Who am I, this mystery before me, both below and outward, both inside and beneath reason?
Who am I, this single dancer in a circus line of creatures mistaken as self, whilst all about this singular is nowhere?
Who am I, this bewildered child screaming out of the darkness, whilst light is everywhere, immersing my doubt in the seeded-bed of nutriment.
Am I but my shadow, the edges of me formed by the objective angle, by the instrumental being of sun at play with madness?
Am I but marionette set to strings or the more: this twisted master puppeteer snarling and snapping from up above, laughing at the ownership of chance?
Am I the singer tethered inside shell, severed voice blocked and thusly returned by thine own harbored walls?
Am I this rice, this grain, this planted web, tangled beneath the soil of enrichment, begging within a beating substance to escape the depths from where breath labors?
Am I a blinded legless one, slithering through the streets of reason, slipping through skin in regeneration, hoping passerby will collect the shed of what’s been?
Am I the monk with cymbals, clanging-metal-smile-creator, discontented-sorrow-seeker placating the rebel masses, born into appeasement?
Am I the voice without time, the rhythm without cause, the ocean without water, the mountain without foundation? Am I merely floating in a nonsensical nonexistence, wading and wavering through that which is naught and cannot be found?
Am I dropped here, a foreigner, with all the ripened senses plucked out of me, so I may spend eternity searching for the one I once was?
Helpless at my very seams, I am.
The most of all not mended, not fixed, not finished, left to wander with the stuffing jumping outside into teasing freedom, my insides deserting captain, torn empty, this incomplete form.
I am this.
I am this universal measure in incompletion, steadying myself on untrained legs in an untrained world. Jumping through hoops that neither exist or appear, but manage to bruise the very essence from where I gather semblance and substance and order.
Hollowed I am, in the shape of the corner of the mind, bleached by the external force of unknown, blanched and then blanketed in a knowing of unknowing, taught of the presence of presence, and moment within moment, but then tortured by the possibilities that endlessly speak of nowhere.
I am this vulture starved of the carrion, starved of the self, starved of what would be me inside the mirror, if image appeared. And yet I am meant to be in some way here, as if here was evermore spoken.
And thusly I clamber and shake, my own boots too big for the climbing, my own answers too heavy to be held in the limited chambers of thought’s engine.
And I trumpet, one part bleeding out to the other parts, to prove a lingering hypothesis of ever expansion. Until the weariness speaks louder than the want. Until release beckons like the child’s grave that speaks out to broken mother. Unbendable matters beckoning forth from somewhere bleak but lacking bleakness, formed of unspoken words and erased images that never were.
Here is where the artist’s invisible and imagined heart is purged, here in the incremental sewing of the energetic threads of the absence of self.
Here I exist: as the pudding poured out from the sharpening of nothing.
The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they’re alive.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
I Wish It So
I choose love. I promote love. I radiate love.
I choose honesty. I promote honesty. I radiate honesty.
I choose hope. I promote hope. I radiate hope.
I choose leadership over victimization.
I choose knowledge over ignorance.
I choose to vanquish all negative thoughts.
I choose to reflect the goodness of the world.
When I feel lost I will point the way for someone else.
When I feel alone I will assist those in isolation.
When I sense hopelessness and despair, I will rise out of the ashes of my own tears and shine brightly.
I refuse to be anything less than authentic, genuine, and real.
I refuse to believe that happiness exists in anything or anyone.
I accept I am enough, and that where I am is where I need to be.
When all about me voices are tarnishing and raping the beauty of life, I shall stand up strong in my worth.
I shall not falter; I shall not fail: for these words no longer exist in my vocabulary.
My voice is my truth and my truth my voice.
What is spoken is from source and heart alone, and what is left unsaid I release into the abyss to be transformed into stars.
I, myself, am fiery passion. I shall not allow shame to shadow my cause; nor shall I allow my cause to shadow my passion.
I am in completion entirely, perfection in my mind, body, and soul.
All else deemed wrong or incorrect is an illusion.
I surround myself with people who love me and choose to see me as a source of beauty.
I surround myself with the innocent of heart and warriors of purpose. A purpose that is not singular onto themselves, but collective for the good of the all.
I quench my insatiable desire for more, knowing I have enough.
I stop in my steps, still within, and acknowledge the blessings around me.
I know who I am, what I am, and why I am.
I refuse to let anyone else create me into another.
I shall not fail myself, nor my sister or brother. When I follow the light, I cannot fail.
I sacrifice myself as a vessel, knowing my sacrifice further grows my love and my light.
I cannot be vanquished or put out. There is nowhere I can be placed where I will not shine. There is no punishment that shall whip the light out of me, and equally no man to extinguish my flame.
I stand, whether alone or together, as an equal to my fellow beings, in the line of any happenstance.
I trust my road is paved with the intention of wholeness and the gifts of peace.
I trust my truth to be my guide.
I shall not be weak and suffer, for there is nothing I cannot transform into joy.
I am but clay, and I choose moment by moment to mold myself into a shape of glory.
Where my edges were once sharp, now they are dull.
Where whispers once haunted, now there is silence.
Where distaste erupted, now there is sweetness.
I see no ill will inside of another. I see no blame. I see no wrong. I see only myself standing as observer.
My scope is neither limiting nor vast; my vision is only as I wish. If I choose to see the narrowness of man, then that is what shall appear before me. If I choose to see the limitlessness of love, then this is what shall bathe me.
When I splash in your goodness, I too splash in my own.
Together we are united; yet even in times of distance and separation, I remain with you.
For I have carved you into the vessel of myself; each blade inflicted so that I may carry you in times of isolation. I do not ask that you carry me in return, but that you only let yourself shine, so that I may be warmed within your love.
If there ever comes a time I am unable to answer you with warmth, trust that I am cold, and offer me comfort.
If there ever comes a time I am unable to answer you with laughter, trust that I am dancing with sorrow, so that I may emerge reborn with further joy.
Trust that I am here to love you for no other reason than to love.
Trust there is nothing you can do or say that will tarnish my love for you.
For I have seen my beauty, and know this beauty was birthed in you.
You are my form doubled and multiplied. You are blessed and my blessing.
There is no end and no beginning; you are infinitely adored and beseeched for your goodness.
When you feel depleted, ask yourself whom or what you have given your power to. And return this power onto yourself ten-fold. Believe you are of worth and feed your own soul so you may be nurtured and whole in your journey of light.
Step outside the fantasy of tomorrow and yesterday, and breathe in the moment of now, for there is nothing outside of this moment.
If ever there comes a time that you are in doubt, reach out your hand and know I am waiting to take hold, to touch what is both me, and not me, an intricate creation that both lives and breathes within and without me.
I am nothing but your sister, your brother, but in this I am everything. And as I am everything, so thusly be you.
Do not bow your head in the misery of the world, instead lift up your eyes to the miracles of life. Search for me in the echoes of the valleys, in the sunrise and sunset, in the flight and in the fallen. Search for me, and I will answer.
There is no one before me more worthy than you, and no one else less than you and your needing. For we are filled with hope when we recognize we exist as hope.
In everything we do, be hope.
In everything you are, be beauty.
You have the power to change all for the betterment of creation.
The Difference between being humble and having low self-esteem
I asked a question this morning and was given the answer so very fast and in so much detail, I hurried downstairs to my computer to collect the thoughts I was processing. (A little bit to my dismay, as I was retired on the couch.)
All of what is written is in direct response to my inquiry: What is the difference between being humble and having low self-esteem? I found the answer quite surprising and interesting. Though the logic is somewhat complex and not as easy to follow (for me at least) as some of my prior blog entries, I find this intriguing and very mindful of the well-being of others.
In my vocational practice, I now have new eyes, in terms of seeing the label of low self-esteem in a new light as the season of awareness. How wonderful to replace a “lowly” label with the beauty of the seasons.
As is typical, I typed the words as quickly as I heard them. Besides minor corrections in commas to display clarity, all is in original format.
What is the difference between being humble and having low self-esteem?
This is an interesting question you propose, and one we could go into with great detail. At this moment, it is sufficient to explain in summary that of which could be chiseled into great detail.
This self-esteem you speak of is an oddity for us.
To assume there is a self, is to say there is a being that is innately and proportionately equal to a one. Since, inevitably, and in all circumstances, we are never alone, separate, or divided, there follows that there is not this one that you so reverently perceive.
Wholly and dutifully, of course, there is a mass, a large unit that collectively (by human standards) could feasibly be divided and segregated into parts. This is natural of the human mind to search for separation, to make sense out of chaos, to bring order in the face of disunion. Even when elements are in union, such as the Universal Whole (collective unconscious, or by whatever term you seek to justify your perception), this human mind, in its limitation, dissects the union into parts in order to make sense. This is not error, and least not we judge, this is mere evidential fact.
Mediocre in nature, the mind is not set to work alone, much as a clock’s hands are not meant to work without all the concerning parts that lead up to the façade of the timeless face. You see, originally, you knew this; and innately, beyond your five human senses, you currently recognize and, to a degree, celebrate that you remember this. Although with the passing of (what you perceive as) time you have deliberately forgotten this fact. This is important, (and we use this word intentionally, this word important), for you to remember; that is that you have deliberately forgotten to remember. This is on purpose, as there are no accidents; in actuality no “purposes” either, but rather the simple being inside of being.
This is taking us off the track, but nonetheless we mention this being inside being. When you reflect on whom you are and question who is in the process of reflecting, you see there is more than one, again the mirror within the mirror, the reflection within the reflection; in a small fleck of a gem sense, this is what we mean by the being inside the being. In this way alone, you are never alone. Besides the Universal Whole, you are a being within a being.
And your being is surrounded by multitudes of other beings. This is beneficial to remember. Then in looking back at the initial question of self-esteem, we see, in our perception (which is more of a sensing than perception) that there exists not this single self. Thusly, as we follow this path logically, we can say if there does not exist this self, there does not exist this esteem of something (self) that does not truly exist.
Still, we understand your question in great magnitude, and the significance of the question, as you and many like you battle (appropriate word we think) with your inner perceived self-esteem.
There is a mass confusion in the term self-esteem, a confusion that is emerging into something anew and akin to awareness. Here we drift to the right of the path and look at the word awareness.
For as we “see” it, the human frailty that resides in the image of self-esteem is properly and justly replaceable, and easily rendered rectified with the more pleasing and palatable term of self-awareness. This, replacing of the term self-esteem to that of the term self-awareness, automatically diminishes, if not washes out, the need for scales and hierarchies, that of which we have mentioned before do not “exist” or better yet “pertain” to our current existence.
In following, we have this emerging and rebirthing of self-awareness that shall lead us into greatness. This greatness is yet to be identified or discussed, but safe to say this greatness will outshine the previous darkness.
In examining the substance of self-awarness, we can determine if a person has holes in any area of awareness. Again, we avoid words such as “missing” or “lacking;” we instead focus on the exactness of being complete but having holes, or a sense of emptiness, as in the hungry bird needing nourishment. We’ve mentioned this before, and need not review.
Take as an example the battered woman who previously may be assumed and labeled in human terms to lack of self-esteem. In this we simply replace the verbiage lack of self-esteem with the collective words effectiveness of awareness. In using the word effectiveness we can consider the comparisons as follows: Effectiveness of Awareness is equivalent to: Helpfulness of awareness; success of awareness; value of awareness; and similar likelihoods. We can also consider this as how ready one is for this said action of awareness.
The meaning of the words Effectiveness of Awareness can be gathered further by analysis. You might ask: What was the effectiveness of the meditation? This can be restated as: Was the meditation effective?
In this way, it follows, in examining the core meaning of effectiveness of awareness, we may consider these following alternatives in viewing the meaning: Was the awareness effective? Is the awareness actual or in practice; did the awareness cause a desired or intended result; did the awareness produce a favorable impression.
We phrase the words in this manner to avoid having a “one” or “person” in the statement; so that what is being evaluated and compared in circumstance is not the human but the degree of awareness. This removes the human from fault. For there is no fault. All is as is should be.
Therefore, we can now see if this example is followed to its fullest potential in understanding, that awareness is replacing the perception of self-esteem.
When we look at this battered woman again, one who has not left her perpetrator, who is still in the eyes of many a “victim,” we might often utter the words low self-esteem or low self-worth. In this instance, we ask you to consider her to be in a state of clouded awareness.
There are many avenues to consider, but for now let us say she may not be aware of choices, may not be aware of help, many not be aware of opportunity. Still some will say what choice? What help? And in this we reply above all that there is the help of Source, Higher Guidance, Prayer, and Retreat into Inner Self.
Others will point that if she had self-esteem, she would have awareness. This does not make sense. We are all born with awareness. The quality or aptitude of “one’s” awareness is not based on a degree of self-esteem, when there is in essence no “self.” We see in your eyes the confusion. Understand a person is not lacking esteem, only “lacking” (we are utilizing this word “lacking” for comparison only) an awareness of their wholeness and purity. To assume esteem can be gathered like wild flowers in the field and then stored in the spirit is a falsehood. All the flowers you require you were born with. You are already beauty in all measure.
There is a temptation to say this battered woman lacks awareness. This is not true, for we all have awareness at some degree; she is never lacking awareness. Also, in the same line of thought, there will be a tendency to divide the awareness into degrees, so as to say a “lesser degree of awareness.” This is also not a truth. There is simply a differing degree, just as seasons differ in temperature, in foliage, and activity. Her awareness is no lesser or greater than another. Because winter in many places is colder does not make winter less than summer? Nor does spring trump fall. Who is to judge this greater or lesser degree? Who is to be the barometer? Who is to be the trumpeter blowing out the only sound of truth? Judging is like falling into the trap of a spider, flying forward without thought into an invisible thread that winds and divides you. Better to not judge and accept.
Now as we have reviewed and seemingly replaced self-esteem with effectiveness of awareness, we can look at humility. Humility is a mighty word of much potential and power: power in terms of dynamic change. Humility is also much misunderstood. The humble are in many guises, none lesser or greater than the other, as is in accordance.
In humility we find a bowing down in body, mind, spirit, and emotion, not to lessen oneself, but to greet another at the same place in time and experience. The humble do not see themselves as elevated or lowly, but equal in experience. Yet, they have the capacity to greet another exactly where the other needs to be greeted. Thus, if you open your door to a stranger who is blinded, you will also feel blinded, not in eyesight but in character and stature; rightfully so, as a humble being, you shall see yourself in this person.
The humble recognize themselves in each reflection be it beast or babe. In this we see the humble carry the clarity of effectiveness of awareness. We struggle with finding more apt words, and recognize the difficulty in this verbiage. Still, this serves the essence of what we are trying to convey. To some degree this can be said as the degree in which awareness is awakened, though we discourage this because again this requires a perception of evaluation. Who is more awakened? Who is less awakened? Again the spider’s web.
Another way is to say the season of awareness, where each season is seen as welcomed and required. Therefore, following, one might be in a winter of awareness, the snow drifting and covering their full viewing, while another is in the summer of awareness filled with a knowing light of understanding. All seasons come and go. No season is lesser or greater. In this we can make some sense.
In closing, today, we ask you to remember that human terms and words are so limiting, that the concept alone of even considering the dubious process of comparing two words is boggling. Expressing truths in letter form, where letters are merged to make a concept, creates a different perception for each reader. Not only is the meaning lost directly in the translation from us to you, but again lost in your interpretation, and what you then form on paper. Again, there is meaning lost in the next set of eyes that read these scribed words. So we ask that you allow the vibration of the words to serve you equally.
I am old enough to know that though I am the snowflake, unique and divine, I too melt into the familiar element of water.
I am old enough to know that I am seen by eyes of discernment and reason, divided and mixed into an illusion by the creator.
I am old enough to know that in a world of invented polarities, that if chance lives, then so must destiny.
I am old enough to know that to hold my deepest carved pain is to embrace the manifestation of sorrow as majestic joy set a slumber.
I am old enough to know that what I put inside comes out, and thusly, what I put out enters within.
I am old enough to know that I exist in the meeting point between question and answer, a universal foundation behind an imaginary zero.
I am old enough to know that I am thought, put together into a recognizable form based on experience.
I am old enough to know that I heal from without, by reaching beyond the limitless of accepting into the recognition of collective.
I am old enough to know that if time were to exist then I be but a child aged backwards.
I am old enough to know that truth exists in the absence of all sense and the absence of thought.
I am old enough to know that through the windows beyond the depths of my molecular structure, I am old enough to know.
~~~ By Samantha Craft, November 21, 2012
Dear Lord,
What do you want from me? I have endured so much suffering on so many levels for so very long, and I have remained loyal and faithful and true. I have never betrayed you or your wishes. I have continued to try my best, and try and try. I have prayed. I have wept. I have fallen down again and again. Even when I could not feel you, I rose up again and carried on. I am light. I know this. But I am darkness. And the darkness engulfs and strangles and terrifies, the intensity unnerving and never-ending. Tormented in dreams, in thoughts, in knowings. Seeing things others cannot. I am not an angel. I am not without end. I am not infinity. There is a point within me that ends. I feel it. I feel the wall, the pressure and the might of the world upon me. I cannot play these games of war, where I am both the feud and the field, trampled upon by my own doing. There is so much of me, that I swim and drown, and come up again breathless for your love. And you reach down, and hold, only I cannot feel you or know you—some form of absence you be. All around me are vibrations and energies and touch, a rhythm, and endless rhythm of three. You haunt me with the comings of protest and acceptance, of looking and revealing, of touching and stinging, of turmoil released, to only reveal more turmoil. I am layered and then layered again. The filling between me sectioned with micro-prisms of expansion. I am universe upon universe. I am told the secrets and the whispers, hearing the righteous words; yet walking alone. The treasure is thick and burdensome, and unfamiliar to strangers. I am mocked for what I carry or accepted for my secrets alone. My beauty is skin deep when draped in the mystery of you. They want not what they see, but what they feel, and I am made to weep as a vessel forgotten. I have pleaded, this small delicate one, from the insides of canvased walls, a babe weeping to her master. I have cried upon the fabric of night, the casing decorating my very soul, as tears carry away the mystery thus revealed. Humbled and humbled again, and still yet I beg for humility. A prideful veil I wear to match those with which I walk. I am moved asunder, beckoned by truth, yet ever made to be this flesh. For whatever it takes, I am yours. For whatever it takes, I am—as a wrecking ball upon myself, I crash and crush, decimating the horror within. I reach, further into desert soul, to bring out another upon another of mystery unknown and unspoken. And still you come, with chain and ball, to set the ways upon me, this child forlorn.
I found the original person’s name who wrote the following quote that has been circulating around social media pages; and then found the person’s promotional Facebook page. And I liked what I found. By the way, by the author’s account, NASA plagiarized his words below; that makes me feel like a kindred spirit. Not that NASA has stolen any of my work, yet. But they do do research on alien life, right? (hehe: I wrote do-do.)
“Consider that you can see less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum and hear less than 1% of the acoustic spectrum. As you read this, you are traveling at 220 km/sec across the galaxy. 90% of the cells in your body carry their own microbial DNA and are not “you.” The atoms in your body are 99.9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with, but they all originated in the belly of a star. Human beings have 46 chromosomes, 2 less than the common potato. The existence of the rainbow depends on the conical photoreceptors in your eyes; to animals without cones, the rainbow does not exist. So you don’t just look at a rainbow, you create it. This is pretty amazing, especially considering that all the beautiful colors you see represent less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum.” –Sergio Toporek
image from Wikipedia
2. Superb Self-Awareness
I admitted to myself that my fixation to blog has turned into a fixation to prepare my son’s homeschool curriculum; and laughing at the fact, that beyond eating and sleeping, all I did today was research. I can plan a month’s worth of curriculum and lesson plans in two days. Yes, I am that good…or quirky…or driven…or crazed. You pick. I don’t care.
In the little time I stopped obsessing over homeschool, I found this twin baby video someone had shared on Facebook…..oh….this is joy. I could feasibly be one of the first 20,000 people to see what is soon to have a million plus views! I’m always the last to know! Not this time.
4. Appreciating What Happens In Between
I took two long hot showers today: one before my massage and one after. Yes!
5. Accepting my Circumstances with Grace and Gratitude
I ate out and had a not so fun reaction body-wise (yes, body is wise to not want chemicals in food). And was on the couch (researching) most of the day. But I didn’t put myself down about my lack of vigor, my fatigue and lingering pain. Instead, I rolled with the flow, and reminded myself of the source: food. And reminded myself how lucky I am to have a husband who never complains when I am on the couch, and who even cleaned the whole of the kitchen. And no, I don’t fake my fatigue to get the kitchen cleaned, but the thought has crossed my mind.
6. Knowing I AM…the ant that moves the rubber tree plant!
I read (and cried over) a comment a reader left for me under this link on Female Traits which reminded me of why I continue to post. Why despite my fatigue, mood swings, sometimes lack of confidence, and various distractions (euphemism for fixations), I will continue to share with authenticity and high-hopes.
7. No Longer Driven to Take Photos of ME
After several months, I do not have the need to post a photo of myself! I finally figured out what I look like. Yes, I still see myself in parts, but I’ve put the parts together into a makeshift puzzle, glued the pieces together onto cardboard, and hanged a copy in my mind. I’m fairly certain I’m a bendy doll with over-sized alien eyes, elven ears, hair with its own intelligence and stubbornness, and a smile that is still searching for a home, but will always keep knocking. Yep, that sounds about right.
8. I Have Lost the Angst
Since May I’ve had an ache in my…oh, I better delete this number, as to not depress my husband. Those of you who need to know, see My Aching Loins.
9. Texting my Son
I pretended to be my teenage son’s girlfriend (obviously he knew I wasn’t) and sent him a text reminding him that his mom (that’s me) wanted him to get off the Xbox game system he was playing downstairs. I am upstairs, and like I mentioned, couch-bound. He texted back “??????What???????” I texted: “Poor Guy.” Then he texted, or at least I thought he texted: “Um, I’m not even close to ten.” And I thought, wow, he really is a Leo, with that witty bite. He thinks I am immature. That I act like a ten-year-old. I felt a tinge of guilt for being so quirky and odd, and was thinking of how to apologize, when I reread his text. It read: “Um, its not even close to ten.” So I’d misread the clock and his text. But my son didn’t make fun of me! At least not like when I told him I purposely got this temporary second brain tattoo just to embarrass him on our son and mother outing.
10. Rediscovering Galileo
There is some language in this one. I think my thirteen year old would like to be homeschooled at this speed and with this language. This is my competition. Oh, boy!
Remembering Galileo. Remembering my favorite song Galileo by my favorite band (in the 90’s) The Indigo Girls. Remembering I dragged my boyfriend to an Indigo Girls’ concert on a hot August day. Remembering that we squeezed our way through a sweaty thick crowd to get a better view of the band. Remembering I started to look around. Remembering there were only women. Remembering all the women were kissing super close. Remembering that my boyfriend looked at me and said, “You do know that the band members are lesbian? Right?” And me, with my eyes growing wide, asking, “Really?”
Did I mention, I’m usually the last to know?
I now bring you awesomeness….
Oh, look; it’s post 222….
Okay…so I just posted this post: Day 222: The Belly of a Star. We call it “publishing” in blog world. Right after I posted WordPress (who gives me this blog) sends me a notice, like they always do, if someone has commented on my blog or linked my post to their blog. A little orange light goes off in the upper right hand corner of my blog to notify me.
Well, I’m looking at this light and reading, and I see it’s someone named The Belly of a Star, and I’m thinking: Wow, that’s a really cool name. I wonder what their blog is like?
The truth is, I do this each and everytime that I link back to an older post of mine. Everytime I think someone else has linked to my blog. I forget it’s me!
This time, I even thought: Wow, what a coincidence that she was looking at the exact same post I was at the exact same time; and she linked to her blog, just like I did.
And then L.V. (The little voice in my head); she says that person is you CRAZY LADY. You wrote The Belly of a Star. Remember it was like two fricken seconds ago, brainless!
And I think: Wow, that’s a cool name, Belly of a Star.
I know…I know…you don’t have to tell me. I know I say Wow way too much. 🙂
Everyday Asperger's 