processing

321: Don’t make me look at you!

| Aspergers Girls

Don’t make me look at you

I am often depleted energetically in new environments with unfamiliar people. Part of the reason is because I am empathic and can innately pick up on others’ emotions and state of being. The other part of the reason I am energetically depleted seems to be entirely biological, at least in the way my brain senses the stimuli around me and in the way I process the input I am receiving as a result of the stimuli.

Sometimes, quite frankly and honestly, I would be a better listener and friend, if I didn’t have to look at you.

Because I am extremely analytical, acutely self-aware, and live in a heightened state of sensory awareness, I often forget that the majority of mainstream society does not process their environment the same as me.

I forget that the majority of people are not responding to me in the same way as I am inexplicably responding to them.

The first part of my energetic depletion is spawned from the belief system that I am being sliced and diced and dissected visually by another, only because when I spot another, I generally have to take each piece of person apart and put the features back together to make sense of what I am seeing. As a result, distinct markers of a face and body are found, categorized and reorganized.

I try to take apart another perosn and piece him or her back together without being judgmental. In other words, if a “big” nose is the first thing I see, I remind myself that “big” is a judgment and based on my limited perception and biased collective experiences, while understanding that societal norms determine the essence of beauty for most folks, norms which are indoctrinated onto a sub-culture by profiteering establishments.

Thusly, as I’m beholding another’s appearance, and trying to make sense of what I am seeing, in regards to features and taking in the whole picture, I am also simultaneous reminding myself that the individual’s features are not right or wrong, good or bad, or striking or dull, they just are.

And beneath this linear thinking of releasing judgment based on the indoctrination of societal norms, in the same juxtaposition, of me being with me, I am trying to remind myself, that according to many spiritual belief systems, that self and this other person in my line of vision do not even exist.

All of these thoughts pass through me, just as I am stepping into the line of vision of another: the release of judgment, the reminder of the limitless of the illusion of universe, and the fact that I am entirely analytical when it comes to viewing another.

And the added fact that I know way too much for my own good (and would apparently make a good sitcom character).

With all of my thought-processing, I become distracted and don’t realize that the other person I am analyzing is most likely not viewing me in the same manner as I am viewing him or her.

While my mind is shooting a million miles per second, the other person’s mind has probably just thought: nice red sweater or there’s a brunette middle-age woman; or, if it’s my husband: There’s my hot wife.

But I forget this.

Somewhere between wondering if my fly is open, my teeth are flossed, my nose is big, my hair is brushed, and if I matched the right color socks, and wondering what the other person is dissecting about me, and what this makes that person think, and how he or she has categorized and judged me and has fit me into his or her comfort-level of classification, I turn into a tailspin of panic, fearing that the other person is not only doing to me what I am doing to him or her, through dissection and examination of part, but also reaching conclusions based on the data received.

Ultimately, when all is said and done, in the midst of my boggling analysis of said other person, I am fearing the conclusion the other person has reached about me, whether it be red sweater or big-breasted tart; I am wanting to huddle into a corner and make myself entirely invisible and inaccessible to onlookers.

Wherein if I lived in a world where I was masked and cloaked, and perhaps entirely invisible, I think my anxiety, and resulting depletion of energy, would be drastically reduced.

But since I live in a world where I am seen, I am also faced with the fact that I am judged and categorized based on my appearance.(It’s no wonder my son with ASD refuses to wear anything other than plain clothes—no designs, no images, no nothing.)

And in so being keenly aware that I am looked upon with deciphering eyes, whether fleeting the observer’s glance be or not, I want to then explain to the observer as much about my true self as possible, fearing that the person has reached conclusions about me that are entirely false and inaccurate, because the gathered data is based solely on my exterior.

In the meanwhile, I am having a miniature debate in my mind about how the release of fear and the release of worrying about whatever people think of me is optimal for my state of well-being and reciting the random quote that says: what people think of me is none of my business, while holding back an entire dam of dialogue longing to be thrust upon the person returning my glance, so that I might attempt to accurately describes my spirit behind this cloak of humanness.

When all is said and done, all of these processed thoughts, (including the deductions of reasonings circling around the non-beneficial and detrimental effects a fear-based outlook to the collective of spirit, mind and body), have left me wiped out, and wondering how it is that up until this point in my life I have not become dependent on the port wine I savor some evenings, or at least a stiff shot of cough syrup.

For my brain is such a grand uniform of thought that even a sergeant general, marked with the stoic stars and stripes, could not maneuver his troops inside me to find the potential threat of enemy.

And then, with the coming of more and more rushing thoughts, I begin to laugh inside, realizing again that more than likely the stranger is not analyzing my distinct features; and then the sadness settles in, or at least what seems like sadness, but of late seems more akin to the knowing I am different and likely a different species of human all together.

In the meanwhile, with all of these aforementioned thoughts, my mind is continually involved in a game of connect–the-dots, bringing all the facial features together to make a collective whole.

And quite frankly sometimes I don’t like what I see. And then there is always the lingering notion, that this is all much-to-do about nothing, because if I was ever to see this person again, I wouldn’t recognize him anyways, because I cannot retain visual images of faces in my memory banks.

By this time, when my thoughts have run full course into a state of exhaustion, the person I was looking at has either moved on and out of my view or he or she has moved on in conversation. And where the person is left waiting for me to respond to something said, that she assumed I heard, just as she assumed I was ready to listen, I am still wondering, if in fact, if I look older or younger than this person, because I have wrinkles under my right eyes in the same way, and likely the same depth; and this person is still so pretty even with the marks of age; and I wonder if the wrinkles are appearing more engraved because of the lighting and what the person would look like in an alternative setting, with say a red scarf instead of green; and if her hair is naturally blonde, or now with her aging, recently dyed; and when I should stop dying my hair; and if I remembered to mark my hair appointment on the calendar, and why at times I seem so forgetful.

Through all the analysis piled upon rhetoric and philosophical jargon, added to the process of scaffolding current information with past information and connecting other to self, and the tangent of strings my mind travels to, I am left literally spent, my pockets of reserve penniless, and my wallet flung open for the taking.

And so it is I wonder, when the others, perhaps less aware of this process, say: “Look at me, while I’m talking to you.”

I wonder if a person realizes what one glance, what one look, what one simple demand, demands of me.

Pass me the port, please.
~~~~~~~~~~

(dang if I ain’t one prolific goofball and a half)

299: The New Day

| Aspergers Girls

I’ve decided
I’ve decided that you deserve more
More than what I am offering
With my clinging and self-doubt
You are not the key to my self-worth
So I shall work on being less dependent
On you
I am ready to pull away some
I think
I want our friendship to be nurturing
And I am tired of being so needy
I understand what is happening
I am self-harming
Through you
I build you up into someone you are not
So you can disappointment
Or rather
So I can think you are disappointing
For then I experience a rawness inside
A Terrible Ache
That reaches into the heart of me
It is only then
With the coming ache
That I feel alive
Without this intense angst
I feel numb
For no one can fill my depths
With the love I need
And thusly I am left hollow
And alone
In desperation and with desire
I grasp on to Love’s cousin
Pain
And pour him into me
I use
My addictive substance
Over and over
To exist
Because I feel alien
In this world
In both form and experience
I have been using
Using you
To feel real
Using
To wake up
My sleeping soul
I am sorry
For clinging
For aching
For suffering
Through you
But I still choose you
I choose you again and again
Only this time
You are chosen
For your beauty alone
For your light that shines through
The darkness in me
And opens my eyes
To the new day of us

~ Samantha Craft, January 2013

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271: Faucet Thoughts: The Psychic Vending Machine

| Aspergers Girls

Twelve Year Old Trivia: ^ I like to dance half-naked half-dressed with a pink hairbrush-microphone to this song. ^

Now the Serious Stuff…… Faucet Thoughts….

I need a brain drain, a faucet at the tip of one of my lobes that I can twist on and off (preferably without pain or damage), as to allow the excess energy splattering and bouncing about my mind to exit.

I imagine a thick flood of information all rushing down a canal and then rapidly caravanning into the corners, until at last, having entirely flooded the space, a small light appears in the distance, and all blabbering-goop charges forth in eager fashion in hopes of being the first to plunge out of a narrow pipe.

Alas, I have no faucet and no pipe…and so the faucet takes its form in the way of words: agreed upon symbols thrown together in distinct and exact order in an attempt to convey random images of the mind.

It’s not an easy task, using words. They are so limiting, yet so utterly delightful. I could eat them at times, some words, for their pure delicacy and taste, their richness, their potential, their rhythm, their purpose.

Other words I’d rather grind into the ground with spiked high-heeled shoes—red shoes preferably; though I have no idea why.

People trigger my thoughts.

I suppose I’m like a soul detective of sorts.

I sense things about my environment and people and animals to an extreme degree.

I can readily tell, within minutes of meeting someone, about that person’s worries, challenges, and battles. I can see the hidden secrets and sense the front a person puts on to protect him or herself. Sometimes people have a thick shield around them. Sometimes I sense an actual guard. When dealing with addiction, especially alcohol, there is sometimes no shield at all, but a pretend peek inside, where everything is perfect with no troubles.

Upon meeting a friend of a friend, I might tell my friend my first impressions of her friend, not in a gossiping or mean way, but strictly as analysis. Even after a two-minute conversation and a handshake, I can usually (so far always) give an accurate description of the person.

I can tell right away about the energy of a commenter on my blog, only through their words. I feel and hear their energy, and I hear messages , such as: sad, lonely, wanting, curious, angry, etc. I feel the sensations in my body at times. Sometimes I can’t shake the energy off of me.

I experience the following on a daily basis:

clairvoyance (clear seeing)

clairaudience (clear hearing)

clairempathy (sensing of emotional experience of others)

claircognizance (clear knowing or psychic knowing)

clairsentience (clear feeling)  “Clairsentience relates to the sense of touch. It is the ability to perceive energy fields through physical sensations using Psychic senses. This includes auras, vibrations, and the presence of entities. When you get a “gut feeling” about something, you are using your clairsentience. What you’re doing is using your second chakra, the spleen center, to sense things on an emotional level. Clairsentience can pick up what other people are feeling. Clairsentience often works with another ability called precognition. Precognition is the ability to know what is going to happen in advance.” Source http://www.theintuitpathway.com/temple/claires.htm

Through clairaudience I hear my angels. They are a singular voice, primarily, the sound of my own inner voice. However the words are always uplifting, nonjudgmental, supportive and encouraging. Ultimately, they are my cheerleaders, advocates, protectors and validators. So far they have always been right. They laugh when I debate or try to change their ways. I am stubborn with them, and they treat me with unconditional respect and love. They remind me of my divine worth, but above all my equality with all, how I am no lesser and no greater. They tease me about my constant request for humility, and my constant worry I am not worthy enough in their eyes. They remind me I am human and to release the guilt and shame. They remind me that anything can change and that all transitions.

I have grown a lot in the understanding of my abilities in just the last few weeks. I understand  that sometimes the worries and anxiety I have are simply not my own.  Some of the images I see that I think are dread and fear of my own manifestation are actually a future flashing before my eyes. When I feel certain pains in my body, sometimes the pain is not my own. I am becoming more fine-tuned with my abilities, and as I tune in and analyze what is happening, I am finding more peace of mind.

I am now keenly aware of some of the knowings I have during my day.  In just twenty-four hours I saw through visions and through sensing in my body the following events:

a person having a cold that involved continually dripping of the eyes and drainage of the nose, with the inability to stop the dripping; I saw this as a vision throughout the day of a person’s face with lines pouring out of the eyes and nose. (The person in question was a close friend’s daughter falling ill the next day. Because she has special needs, she is challenged by the task of nose blowing. Her eyes were also watering a lot.)

a person having a lump under their left armpit. I sensed this while standing at a mirror. I had the urge to feel beneath my left armpit for a lump; something I do not do and hadn’t done in years. (My good friend called me the next morning and said: “I just wanted to make sure you aren’t picking up on me and my energy, as I found a lump under my left arm, and I know how you worry and think it is your own body.”)

a sharp pulling and tugging and pain of my left arm, enough to make me gasp and take a pain reliever. A pain I hadn’t experienced in years and that went away by the next day. (A lost dog appeared at my door, moments after posting my cats and dogs post, who had an injured front left leg and was being pulled on a leash by a person searching for the dog’s home. My pain diminished in half upon seeing the dog.)

an  inner voice saying I needed to buy a bath brush, and the actual bath brush visually popping out at me in the store aisle, as if glowing and calling my name. (I never buy bath brushes. When I got home my husband said he wanted a bath brush for Christmas; we’ve never owned one and he’s never requested one before.)

a vision of a flood of water near an electrical cord, a panicked feeling of electrocution. (Moments later I went upstairs to find a large puddle of water on the kitchen counter, a result of a spill, with an electrical cord in the center.) {In the past I would have thought I was being paranoid or overly fearful; now I recognize my feelings as a vision, as precognition.}

Sometimes I ask my angels for signs. This week, as I am quirky, I wanted to see the shape of an apple in an odd place. I was thinking like a walking, man-sized mascot apple or something like that. An unpredictable image that signified a certain relationship was safe and beneficial. My angels have the most remarkable sense of humor; as I was eating corn chips, I noticed the entire center of one chip was missing, except for an outline, and the missing piece was in the exact shape of an apple.

Yesterday, while in my sauna, I asked to see a sign of something flying outside my window. Not a butterfly, but something small and lovely. I have a very limited view from where I sit inside my sauna, but I can see the upper half of a tall pine tree. As I sat resting, I spotted a humming bird flying between the branches of the pine tree. It’s the first humming bird I’ve seen during the winters here.

Also, sometimes I ask for messages in the form of written word, and will open a book to find an answer to my soul’s desire. I recently was comforted by a passage from a Buddhist text. The message in summary said that although you are centered in self with acute awareness of life and energy, you are human and will still experience extremes of emotions.

I needed to know that my emotions were okay. I needed to be reminded that I am human.

I’m not quite sure why I’m sharing all of this today. I think I am being called to explore my abilities more, and to perhaps rekindle the vocation I began two years ago.

I’ve learned in the past couple of months to trust my body’s intuition. For instance, I focus on an idea for my future vocation or question a feasible goal, and then sense how these thoughts cause me to feel inside my body. I’ve learned to side-step logic and trust in my inner feelings. This has greatly reduced the pressure I place on myself mentally to make a decision. I have read and studied an abundant of works, and as a result have floating inside of me constant variants on what is the correct and incorrect way to respond, behave and choose. I have found that relying on all the endless data that feeds and scaffolds off of itself, is much more wearisome and exhausting than simply pausing, breathing in a thought, and then gently feeling how this thought feels. If the thought feels comforting without any degree of resistance, I then have a knowing that I am balanced and at peace in the decision. If I feel resistance of any form, I let the thought go with the intention of revisiting the thought, if and when needed, in the future. For the present I let my body remained balanced.

As of late, I have also noticed I have little to no anger for anyone, anything, or any event. I have moments of frustration, but usually that is once a day, if at all. I have no anger for myself, either.  I have no worries about me as a person, beyond finding balance between my gifts and daily functioning. And even this is not so much a worry, but a careful observation.

I’ve also seemed to have developed, or rather awakened, a form of medical intuitiveness. A dear friend recently confided in me about her diagnosis of lupus. (I had a vision of lupus moments before she called me.) After a few conversations about the subject, I had a clear knowing. I informed her that during her upcoming appointment that the specialist would tell her that the blood tests were wrong and that she did not have lupus. I also told her that what concerned me most was her past diagnosis of Hepatitis C and that I believed that was either a wrong diagnosis or had disappeared. I would soon find that I was correct on both accounts.

My friend called, relieved, and said: “You should be a doctor.” I had to laugh and remind her that the doctors were the ones that were wrong to begin with.

And one last thought. I used to have a terrible time with criticism and rejection. Now I often do not react if I am “attacked” by words. In fact, just this week, twice I was able to step back from what I would deem mean statements and spend very little time and energy on the matter.

I am a reflection of light and love.

I have an inner core of purity, peace and goodwill.

How someone else choses to see me is their business, and their business alone.

I choose to keep my eyes focused on beauty.

~~~~

As I’m sitting in my bathtub, soaking up the dead sea salts and listening to a visualization sound-therapy selection on my I-Pod, and thinking how awesomely good the acoustics are in my bathroom, and floating somewhat out of my body, I realized: No wonder I’m fricken tired all the time….on top of having Aspie traits, I’m a non-stop psychic vending machine. 

~~~~

This morning I was sitting on the couch, partaking in an intensely deep conversation with my significant other, regarding my complex logical perception of love. I am having eloquent revelations and profound understandings, and expressing myself with humility and clarity. Aglow with knowledge and inner light, I sit basking in the element of essence. Wow, connecting with spirit is awesome!

“Ding-Dong,” the doorbell rings. I jump off of the couch in fear, taking a defensive pose, crouching and speeding to the staircase, while screeching and giggling, “I have to run downstairs and hide!”

I love me.

269: Thursday’s Pee

| Aspergers Girls

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I always have to pee at the least desirable times. Like right now, as I sit here in this coffee shop, dressed rather cute with my new white jacket that was initially supposed to accompany the dress I never wore—the panty-free dress that made its proud debut in the blogging world.

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I’m all dolled up. And why? Why is my hair curled, my lashes too, and my lips a sweet watermelon-color?

Because it’s Thursday, of course.

As I sit here typing, I have a full panoramic view of the room. I can see the fireplace, and unfortunately the man who set up camp right in front of my leather couch, across the coffee table. I’ve been battling his come-hither stares and energy since his prompt arrival, and wondering what’s a girl to do?

I have to pee because I had a huge cup of coffee mixed with organic hot chocolate mix. Can you say double-yum? I had that to-die-for beverage, earlier, when at home.

Arriving at the coffee house, with all my perky-self, I said to the lady behind the counter, a sweet young thing: “I’d like a decaffeinated soy Chai Latte, please!” I flashed a big grin. I liked the sound of my order.

And plus, my jacket said it all: I am sexy, I am cute, and I am fabulous. See the bow in the back of my coat?

My face said the rest: See my big grin. I am so extremely comfortable here. Let me lift my brows to decrease my wrinkles, and set my head so delicately to the right. Am I approachable, yet? Am I fitting in, blending in with the other humans?

The tall bearded man, near the young lady behind the counter, strikingly thin, likely a vegan extremist, eyed me fine and good. He spoke to me without words for a millisecond. Processing. Then he breathed out his thoughts, quick and easy like. With a smirkish clear of his throat, he said: “We don’t have decaf Chai.” He then rolled his eyes and scooted his frailness out of my line of vision. Though he kept watching me with his I-know-more-about-beverages-than-you stare down.

Deflated, I panicked and slid my thoughts to the right, examined, and tried to grasp my next step. Catching an idea, I said, as smoothly as possible, despite the nervous giggle: “Oh, yes, of course Chai is caffeinated.”

Then I felt doubly-incorrect, remembering there is decaf Chai tea in the stores, and for a moment I was in the grocery market, away from the frightful man.

I was quite beside myself with embarrassment, realizing that I’d once again over reacted to the slight poopiness of a stranger.

What to do?

After the boob of a man (Rather Zen of me, don’t you think?) slapped down the tea menu in front of me, I had the keen impression he was fed up with my query-filled eyes.  Sucking in my breath, I said, “Ginger tea,” delicately and tried to fluff up my sweetness.

Can’t you see that I’m nice?

With tea in hand, I retreated with imaginary tail between legs to my wall, and then struggled to figure out proper etiquette for placing down my items. Where to put my scarf, keep jacket on (looks cute, keeps me warm, hides my boobs) or take jacket off (keeps jacket clean, might be more comfy), Put laptop on lap, put laptop on table? Cross legs?

And so on.

Endless it is.

Problem is right when I got settled that’s when the stranger arrived. With some fifty other feasible places to sit, he chose to sit directly in front of me, in a position where his line of vision crashes and smacks mine. I can’t even hide behind my laptop.

The stare down begins.

So far, in the last hour, I’ve noted his outdated sneakers (I mean 1980’s black checkered Vans) and his need to pull his hat over his head and nap. I’ve taken random glances when he wasn’t looking, but really wished I had a note on the back of my laptop that read:

This is an experiment—I have Aspergers. Don’t expect me to look you in the eyes or respond to your existence, unless you are a woman my age or very old and safe looking. Or a child. Or a dog. Or even a bird. But if you are a man, beware. You’re invisible. Kind of…..

I really have to pee, now.

I have a laptop, and thusly, in order to vacate my spot, I will have the task of stuffing the laptop in my computer case. That in and of itself, is difficult. I am not very coordinated. Stuffing things inside other things is not my forte. In fact, trying to fit anything inside anything is hard. (I’m embarrassed now, as this someone how once again seems sexual. Like I said, I’m twelve inside.)

Think folding chairs into folding chair’s bag….panic attack. I don’t know which side goes in first. And then I get all bothered with everything that sticks and snags and acts stubborn. I often carry my portable lawn chair in one hand and the designated bag for said chair in the other hand. It’s just how my life is.

I have to figure out if I am going to ask the very, very kind looking woman at the table diagonal to me if she would watch my laptop. However she is deep in conversation, and though her friendly eyes beckon me, I cannot help but visualize her running away with my laptop, all the while smiling in her delight, and screaming: “Ha, ha!  You are over-trusting!”

I am now starting to run through in my brain the very feasible scenario of what will happen if I do in fact piddle in my pants.

I really want to keep my place, my cozy spot on the couch; so I am setting my book on the coffee table alongside my scarf, and letting the thoughts of new book and pretty purple ruffled scarf being stolen saturate and then spill out of my brain. I take in a deep breath, wondering if the bow in the back of my coat is in actuality cute or just plain silly for my age.

Deep sigh, stepping forward, while balancing laptop. Glancing back to reassure myself that my spot is still marked and claimed. Thoughts of a dog peeing on a bush to claim his territory enter briefly. Wondering if anyone is in the bathroom and hoping I can reach the sanctuary of the porcelain pot in time.

Passing people.

Standing upright, trying to look confident. Knowing when I stand too upright that my body is bendy-like and I look like a stretchy doll. Smiling, knowing I don’t feel natural when I smile and that likely my eyes are super wide, eyebrows raised, and I look freakishly over-caffeinated.

“Squirrel. Squirrel!” The dog barked in full elation: That sums up my expression, surely.

And so the first threshold is reached:

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Back stepping. Where is the dishes window? WHAT is a dishes window. Holding legs closer together. Calculating if I feasibly have enough time left.

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Which one do I take. “Excuse me Ms. Is this the right key?” Holding any random key up. Wondering how many bathroom doors there will be.

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Go through door to find long hallways and more doors and more signs!!!

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Indeed. More directions. Lovely.

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Staring this image down. What if someone is already inside? I hear water running. Do I wait?

How do I scan this fricken plastic card?

A lovely young man arrives, and smiles. “Do you need help? Are you having trouble figuring out what to do?”

“Ummmm,” I say meekly with goofy teenage-grin. “What if someone is inside? Do I enter?”

He is smiling, I think, but I can’t tell, because I am staring at my boots. He offers: “You can just….”

And POOF, the door magically opens as the other female patron exits, and I slip inside, red-faced and flustered and scolding my cute little kidneys.

Mission accomplished.

Quick photo snap of a relieved woman, looking, (not surprisingly), drunk and haggard.

As I’m summing up the last details of my excursion in typed print, the friendly looking gentlemen to my left (lots of men in this coffee shop) he pauses, and glances my way, and asks, “Would you mind keeping an eye on my laptop for a minute?”

Overly zealously, I accept.

I must look trustworthy, I think. Or remind him of his mother.

The irony of the handsome lad’s question settles.

I spend the next five nervous minutes wondering what I would actually do if someone snatched up his laptop. Would I chase them? Would I scream?

I panic.

So much for designating Thursdays as my public outing days…..

262: Healing: Falsehoods and Rotten Apples

| Aspergers Girls

Sometimes I download information.

The following message came to me yesterday afternoon in the form of a vision during a James Bond action movie at the local theater. Not the best time, I say while laughing. Nonetheless, I took in as much as possible. I believe I do not do the visions justice as they come through a channel I cannot duplicate with words.

Whether this  message breathes from a corner of my mind, the collective unconscious, my angels, or other, I make no claim; I only share what I see. I found this fascinating myself, and the process has freed up much stagnant energy in me.

Interestingly enough, I have processed through many relationships and “gunk” these past couple weeks at high intensity, and this processing has freed up much space inside of me.

The more I process, the more rapidly information collects within me, and the more I process out. This current post led to a deep philosophical discussion between my husband and myself, which inevitably led to more healing and recognition.

I currently like how things are rolling; though painfully gut-wrenching in experience at moments, the joy I feel is equal in measure. Thank you for being part of this journey. I count you as a true blessing.

In addition, I would like to share, that after writing post 261, I was able to release a lot of frustration and lost hope, and see and hold the individual mentioned in the post with more love and forgiveness. So something is working; I’d rather not dwell on the source of my continuing emotional and physical healing, but rather embrace the occurrence and give thanks.

I’d thought about deleting post 261, as my nature is not to spew harmful intention or words of any sort, and I know the vibration of the words are not of my typical writing. Yet, I chose to keep the post, as I am part of the human condition that endures times of deep suffering and doubt, and don’t want to present myself without flaws and confusion at time. Again, I chuckle, as this whole blog seems to be one big blemish exposed to the world. In peace ~ Sam

Falsehoods and Truth

Some say I am crazy, a magical thinker, a dreamer, a pretender, someone to avoid and beware.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am an attention-seeker, self-centered, someone with too much inside my own head, someone to correct and humble.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am fooling myself, I have created this calling, I am trying too hard, someone who lacked love in youth trying to compensate through sacrifice.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I should paint these pages with images and quotes of their prophet, savior, or deity, that I am someone misguided, misinformed, not awaken.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am ugly, big-nosed, big-eared, and old, someone to be fixed, repaired, or enhanced.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am an example, living truth of light and goodness, someone to be adored, someone to aspire to be.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am loving and sweet and kind, and adorable, someone to cherish, and hold, and uplift

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am wise, beyond my years, selfless, giving, someone who can prophesize and help others.

This is a falsehood.

For when I accept one truth, I must too accept the rest.

I cannot pick what I choose from the collection of illusions and discard the rest. The rest remain.

When I accept others’ perceptions of me that I deem beneficial, then I must also accept others’ perceptions of me that I deem non-beneficial.

I do not have the power within me to decipher others’ views and decide which are real and which are false.

I do not have the pride in me to take what I value as uplifting, and ignore the rest.

In truth, every word whispered is alive, and in so being a truth of its own form.

In truth, every thought born is alive, and in so being a truth of its own form.

I have not the capacity, nor want, to siphon through a multitude of endless words and thoughts focused upon me to decide which is real and which is fantasy—which is accurate and which is false as applies to my worth and identity.

All are false and all are true.

All are a falsehood, and in being so all are a truth.

They speak of the illusion I am.

They speak of the mystery that cloaks my true self.

That beneath these layers of illusion of word and thought, at my core is where I breathe.

I can only be sensed in silence, at another’s very soul.

And there, I rest, love upon love, the essence of another.

And so, today, as every day forward, I recognize the falsehoods as truth unfolded as illusion.

I recognize every thought of judgment I too hold, every evaluation my mind makes from habit and survival, is mere illusion.

That as I am love: As are you.

And I release the demands I have placed upon your soul to form you into something other than love.

I release the need to lessen you, to build me.

I release the need to build you to make my reflection brighter.

I release, and rerelease, over and over, with the still voice of love whispering: Illusion.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Apple Tree

There grows an apple tree, in the valley, upon a hill, and there the people gather, one by one; they collect the apples green and ripe, still hanging from the tree, or nearly fallen; if still good, even a semblance of good, they gather

In other ways and times and places the apples appear golden, red, or mixed between; still they are gathered in the same manner, as people set about to gather what is deemed salvageable and decent.

Yet, on the ground remains the rejected, the left, the abandoned, stepped on and forgotten. Some overlooked, some lifted and dropped, some bitten into and spit out with distaste.

And too, up above, on the branches once full, remain the other fruit, the ones marked by time, or insect, or bite of animal friend. Those as well remain, slipped through fingers and not taken from where they live.

The people, they take the apples, and they create, they divulge, they slice and cook, they dice and dunk, they mix and drink. The apples chosen are greeted mostly with delight. Fed upon. Eaten to the very core. Tossed out when no longer needed. Or perhaps set in bin or yard to decompose into ground. Still they are used. They are gathered. They are wanted.

People do the same with words. People stand outside the tree of words and watch with wonder. They have an ache and need to feed upon the words. To digest the words. To take the words. They stand outside the tree and pick what they want to keep, and pass by what they deem distasteful, rotten, or flawed. They avoid the words of bruises and blemishes. They step upon the words of rotten worms.

What people forget is that the words left, like apples, to fall or stay resting upon the ground, broken and forgotten, do not weep. They rejoice. For they are the nurturers of the earth; the chosen ones to feed the soil and meek and tiny animals of the earth. They are the source of newness, rebirth, delight, and new blossoms of spring. They are the deep seeds that rest in the cold and darkness alone to begin again in light or to be taken away to distant land, by wing of flight or animal travels.

When you gather your words. When you collect your words, to signify who you are as a person, who you are as a soul, you cannot just pick and choose the very best apples. You cannot say: This is me, because she says so or he says so. You cannot just be the desirable apples. You are as one with nature. You, too, are the apple on the ground, stomped on and forgotten, bleed out to the earth to be reborn. You too are the distasteful and unwanted. If you are to collect the highest brightest apples, you must also recognize the fallen and forgotten apples. They are all aspects of yourself. Each and everyone. None greater or lesser. All serving purpose and truth.  You are a rotten apple. You feed the earth.

Thoughts on Healers/Leaders

  1. He or she recognizes life is ever-changing, that nothing stays the same, and thusly no list of a true leader can ever exist; that to scribe a list, to produce a list, in actuality goes against their belief system. A belief system that in and of itself shifts based on the release of attachment and widening of awakening.
  2. He or she prays or meditates or visualizes or simply thinks without thinking the potentiality and path of the higher good for all beings, whether this affects his or her current state of serenity.
  3. He or she will recognize a truth that vibrates from the core level of a person. A truth that is sometimes based on fear and false messages to self. He or she will recognize his or her own vibrational level and inner core truth, and help lift the vibration of the seeker to an optimal level through seeing, words, or simply holding the person in thought or light.
  4. He or she will sense the presence of a vibrational force in and throughout the world, in objects, thoughts, and words, as well as what is deemed living and/or breathing. He or she will have a reverence for all thing and people, and strive for unconditional love and acceptance.
  5. He or she will question both his or her actions and choice, until a time comes when action and choice moves freely in open form, embracing and loving without thought or intention.
  6. He or she will accept his or her truth as passing and pliable, easily shifted and reformed. Nothing is deemed stagnant or unmoving, even stagnation in and of itself is seen as a powerful energy, as are all things when seen in particular light.
  7. He or she will have released most, if not all, attachments and will for material gain and recognition, and hold instead the good of all as aspiration and goal. Such goals in and of themselves are offered as release, as well, as attachment to goal is too attachment in form.
  8. He or she will not see things in degrees or categories of right and wrong, or good and bad; instead the meeting point between to concepts deemed opposite shall be sensed as a vast expansive universe onto itself, incapable of comprehension or refinement. In sensing such a vast endless cavern separating two extremes, he or she will thusly understand the varying degrees of separateness of right and wrong are impossible to pinpoint, for there is no place to place a pin in an ever-expanding universe.
  9. He or she will look upon others with kindness reflected in manner, breath, presence, and perception. They will radiate light and love, and be understood as one who heals from near or far.

10. He or she will create a climate for healing through words or thoughts, providing shelter for the weary and searching without pride or condensation, see him or herself as equal, a soldier too, to self and ego, and wanderer indeed, ever-moving and journeying through tides and truths.

Yes..all these messages I heard/saw/sensed/felt/experienced during the first scenes of high-speed car chases and train escapes. Isn’t life grand!

And life isn’t all seriousness and such….sometimes it’s about finding the perfect little red dress for an upcoming event…or almost perfect! Still dress hunting….