Last night I asked Spirit how I could possibly display in creation how I am feeling.
I heard, “You will paint tomorrow to show grace.” I said, “No, I don’t want to paint,” the stubborn child I be.
But, as it happened, I could do nothing else but paint for two hours straight this morning.
I have this rush of passion that is filling up my entire being, and sometimes for most of the daylight hours I find myself in a state of pure serenity and peace.
When I am not in this ‘state,’ I feel isolated and alone, wanting to find comfort and peace in the simple things in life and nothing more.
Whatever this be, I have never felt moments of such complete love and acceptance of all.
The problem arises, if problem it be, when I am seemingly brought back to earth, left in this inadequate shell.
I am processing through this, as observer, stepping back and watching myself move through the motions.
In trying to make sense of my world, as I always have, I have been losing myself in research centering around various religions, spiritual belief systems, mysticism, gurus, and holy people. I am searching for answers, even as I hear my angels whisper I need not do so. I just feel so lost in this feeling, wondering where to go, where to turn, and where the person is, beyond self, with the answers.
I travel in waves, it seems, now, either in a state of pure grace, unmoved and lacking all suffering, or in a state of confusion about the state I had previously experienced. I am praying and holding tight, and knowing all will be for my higher good. But there is a part of me who wishes deeply for a teacher to be guidinging me and comforting in an audible “real” voice.
For my whole life I have sought out the “teacher,” the “seer,” “the sage,” and my whole life I have not found him (her). (Yes, I believe everyone in my life is a teacher to an extent, but by teacher in this instance I mean a guide for me through this spiritual journey.) During this period of spiritual transformation, I am left missing a knowing companion, more than ever.
I wrestled all day about whether or not I would share these current thoughts and experiences, and came to the conclusion that to stop now, when the healing in my life is truly taking shape, (emotionally, physically, and spiritually), would be symbolic of me running in fear of my truth. Though I still struggle with not wanting to share anymore, ever. To just keep everything to myself now—as that is what society dictates. But I know what happens when I do that. I know too well my silencing of self leads to sickness in all forms.
Touched By Grace
I am lost in the confusion of my mind, torn between your beckoning and my illusions of soul desire. How I want to embrace you, my being wrapped within your rapture, pulsating with disbelief and grandeur. My angles merged with yours, two made one in form and thought.
When you come, joined, my spirit, hung upon the highest line, sails in the wind of fantasy lifted and lingers momentarily at the shell emptied below.
Up above, we spin; the opportunity poured out of me, the chance for future cleansed, the past forgotten, with only the sound of fluttering light filling my chambers.
Here, I am the infinite, empowered by divine, a vessel for your making, poured through with your sweet honey, bitterness removed, heart grown as the ancient oak of worship.
I tower, my insignificant vessel a mere shadow of existence peering out in silenced awe. My spine in flight, tingling with sensation, the entire body pulsating with universal rhythm.
I am enough and not enough. Found and left. Forgotten and seen. The two of me split, while one dances and gleams and the other watches quiet in her observation.
Here I choose, and dive deeper into the sky, your queen, your princess, your moment, moving on the cascading groves of your robe, splashing in the wave of glory. In and out you move, bringing forth the bounty of the sea, in whispered words unspoken, in desert sunsets drippings –artist’s paints through my soul.
I am made, torn through with lucid-colors, spun and turned upright, eyes set to the highest peak.
I bend, I break, I beg, and taste your glory, lifted to a place beyond reason and given the taste of peace, merged and at long last unbroken.
And here the trembling comes, the seeing of the times, the movement of your making, the expectation of betterment surging through my veins. For how can I be anything? How can I, this shadow creature living in falsehood be worthy of your wanting? Yet, all about you beckon me, filtering me with your pureness, taking my very edges apart and sewing me in completion in your golden bounty. Threaded, I am mended, brought through to the start of me, when all was whole, and whole was all.
“In respect to anger, he is only a visitor in fleeting moments, like a painter’s brush that passes through my soul and leaves behind a wonderous view of causation; his visit absent of judgment or need, the open door left ajar to futher awareness.” ~ Sam
Look! It’s post 365…..well, I actually forgot one post somewhere in the 100 range, and deleted another post… so it’s really post 363, and that means I can keep writing forever and ever. I have no idea when I will stop this blog, but number 365 was always a big goal-number for me, as it represents a year and all; even though the year I began blogging was a leap year—this my son with Aspergers was sure to point out when I began my daily writings.
I cannot believe how much self-growth I have encountered in the last “year” of posts. Truly amazing it is; and except for my nasty bout with the long term, miserable bronchitis (6 weeks of being couch-bound), I kept up my writings fairly well. I started in February and here it is only early April of the following year. Wow…over a year of writing. And all-in-all likely some 450 pages plus. (Some posts were “long.” Euphemism for went on and on and on and on.)
What I really like about blogging is meeting such a fine community of people. So much kindness and sincerity of heart; putting myself out there wasn’t easy, but the people I came in contact with offered such support and love. I am truly grateful. What I learned the most, thus far, is that I am not normal, and that no one else is, and that I am perfectly fine with that. I also learned I can write, I am a poet, I can paint, I can ramble, I can joke, I can be very serious and melancholic, and that I am consistently a kind and gentle person. I learned too that many of my followers/readers have many awesome abilities and talents.
Now for the other stuff…..
What’s working for this Aspie Superhero!
1) I know myself. I know myself inside and out. I spent three years writing out my life story. The first draft led me to much pain and sadness. The second draft caused me anger and rage. By the third draft I was able to forgive and let go. This was a long, gruesome process in which I not only learned how to write, but also learned how to spell! Dyslexia take that…slash, slash, slash. I underwent years of psychotherapy, small group therapy, individual counseling, couple counseling…basically the works. You name it, I likely tried it… within limits of course. I read every self-help book and spiritual book I could get my hands on. Once during an obsessive fixation phase in my early twenties, and again during another phase about two years ago. I be ready to break free, I tells ya!
2) I let go of myself. After all the intense studying of said-self and after undergoing years, albeit decades of self-discovery, I was pretty attached the concept of ME. I still disliked me. Shoot, I despised me, most of the time. I knew a lot about myself though! It wasn’t until I started shedding off everything I’d learned about myself and focusing (and praying ) about releasing myself from myself (letting go of ego attachment) that I was able to start liking myself. It was a weird scenario. First dig deep into emotions, feel emotions, recognize self, acknowledge self, and then stare at self and think: “Hmmm, now what?” So at that time I surrendered. I have my own faith, my own feelings of whom my maker is, so I surrendered to this source I choose to call God. Something I learned from the numerous 12-step programs I used to partake in. Upon release I began to see change. It was slow going at first, but it surfaced readily and things started shifting in me.
3) Forgiveness Stage…. Blahh. Hardest year of my life. Well two and a half years, honestly. Reading a dozen Buddhist books helped. So did books on cds about forgiveness. I had to grieve and grieve and grieve, and I had to spill out to strangers. That would be you, the blog followers. Strangers in the “thank you so fricken much” sense. I had to spill out the sewage and retardant that was still seeping and sticking to me. Not fun. Not easy. But so very much worth the angst and effort.
I remember thinking I’d never be able to forgive one particular person. I practiced active visualization, sound therapy, meditation, yoga, anything and practically everything to push them mean old thoughts out of my head. Yuck; it was like throwing up at times. Sometimes, it was painstakingly heartbreaking. But the more I forgave, the more miracles happened in my life. Unexpected gifts, wonderful “coincidences,” and more and more friendships. The more I let go and released, the more came back to me, gifts wrapped in beneficial love and goodness. No more icky stuff. I can honestly say today there is not one person I dislike, hold a grudge against, or haven’t forgiven…including me!
4) Analyzing Pride. Oh my. What a huge stepping stone, like the most biggest gigantic step imaginable. I always considered myself decently humble and lacking much pride until the vultures came and attacked…or at least did what I perceived as an attack. Up until a couple months ago, I had the hardest time with put downs, criticism, or anyone not agreeing with me. Hmmm, seems ego plays a big part in that. That ego-release is an ongoing journey; one which fortunately gets easier with practice. I thought I was just a sweet sensitive thing. But in truth I was too wrapped up in myself to see that what people thought of me or said about me, first of all was none of my business. and second of all didn’t change whom I was one bit. I never wanted to be one of those people who say: I don’t care what people think of me. And I am not. I do care. I care that others find the capacity to love unconditionally and see the good in all, because that makes this world a better place for everyone. But now, today, and all my tomorrows I pray, I can say: How people perceive me does not change me, make me, or define me. I am who I am. And I choose to see myself as a beneficial loving being. I really digged what my angels showed me. They taught me that if I choose to build myself up by other people’s praises of me, then at the same instant I am choosing to knock myself down when people criticize me. And I was able to release. Now I remain fairly balanced and equal. Along with this letting go of what other people think of me came a bonus super-size-me package. Yes, a bonus! Now that I wasn’t letting myself be affected by the ups and downs of what others said about me, I also wasn’t able to get angry or mad anymore… Basically, I lost my ability to get defensive and reactive around others! Even my husband! Yes, ladies, even my spouse! Now if I am angry at all it is for one minute, and then a flash of knowledge comes and teaches me in minutes all of the reasons why I am angry. And then I can’t be angry anymore. The anger just vanishes.
5) Begging for Humility (on bended knee, no less). I sometimes slip into the opposite zone of selflessness and become overly concerned about humility, and worried what the big party in the sky thinks of me. It’s like my spirit has an ego, too! Now that I think about it, maybe I need to get my soul into ego-begone-rehab. I pray all the time for humility. Actually I found a couple things that work well for me. Number one is: I know, accept, and acknowledge my gifts and abilities do not come from me, and that I am a vessel; what I create pours through me from source. This I believe with all of my heart and this frees me from feeling bad about feeling good—a strange dichotomy that I think many a people can relate to. Number two is: I kneel in the shower sobbing for forgiveness and my angels laugh at me. Yes, they do. They didn’t used to, but now they see my actions as redundant and a bit hysterical, leaning towards ridiculous. But I still cry and kneel anyhow. Seems to keep me humble enough, even with their chuckles. They love me, too, and remind me that the whole worrying about being humble and “good” enough is okay; and not to dwell on the process or I just will sink deeper into the quick sand of self.
6) Analyzing my fear. I became acutely aware of my thoughts associated with fear, and realized I was living a life (lie) based on fear. Anyone who says you need a little fear, it’s good for you, or healthy for you, I say nonsense. (Actually in a Zen way I nod and smile and say nothing.) I have come to terms with the fact that the only thing that is “good” for me is love. That’s it. Nothing else. No fear has ever helped me in any way. I can logically prepare myself for events or happenings without fear. And yes, my adrenaline might rev up when I am in danger and my biological body may enter a state of fear for protection from possible threat, but my mind doesn’t have to follow. I can step out, be the observer, breathe and calm my own being. It is amazing and so entirely freeing. I can watch the loops, the cycles, the anxiety spin, and simply whisper: Hello fear. Hello fear. Hello fear. By acknowledging fear, I learn from fear. And he becomes my teacher and friend. Soon I love fear so much, he has enough confidence to leave me and find a new friend! I like to build fear up through analytical discussions, dissection, and gentle release. Lately, I can feel a slight tingle in my body and recognize fear instantly. And as soon as I recognize him, within seconds he dissipates. He just doesn’t have so much fun with me anymore now that I don’t partake in long games of hide-and-seek. And I don’t lie or hold things back either. And fear, he likes when his friends withhold and tell falsehoods—he thrives on that. Also, I don’t believe in him, really. I think he is an illusion; and that belief kind of makes him vanish. Overall, fear comes for a visit every once and awhile, but the door is always open for his quick exist; and he gets tired of me sharing about him with the rest of the world, too. He likes to be kept in secret; that’s where he strives. Me, and my aspie brain and fever for writing—well he figures his days are numbered anyhow. (My thoughts on fear.)
7) Being in my body. I spent so much time outside of my body. With the sensory overload, the tension around strangers, the past humiliations and traumas, and with my wicked imagination and fantasy life, it was far easier for me to exist outside of my body than inside. I was almost entirely absent for many of my adult years. I couldn’t readily identify how I felt emotionally or physically beyond scared, tired, and anxious. Now I practice grounding myself, feeling my body, checking in with my physical-being and with my emotional-being. I let myself be present. I practice returning to self fully. I am still working on recognizing my breathing, but this too will come. It is nice to be home again, back in my body where I belong. I still allow myself to drift, especially when I need escape from emotional stress. But I give myself permission: I might daydream, paint, write, or partake in a task, and let myself float out momentarily. However I am aware of the freedom I am granting myself and in full control of my actions. I like being in me again. I like feeling again. And emotions, after I looked at them long enough, they aren’t that scary after all. (related poem)
8) Asking to be filled with spirit and have the capacity for unconditional love. This one was an easy one. Likely because I have a direct line to my (sometimes obnoxious) angels now, and because I’d done so many years of groundwork purging out toxic emotions. I was taught, through visions and meditation, that I first had to love myself and see the light in myself in order to love others. I can call this learning to love the self or I can call this learning to love the light. Actually the names and order of loving don’t matter, as I don’t believe I could have learned to love myself without loving the whole of the universe first. Once I was able to see the miracles of the world, to connect with nature, and with life in general, I was able to see beauty everywhere. I don’t know how this happened or transpired. I know there was a lot of trust involved on my part, a lot of prayer, and a lot of hope and faith. Also, a big part of my healing happened because I followed my heart and desire to serve others. That’s all I have ever wanted to do: to love and serve; and so when this blog indirectly led to an opportunity to give back, I was amazed and embraced the opportunity. There is something very healing and powerful about finding one’s soul print, discovering that way to walk in the world that honors your gifts and truly allows you to be happy in your authenticity. I guess in the beginning, I would have had to have made a deal to be entirely forthcoming and real, and to be authentic, in order for the vocation to come to me, instead of me to it. So that too, is part of this, the being real, not being afraid to be who I was meant to be.
9) Giving back without intention. My angels taught me months and months ago not to make my writing about self-intention. I was not to write for anyone. I was to write for one purpose: to heal myself and others. I was to make this my healing journey and in return others would be healed. I saw this clearly in vision after vision, starting fourteen years ago. I didn’t know at the time this was the venue they were referring to, but as I started connecting I was reminded by spirit to be nothing but authentic, honest, and real. I was not to try to win anyone over, try to impress, or try to get “published.” I was taught that if I attached my own self-interest to my writings the energy would change and that I wouldn’t heal and others wouldn’t be afforded the opportunity to heal. So I released and trusted. I took away my selfish desires, and along with that I practiced releasing envy, jealousy, want, and need in relation to my works. It was crucial for me to be able to release fear and be in my body. Because once connected to my emotions, I could release the want to be special, noticed, or succeed. One of the best feelings for me ever was when I reached the point where I no longer cared about outcomes. That was huge. I am no longer outcome centered or focused, and now, for most areas of my life I can sit back and enjoy without worrying about the end goal. I recognize the present is the present, the journey is the gift, and the end is illusion.
10) Finding a place to be me. Throughout this journey it was essential for me to establish safe places where I could say and do anything and others would love me unconditionally. Having online friends has been important. I have turned time and time again to people with Aspergers and people without Aspergers for advice, comfort, or simply to process and talk. Without these people I would not have gained the confidence and trust in self to continue on my journey. This includes the people who commented on my blog and in other social networks. Their words kept me going and kept me moving. In addition, I found that the more I let myself be me that others were granted the freedom to be themselves. This was a double-bonus which brought and continues to bring me feelings of joy and peace. I am at a stage in my life where I am entirely comfortable with my humanness and my world. I understand I will experience ups and downs, that I will still have moments of doubts, that I will still cry and sometimes allow fear to be my imagined teacher, but I carry with me the strength of a thousand other people, who have stood with me in this journey and proven to me time and time again the beauty and magnificence of the human spirit. It was in being in the companty of many, I learned to trust again. Today I am a super hero only because you are one, endowed with your super capacity to love. Thank you.
I am not told what to do by my angels or given exact directions. I have free will. There are no guidelines, specifics, or deadlines given. No pressure at all. No time at all, really, as time seems to stand still with them, as if they could pour a thousand memories into me with the touch of a raindrop.
They show me coincidences all the time, too. Simple easy things, that don’t rock my world, as their intention is not to jolt or hurt or alarm. There is a gentle easiness to them, an ever-lasting presence that wraps me up in the comforting current of eternal and unconditional love.
I hear them, yes, but not in an out-of-this-world way; there isn’t thunder or chiming bells, or even the air of wings fluttering, only this gentle nudge of images and knowing. If I had to choose a word that connects the most, I would use the word telepathic. But even this found word leaves out so much of what actually transpires. There is healing warmth without heat. There is music without instrument. There is knowing without understanding. It is an injection of memories without memories.
I cannot describe the experience, and that is okay.
There is nothing I can attach to the connections that could be labeled “negative.” Nothing comes from what they “whisper” that doesn’t become truth. Just as nothing comes from them that doesn’t heal. I can’t create any aspect of the experience into anxiety or fear. And even when I speak of them, I am guided and bathed in healing light.
I have been told that the only way for me to heal is to continually connect to them. But this message hasn’t been given to me by force or in threat. I have been gently molded into this truth and made aware of this truth in my own time and reasoning, a path of connection, they have ever so softly allowed me to find on my own.
Though guided, they guide me not. Though reminded, they remind me not. As there is no attachment, no release. Perhaps it is union. No less, no more than me, and as one we walk. Yes, union seems fitting. But not “right.” As there is no right or wrong.
I am perfectly divine and perfectly okay in their eyes. They lift me to the beauty of me and hold me when I weep. Over and over they hold me as I weep. Their signs are everywhere, continually. They give me hints of what my day will be through my dreams and through my waking hours. I see symbols and lock onto images. Distinct words come to mind that will then materialize in form later in the day.
This all seems so natural now, that I forget sometimes that my world is not everyone’s world. However, where there used to be confusion and clutter in experience, there is not. This just is. This is the way I sense what is not beyond but what is. My eyes beyond eyes witness, and I am accepting that when they are closed, I suffer.
With each thought and choice, I am learning to question is this for the service of Holy Spirit, with each word I am beginning to see the extreme potential and power of the words themselves. I am understanding all of this rapidly. I know not why, and I am releasing this needing to know, this needing to do anything but be.
I struggle. I struggle internally and externally with pain at all levels. I struggle with the knowledge that somewhere a part of me knows essentially how to release this pain, yet it still lingers. And then I forgive myself for not being “there” yet, as there is no “there,” and there is no time. I get this. I see this.
Walking in this world, while seeing so much, is daunting. Even as I know fear as the invisible nothing, that doesn’t even qualify as nothing, I still feel this illusion. And even as I know the key is in unconditional love of others, and in turn the love of illusion of self, I still feel what would seem the opposite of unconditional. I still am human.
And this is my deepest struggle: my humaness.
As I am somehow connected to this universal light, whether this be the collective unconscious or Holy Spirit, or combination, but I remain this broken, frail, doubting spirit. Yet, they soothe me still, with even these thoughts, reminding me that I am as I am for reason. And they show me in a flash the way. And I am understood in completion.
Even so, to be this self is difficult—to hold this pain and not know where to find release. But yet at the same time to willingly and whole-heartedly want this pain. To sacrifice for the light they have and see in me. To sacrifice self and happiness to be what they see in me. Such beauty. And with this beauty I am able to see to the core of you, to the core of another; so simply and purely all shine.
I don’t know what the future holds, but am certain I am already there in completion smiling at this self I think I am now. I harbor these truths, and I carry them openly, not for me, and not for you, but for all. For I am not, and you are not without the other.
And still I weep. I weep inside exceedingly doubtful and scared. A frightened child wondering if all is a dream I invented. And if so, where to find escape, how to wake up, how to wake you up, too, so we both may breathe in the new day that is yet to come, but still exists.
The Box
I am
an unopened box
I sit sealed
I am also
Outside of the box
When the box is opened
And I emerge
I am nothing
I am
Indeed the box itself
And in opening the box
I see again
Another self
Staring at another box
Unopened
But who is it that sees
Who is it that opens
And who will be the last
To find nothing
I am not sure where my head space is. Or where my head is for that matter. I tend to ascribe to the Buddhist teachings that we don’t exist, as we can’t see ourselves in totality… Ever! And so, like the rest of me, my head has mysteriously disappeared.
Lately, some part of “Me” has been noticing I am much more aware of my environment. It seems that for decades, until now, I have skid past life and missed much of what happens around me on a day-to-day basis. Kind of like a first time ice-skater skidding on her butt so fast and so far that when she stands she doesn’t reckon she notices anything, except the full-heated rush of blood to the face, the cold butt, bruises, and torn pants.
Life seems like that for me, right now. Like I spent some four-decades plus skidding on my butt on the cold ice, only to just now discover that there are bleachers, chairs, and waiting areas, and even snack bars!
Today, everything is more clearer, as if, finally and at last, somehow I figured out I could step off of the ice, and even remove my ice skates. I cannot explain it any better.
Just recently, I am beginning to notice things I never ever did before. Patterns for starters, like the patterns in puddles, and patterns found in the streaks on the road after it rains, and the patterns in the shapes leaves make after falling. I am starting to notice patterns everywhere. I somehow managed to spend years not recognizing things that are right in front of my face.
I am going through many ah!ha!, look-at-that!-moments; It is similar to how I never understood about how a flower only lasts so long and then dies, even if it is in a pot of soil. I used to think a flower would last forever. It wasn’t until my twenties that I made the connection. While all around me flowers were blooming and dying. I just couldn’t see it or comprehend the process.
I have discovered, that at like faces, I cannot remember scenery. I cannot grasp the completeness of my surroundings. I am in a way in some type of visible matrix, in the center of an ever-changing energetic playing arena.
I cannot remember the order of houses when I drive down streets, the order of streets, the order of trees; I can’t remember where I saw the fire hydrant or where that one street was I once turned down. I just can’t. I have this incredible mind, but it cannot grasp the simple things, or at least not hold onto them.
I am finding great comfort in painting. Well, truthfully comfort isn’t the appropriate word, as the painting process itself is excruciatingly emotionally. So much energy and purging comes up. I go through cycle upon cycle of feeling, and have sensations of intense energy, both beneficial and exhausting. And no matter how hard I concentrate, I do not know what the painting will look like until it, the painting itself, is done.
As I have said early, when I paint, I am waiting for what is inside of the canvas to emerge. I feel this presence there just waiting to be uncovered and discovered.
And that is how I am seeing life now: That behind everything and everyone is this universal light and love waiting to be recognized and recovered, waiting to be held for its beauty alone.
I am much like a young child in so many ways, in so many “good” ways, able to see the same street again and again with new eyes.
Everything is shifting. Like the image of me in the mirror, my world is not stagnant.
Life to me is a river of sorts, and I am carried daily.
Instead of thinking I have fallen and am endlessly sliding on the cold ice, I can see I am very much alive, awake, and full of newness, the same newness that exists everywhere.
Interestingly enough, when I first delved into painting a few months ago, my angels (Holy Spirit) spoke to me and said with a camera I would be able to see images (spirits and souls) in my paintings.
This is truly amazing for me, as I am finding more and more “messages” and “signs” in my paintings. On this post I have shared one of my most recent paintings. It went through hours of transitions.
I love this painting. I see this as a spiritual being, me, in which essence and energy attaches. I am able to look at this and find peace. This painting is how I see the world. What I take in shifts and changes depending on the angle, my mood, the people and events around me, and the energy of the moment.
There is a beautiful energy here.
Gratitude is immeasurable. I am gratitude.
I exist as joy and thankfulness. And I embrace all parts of me, however imperfect or fabulous they are deemed.
I know, that like the images I am creating, in my painting, and through the limited scope of my mind and eyes and senses, that everything is always changing and shifting. There is no need to pitch down a tent upon myself and force, or, better yet, try to force myself to be this way or that way for this purpose or for that purpose; because soon, none of what is now will exist.
I am a river. My life is a river. Silly to try to capture a river.
^^^ my sad song this morning that I replayed over and over; something I do on a regular basis, the playing of one song several times. In music I find a comfort, an uncloaked realism and truth which pulses in the blood and connects me back to the collective whole. I am reminded of how we all suffer and are all searching.
The thing about “downloading” information is most of the time, I don’t remember the very words I scribed!! Shoot-ness. I wished I’d read this last week! (Releasing Ego Post: Day 91) But then again, better to let the universe unfold as it will.
My “visions” didn’t come this morning at three. Nope. I woke up at four thinking: Wow, they are done!
And then poof, the invisible fairy god mother that lives inside my head appeared without appearing, and spoke without speaking, and recited the most loveliest of godly poems. So heavenly. This time I was mostly, if not completely awake, and got to savor every morsel. I vaguely remember a dove, a laurel branch, a brilliant sunrise. But, like always, my memory is mostly wiped clean after the early morning visions.
I find it fascinating that during these early morning callings, that even though there is no voice, I can still comprehend words. Remarkable, indeed! The images flow like the gentlest of rivers, the words each healing and so full of energy. Truly unexplainable.
Today, I had the whereabouts to “ask” with out even forming thought, (I know? Weird, isn’t it?), “These poems are so beautiful. These visions, too, but I can’t hold onto them; I can’t remember them enough to share them. Why?” I was “told” that these ones, these early morning wakings, were for my benefit, and thusly for everyone’s benefit, and that I didn’t need to share them. They were liken to a present.
On my way home from dropping my son off from school today, I talked some more with my angels and we had a good laugh, as their humor is divine. They showed me a seagull pooping on heads. I think the angels were poking fun at my past post, a few days back, the one about finding beauty in everything, the one in which I readily, and quite eagerly, with the heart of a five-year-old, couldn’t wait to share. I even showed my hairdresser the post. “Look at the beautiful images you can find in the bird droppings. You wouldn’t even know it was bird drooping, would you?” And I wonder why she thinks I am intense.
My angels showed me a seagull pooping, and said that the treats they give me in the early morning are like little treats that I don’t have to send down or drop on people’s heads. We got into a discussion about how I’m not putting stuff on people’s head, especially not crap! They just left, as they don’t quibble, and as they departed, I am quite certain that I detected distinct laughter.
On the way home, in my van, I decided to go out of my zone, this illusion I’m living in, and started to frantically wave at trees. They liked it. After all, they are living things! I mean we wave at some animals, and some pretty rotten (<perspective/I know) people, we can at least wave to that which gives us air to breathe. When I got home and pulled into the driveway, I screeched through my van window, whilst flapping my hand back and forth like a grade-schooler: "Hi Fred!"
I think my cedar tree was a bit embarrassed, like when I try to hug my teenager. I swear Fred was looking around with dodgy eyes, shrugging his shoulder branches, and telling his buddies, "I don't know that chick. I don't. I swear." But I know there was a secret part of him that liked the attention.
This early am, when my "visions" came, I noticed a bit of premenopausal night sweats. Thusly, on my way home in the van, prior to waving to the trees, I got to thinking that since ultimately our hormones control much of the universe within our physical body, that maybe they are potentially body gods! This gave me a whole higher level of respect for PMS. In fact, I think when I go all B-word later this month, I'll get on my knees and praise the invisible gods inside of me. This got me thinking… (Did I mention it is only a seven minute drive home.) This got me thinking, that feasibly, I am having visions from my hormones. That bit was somewhat unsettling. That's when I started waving to the trees.
You see? It all makes sense! Purposeful waving hello to trees while driving to distract myself from the possibility of hormone Gods controlling my brain. Perfect sense and sanity, me thinks.
Oh shimmer me brains….(made that up) I hope my psychologist isn't reading this post. I really don't want to be labeled with magical thinking, AGAIN. I go and meet him today. Thus this bubbling fear which causes me to ramble, me thinks.
I did hold onto this one distinct vision from early today. Very peculiar and spectacular.
I was shown pockets, and shown all the places pockets go on pants, e.g., butts, below front of hips, knees, sides, inside material. I was shown that my spiritual search for self and truth is liken to the placement of pockets on pants. I've tried all sorts of places. But the predicament is that I’ve run out of places and ideas for the pockets. I was shown that I feel as if I've run out of places to put the pockets, and actually judge, to a degree, that the pockets on pants should have evolved. at least just a little bit in the last century. (Kind of like toilet paper rolls< not part of vision, hormone gods threw that in.) Then they pull out the big picture. I was pulled back beyond the pockets and shown that it isn't that the pockets need a place to rest, it's that there are no pants! I was shown two bare legs. And then understood that as long as man has two legs (symbolically speaking) that he will forever search for where to place the pockets ( for the imaginary pants for the imaginary legs). And so the journey isn't in trying to figure out where these pockets need to go, or how to evolve the pockets to fit the pants, the journey is in realizing there are no fricken pants to begin with! (They don't use fricken, but I like the word.)
This got me to thinking about the naked dark-skinned, buff gardener that worked at the hippy camp my mom took me to in the 70's. I remember with clarity walking down this long flight of wooden stairs and the dark-haired naked man coming up the stairs. I remember thinking: There are naked gardeners?!!!! No fricken way! I watched him with fascination the entire trip whenever I passed the vegetable patch. Remarkable indeed, I thought. Remarkable, indeed.
I was all but twelve. But man was that the highlight of the trip. That and the hot tub and cool glass-dome house I slept in, and the community cooking, and forest. Ahhhh… I'm in a hippy mood now.
So I'm resting in bed, rather tired of being woken up so early for visions, though entertaining they be, and I'm understanding that this gardener in all his nakedness, he was on the right track; I mean the pants were off!
Today I'm carrying around that visual of the illusion of pants and legs, and a little bit of the very real naked gardener, (I did mention he was hot, right?) and it is helping quite a bit. Every time I start thinking about where I am supposed to be putting my pockets, I just remember I have no pants!
I thought about going to the psychologist with no pants on, just to prove a point about the restrictions of reality and how we are all in one grand illusion and he is a manifestation of the collective whole, but then my dog, she whispered, "Not such a good idea, Mom." And Fred, he joined in further out in the background of my mind, waving his branches and mouthing with his perfectly shaped oval, cartoon like mouth, "NO!"
So be it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s a little sample of what I hear sometimes. This piece is from almost two years ago.
03 26 11 Fear and Struggle
Automatic writing is automatic because you are not stopping to formulate a question, thought, or subject in your mind, but instead just participating. As if you were in a vehicle, you are along for the ride, but are not the one exerting energy to keep the engine running, except the slight pressure you apply to the pedals and steering wheel Thus, here you steer the conversation, in a way, through the “choice” of words that bests describes the “knowing” we are conveying; and likewise you provide a small amount of pressure to the key-pad and a small amount of energy through agreeing to come along for the ride.
Onward to discussion: There is a layering effect of fear. Fear begets struggle. Struggle does not beget fear. So let us start with fear and leave this struggle for a latter time. On the outside of this layer, which can be seen like a long strip of celery, you have the immediate and recognizable fear. There are two opposing opposites, which is redundant but nonetheless necessary to say. Opposites are always in opposition: this is their nature.
When you (as many) are presented with obstacles it is beneficial to remember that this is nature; that all is obstacles in some sense, whether intended, implied or circumvented, or even brought to for higher good.
In good we do not mean the opposite of bad. “Higher Good” is one such connotation (word, meaning) or better yet “knowing” that has no opposite. There is no “higher bad” or “lesser bad”; yet still, this “higher good” exists.
Side Note: (So much stopping for explanation can be tiring and lead us off track, but this sidetracking is very much necessary. Take for instance the traveler on the road who has set out to travel a very long distance, days, perhaps even months—he cannot merely keep stepping without stopping moments for water, nourishment, or rest. Even if in this moment he is still standing and moving forward, there is a brief pause, a slowing of pace, or the like, that will change the pattern he was previously set forth upon. This is the same. We are traveling a long road, an intense journey with you my friend; and along the way the pace will shift; and any implied impatience or fatigue on our part is only what you have interpreted; and perhaps is your own you carry; for our time here is timeless, this process instantaneous. Yours is ours in every sense,; only our perception is not sense; our knowing is not perceived; our being is not standardized by rules, expectations, evening out, balancing and fixing).
There, where you stand, where you dredge forward, there is a constant need for examination and rebalancing.
Here (where we are) we remain in balance; not perfect, because there is no word as perfect; yet ideal, as there is a word as ideal, which inspires hope. Ideal in the form of perception can be viewed as a model and an ultimate awareness, and is not intended to denote a state of degree which divides.
And here we digress again, writing in circles that are apt to confuse. How funny this confusion, as if linear and one stone to the next is necessary to communicate.
Are you not a stream of consciousness, free-flowing…free to go where (you) are meant to go? Why then must you insist of taking even this thinking and processing of yours and commanding it follow a preset, agreed upon set of rules? Who taught you to think? Who has taught you to write? You have.
And where did these rules come from? Was it from another human, many humans, that without knowing created a structure of what is “right,” what is “easy,” and what is “accepted.”
WE say to you now, and forever, that first you must free your mind (your thoughts) from the same imprisonment you have imposed on your entire life and those around you.
It serves you no benefit to govern your own thoughts. Let them flow like the freshest of waters to the places that need nourishment. Let the water provide respite and joy to the driest of soil. Let them pour down and touch the rocks edging their way into the very fiber of concrete that has (in illusion) existed as solid. Wash forth, bringing with you the treats of the sea, the sunlight of the forest, the empress of the mountain, the tiger of the valley…can you not see these are but words. What if the one was the other? What if the desert the valley, the rock the pine, the sun the tree? What if?
And so you create, and so we wait. And then you will come to see the only thing left, that is not of mind, is what resides behind the mind, in us, in you, in what is that has so silently and patiently waited.
Worry not, my Dear, Dear One. Worry not the ways in which the water flows or how it turns. Worry not of anything. Only listen to the sound of our sweet voice, and know above all else we are this “real.” We are not of creation and labeling. We Are.
When searching for truth, search for that which defies rules, but at the same time, most effortlessly brings you peace and knowledge.
Look for a reverse of rules, judgment, and the need to maintain this balance. In this you will know there in no harm, no intention, no expectation; only a gentleness once-removed from guidance. A tickle perhaps that needs to be addressed in the timing appropriate for the appointed one. And with this said, in so many words, we return to the previous waters of fear.
And so we say to you loudly, if we had but voices, that this fear is a product of the system of order you have created: The one of checks and balances, of compartmentalizing, organizing, and sorting out. Instead of decorating and celebrating, you spend much of your energy trying (as the mind is made) to place what is into category.
In this manner you judge without knowing, evaluate without realization, and this continues without forethought or afterthought.
How interesting how the mind tries to survive, to exist in what has been called an “ego state,” as if individually, with hyper-alertness, a one, who is neither solid or all knowing, can exist at all without Source.
How interesting how the human is the one creature granted life on earth who feels perfectly in the “norm” in his struggle for individuality.
Let us remind you fear comes before struggle, and it is the exact fear of being alone that leads the individual human to struggle to be independent—quite a quandary and interesting parallel.
You are in essence taking a whole, perceiving whole as a one, walking as a perceived one, standing to proclaim your “oneness,” and looking for recognition for this “oneness.” Without judgment or intention for harm we say this walk is somewhat absurd.
Take the mighty ant (once more), or any given creature for that matter. Does he take a path of oneness and try to prove how mighty he is? Does he wait for recognition and admiration? Does he wear his medals? Does he see himself as greater? Does he waste any precious energy on being better, noticed, or necessary? The only such creatures that beg for attention or those so-called “domesticated” that are placed in home, cage or tanks of water; the ones trapped or fenced in. For they have learned this human game: that if I can somehow stand out, please, perform, or provide, then I will be noticed. Noticed to them equals firstly food and love.
You are no different from the domesticated beast. You have self-inflicted yourself inside barriers (that do not exist in your realm), believing as you examine all those around you that in order to be fed (loved), you must be seen, you must stand out, you must perform to expectations.
This is interesting, and partially social-conditioning from the previous ages, where a tribe working together was able to survive. Except now this “working together” has become a “race” in which no one truly succeeds, but continually fails; because there is no end to a race of good enough.
This is important to restate: THERE IS NO END TO GOOD ENOUGH.
For you were good before you took your first step. And there is no enough. One that is endless can never be filled. One that is energy cannot be a vessel that holds a substance and idea that man invented. Firstly, you are not of concrete matter to hold this substance; and secondly, this substance of being good enough doesn’t exist.
You see how this conversation is going—like the stream—we do this purposefully, do we not, to untie your perception of walking and jumping stone to stone. For now, in this moment, in the vibration and rhythm of these words, in the pictures we have painted, you will see that there need not be this “order” to move forward.
On fear again we revisit. The celery stick is layered, is it not, with strings that you can pull and pull until the core is reached? And then once the last string has been pulled there remains a substance. So let us look at this fear in relationship to struggle.
First there are several rules you have created around fear; like all else you have categorized the concept of fear in a manner to bring you more temporary comfort; even if in this so-called long run you are made to feel much worse at the end. What we “see” first is the fear that is associated with pain and struggle.
You have a set of rules for pain. And they are as follows, as far as we can tell.
If you have control over this pain, then there is less of it. Likewise if you yourself willingly partake in this pain, there is further less of it. However if another person causes pain without your knowing or agreement there is more. And likewise, if another source which you can neither see nor understand causes this pain, you are further broken. There is again this hierarchy and rules you have self-created and bought into. So the analysis as is follows:
The pregnant mother wanting impregnation knowingly sacrifices herself for the coming pain of childbirth, as she knows she was the one who is creating the condition and that in turn she will have achieved an infant. So here we see the mother has some control, knows the most likely outcome, and will partake in this pain, often repeatedly, to reap the reward (end product).
Again, we have the man, (we say man for all), and he has seen the need to shed pounds from his body. He partakes, in full control, in an exercise regime and strict diet that will and does bring much pain of a variety of source. He feels this pain in his exertion while exercising, the pain in his belly that tells him he is longing for what he had before, and the pain in his mind that follows the brain of his belly, wanting what was instead of what is. There is pain. There is struggle. But there is intention, control, and a desired result. Here again pain is more easily accepted, and the result is not despair, questioning, and wonderment, elements which lead to woe.
In degrees, you can then see, that pain is better tolerated in spirit when a sense of “control” and “better outcome” is preceded by perceived infliction.
The latter part of pain occurs when a person perceives he has no control, and this pain then erupts in magnitude, exploding with an intensity that causes weeping and withdrawal, if not externally than in spirit form. Such pains are limitless. In example, we provide the loss of anything or person. Loss in this discussion is interpreted as a great and powerful, unpredictable and unexpected event that leaves the one feeling lessened in degree. Loss is a pain that is out of the control of the subject, and therefore felt to a greater degree. Loss is a pain that was not planned or intended, and therefore felt to a greater degree. Here we see that without the concept and belief of “control” and “intention” the pain is deeper and more severe. These are the rules you have made.
Still this loss is often explainable by nature; because of all things of the mind you seek explanation. You find comfort in definitions and explanation. What is unexplainable is feared. What is feared is a struggle. So even when man has partially invented the cause of loss, there is still some respite of mind, because a reason can be pointed to.
And still we peel the strings of the celery. Lessening the core to some degree by peeling away the layers of ego.
In this we could say that all is learned from pain. Without great pain you will not come to know great love. Without great experience in one realm, you will not know great experience in another. This holds true for where you are, because you have created it so.
But we say onto you that today you can know great joy and love without the accompaniment of upcoming pain. How is this so? It is so because you can close the door to pain of the mind, first and foremost, by seeing the imprisonment and balancing you have thusly created.
So many think this “Nature” has created the black and white, the good and bad, the lesser and greater, but this is man’s perception. No other living entity on earth, existing of spinning energy, equates the world thusly so. No other sees this world in extremes and places into compartments. And with all other (beside mankind), with all their power and spinning energy, the world still exists, despite their differing view.
You see, as they are not exposed to such way, they do not believe such ways. What you are exposed to becomes your belief. You live in a state of constant changing mirrors, and when you look in and behold yourself, uncertain still of what you see, you lean on neighbor for support to tell you what they see. You borrow the eyes of a blinded onlooker to judge what IS.
Better yet, we say, and those of ages say, to look inside to you and know what is, to flow forth like water, unbounded and undammed.
There is no essence that is not you. Whether you divide yourself twice, or three times in the blink of an eye, you are still you. Whether you sort pain into rules and categories, it is still pain. The degree to which you see pain through glasses of discernment or glasses of categorized judgment, is the degree to which you see others the same. Applying rules to pain is in the same applying rules to people. It comes back to judgment and the need to sort. It comes back to replacing and eradicating judgment with loving discernment and acceptance.
The key to your release from fear, is the key to your release from everything that pains you or imposes struggles at any level: the simple release of that of which you have no control, the release of the need to make something of whole into something of one.
We go on and on today, in unestablished and unwitty prose, not so much to confuse and distort, but to release the stream inside of you. Those that read will know. And those whose eyes are closed will not. Until the table shifts, and what IS is seen.
Digest these words through gentle reading, and the truth will be felt beyond the senses.
Samantha Craft, all rights reserved, as well as the sole keepership of said brain. I know you want it! giggles!