to need them again. Others I wear daily, but only as accent pieces.

I mention this because there are certain conditions, certain situations, which simply no longer trigger me. I watch people react as they always do to these situations, and the emotions accompanying the phenomena just seem like an exhausting exercise in self discovery. Indeed it is.

REALIZED – PLEASED TO MEET YOU

The writer has changed, so too the voice.

Once meek and mild, full of equivocation, doing my level best to sneak up on things rather than call them out by name, stating a truth bluntly. What lovely poetry did it make, but it is too much work to continue to approach myself and writing that way.

So, the voice is sparser, more blunt, to the point. Hopefully funnier.

And I have decided that for this blog, I am going to be a little bossy. I have decided to try on, not an authoritative or pedantic air, but the air of an elder who really should be listened to, so sit down, be quiet, drink your cocoa and let me talk. You might learn a thing or two.

Now, this is brand new for me. I am not someone who has ever felt that I have any right to tell anyone how to think or feel or act. Somehow I made it to 52 thus shackled. But, this is what I know. I know that I spend more time and effort and imagination trying to figure things, the big things, out than most people expend on their most cherished pastimes. My passion is to understand life and God and myself and my place within this whole thing. I think that is a very reasonable thing to be obsessed with. I am cool with you thinking it's batshit insane. Most people do. They don't use that term. They've always preferred “weird.”

DEEPLY AWAKE – LOVE HAS NO OPPOSITE

I have written some posts but they have gone unpublished, undone, unfinished, somehow incomplete in a very complete way, intact in their attempts to bridge realities but unready to be sung, these private songs, whistling and humming in the background.

This has been a time of extraordinary moments, shimmering realizations that occur in the oddest situations.

Twice in the last two weeks I have been driving, and, for an extended period of time, I am operating my vehicle with absolutely no idea where I am or what I am supposed to be doing. It's as if I get plunked into this situation, and I do not recognize landmarks, everything is not unfamiliar but so abstracted, so theoretical, that it takes me some time to snap back into better aligned awareness.

I had an argument with myself about this yesterday. Do I want to shock myself into fearing a grisly demise as a victim of aggressive, advancing dementia? Forgetting where you are is the first sign! Pretty soon I'll be crapping my pants and demanding coffee and cigarettes from an overworked and resentful nursing home staff. Christ. I am fucked.

DEEPLY AWAKE – NOW, THEN.

To say I feel different is such an understatement. It's like saying a tiger is different than a kiwi. Yes. They are different. There is a before and after at play here, something big moving, shifting, evolving, coming up for review and appreciation.

I remember that dream which inspired “Sandstorms.” It's been coming back to me in waves. Working very hard, concentrating utterly on something, then a sandstorm kicks up, and then, through the dust, all the old structures that I just took for granted as the ones I'd see after the storm, they had all been replaced, very mystically and magically and against reason.

Nice.

I can feel the dust settling.

I've been pandering Seth. I bought The Nature of Personal Reality a month ago, and dove into it a week ago. I remember mainlining that book in the '80's, and I'd be able to read about a paragraph, sometimes just a couple sentences. Then I'd feel full, complete. Then I'd go to sleep, and have a dream explaining the concept I'd just read about. That happened so predictably with Seth, that I have always recognized him as a great teacher of mine. And here he is again, reminding me in words I can now better understand and concepts I can now finally feel in my heart when I read, and then easily and readily APPLY in my physical life.

DEEPLY AWAKE – THIS IS GETTING FUN

I have had diarrhea of the pen the last few times I have written. This, of course, is a symptom of obfuscation, borne of the twin mothers of denial and ambivalence.

About a year ago, trying to figure out why I kept hitting dead ends professionally, I went to my psychic, Norma, who said, quite simply, “You don't have enough because you do not believe yourself to be enough, yet. Solve this, and you will have all you need, and much more.”

This is a central theme in so many of the lives who touch mine. To be frank, I think the degree to which someone displays what are called “egoic” or “negative” behaviors is the degree to which one's refusal to love self, and by extension, other, is poking through. It's certainly been true of me.

Projection is something I have been really contemplating lately. What stuff is mine, and what is yours? That has always been a keen question on my lips when trying to make friends, and peace, lately.

The question comes up, what happens when you are interacting with someone and the interaction is just awful? There is too much indirectness, too much obfuscation, and there is a slidy, weird feeling to it? What then?