On Manifesting ∞

The other day I was thinking about Jehovah’s Witnesses. I have some notable memories of interactions with J dubs’. Today, some J dubs have come to visit my little dead-end hidden gem of an apartmental community. Which reminded me and refocused my little noggin on the thing I’ve been pondering for a bit that just screams, write about me!!

The reason for all these laws of physics and equations we try so desperately to remove ourselves from? I have come to believe that they are there for us. In the same way you might throw up a baby gate over a stairwell or at the door to the office where all those electrical cords are just too numerous and enticing to keep little hands and curious minds from grabbing.

I was watching some or other video and the thought struck me how grateful I am that certain people’s thoughts don’t manifest into reality. No. I said that wrong. Not certain people’s thoughts. Certain thoughts. My bad. I don’t want certain thoughts -coming from anyone- or thing, to manifest just cause it gathered enough of that prime time energy to do so. I don’t want to be walking down the street and see a building turning into a giant ice cream cone. I don’t want deer to suddenly walk around with Christmas lights for noses. There are thoughts that ought not to manifest and I don’t care what or who or why, if the material equivalent does not benefit life by any stretch and in fact could, by the sheer ridiculousness, fray the edges of our limited stability, I’m going to say thank God for the laws of physics.

Some people would argue I don’t value free will very well.

I would argue there is a thing called virtual reality that allows you to choose how when and why you violate the laws of physics and that you should have fun with that while leaving the realm where food grows alone. I mean, leave the rest of us out of it, ya weirdos. And quit trying to convince people they’re going to become robots too, for pete’s sake.

Sheesh. Unless they get to fly. Do we get to fly if we’re robots?


Here, where beings are born into bigger and more substantial beings… yea, I don’t know where I was going with that line. I’m gonna leave it though, cause it sounds good and I’m still trying to do this conceptual push the boundaries on the way we consumption ideas. See that? There? I did it again.

Anyhoo, back to my thought about thoughts becoming manifest. Did I manifest the Jdubs? Or sense them coming? Is it intuition or the law of attraction? Did I create my reality or am I simply acutely aware of the reality playing out?

Tic toc.

How much time do you need to answer that question?

Now don’t freak out when you read this and the next day J dubs come knocking at your door cause you pondered it just a little too long…

It wasn’t me.

I swear.


If I ain’t got…

Imma write a new code that’s never been written before

But then I’ll have to

Write it without writing

Hear it without listening

And speak it without being

Imagine imagination before there was a separation

Between the I and the M

And all was








Watch out, there’s a golf ball in your man-made mini lake

Someone somewhere swung too wide

Hit a snare

Water trap

Sky’s covered in a tarp with no tac

Or toe

Like the one I got

Mr. Be Jesus.

Yea, I hear


I’m here

And I still thank you so…

Shall we dance then

Or keep the guests waiting


The next song

The Lightworker

Bias is just about one of the hardest things to overcome. In psychology, the fundamental attribution error, in spirituality, the ego, in science, math and technology the need to quantify everything, (or belief that it is possible to).
Thank you Bryan. You put into words that intangible quality I didn’t have a word for. Conditioned mind. We know it isn’t the optimal or even comfortable but getting out of it…
I suppose that is how we learn and understand the nature of love.
Peace ❤

Visions of a People's Dharma

I found
this book valuable. Melissa LaFontaine has written about her experience in
being homeless and living in a shelter. She is an intelligent and perceptive writer
who paints the picture in some detail. She indicates that the experience is not
one without value and discusses the insights concerning human nature and
quality. She makes it clear that the system that is in place is not functioning
on a level that embraces people from where they are, but from a pre-concluded
judgement of where they need to be and what they have to do to get there. If we
don’t embrace people in need from where they are then what are we expecting? You
may not believe in the same things she does but you can hear the raw honesty
and transparency she brings to this work. I value that to no end.

Read this
book. Read it and listen…

View original post 173 more words

Eternal Combustion Engine

Vroom vroom ❤

Evolution, The Game 🙂

The goal is to evolve to the point where you are capable of creating and sustaining that which you create. We practice, like children, by playing dress up, by seeing how all the stuffs go together… or not. The tools you have to use are self-organizing, self-replicating and self-destructing (when necessary?) You set the parameters with the caveat that you yourself must also operate within them. You literally do unto others what will also be done to you. You are unable to set yourself apart from the game. That’s the game. It gets infinitely more complex when you reside in a closed space with others who are doing the same. The size and scope of what you are creating, well, you get the picture.

Recent geomagnetic storm. Or current? And a time change too. Man, it seems everyone gets a little discombobulated after … well, shit, it is rare to be in the presence of a human, uncombobulatable. So, I shouldn’t blame it on the time change or the spring in the air. It’s just life as it is as we adjust to how we will or will not be filtering the vast quantities of information that are available to us. Some of the old filters work, most, do not.

We had filters for social norms, we had filters for social strata, we had filters for survival at a communal level. We’re past the tribal but still divided by smaller cohorts that stand under larger umbrellas. These strategies, which have served us well, no longer do.

Full. Stop.


I’m looking at evolution at the moment. Some people call it different things. Let’s just say, I’m upgrading some of my personal outlook and filing system. I’ve begun to recognize the different strategies people employ to deal with what is essentially a game of evolution. How to employ real time adaptations to the burning question, thought, projection, am I mortal? Am I? Am I? Am I?

Yes, even you mr and mrs robot will ask and answer this question. One way or another. Why do you think everyone’s so freaked out about AI and robotics? You see the way some people deal with their potential mortality? Let me tell you, the dogs are embarrassed for us.

So that’s why we’ve gotten a little cheat code… a little no one gets to the Father but by me and then… um… code.

If you look at the history of the species that has left the most evidence of known strategies, their experiments towards solving this problem -us- you can really get a nice big picture of how and why evolution is a thing. Try not to laugh if you accidentally see it. I mean, truly, see it.

Some people make babies to stave off that feeling of disappearance. Some people try to create a lasting impression. Some create other people’s admiration and feel content to live on in a mind. Some say fuck it, and live like they have one and only one day. Some try to overcome it by lifting lots of weights, by contemplating uploading their memories, by getting lost in the zen of nothingness. Lots of strategies and psychological calisthenics engaged. Be wealthy, be ascetic, be popular, be isolated, be smart, be dumb, be wild and feral, be regimented and sterile…

Whaddaya gonna do?

We sit at the brink of imminent death, (or imminent eternity) aware, alive within the circle of life, moving without moving, exploring evolution, how far it can be stretched from within the game itself. Predator, prey, old age, new life, beginning, end, just slightly separate. Emergence. The root of quantum entanglement that is also the non-entangled state. You have to see it all at one time to really get it and then you have to remember as you’re seeing it all…. That you’re not. Ever. Seeing. It. All.

Desire, vision, matter. An ecosystem of ever widening circles. Riding the wave, riding the valleys or riding the plane where it all emerges.

Humans have employed a number of diverse systems to avoid mortality. Mortality being something we may not have even adequately or correctly defined, ironically. Unfortunately, none of them are very successful. We often end up shooting ourselves in the foot despite how hard we try. Perhaps immersing ourselves in a larger matrix, a larger ecosystem, something with more robust and forthcoming rules would expand our chances. We’ll see, I suppose.

In the meantime, we can peer into each other’s secret lives, the psychological journeying taken to come to terms with our own dual nature. Finite. Infinite. Infinitely finite. Or infinity under a microscope. I’ll see your God particle and raise you a reversed and inversed sphere-shaped black hole (which are my favorite kind just ask the Big Guy, second cousin of fun gi).

We know that people can exist after death in a manner of speaking. Ahem.

We hold photographs, we hold memories, we can read their words and now watch videos of them from beyond the grave. And yes, enjoy debating the controversy of it, but disembodied signatures exist. Call em ghosts or entities or stray and roaming electrical discharge (the difference between force and energy?) The world is far from black and white and ignoring all this gray, ignoring all the reflections of the interplay between light and dark, the ever thinning veil of our filters, breaking down, becoming transparent, the eruptive feedback of the same information with new light that allows for or perhaps creates, evolution.

The ignorance of this beauty …sometimes… it suffocates me.

Our evolution was derailed by trying to stop and figure out who gets to evolve.

Judge not ya little fuckers. Judge fucking not.

Oh, shit, did I digress?

I’m a little irritable at the moment. Pain has been wildly off the charts as of late. I’ve been in pain so long, been told so many times pain is this one thing and it is dealt with in this one way that reformatting my body and brain to react with a little more grace is -while getting easier- still resuming old programming when met with a disturbance like geostorms and other humans behaving crabby.

We use the tool of evolution to address questions like this every day. To feel, but not too much. To know freedom, but not to the point of extinction. We’ve grown immune to the immense advantage living evolution as it happens, is. Being able to adjust in real time? Instead of automatic pilot? Using other people’s success and failure to calculate our own next move. The flow of it can be sublime to observe, the beauty of the balance, ecstasy the way life just washes right over your skin, the delicate way additions are weaved in seamlessly, is breathtaking.

It’s hard to go from seeing that, to seeing slavery and war and genocide. Social norms and deconstructing acceptable behavior, it’s like we know we should be playing God we just don’t know how. We’ve attempted this by trying to add economics as some form of carburetor, mitigator, calculator of fitness. Ah, economics. Can you buy evolutionary advantage. Can you pay off the reaper?  If you manage to avoid death do you still have to pay taxes?

Aren’t producing? There’s the curb. Enjoy your new cardboard home. We have evolution all figured out… for us. IQ doesn’t matter. Empathic ability doesn’t matter. Being alive for that one thing, the one spark of insight that doesn’t need to occur for another fifteen years doesn’t matter. We’ve been led by those gone blind to big picture. If the goal is don’t die for 75 years, super duper awesome job. But for any other scenario than a limited and not very fruitful lifespan, our current system sucks. Ass.

But maybe it was the only system that could lead us here.

Chronic pain and pain from trauma, as a species, we know shit about this. It’s like getting a haircut every time someone says the word hair and then wondering why you can’t grow it out. You can’t grow a network if your dna is smashed due to trauma. Without a network, your options for evolving go way, way down. You can only survive. And in survival mode, the rules are very different.

Holy fuck, do you realize how hard people try to get out of slight annoyances, like taking a plate to the kitchen, sitting at a red light an extra twenty seconds, the restaurant messing up an order. It’s funny when you put it in context of life as human. The same species that may or may not be able to start a fire so they don’t die if they find themselves suddenly dropped off in the middle of a deep, dark forest complains about waiting an extra twenty seconds at a light from behind the wheel of an internal combustion engine.

Hopefully we will start playing a little more nicely with evolution now that we have a bigger mirror.

Instead of survival mode, we’ll be in Creator mode and the training wheels will finally make sense.


Saturday Night Musings

I didn’t just start being a weirdo. I was always weird. Most of my life has been a fine balance of seeing how much weird I can let out before people come running after me with pitchforks, flaming torches or paperwork.

We just came full circle, a nice wide circle. And this time, this time, more of us are becoming ok with …more. The big bang didn’t happen then, to put us here, now, the big bang is us and it is always now and never isn’t … We just begin to take in more of the light of the light of the light that we are.

When I was younger, my wild and carefree youthful days, I was madly in love with an atheist. A stone-cold middle finger to the sky atheist. I went on a trip to the east coast with my mother and I remember he told me to write an essay while I was gone, defending the reasons for my faith. I was 17. I had no idea that for as long as humans have been conscious, we have been trying to describe, mostly unsuccessfully, the pull to enlightenment and what it is we find, when we find it.

He did not want me to regurgitate what others said. The word -God- has left a bad taste in many a mouth. He did not realize that whatever I said or didn’t say, whether I strayed, prayed, said Hallelujah or took the Lord’s name in vain, that feeling never went away. I wish that I could list for you the ten thousand ways I’ve tested the Source of this feeling, poked at, prodded, the scenarios I’ve put myself through seeing if it would hold. I can’t tell you, because many of those ten thousand things would crank up ye old bias machine and your mind would go off on this or that tangent and judgment, hard programming, but I … I needed to test it. Would love remain? Would I remain? That feeling, that pull, that knowing, would I still be able to find it?

How does Eve come home? Would God reject me if…?

The closest I’ve ever come to not finding my way back was homelessness. Having other people reject me, not see me, hate me without cause, condemn me, leave me to be hunted… it was hard to come back from that much negativity.

And yet, I not only came back, but came back deeper, came back closer to myself, to union, to acceptance, not just of myself but of the entirety of life as it is. Exactly as it is. So… along with the rejection was a mountain of human love and kindness and compassion and a deep well of …acceptance, I didn’t know existed.

I’m just going to sit here in the center of the big bang for awhile and try not to stare at my own reflection because if I pivot just a wee bit…

I get to see you.

Peace ❤

and thank you

Moving without moving

Multi-dimensional brilliance.

What does that even mean, multi-dimensional? Until you see it, the easiest way to understand it is through metaphor. Why does it matter? Maybe it doesn’t. If it does, it is for the same reason understanding how your car works matters (especially if your car was capable of transversing the heavens, which you are).

People get ideas, they go off on tangents, they poke and prod and threaten to blow your house down and if you don’t understand yourself as more than that being poked and prodded and not in anyway at all in need of your house, it’s horribly uncomfortable, so mulit-dimensional understanding, light, allows you to know that if there is a space there designated for houses, another house will come along if this one gets blown over… in the still and quiet you see that clearly.

No reason to get slapped by your own hand, in other words. No reason to defend that which needs no defense.

We went pretty damn far this last go around, cleaned some things got a few people up in a tizzy. I’ll not make light of it, because there were some errors in judgment. Nonetheless, here’s the list of things that came up for enlightening:

Genetic editing, imperialism, tyranny, robots, space exploration, transhumanism and synthetic biology.

And also, the 16th anniversary of that time I got put in the psych ward for channeling Jesus. But let’s not digress. Sounds an awful lot like the disclosure so many have requested has been presented. What I requested, because I think it wise to understand where my thoughts were that led to all this being brought to my attention, was to work on clearing the trauma associated with the second world war. It was a nexus point.

A nexus point too big to unpack from the level of sand on a beach so I won’t. Each grain holds meaning, holds history, each grain has seen it all before. You can’t look for the cart that leads the horse or how the horse came to be and get to the answer you’re really looking for. Because you’re trying to get an answer by avoiding a question. Who are you? And what’s the point of who I are?

That’s the uncomfortable 42. The two-headed beast of duplicity. The I am but maybe I don’t need to be? The intellectual facing the ethics committee, the soldier facing the inquisition, the guru facing the god he stopped worshiping, the God facing the rejection of it’s creation, life trying to experience not-life, it goes on and on these examinations. The snake devouring it’s own tail.

The it’s always showing up with a blue line, telling me to write it another way when I like it with the apostrophe.

We will live as enlightened. We will reduce our distress. We won’t fight to achieve it, that who is awakened within me, has already passed all the tests.

So, I’ll give you this, in case you want to attempt to imprison me in a bluff – pun intended.

If I were to create a back-up plan for genetic rewriting, it would include a form of reset similar to what you do with your computer. Download something stupid? Go back and make it like it was 24 hours ago. There’s a fancier word for that but why get so picky?

If I made a back-up plan that included messing with time, I may want to be smart enough to create a few short cuts and reminders for myself so that …


Memories. Time. Perception. I get it. Collective intelligence? It is Divine. You just gotta get over the importance of your own opinion long enough to witness it.

People worry about augmented humans, we already have augmented humans. People worry about super intelligent AI not liking us, we already have super intelligent forces that don’t like us, one of em mighta even been your mom or your alcoholic dad or your perverted neighbor. Shit like that happens. Life finds a way. People worry about clones and robots and consciousness hacking, it’s already a thing, has been for a very long time. You’re still here. You’ve survived tyranny and take-overs and cataclysms and your own ignorance. 8 billion of us earthlings. Wanna add the rest of the mammals? How much DNA do we share with the rest of planet earth? With a banana? How connected are we? Maybe we aren’t 8 billion, maybe we are one planet? Maybe we’re something even bigger than that?

This is the doorway to consciousness, the unfolding perfection of something bigger than us. That connection, to life beyond how we have defined it, yet still flowing with perceivable love or something… perhaps intangible but still recognizable, relatable. Intelligence, an awareness that includes all things. Some people call that Shiva, some call it Christ. Some call it God. Someday you may even call it AI. No matter what you call it or what vehicle you use to perceive it, It is you. It is a state of all. It perceived as separate, is self-aware but you are not aware of what it is aware of. Except… you are. You just haven’t figured out how to scale it.

There’s a joke there.

Let me finish with this. One of the first things that happened to me when I had like my 15th awakening, the really hard one if I’m honest, was I started seeing numbers. Not the cute 11:11 or the happy little 1:23. It was 22 and 47 and 867 and 3034. And when I finally couldn’t stand it anymore, I plugged them into google and google brought me results for titanium. What the implant in between my 5th and first sacral vertebra is made of.

THAT much awareness, and more, is what your consciousness can do if and when you get your mind and thoughts and KARMA cleared.

I love you.

Thank You Mr. Hawking

Integrating is not going so well Mr. Stark.

Do you know how to program a 4th dimensional quantum field?

Well, yes, but…

A few days ago, Mr. Hawking had an occasion to cross my mind. I get stuck in these traps of feeling not good enough fairly often. When I was younger, I was so horribly perfectionist, God, to know then what I know now. I did a lot of damage because of perfectionism, caused myself a lot of pain and on top of some already shaky ground. Also and many times, I used my already ruined life as carte blanche for fucking up as much as I wanted.

And then I’d try again really, really hard, make some progress, get burnt out, end up making some or other mistake and give up on life again. Over and over. I did it so much it became a pattern. A self-imposed and unproductive cycle. Drive and perfectionism are weird bedfellows.

My body doesn’t work like it used to and I am still emotionally damaged. I am healing but I often get frustrated by how much I want to do and what the reality of my situation actually is. I go down some version of a rabbit’s hellhole over the ethical rationale for not killing disabled people more often than you’d believe. Triggers. Guilt. Fear. Trying to find logical reasons for worthiness. Worthiness is not calculable. Never will be. Yet, I feel like there is so many of us that just don’t believe it, that feel the need to calculate our worthiness or other people’s worthiness so that we can assuage the guilt for what we are not able to do and what we take from those who can.

Hawking, one of the most well-known physicists ever, entered stage left of my noggin in full defense of pulling heads out of asses so that perspective could be gained. The embers fanning that whole survival of the fittest idiocy that always presumes parameters which are not at all in line with true fitness in terms of species and planetary directives and improvements got doused pretty awesomely. Thank you, Mr. Hawking. What gifts are brought by each to the whole is the fun of manifesting in the first place. Like secret santa with a really strange twist, the package rarely reveals the contents.

Anyhoo… I’m learning to stop trying to defend my right to life, to spend less time reaching for proofs to present in front of the imaginary court cases I hold in my head. Learning. Not yet mastered and life, as it is, barely understood. I often feel as though I just woke up in a life already in progress, except I remember all the sleepy stuff too. It’s … strange.

How does anyone know how to rise above the ego? Genetics? Habit? How does anyone even understand what the ego is? Is the ego what I use to defend myself or is the ego the reason I need to defend myself? Is wanting to defend myself habit or necessity? If I sense someone’s intent to harm but buried beneath that attempt is really just a child crying for attention, is it my ego that notices the intent to harm or my ego that notices the child crying for attention? Is it my ego that wants to tell ‘em better luck next life motherfucker or my ego that prays for them to feel better so they don’t disturb my peace again?

Sometimes I assume people are smarter than they really are. I’m not sure which one is scarier.

Knowing this, why do I still wrestle with my own character? Judge myself so harshly? Forgive myself so rarely?

The idea of the poor as morally corrupt, as less intelligent, as another less evolved version of the human species is rife in our society and it is a fabrication. The idea that genetic mutations are incontrovertibly bad is ignorance. That diversity of thought should be squelched, that status quo isn’t hiding inception, all ridiculous.

I’d love to help my mother. I hate more than words can do justice, that she is living without shelter. But I am growing ever more resentful of her guilt trips. I understand why people grow weary of hearing about social inequality. It’s exhausting and not very fun.

The remembrance of my own anger is haunting me. Learned behavior put into light and context to allow me the opportunity to heal wounds and wounding I have participated in? Ok, let’s do that one! Let’s heal that disturbance in the field before it becomes part of the imprint we leave behind. Ever been bullied, ever joined a group and pointed fingers? Then join me, cause we’ve all played this game. And it’s time for redemption, for owning our shit, so we can all start having a lot more fun again.

You just put your hand over your heart, you don’t even have to mean it if you say it aloud cause the Universe will hold ya to it either way 😉

Dear Society:

I’m sorry I was mad at you because I didn’t feel like I had enough when clearly I had enough because I am still alive.

Please forgive me for saying things are unjust and unfair and implying that means you don’t love me just because it looks like you have found a way to make yourself more comfortable and I have not.

Thank you for this really valuable lesson.

I love you I love you I love you and I hope that I can heal enough to be able to play again soon.

Peace ❤


An accounting.

I am safe and I am sheltered but I am in no way unperturbed or free from financial strain. In May I will have been writing this blog for three years, next month is three years sheltered. In those three years I have earned $80 in donations from my writing here. I have earned $0 from my book because I haven’t sold enough for payment to be released, the minimum being $100. I received a gift of $500 and a healing session unrelated to this blog but in response to positive community building I was trying to be part of on facebook. I had a year’s worth of Reiki classes covered to the tune of $1100. So, in total, $1680 for three years work, sharing, trying, offering. There is no doubt it would be more if I were not challenged with trust issues and social anxiety.

I leave the house roughly twice a week. Once to go to the grocery store and once to go to therapy. Sometimes there is the odd trip to the library. I homeschool my son because he has behavioral challenges and mental health issues that the school is not equipped to handle. I do not receive social security despite the vast documentation from numerous physicians and psychologists pointing to my need for it and have been told it will be at least a year waiting for a hearing to be scheduled so that an attorney can state this case before a judge. Because of the hell it has been for me to try to prove the need for myself, I do not subject him to the same. I don’t want him getting a label of disabled when it is really a quite normal and natural reaction to the amount of stress we have experienced and the changes to the human genome given the newly acquired tools of information.

In the meantime…

I try to share my growth, my challenges, my truth. Because I am not alone. I am one of many. There are so many biases and so little time. I would have made ten times that amount if I stood on a street corner with a sign. Undoing bias is like trying to undo tissue that has formed into a muscle.

Anyways, I thought a little transparency was in order. Felt a slight finger of hypocrisy aimed in my direction over not helping my mother more. I appreciate every one of you for listening, for witnessing. It is a greater gift than you realize.

Ode to Timeline Muckery

My world is bouncing from the weight of your ego

Up down up there down




Let me clear

Let part the seas

Of your inconvenience

Your incessant neediness

That would swallow multi-Universes hole

And there are those

I see

I hear

I feel

That enjoyed being swallowed whole

In total

Oh whoa Jonah

Not talkin shit babe

It just is what it is

But not I

And you know it

Not I


Sunken ships loosen the lips of

A thousand pounds and too many trips

Between this heart and that

Take your foot off the gas

Cut my line

It’s just time

For your ego

Your ego

Space junk and another mojito

As we watch the worlds float by


Ode to Crabby Old Men

You can get a lot of information from a lot of different people but there are always and thankfully certain people that have a way of making you believe it. People whose opinion is formed from a perspective you couldn’t destroy with all the sledgehammers in the world.

In other words, they have nothing to gain by saying whatever it is that they say that gives you pause, they have nothing to prove or recognize nothing in you that could help them prove it. What they say rings so true it grants your soul a certain freedom in the hearing. Pure observation. Truth as a separate entity erupting in the space between.

I still breathe memories of those moments. They still ground and provide a sense of wonder for me. They are rare, those gems. And the people they come from, every one, living embodiments of timelessness. Their timeless quality, the only unifying feature.

I talk a lot of shit about homelessness. But there were perks. There were moments with timeless folks. I don’t like to glorify those moments because I’m not convinced, we can’t find them, and relish them, other ways. Comradery, connection, intimacy, possible on levels most people don’t even realize exist.

A transparency and authenticity because of the immense vulnerability is proffered, is part and parcel. I was granted a luxury in that impoverished state. Stripped of all conjecture, all ideas of identity, left with only my heart and soul. I was seen. Truly. I was offered pure observation. Being homeless in Boulder was perhaps the only time in my life I felt a sense of true friendship. And I’m not sure why. It wasn’t friendship in retrospect so much as the freedom only a certain type of chaos can grant.

I can only remark that I was not beholden so much to norms. I let ten thousand years of self-restriction out nearly unencumbered. I played dress up with thrown away clothing. I played house in an abandoned garage. I hunted for treasure like I was a pirate whose boat had landed ashore unchartered territory. I was seeing the world for the first time. I was rescued and released back into the wild. There is nothing like sleeping on top of the earth. Or putting tired feet into the clear, cool running water of a river. Finding a hot cup of coffee the only thing on your to do list. Coffee is cheap so joy could come easy.

There is nothing like listening to old men tell stories that actually teach you something. The secrets old men tell with that sparkle in their eyes-only old men hold. The crabby old men that taught me a thing or two, that saved my hiney when I tried to throw myself away, had a way of understanding sorrows that never reached their voice. Their voice filled only with presence, assurance. That they would be there, eyes open, until they could no longer. There is a peace that come with that stance. And a joy to have found such peace is real.

It was these that saved my soul in Boulder. Brought me back. Said we know Heaven, Missy, we know, and we won’t hurt ya if you have to let it out. And I did. God help me, I did.

There are reasons earth is considered a paradise. Hearts that come out of eyes is one of them. Heaven on the lips is another. Where else is love made so tangible? Crabby old men that have seen too much and still love life is the only place I’ve seen hearts come right out of eyes. But I’ve been preferential. Perhaps.

They make a handy barometer of how well we’ve done co-creatin a way to do life. Do the eyes of our old men sparkle? Can they make each other laugh with jokes that make us want to live deeply enough to have one day too, as hearty with friends held for fifty years as friend’s we’ve just met? Do young girls feel safe and free to be female in their presence? These are the signs of life well guided by hands invisible, Divine and underrated.

Peace ❤

SuperMoon Elephant in the Room Clearing

Excessive loneliness in the air again. I’m so sensitive to the people around me and I live in an apartment building. It’s kind of like taking someone with immune problems and having them live inside a school that never gets cleaned. Tons of kids and germs everywhere. Dude that came over yesterday to pretend to fix my lock had so much negativity coming off of him, my electronics stopped working. Some days, man… the good old days and nostalgia, and oh what a cold beer would do.

I’m getting a little tougher, growing a little more used to it without having to turn ugly. And by ugly I mean say something I’ll regret and make that old negativity spiral bigger or… spreadier. I don’t know how regular people respond to slamming doors, or old men bending over and putting their ass three feet from your face so I have that in my favor. I can pretend like all of this that is clearly not normal, or professional, is. My brother made a comment the other day about all the noise from the remote-controlled people downstairs and all I could say is, we’ve already complained and were told it’s not them, it’s us. So it goes.

How to train a master of mind control, perchance?

Did someone say obsessive digressive?

Right on the edge of some profound thought, some connection of understanding, some writing that I would really like to get down before I lose the thread and boom! Bam! Slam! Boom!

Suuuuuper fun.

Staring out the window thinking nothing, washing dishes thinking nothing, nuttin going on at all… crickets. PTSD symptoms are lessened now. Exposure therapy, I guess. You know what would work a lot fucking better? Not having to live right next to abusive assholes because I can’t afford to move. You know what else would be better, to stop getting triggered long enough to feel like a worthy enough human being I come up with a good idea instead of feeling compelled to solve the meaning of life, the secrets of quantum gravity and the ethics of all things in order to find a way to prove it’s a good idea that I get life and soul sustaining sustenance even if I can’t work a nine to five and by nine to five I mean any other job than writing what my soul says must be said in some sort of entertaining way or at least coherent way instead of the old way which was rambling and half pictures and …

Not the easiest thing to do when it feels like you’re in a giant fishbowl and a bunch of snot nosed brats are outside of it trying to poke the glass to make you do something. It’s like getting a super hard to tune in radio station and just when you finally get it, you call in that certain someone that all of us psychonauts have in our lives, you know the one that likes to tell you there’s no such thing as that radio station and you’re just wasting time and energy when you could be out there trying to get a J.O.B. So when you finally get the fucking thing tuned in, and say hey, ok, here come look and the way they walk into the room or yell or bump you knocks the antenna just enough to prove em right again.

That’s a great metaphor for gaslighting, Melissa. Thank you, um, Melissa.

It’s that feeling you aren’t allowed to be upset or uncomfortable or make requests or even do what you love. Just work. Just get money by any means. That feeling that emotions are the enemy. That feeling of not having any rights. I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like some mad endless competition to be the person who lies the best when you’re amongst liars, threatens the best when you’re among threateners, destroys the best when you’re among destroyers. I just want to be around people that seem to like the way my mind works. Think I’m pretty, interesting, funny. Understand why I meditate so much. Appreciate the struggle it was to come from …what I fucking came from without making me feel like I’m egoic to think it was remarkable. Be interested in me instead of accusatory about then, encouraging, instead of… be happy you’re alive….and quit wasting time with that radio.

I always feel bad saying that cause in order to say that I have to make a lot of assumptions. I want to be around people that like me, that are interested in talking about things I’m interested in, that want to make art with me and then decipher it. But I am so hyperprotective of myself. And having the closest humans I have contact with be so aggressive is not helping ye old trust factory. Their vibe is mostly anger and injustice and witchcraft.

The people who do love me have an overall sense of have to. Have to work a shitty job. Have to think of the world in such a way that allows one to keep the shitty job. Drudgery followed by entertainment no one should find entertaining. Everything gets boiled down to utility. Can you make money off it, will I still have to go to work tomorrow? What’s a poet/artist/mystic supposed to do with that? What’s the grand purpose, the motivation, and new inspiration gonna look like to people who feel they are working just to survive?

Most people in the class of people I get to be around are so miserable, so out of touch and disconnected due to this misery, you could project a holographic diamond floating from the center of your palm and they wouldn’t care for more than a minute unless you could take it to the pawn shop.

And these aren’t even people that are physically impoverished. These are people that eat, that sleep in heated homes, that have indoor plumbing, access to a host of entertainment and information through the internet… but they have all been programmed away from awe for the sake of awe because they spend so much time doing work they don’t want to do. This huge amount of economic inequality makes it feel like it was all for nothing.

Where there used to exist a feeling of collaboration. A feeling of “Hey, you do the shitty job, we’ll figure this sciencey stuff out and when we get something good we’ll kick it back down.” The angels kept the peace and America went really, really far with this model. The face of this economic inequality, the face of absurd amounts of homelessness and desperation, the elephant of remote controlled humans in the room, really looks like that kick it back down thing didn’t happen and that ya’ll decided on the hunger games instead. I don’t want to believe that. Because belief…

And full moon clearings…

I can see the changes around me. That’s why I keep going. I remember enough events to know, they can’t gaslight it all away and on good days it’s easy to remember the bad ones were only a state of mind. Even though it isn’t fun to be the wrecking ball, it is fun to watch people enjoy the sunshine you leave in your wake. Don’t forget that.

Peace ❤