363: Gluttony and Surrender

I am really struggling with gluttony. Not in the over-indulgence-of-substance modern-day view of gluttony, but in the John of the Cross way. Gluttony in the sense of being one who applies too much self-affliction, self-persecution, and self-punishment. I’ve had this “issue,” or decree of self-annihilation of self from self, since I can recollect, particularly surfacing about the time of puberty.

I get locked into this dance of enough and not enough, real and not real, opinion and not opinion, hanging myself on a loom of remorse of never finding the answers. I am stuck on this pendulum and all I can hear is the tick-tick-ticking of which way. Do I cling to the wall on the left or the wall on the right; or do I find a way to make the pendulum swing the direction opposite of east-west, and spring out ahead north or fall behind south. Or do I jump off of the pendulum and sink into the dark unknown abyss. I don’t know. But I know I am tired of my reasoning-brain, this spill of logic that dives into every thought I have.

The only time I feel at peace is when I am in a state of meditation (grace) and connection (to Holy Spirit), which I can now acquire for up to six hours straight. This time with source is beyond wonderful and the beauty is indescribable.

However there exists one major problem: I now feel like two people.

I feel like this higher-self, this ideal me, the one I have always wanted to reconnect with. But I also feel like this other person, this other me. The other me is where I am at right now. This other me is where I am having difficulty being.

This ideal me, she has it together, really does. She loves and serves unconditionally. She lives in the moment. She is pretty fabulous. She also, through all of this, manages to be humble and so very giving.

The problem occurs when she disappears, or slips back, or falls asleep, or goes somewhere, perhaps skydiving with the angels, and I am back, facing me in the mirror, a face I don’t recognize in a body I do not want. I am in essence lost, having had just been to a place beyond imagination of divine love and inherent goodness. It is this attachment to the higher power I long for and live for that continues to slip out of my grasp and leave me to wonder what happened, and if indeed I imagined everything.

At a logical level I know something is happening beyond myself. Too many dreams have come true, too many intuitive knowings, too many connections, “coincidences,” signs, recognitions, and premonitions materializing. I recognize this, but no proof seems enough when dealing with that which still remains unattainable and unimaginable, at least not in the state I am in this very moment, one of the fallen me, left abandoned waiting to reconnect with the infinite divine.

There is more happenings as well; beyond the empathic abilities, the visions, the ability to scribe deep philosophical prose from seemingly nowhere, there is my husband, whom is known to be a skeptic and prone to Mr. Spock Vulcan like tendencies. He sees the miraculous changes in me and is in awe of the visions and writings I share; so much so in fact that he has taken a liking to referring to himself as Mrs. Noah, like the Biblical Noah’s wife. Wherein I get all the glory and he works diligently in the background.

I can’t deny some dynamic shifts have taken place. My healing visions have materialized, people have contacted me I knew I would meet, and I have connected with such spectacular and marvelous people from all over the world, many whom have become friends and confidants. All is happening in a wonderful way. Joy-filled connections daily and heart-endearing messages. I am beyond thankful, but still remains this lingering doubt.

As much as I experience these visions and write these writings, I still question my own ability and worthiness. Primarily these are the same doubts I have had my entire life. I have the same record playing in the background.

Though I have much transitioned, and have gained tremendous peace, self-acceptance, serenity and love of myself and others, I still have this part of me whom wonders why. Could it be the decades of searching has finally materialized the part of me that was lost, and that in finding my own vocation and life’s purpose another part of me, the same part that held me back for so many years, is here trembling in the corner denying such a reality exists?

For in the corner I hear drenching thoughts of: I am no one special. I am just this flawed stumbling human being endowed with troubling thoughts I cannot purge, fear I cannot conquer, and tears that continually flow. I am ultimately imperfection, unworthy of the extreme goodness and joy I am afforded.

And all this surfaces, while the other me, the observer, she steps back in form and watches, her smile wide, her heart open, whispering surrender, sweet one, surrender.

330: There are NO Pants, but wave to the trees!

^^^ 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.

Photo on 2-12-13 at 8.43 AM

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!

322: The Observer

I am experiencing a great shift in consciousness as of late, and am stepping back and watching two characters of self emerge. One part of self is clinging to the label of spiritual awakened and one part of self is clinging to the label of Aspergers.

In a direct sense, both selves are neither right or wrong, they are merely playing out a game at an unconscious level inside of me.

What is interesting is to watch this other self I be: the observer.

Thusly, inside of my mind I am able to see 1) the two ego selves at battle for power, 2) the observer watching the ego’s game, and 3) one in lesser form watching the observer.

When I try to step out beyond the third level, the place in which one is watching the observer, there doesn’t seem to be a fourth level, and all I can see is black or even the absence of color.

I am beginning to see, or further seeing, the world and my mind at complex levels, and reacquainting myself with truths that seem more familiar to me than my very own self, or more recently selves.

Coincidence after coincidence is occurring, and dreams are revealing to me events. The walks I partake in through nature are coming too with images of the future. Some of this, actually most of this, is nothing new to me; what is new is the intensity, the frequency, and the verification from others of what I am experiencing.

I do not know what is happening, but I seem to be tapped into a higher –frequency of sorts, almost as if I be an old-fashioned television and someone has lifted and extended a long metal antenna from my very being.

What is new, as well, when compared to my childhood, is the darker side of this is no longer affecting me. There is a new found peace, and with this peace a knowing that brings me a sense of safety and protection, as if a legion of guardians, angels, and ancestors have formed lines and are marching to show their support and unyielding faith in me.

I feel overwhelmed with love for people and animals; and the observer part of self perceives others in a way I never thought possible. This observer does not seem to have any attachment to things, people, or even life. He is one that would willingly sacrifice self, even without calling it sacrifice, for sacrifice itself involves ego. He would simply release and be.

There is a calmness with the observer that very much resembles serenity. I have found an increasing amount of energy flowing through my body, both my hands and feet, but particularly with the whole of my body feeling much aglow.

As of late, I am having difficulty holding onto fear. Though, I recognize the emotion comes; however when fear appears it is liken to a small ripple of water; wherein before the fear was like a tsunami. I am able to stand inside the ripple and watch the effect of fear within and without. I am able to see where this fear is and where it is carried. I am able to feel this fear, understand fear’s source, and then release.

I am understanding that the clinging of labels is unnecessary in the higher sense; that Aspergers itself is only a means to an end, a way to connect like soul to like soul, to bring community together; perhaps to bring more observers to the light.

Through the observer, I can see clearly the complexity of the mind. Through my own complexity, I can understand others like me in their complexity. I can see clearly the reason I am here and how my calling is manifesting healing in self, and healing in others. I understand that this is nothing to do with me, and entirely to do with source.

This is what I saw in vision that I will try to explain, as it came in quick picture without explanation, almost as an injection of thought. I am not used to understandings coming so fast, but it seems that some of my recognitions are coming now without the use of words, and even beyond the use of images; how this is happening, I have no idea, and why this is happening, I have no idea either.

The understanding I have been given is this:

1) I have a complex mind.

2) Because I have a complex mind, I have complex thoughts.

3) Because I have complex thoughts, ego runs rampant with idea after idea, and connection after connection inside my mind (see the previous post for example).

4) Because I have so many thoughts running rampant, I cannot simply let go, silence my mind, or use common means to release.

5) Because I cannot utilize common means, I am forced to find escape; this escape comes in the form of verbally processing through speech and writing, this escape comes through extreme focus, fixations, fantasy, special interest, and creation.

6) Because I escape, I am able to produce phenomenal amounts of work in a short period of time; the downfall being that I am missing out on my own life, because I am spending endless hours in mode of escape, in an attempt to escape my own thoughts, brought on by my complex mind.

7) Because I can produce a lot in a limited amount of time, I can also analyze my mind in limited time at a deep level and study the very happenings inside self, through this emerging observer.

8) With observer as witness I am able to release a lot of self-doubt, fear, and non-beneficial emotion. With observer I am able to watch ego and study my own thought processes.

9) The observer was only able to come when I was willing to look closely at thought and thusly expose ego and self-driven wants and needs, such as: attention, fame, and acknowledgment.

10) I was able to release the self-driven needs through much observation and prayer, and by tapping into a part of self that only wanted to serve and love.

11) By tapping into the part that only wants to serve and love, I was able to not remove ego, but to step outside and watch ego further, acknowledging that whenever an emotion of fear, want, need, defense, or upset of any type emerged that in fact it was ego taking over.

12) By being able to recognize ego readily, I was further able to refine my want to serve and love, and to begin to save the excess energy that was used before in ego’s attempt to acquire acceptance and validation.

13) I was able to recognize ego enough to start to remove intention, want or need from my writings; in turn my writings reflected the inner me and honesty, which enabled me to reach out more fully and freely to find other like souls; which in turn gained me the acceptance and validation ego was originally seeking.

14) This acceptance and validation was temporarily pleasing, until I realized that to accept validation also meant to accept insult and injury.

15) With this understanding of the double-nature of others perception of my self, I was able to release the want and need for any type of acknowledgment of “right” or “wrong” based on an outside perception and opinion.

16) With this release I delve deeper into my own self and ego, and gorged out the lies and untruths that surfaced there. One upon the next I wiped out the fears that were mere phantoms. I did this quite unexpectedly and oftentimes unwillingly, as events presented themselves to challenge me and my new found truth.

17) I began to see that everything related to fear was an illusion and that only love existed, once I stepped out of the need to be lifted by others, and once I stepped back into faith.

18) Ultimately it was my faith in something higher than self that I bleed my soul into, through prayer and through walking in high-awareness every minute of the day.

19) In this walking and prayer I was granted a serenity unknown to me before.

20) In this way, I can walk into the world, walk into an environment with other people, and step outside of the ego self and live as observer. In the state of observer all the fears are gone. My only thought is of listening to another and loving another and helping another.

21) In the state of observer I do not worry about conversation. I do not worry about anything. Instead I feel filled with light and peace, and simply exist as a reflection of another. In this state of observer, I can listen to each word with a gentle calmness, thinking nothing about what I want to say or contribute, and only thinking of the other person.

22) There is no fakeness, no effort, no ingeniousness involved as the observer, and seems to be a place of no ego; though in stating there is no ego, ego simply slips back in; so to say so without saying so becomes predicament.

23) I have concluded through this process of my own self that there are key elements I needed in order to find peace of mind. One is connecting to some source greater than self that need not be a religion or specific spiritual practice, but need be a source. A second is humbly submitting to said source repeatedly and walking in awareness of this goal and effort. Thirdly a sacrifice through self-examination and release of fear. Wherein the fear is held up to the light and all frailties of self exposed. Fourth, once exposed, ego must temporarily step in and seek support and connection of some kind while rebuilding and regrounding. Lastly, a disconnection of ego is necessary through trials and challenges brought on through higher-self.

24) This is my experience. I do not think it is the right way or only way, but simply the experience I was brought through.

25) I am not complete in awakening, and know that when I think I am, I am not, an only when I am no longer attached to awakening will I truly be awakened; which is a dynamic paradox I cannot venture to grasp. But I know that I walk in a light and love. I know, too, that now I see a great sadness in many people, and a huge heaviness; the energy I used to feel and collect at a subconscious level is now at a conscious level. As is my own pain. I can now pinpoint my pain and often know from whom or from what thoughts the pain has come through. I can also often release this pain.

26) I am not in a state of awe or grandiose thinking; I am not manic; I am not giddy and joy-filled; but I am very much at peace. There is not a façade of healing surrounding me, in which I want to be a healer so I live and act like a healer. The healing is radiating from within without instruction or want. This is new to me, this being without effort. Yesterday, I did experience my first moments of overwhelming joy in which I saw signs/omens in nature; I was overcome with extreme understanding and love, and literally was laughing hysterically for ten minutes like a mad woman. Interestingly enough at that very moment I had flashes and images of all the ones that have come before me laughing hysterically, and I felt extremely connected and whole in my journey. I have never heard such effortless and joyous sound in my life.

27) My main struggle now is one of humility; a struggle that God is continuing to answer for me. He has shown me that my fear of pride is also ego-based and an attachment to a goal and ownership of accomplishment; that accomplishment being the achievement of humility. He has shown me that because I continually ask for humility and am against pride that these natural thoughts and wishes, in and of themselves, display my heart and want for humility. I cannot go into detail with my humility journey, as to me this seems prideful and self-serving in and of itself; but I say this for those that are also struggling with this part of their journey; because as was scribed in the Wounded Warrior, humility is one of the markers of the healer.

28) I work now towards no longer working towards anything, and just being. I accept I do not know what this transition will look like, but I know that with my trust in my higher power and true wish to heal, serve and love others that I am walking in the light.

29) I will continue to strive towards being the best I can be while continually detaching from ego, though even this gives ego spotlight; and so I will fumble like many others, as I try to find the meeting point between submission and honor of self.

30) This concludes my thoughts, and I hope to continue to walk with a clear mind and in a state of peace.

314: The Sword of Truth

I think from where I come from there are no wolves.

I think where I used to live there are lots of givers and seekers and dreamers.

I think where I used to stand there was a huge glowing light of acceptance and love.

I think I was surrounded by kinship.

I think I was supported for my truth and vision.

I think that some of us have come from somewhere else, still carrying our light.

And I am often so very homesick.

I am careful. And I grow tired of this carefulness.

For where I come from, I don’t think there was this word careful, or at least not the implications and stitching that created the concept of careful. It is backwards, this word, backwards indeed. For to be careful one moves back into fear, always back, and I just don’t think fear existed where I was before.

Yet, still, this careful seems to be the sword I carry, unable to set it down, unable to really use it effectively, as all things stemmed from fear produce nothing but more fear. No beauty comes from careful. No beauty at all.

Though when I attempt to set down this phantom sword, coated in fear’s gold it be, I am pierced as if ribbons of shield have been peeled down about my chest and daggers thrown through, one upon the other; no less victim than victorious one, but still shattered and broken, staggering pain replacing the falsehood of fear.

And here, where I now stand, pained, there seems to be flowers of strife, shooting up black and withered-whole in bleakness from the dead and dying ground; these flowers seem to be trickery, enticing trickery, bleed out upon us in satisfaction, though empty-satisfaction it be.

And I watch as others pick at the illusion. Pick away.

And I want to shout: Careful; though I know this careful, as black flowers dead, does not exist.

And I stand witness, these wolves about, painting flowers black themselves, in hopes of passerby. Eating up self, though poison it be. Lapping at the dark fed out and bled out.

And I know not what to do, with this truth of illusion, of these givers who give not, of these wanters who want not, of all these dancers in illusion, from where I stand aware.

Shall I stop? Shall I watch? Shall I just breathe and wait for the embers of their very own self-inflicted fires to dim? Shall I dare touch while flame still scorches—to stand in the path created by the field-seekers, the ones destined to not so much fail, but to fall into self in a way so foreign that self is forgotten and all that remains is dim hope calling out from the corners of unreachable nowhere.

What do I dare do, when home calls out to me, some forever beacon lifting the veil of my senses and perspective? Do I call out, or stand here drowning in the destructive showers of reason mankind thrusts upon me?

What shall be my way, when I can barely touch and find where I am meant to be?

For I am not some forever-masked dancer bending down in retreat and hollowing burrows for my own escape. I am this dance within dance. I am the music without form. I am what moves the other to ecstasy and what cowers in the darkness afraid to shine.

For where I look, I know not what to do, but to sit out at the edges and wait while the divine calls me forward, motions me with finger-light:

“Come my child, come. Come dance in this place of no dance. Eat in this place of no eatery. Divulge thyself in the goodness that is naught, so you may pierce thine own heart and bleed out the falseness of the world.

Come my child, to this place of darkness and shine bright, shed the mask for my glory, and see me in all. Placate me, this once. Dance in the danger pleading for rescue. Dance in the danger diving for retreat amongst the living. Fear this place as I have feared and then move beyond the fear, to the one you recognize, to your home, that stands waiting beneath the dance, beneath the tango of refuge, beneath the floor, beneath the music, behind the masks of makers; find me there, amongst the dance, before you forget where I be.”

And I respond, a shivering leaf of one, no less and no more than the piles of eternity before and beyond me:

Blow me to this place of sorrow, to this place of pain, to the deepest place of hurt, and let me bleed. Let me gorge out my own eyes so that I may see.

Let me dance out my own steps, until my own feet give way, and I am forced to be carried away to the darkness of my own making.

Take me and lead me to this valley, with my own hands and own mind, take me.

Take me, like you have my masters before me, and spread me out in painted red, so I may bleed and in this bleeding weep out the tears of all.

Take me and pound me into the earth, my veins the very mystery of your forever soul. For there is not taking in the making of one, there is no giving in the haunting whispers of sorrow’s song, only misery beyond misery, plight of the foreigner in foreign land.

Least let me not suffer for self and self alone. Let me suffer for all. For in my own suffering may I find release in the reckoning that my suffering be not in waste, and not of need of rescue or refinement, but fortified by your wishes and ever-movement, blended with your glory and honor, and slaughtered out in division of whole as bounty for the wolves.

Let me be the bait for the misery and enticed ones; let me be the horror that the others seek in self, so I might find the avenue of retreat beyond the hauntings that no longer exist beneath your sheltered wings.

Let me cry out to the world, so loudly that my own piercing deafens the silence that besets me. The silence of where I once stood in knowing.

Whisper me back into the place of forgiveness. Speak me into being. Beyond the valley of your goodness, carry me home.

Breathe into me, I beseech you. Breathe into me your goodness, so I may erase all that is flawed and forged, all that is forgotten. Breathe into me so I may awake refueled and renewed, a star child no less bright than the dimmest star but still existing in your painted sky of eternity.

Feed me from the misery I pour out; turn what is wasteland in to purity, the soils rich with your own bounty and making. Dim me once and then again. Smother me so I can sit in the darkening nowhere. Dim me so I may not know my own face, my own ways, my own words. Dim me into the doom of doom so I may awaken rebirthed again and again in your glory.

For it is not the darkness I fear. It is neither the wolves or the shield of fear that carries me back. It is thy own self, wrapped in the misery of others’ before me and beyond. It is my own wishing, my own doing, my own bending, turning me round and round to the place from whilst I came. Turning me over to see that what is beneath is also about, beyond, and within. Making me this that is naught to return me to that which is eternal in sunrise gone. The light beyond light illuminating not from the desire of one but from the unity of whole.

For here is my sword of truth, turned sideways in fashion so fear begets the emptiness from which it came. Here is my sword positioned without cause or pretense. Dripping out the substance of nothing upon nothing until vanishing in the banquet of your coming.

Samantha Craft, 2013 February