The Divinity Does not Want us to be Plants

The divinity does not want us to be plants.  Plants are unified in purpose only worshiping the divine.  They reach up and receive the sunlight.  Plants are the perfect embodiment of purpose, unity, adoration, and prayer.  We one the other hand are something different.  An alchemical process goes through us and maybe that is our role in reality.  Not to unquestionably follow and adore, but rather to take what does not fit in and through our own alchemical process bring it back into the fold.  We are nature's salvage operation.  For the more difficult experiences that cannot be digested by plants or mushrooms.  Maybe we are the thoughts of Gods that keep them up at night, and our job is to cleanse their mind.  We are the cleansers.

Even if it doesn't make sense, in some uncharted and unfathomable way, we are contributing in ways we can't imagine. That why important to keep up what we are doing.  Respond to what is in front of us and needs doing.

My daughter last night, and her friends gave me a prank call.  This happened over a year ago. 

The Mystery Machine

The Dream:

I was in a service station of some kind.  Then I was in a tent outside of the service station.  I was with a group of people.

I went outside and there was a small runway.   I was in a tent.  I was getting ready for bed.  Then I saw outside what I thought was the mystery machine from scooby doo landing on the run way.  I remember thinking and telling the people that I didn't want to miss this.  So I went outside and ran to where the mystery machine was landing.  Then it landed and it turned around and started to take off again, but then it stopped when it saw me waiving it down.  At first it looked like Fred and the whole gang were inside, but when I got in the van, I realized that the van was kind of ghoulish inside with different people, one of them who was Scott Smo...  Some of the passengers were disfigured.  One of them was missing an eye.   And though one side of the mystery machine looked like that in the TV show, the other side was gutted and dilapidated.   The van drove over to the tent, and I casually mentioned that I would help them find a place to stay, not sure if I was thinking about my home.

Then I looked around and I realized that there was some sort of festival or celebration going on in the service station.   I asked the passengers where Velma and Shaggy and Scooby were.  That is about all I remember.

Nipper highlights of the Year

 Greetings from the western (now eastern) portal.  I believe I recorded this at Nipper some time in June of this year.  

It is only in the offering or the sacrifice that we can separate ourselves from nature and the nature spirits around us.   But this isn't quite right.  There is something magical about the offering itself that recognizes the separateness of the other.  When the separateness is recognized,  the other can be appreciated/understood more.

Life is not what we thought it was.   And I know that you have heard this before.  If for only the briefest second you could step outside your thoughts about what life and death and what it is to be alive are and connect with it through a different passage-- then this reality, this land, this incarnation is vastly different than how we were brought up to think about it.   This is what I see in my psychedelic experiences but just can't face because it is too much.  But when I see it now, I can handle it, because its only for a little bit.    For this is what the ascension is, if we really could transform our view, this entire reality could be seen through for what it was and would disappear like the dream that it is.  This is likely what I can't face.  That everything we have invested so much in and lived is so ephemeral.   But in a way, I am never going to lose something because I never had it, never was it, to begin with.   What it is is something radically different than what you thought about it all along.  

Sarah Lee Turning

 So in this dream, one of the things Shultz had me look up and help him with in Costa Rica was this band that was coming through Springfield that was from Costa Rica.  Or it wasn't clear if I was actually in Costa Rica instead.  The band was called "Sara Lee Turning" and consisted of women in their mid 60s with bee hive haircuts.  Matt was interested in one of the singers, and I talked to her.  They had a very interesting style.  They talked very strange.  They were hysterical, always making wise cracks.  They were either from Bond or  Bond County in Illinois as it turned out.  Their band was called Sara Lee Turning, but their fans (which they had a lot at this place which was kind of like a county store) were called "turners."  They played music with drums.  It turns out they had a guy in the band who was also a scream who kept referring to me as "your honor."  

This all started when I was trying to help Matt write a letter about another band I think.

In real life, I had helped Matt write a letter.  I completely mis-read it.  As far as why I misread it, I must have been possessed by the spirit of the Sara Lee Turning band.  It will be interesting to see how it all turns out for him.

  

Nothing more than a Story

 The other thing I experienced today in mediation was a vision or experience that in a different dimension, there was a story going on, focused either on a spoon or a drumstick between an elder and someone younger.  And the story was my life.  That my entire life was the passing story between them.  And that is what this is.  All of it.  A story in another story.  Infinite stories.  All interwoven in a cosmic tapestry.

This is something like my experience with Ayahuasca.  When I was in this meditative state today, its almost like I had access to this memory.  This experience.  And I remembered that part of the journey with Ayahuasca was the vision that what we were experiencing was all wrong.  There was something else going on that made it disharmonious somehow.  I can't really explain it.  Like people in this story have it all wrong.  Or this other story dimension has it all wrong.  Or that maybe the stories don't really fit together, until they do.

Breathing in to the Magical realm, exhale back to the Body, then Watching the Show.

 This is kind of a two parter.  The first part was last night at 4 am.  I was up per usual, but in a place of negative energy.  Which can also be usual at that time...lol.  Anyway, I had it in my mind that the lack of work at work was going to translate into a change of careers soon.  Which may be true, actually.  But the place it took me to was the story that everything would change, my job, my romantic partner, everything when I did not have a job.  The belief and sensation that I had so much ego invested in my career which defined me in all sort of ways.  Then the fact that I would not be able to go back to sleep and I would be tired and that the magic in my life would disappear and be replaced by a prosaic environment that was lifeless.  The faire spring would dry up.  That is was not real and could not give me solace.  That my imaginative connections with the trees was just a fantasy.  You get the idea.   

But I had a new voice this time.  Of gratitude that I was being shown all of this.  That it would be painful, but necessary to see what I needed to see.

I went back to sleep and dreamt heavily after all.   And I'm not really tired today, but I think I am going to fast because my digestion is off.  In between dreams, my consciousness centered on the back of my head, my spine and my tailbone. This allowed my mind to relax.

The second part occurred at my morning meditation.  The new meditation is breathing in, feeling the consciousness go to the wall, or IN front of me in a ball, or to the squirrel (lol), hold, exhale and come back to the body.  Feeling the separation between inside me and outside me.  Then connect with everything.  Well after a while, my attention goes again to the back of my body.  And the stillness there.  And how I had a choice to either stay in the stillness, or go back to the show of the mind and all the river of outflow there.  Like being at the sluice, I suppose.  And I'm not talking about that old restaurant in Spearfish South Dakota near the cabin.  Its too bad we don't still have that cabin by the way.  That would have been very cool.  I didn't appreciate it at the time. 

Intentions are Like Assholes

So I guess I revisited the whole issue of intentions this morning.  Sure, its sort of encouraged before you to psychedelics to articulate why you are doing them.  Makes sense at a certain level.  I mean if you have a specific problem you are addressing (e.g. addiction, chronic disease, PTSD, and the ilk), the idea of why you are going to do this sort of is an easy question to answer.  

I've always resisted the idea.  Maybe because I don't really have an intention.  I have plenty of ideas about why I'm doing it, but they are experiential.    Like the fact  I've always been into meditation since I was a kid and books about meditation or mystical experiences started falling off the library bookshelves when I walked by, and from then, its sort of a natural progression to psychedelics.  Makes sense, but doesn't really answer the question.  And I'm not really much of an explorer.  I'm more of a chicken.  So exploration and curiosity are also not part of my intention/motivation for doing it.  In short, I'm not really sure why.  I sort have have always been drawn to them, in a chickenish sort of way.

Then there is the idea that whatever bullshit intention I could come up with before I took ayahuasca would be immediately circumvented by the actual experience and whatever meager intention I came up with would go out the window as soon as I'm on the journey.  This is because the universe and what is going on is vastly more interesting than any idea I have about what is really going on.  So my intentions have always been a little open ended I suppose to allow for the universe to show me something rather than having a preconception about what the psychedelic experience is like.   The intention I initially used is for psychedelics "to show me what I need to see."  I guess I sorta still go with that.  

However today, I had the follow up insight that when I'm taking psychedelics, I have the reoccurring experience that I am always doing it, always repeating the cycle and in some ways wishing that I didn't.   

More to the point, why am I meditating?.  Why do I do these little funny rituals I do around the farm house.  What is going on?  Am I obsessed ? I mean every now any then I get some breakthroughs, but still, there is  the desire now to cut through the bullshit and just get down to it.  That is the deeper koan.  What is going on.  It feels like I'm doing this in all aspects of my life in some ways.  Am I avoiding something by this little dance. 

The real intention i feel sometimes is to connect.  With what I'm not sure.  I'm not sure how.  But to not be separate.  That is all....lol 

Opening and closing until you get the frequency you want.

 So....by way of an update, i'm into wands now.  Or at least I was until the fairies from the fairy spring out front took the crystal one I had away.  Not surprising.  I think they are encouraging me to create my own wand the nearby trees.  Or one of the sycamore's at the eastern/western portal at Nipper.

So the wands help me focus.  Like I point them down and my attention and perception goes down in the earth.  And I can get grounded.   Which of course is not a bad thing.  So these days, when I go on forest walks (which by the way have now included crossing the street and finding another portal--but that is another story) I take at least one wand with me.  And as soon as I get my sycamore ones made, I'll be a bad ass because they are kinda like clubs--one in each hand.

So the wands not only ground me by focusing and opening up the ground, but they can also focus and open up whatever they are pointed at or circle.    Which makes sense.  Where your attention flows is what and where you are at whatever level you want to take that.

So then there is this whole thing about meditating into the bodies of animals and trees.  The mediation is not just based on thought, but is encouraged by all the senses.  This is very much of a work in progress, encouraged by David Abram's book "Becoming Animal" or something like that.  I wonder if that Indian gentleman on the trial the other day appreciated the fact that I was meditating into a squirrel the other day.   And darned if that little critter was almost coming up to me when we were interrupted during our communion.  And no Mr. Indian gentlemen, I was not watching my dog, did you see a dog? lol.  

So back to the wands and the animals.  The other gift is the whole idea of opening and closing.  Something like the mediation practice I remember of bowing when you go into every room you enter.  Its related to that.   Closing the chapter of what you just did and opening the other one.  Its cleaner that way, don't you think? And there is not the energetic residue coming with you to your new activity.  In fact the more you open and close when you go from one thing to another, you create your own kind of vibration.  For isn't that we do at every level, open and close, expand and contract with every level?  Opening and closing until you get the frequency you want?  

So I guess that is all.

The Orange Theory Theory. Well, its not really a theory, and I suppose that is one of the points.

 Ok, so I'm in Orange Theory, and for once this is not a dream.  But at lunchtime today.  And no I wasn't taking a nap.  And Richard is giving me shit, he's always giving me shit.   But this time is was not necessarily directed at me.  It was at the class in general.  And he says: "don't move like you have no purpose."

And I retort:  "But that's how I live my live--that's the story of my life."  Then he looks at me thoughtfully, and then it fades to that look where he doesn't know what to say.  So he says:  "good to know." 

And this is an important point.  I have this belief, that if I could form the correct intention to this life, something magical would happen.  Its almost like I've been put here to remember something, or experience something.   And in the meantime, I'm kind of going through the motions like I don't have a purpose.  Or a porpoise.  Now that would be a great spirit animal.  In other words,  what is it that i'm really wanting to achieve with all this "spiritual" stuff that I do.  I know I want to achieve transcendence I suppose.  To connect with that state that I've been to before.  But it seems like there is something more beyond that.  And its not a word or an idea or a concept.  It is an experience of an energy, where you open up into something new, like a plant pushing up from the underground for the first time into the sunlight.  An experience beyond any prior imagination.  Of course, in some ways, the imagination or vision is central to it.  But its still something different.  Am I making sense?  lol

More to the point, when I have those bad trips, and I go to that place its a very common these that I am trying to find transcendence or I feel like I must get beyond this world, and that this is the chance.  That I must go to the light.  And that the people around me are holding me back.  And of course, at some level, people generally want something from you.  So its not surprising that I would pick up on something like that in that situation.  And maybe there is something to that.  That I should reduce the effect that this sort of energy has in my life.  And to not get drawn into other people's drama.  I know I have never drawn the Hermit card in my archetype draw, but maybe I should.  

I mean, i'm already on that road.  Sleeping alone. Talking to trees.   Reading books to trees. Making offerings to the house and the nearby enchanted glen.   I'm just waiting to see the fairies that keep moving my hexagrams near the "spring" in the enchanted glen....lol

And as far as that other place that I go to on the bad trip.  That place where I am stuck between two places and that I don't want to be there, maybe that also is related to this.  That I am stuck between this world and the next.   Still, I'm always trying to get back to my old life when I reach this point.  And upset that I have used psychedelics again.  So I'm not sure how that all fits in.  That is the confusion, literally and physically.

But I feel I am not going to engage with this energy directly.  I have to do it obliquely.  Like Perseus and the Medusa.  I must not gaze at the gorgon directly.  But use a mirror to throw my spear into the beast.  Does anyone have a mirror I can use? 

Arranged Marriages in Mumbai

In my dream, my friend B from Mumbai was going to leave his marriage to J because his parents had arranged him to be in another marriage to MS. He did not have a choice in the matter, but my impression was that he was not resisting. 

In this realm of existence, B and J were married without the approval of their parents.  B's family could have obtained a substantial dowry had he married somebody besides J because of the status of B's family.  There were probably problems with the marriage early one, likely some resistance from B's family, but as I am not family, this is speculation.  B's mother recently turned 90.  J has been like a daughter to her all these years.  So all is well that ends well.  On the other hand, in this realm, MS did not come from a wealthy family, and her relationship with B had nothing to do with marriage.  In fact, it was what was known as "extra-marital."

So we return to the dream.  I was talking with J.  She could no longer stay in Mumbai.  It was too expensive.  There were different proposals that were investigated, some where my ideas  She could for example, move to America and marry me in order to obtain citizenship.   But she could not continue to work in B's company.  I don't remember why.  That was another issue.

Then there were several gay guys.  They were involved in some sort of political or military intrigue.  I was in a large modern skyscraper.  I think J was there as well.  The gay guys had some sort of superpowers.  There was violence.  I'm not sure how it all turned out.

I was also back in Mumbai with B.  This is the very murky part.  This is likely a much older dream I had.  Again, these are the deepest dreams, the dream we remember within a dream.  We were in an old part of Mumbai.  This was almost the Mumbai before history.  Large animals around.  Mythic creatures.  Still later on I was at B's house which was not really his house.  And there was some sort of business going on.  Like I said, there is something almost magical about dreams within dreams.:-)

Imperialism Close to Home

 I actually had this dream back in August, this is what a dictated:

I was in a large house.  And I knew that people were coming to attack the house.   I was trying to get my dad to get the guns.  There were also more people in the house I was trying to organize.  My sister was there also.  I was also trying to get her up.  There also was a small Spanish boy.  He was involved with it also, but on the side that was going to attack us.  I didn't trust him.  I saw that he was using the phone in a furtive manner in the corner.  I took the phone away from him and yelled into the phone that "we are going to be ready for you.  You are going to die today. "

The person on the phone responded that "we are coming to take our property back."  

I started chocking the little boy.  As a warning for them because he was helping them.

Art Things/The Worlds Tallest Gunshot Victim

 Mugwort played a role in this.  First time it has graced me in a quite a while.  It was calling to me after I woke up and midnight with my pulse racing.

Ok, we were, and by "we" I'm kinda referring to two parts of myself, but it wasn't clear.  There was more than just me.  One time I thought one of the parts was my daughter or something.  We were applying to this place, I want to say it was like in Bloomington.  And it was being run, like a commune, but it was for art also.  Art had something to do with the application process.  There was an oriental male who approved the submissions.  I saw him nod. 

In any event, it was multi-level and we had to bring these things like applications.  And it was also like the problem in the world we wanted to solve.  That had something to do with the application.    When we were accepted, then these art things became incorporated into where we were living.  I saw other chambers that had the applications woven seamlessly into the chambers.  

There was a swimming pool there.  It was round and there were people all around it.  One of them I thought was cat woman, but it turned out to be somebody else who I didn't know.  

Then there was a problem.  There were big bubbles of the earth erupting all around us.  The ground was expanding and contracting.  There was a sinister intelligence after me.  But I was able to go to another level to escape its wrath.  Or at lease I think I did.

Then...last night (the above events were two nights ago).  I was with the worlds tallest poet.  He was interacting with some figure than struck me as being connected to organized crime.  He had henchmen that were also menacing.  The worlds tallest poet (WTP) was interacting some business with him.  It was like selling art or wanting to provide art for the crime boss, but it was more nuanced than that.  After the transaction, the WTP was gloating or delighted or somewhere in between that he pulled off the deal whatever it was.  Then we stepped outside the crime bosses place.  There were two doors.  We stepped out one of the doors.   Then the other door opened up and one of the crime bosses henchman pulled out a shotgun and shot the WTP in the face.    The WTP still had a head and a face, but it somewhat expanded with the blast.  The WTP continued to walk about and mumble about something.  I think I woke up after that.

The Night Before the Night Before

 I was in a room that was somewhat familiar, but I don't remember ever being there before.  Then I saw JpMcG and I thought, here it is, I am actually seeing a spirit, much like Beau described in her recent podcast.  I was excited.  He didn't say anything. Then he started looking older, like he would presumably look if he were still alive.  Then I had the sensation of rising, and the thought occurred that I was in a dream, and that as a result, this was not an encounter with the spirit like I thought it was.

I don't remember if it was before that thought or after but I started crying.  I don't remember why.  So did JpMcG.  Not sure why he was crying either.

Then Mac was underwater at a pool.  Incident to some music that was played.  Then there was different music with a different version and a different artist.  And she was able to get out of the water again.    It was more complicated than that.  Madison was involved.  There was a different song.  It wasn't arcade fire but it was something like arcade fire and the lyrics had something to do with getting out of the water which was why she was able to do it.  I'm not sure exactly why.  There was also another guy involved. There seemed to be some enforcers as well.  Very bizzare.

Not assisting a Physician Suicide

 In this dream, I was working as an intern at the Springfield Clinic.  Of course, it really wasn't the Springfield Clinic, but another building I had never been in.  However, I may have actually been in the building before in a prior dream, but that is only a whisper.   Actually now that I am writing this I hear several whispers of prior dreams involving hospitals or medical buildings.  More than several actually.

I was working with another intern helping a physician out.  The physician was reminiscent of Nick, except he wasn't from Colombia.  The physician was busy and he wanted us to find this other guy when he entered the building.   The guy who was going to come in was another doctor.  We had his picture to identify him when he came in.   So we waited.   And sure enough, the other physician then came in the building.  He had blonde hair.  We flagged him down.  We told him the other doctor who remind me of Nick wanted to see him.  We walked him to Nick.  Somewhere along the way, I was given the chart with the diagnosis of the physician who had just walked in.    The diagnosis was something about an illness that would lead to suicide.  But something about the person with this disease would not know that this condition would lead to suicide.  

So I had this information and this chart.  And I started talking.  I thought the physician who reminded me of Nick should take over the case but he seemed to want me to handle the situation.  So I started asking questions like have you ever had suicidal ideations before or ever been diagnosed with a condition leading to suicide.  But I was tying to be very subtle about it and not ask any leading questions that could give the doctor any ideas.    And the doctor told me that he was fine now and that his condition had something to do with the election.   Then I was fumbling the papers around looking for the diagnosis.  

Not Appreciating the Gift/Raising Cain

We are just vessels.  Life flows into us and through us.  Life is the gift.  All of it.  

In times of discomfort, we don't appreciate the gift.  Its like the river bank not appreciating the stream.  It can flow over the bank, it can dry up.

The mind rises up from the river where the flow is blocked.  That is what a thought is, a trauma, a perturbation.  It separates this from that.  It projects the future, it experiences the past.  When it sinks back down into the flow, the body of the river, it makes the connection.  But until it sinks back down into the body, it is a dead end.

In some ways, you can avoid this if you experience the river though your body, your heart, your tanden.  Any place other than the flicker of your mind.

And now for something completely different:  White people are decedents of Cain.  We are products of the original archetypical murder.  There was an archetypical garden of Eden.  Likely someplace in Africa.  There was a disagreement, likely a murder and a banishment.   In the land of Nod.

This came to mind when I was reading Malidoma Patrice Some.  He talked about his village elders reluctance to engage the white colonizers and belief that they harbored some distant ancestral trauma to do what they were doing.    Have a good day.

Meditations...Update

The greatest gift the pandemic has given me is the space to give more space to meditation.  Ever morning, 1. 5 hours.  Now my friends the trees get to participate.  All of them.  Even the glen and the culvert in front of the property:-)

 This is an ongoing summary of the different paths I have been taking.  They change almost daily.   I get prodded in new directions, and back to old ones.  All of these paths overlap.  All of these paths are really the same path.  I suppose that is the whole point:

1.  Feel follow experience the breath.  The old standard.  When you no longer have the energy to do any of the practices that follow, this is always the default mode so to speak.  You can't get away from it, the breath is always your friend.

2.  Portals.  I really dig this one.  What you are and what you experience comes from something else that arises.  And you let it run the show, and you watch and listen.  You are a spectator of sorts on what unfolds.   In this way, we are like an endless series of channeled energies,  each coming through the portals.  Mediums to a host of spirits.  Egregores.  And the more you can feel that you are not what you think you are, or what you have been, things open up.   This links to all the practices which follow, especially the next one...

3.  Centering Prayer.  Now I know Father Keating and the Benedictines do it differently, but this is like #2 only the portal that opens up for you and runs the show is the divine.  You are a vessel for the divine.  If you want to do it like they do, read some religious passage and let that show the way.  This doesn't have to be Christian centered.  It can be shamanic, what opens up for you is your higher self, you ancestors, you name it.  There are so many portals.

4.  The heart/The tanden/the ground .  Imagine the breath is coming from the heart.  Imagine the heart open and close like a lotus flower.  Imagine the seat of your consciousness emanating from your heart or you tanden (hara).  Or breathe up from the earth.  Its a much slower deeper form of consciousness.  Lately, its almost like the object of the meditation is right behind the heart, and the world slows down from that place.  Its such a different experience than experiencing reality from your head.  

5.  Open Focus Meditation.  Ever morning on the way to work:-)

6.  Feel the Vibrations/Heart beat/Respirations/Body sensations.  Similar to 4 and 1.

7.   Mantras.  Om Mani padme hum.  whatever comes to mind and is repeated.  Sometimes a drum rhythm.  

8.   Just Listen.  Observe.   

9.  Observe the Observer.

10.  Sing a song about coming back to him and come back to the body, not with the mind, but with the song.

Mediums, Lows and Highs

 I'm not sure about the whole spiritualism enterprise.  I mean its really cool when you listen to a medium in this big fucking mansion that springs up out of the farmland like a medieval castle outside Towanda (I kept looking for a moat), but not so sure the medium is connecting with what she thinks she's connecting with.  So I'm looking at it this way:

First, this particular medium is working within a basic Christian belief.  Something like, when you die your spirit goes up and hangs out with God and all is just peachy.  Like a big family reunited.  And that's all cool and within that container or belief system, I think some of the participants were able to connect with what they believed were lost ones given them helpful advice, or encouragement from the departed.

But in my experience, its not like we have one soul to begin with.  We have a conglomerate of voices.  Like a freaking portal for different things to emerge, be summoned, or appear at different times or in response to different things.   When we die, its becomes even more weird and expansive.  And this is where I superimpose mother Aya to the whole endeavor.  But I digress.

I think the universe is always pushing us in different directions.  Mostly to grow and evolve.  But those are also limited human concepts.  When we interact with someone else, or some other situation, or some tree, or whatever for that matter, something comes through our portal in response to whatever we are interacting with.  And its how people find people to begin with I think.  When someone comes into our life, or we hear someone's voice on the radio or we read some passage in a book all this is occurring because we are all networked together baby and the universe is trying to show us something, give us some little nudge.  And this is where I'm channeling schitzo Mike, in case you can't tell.  lol

Try this as an experiment, next time you are interacting with someone, just watch and see what arises, what voices come up inside you in response to what they are doing or saying.  The voice that arises is you is a different voice with different people.   It would be difficult to keep track of all the different voices that come up in you if you have been a busy bee during the week.   And if you have had some sort of trauma in the past, my sense is that the voice which arises in you and the other person is a recreation of some earlier trauma.  But I am digressing. 

So lets give the medium the benefit of the doubt.  She is intuitive.  Which means she is sensitive to the different voices that arise within her in different situations.  And she pays attention to those voices and is able to articulate them to others.  Because at some level, that is what the others need to hear.  So the voices within her, which may be parts or manifestations of the parts of the deceased (because we are all part of the same cosmic goo) arise, and she is able to articulate them to the participants.  And I suppose in some mysterious way, there may be some connection between the voices arising between she and the participant that bear some relation to the energy of the departed.  But that is all I got.

Of course, the voice that told her at the beginning of the ceremony that men are generally disbelievers and will think she is on a fishing expedition had the effect of summoning a voice in me to be wary.  Not surprising that she created in me (and us in the interaction) a fishing expedition in that she did not create or summon any voice inside me resonate with what she was saying.  Or something like that.  She cast a spell of nonbelief at the beginning of the ceremony, and I did not have any voice that thought of any counterspell....lol

Gollum and his Ego

 Christian de la Huerta analogizes our fixation on the ego with our focus on a baseball when in reality, we are the entire stadium.  This comes into play when someone tries to take our baseball away, or criticize our baseball.  We think we are under attack because we identify with the baseball.  But in reality, we are much more expansive.

Enter Gollum.  He is focused on his ring.  He calls it his precious.  He is horrified that he may lose it.  In this way, he is the personification of the aberrant egoic attachment.  I agree but for me the problem for Gollum is not his focus on the ego, it was that he was not able to create a large enough container to accept his gift of the ring.  For me, we are all given the Ring of Power, it is the wonderful gift of our life.  Our life is a gift, but it is not really ours to possess.  Indeed, it has nothing to do with possession or control, it is much more expansive and grand than anything we could imagine.  The question then becomes how much of the gift can we actually receive?  Can we expand our container?

This is somehow related to that sense I had at Nipper Wildlife Preserve several months ago that I'm looking at my life wrong.  There is this entire different perception that is right in front of us, that you can get a glimpse of.  And I suppose that you call this an expanded awareness, but even that is looking at it the wrong way because its not about expanding.  And its not about increasing the size of the container, but that is the only concept I have to describe it now.  Because it is an awareness that is not accessed by the head, it comes from the heart.

The Baby Mother

This is what one of my demons told me today:  We value winners and winning.  At so many levels.  And there is so much pain because of it.  All interrelated.  

What happens to the baby when the father leaves the mother?  Or what happens to the child when the mother leaves the father?  Or the father leaves the twin daughters?.  Or the father leaves the mother who left the other father?  Or when the father dissociates  from his actions so much that the mother ceases to have a name other than her function as a " baby mother" in the transaction, and the baby, well it doesn't have a name either.  Or a sex for that matter.  If the father referred to "it" as "my son" or "my daughter", well now that may be an improvement.

Still we value the winners.  The father who has the "baby mother", well, he's getting his Phd and the baby mother must be crazy or something.  We understand why he left, or at least we think we do.  So we want him to stay in this country and we try to find someone else he can get married to, someone more on his level perhaps, either intellectually or socio-economically.  And we forget about the baby mother, or the baby.  And we forget about the father and the daughter who got left by the mother who in turn got left by the father.  But at least they have names.  And sexes.    But there is always a bit of uncomfortableness when we think about them. Because they got left.

And then we get into this endless cycle of wanting to win.  When the father who left the mother who left the father is with a new women, that mother is always comparing herself to the new potential mother.  It would be too much to bear if she too was the anonymous "baby mother."  But rest assured, that is what that father would love to call her.  He would just as soon forget about that baby mother.   Just like his mother did when she left his father. 

Falling on Deaf Ears

So after attending the Adrian Trio at the Pharmacy, and all the weird energy associated with that experience which is not mine, but by association somehow becomes stuck on me, at least tangentially, I go to sleep and am at another sort of party.  

Not sure who was at the party, maybe M?  Anyway, I was on the phone calling C.  I'm talking for a long time.  At the end I'm discussing politics and am surprised and catch myself.  I should not be talking about politics.  I think earlier I was talking about spirituality.  In any event, I then listen at the other end of the line and realize that no one is listening.  There is a sound of another party going on in the background.  Likely a hot tub if memory serves.  So all my talking was to no one at the other end.  Probably happens more than we care to admit, if we really think about it...lol

The more I think about it, that is the conversation we have with ourselves trying to justify our past actions to others, when they have already moved on.   Its all about us.  I wonder if CR has any conversations in his head about the past relationship with M or has similarly moved on.  This is no great revelation, just a dream reminder....lol

Earlier in the week, I was at that shady grove place in my dream.  The dream shady grove had a row of sycamore trees.  The real one, at least at this point, does not.  I was going around the place in the dream, as now in real life.  The dream entered the bedroom, but was collegial, more or a partnership than anything intimate, as far as I can remember.  As various odd tasks around the farm ensued on both the dream and reality.

Afterwards, in the dream world I was driving my car off the farm and realized that up ahead was a cliff and I was driving to fast.  I slowed down quickly and rapidly approached the lip of the cliff which led to a precipitous fall.  I woke up before I discovered whether I had braked in time.

Wisconsin (the hall of the Gods aka the northern portal)

Here we go again my friend.  After four times, I begin to feel somewhat of the rhythm of the experience.  Costa Rica, Florida, St. Louis, and now Wisconsin.  And now on Mushrooms not Ayahuasca.  All going to and pointing to the same place.  Our infinite nature.

Its been several weeks since this night,  but this morning during mediation some salient memories emerged:  The onset of the trip was sudden and unexpected.  I did not think I had taken that much.  As I was walking back to the tent I looked at Wendy and Bill down by the campfire area and a part of Wendy slowed down and looked at me and knowingly indicated the inevitability of the experience.  Something I was being called to or an inevitability that was coming for me.  Curious, when I think of it now far removed, I wonder if it was death that she was pointing to.  But that doesn't quite seem right.  It was something else.  Something that has happened before over and over.  Perhaps something that I have resisted over and over.  And something young. Something that I experienced a long time ago.  

As I think back on this now, the part of Wendy that was communicating with me was a spiritual manifestation or her that went beyond her as well.  Something eternal and throughout time that we were experiencing.  And had experienced before at a level we have forgotten.  Like this was the whole point of our life up to now, to experience this:"  I remember when I looked from the tent and you two were down by the kitchen cleaning up I saw Wendy look at me and it was if some part of her eternal nature smiled and communicated to me the infinite nature of our reality, that we are eternal beings and the inevitability of eternity. Bill was behind her and smiled and kept on working. This was the part I resisted because of my reluctance to face what we are and our eternal journey. Its too vast and scary. I seem to want to go back to the "comfort" of this reality, but that just repeats the cycle, that is the cycle, not facing what we are:-) So there is a divine part of you two that were pointing me in the right direction, which I resisted:-)

And there was also an insight at the time that I was in a different dimension.  And I had the experience that this dimension was the spiritual dimension of the archetypes and spirits.  And I experienced them first had.  Like I said before, Whitman's land of budding Bibles.  And the voice said, why are you surprised about this. This weirdness is what has been written before throughout history.

And I went back to the tent, I went inside the tent and part of me wanted to stay  Part of me knew that I had taken mushrooms.  And I laid down on the sleeping bag.   And part of me wanted to stay.   But there was a voice about surrender and giving it.  It was tied to Christianity.  And that was the message that I must resist.  Surrender was weakness and I would never get out of the this.  And something was pursuing me.  And I had to get away this time.  Because if I stayed I would disintegrate, literally and figuratively.  And I had to keep running or dissolve.  

So I got in the car and drove to get a cell signal.  I had to call M.  And I felt that I had got further than I had in the past.  I had water and a car this time.  This time I could make it.  

And when I talked to M and others, I asked them:

1.  Can I trust you.

2.  What should I do? 

When M and the others could not answer the first question, I took that as a sign that they could not be trusted. Because the forces against me could not lie.  So they avoided the question or did not answer it, it was an indication that they could not be trusted.   M did not answer the question.  So I moved on.  I believe that this discussion took place at the small cemetery in Wauzeka, Wisconsin.   M also asked for my location which I took as another sign that she was aligned against me and part of the forces trying to hunt me down.

Another force propelling me along this journey was the sensation that I was in a game or some sort of simulation.  I was representing people that were counting on me to succeed and get through this, whatever this was.  These people could not communicate with me directly.  Only through symbols.   

And I had clues that I believed confirmed I was on the right path.  For one, the gas tank didn't move.  It stayed on full now matter how far I drove.  And I drove all the way to Iowa to a small town south of Dubuque.  And stayed in a hotel.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.    I also kept turning the air condition down and up, as if the temperature had something I either had to endure or comfort myself with.  I did not know if I should drink the water or not.  Just like in Costa Rica.  And the nausea I felt was a symbol that my body was disintegrating and that I had only a limited amount of time.

What eventually broke me out of this place was the continued thoughts about where I was going to.  I was not really driving to Springfield, because I felt that nothing would change there.  I had no direction.  I was just aimlessly running.  Eventually I stopped.

Even now I'm not fully in this world.  If at all.  And the unease in some way is a running from something, just like when I'm in mushroom space.  I'm always driven to do something.   And therein lies the practice.  To be still and with myself.  To allow what is pursuing me to catch up with me.  And to feed that demon perhaps? 

Go To Ground!

 I was up at 5am which is a little late for my rhythm these days.   But that didn't hinder me.   It was not too late to go back to sleep.  

I heard this mantra, "go to ground, go to ground" and I felt the whole world collapsing into the back of my head.  Into my cerebellum, or whatever part that is.    Over and over, there was only the back of my head, the whole world folding into it and the intention of going into the ground.

Then I was dreaming.  And I was doing a podcast.  There were three of us.  But I wasn't asking the questions.  It was Zander interviewing Faingold.  They were doing fine.  I thought Zander was asking good questions.  I kept wanting to ask, but he kept asking so I was silent.  Then I couldn't hear what they were saying, either the questions or the answers.   And then they stopped sort of abruptly.  Then they left.  I was trying to get them back to the table to record.  But they didn't come back.  Then there was some sort of technical problem with my equipment. 

Then all of a sudden there was some sort of alert.  And everyone was freaking out.  It was like there was inclement weather approaching.   But it was more that inclement weather, it was more like infinite weather.  An interdimensional attack beyond our comprehension.  Imagine that.  Like that never happens...lol    I was frightened.

I'm not sure what happened next.  I remember thinking that "Go To Ground!" would be a great name for a podcast, and perhaps I should change End of the Road to Go to Ground.  Its almost the same sort of thing in a way.  Certainly, the guests could be the same...lol     But Go to Ground is like electrical stuff, everything goes to ground.  Its such a nice thing to slow down and let everything go to ground.

Dude, All You Had to Do Was Ask

In the dream (maybe two weeks ago--I recorded this but hadn't written it down), I found myself going into the pain and it really opened up.  First, I asked for assistance.  And it seemed to be unaware that is what I was doing.  It eventually provided it though.  

In my relationship to M, I saw that she had a black and red mask, fleshfaced.  Powerful but slightly menacing.  

Then I made an agreement at some point to participate in some sort of dream shaman work, as that is what I understood this to be.  I could see peoples charts before me, like some sort of skeleton with words and their dreams and what was bothering them their entire life laying out in front of them.  And then, there was a friend and we were all together in a group and she was going to say something, but there was so much noise around here and I started the chant, KAREN, KAREN, KAREN.  And I saw past lives.  And it did not cause me to fear  them because there was so much in them.  I did not fear rebirth into this new realm--like I had before in ayahuasca ceremonies.   And there were people there in these new realms that I could talk to.  Higher beings.   Both female.  And one of them was a dream shaman.   And she said, dude, all you have to do is ask for it.  They are always there.  Ask for the help.

And at some point I was in Africa.  Driving in some sort of van.  Looking out at the countryside, the houses, trees, and grafitti on the houses.  And it felt good.  Then I was at some sort of gathering.  Some sort of dance.  And I was with C, but i wasn't talking to her and that felt good.

And I looked at myself and felt that I had dyed my hair white and purple.  Like I was going to participate in some sort of rave dance scene.  At first I felt a little uncomfortable, as if the purple hair would make me more female and less masculine.  But then I realized the power in it.  I remembered my age and baldness, but it didn't matter because I was connected to a vital sexuality.  So I got that going for me...lol

Centralia in Dreamland

 At the first part of the dream I was with someone I was very close to.   Probably one of my daughters.  There was a feeling of togetherness like it was someone who was with you your entire life.  And then there was something about my age.  And I did the math.  I was 95 or imagined what it would be like to be 95.  And in my dream, I did the math, it was 2060.

Then I was in a strange town.  For some reason I thought the name of it was Centralia, but it was not the real Centralia, and didn't have anything to do with that.  Its weird, as I type this I'm remembering another dream of another small town that had some type of restaurant.  Oh, and there is another dream nested in that one, a desert mountain range and another small town.  Maybe in Southern Illinois.  But not really.  I can almost remember all these nested dreams within dreams that occurred on different nights. And involved different people.

Back to Centralia.  It felt like I was there for a long time.  I had many adventures.  I only remember a few.  I was driving by some sort of large brick structure that might have been a school house.  My car was speeding and I tried to slow down but couldn't.  A female policeman was there.  I had met her before.  Very comely.  Blonde?  She reduced my infraction to some sort of non-moving violation, but I was still in trouble in some sort of way.

And there were many houses I was in.  One of them had a group of people that I knew (not sure how) who were performing some sort of occult ceremony.  For some reason, I think my intention at the time was to haunt them or interact with them in some way like that because I knew that I could.  There were stores in other parts of the dream.  With so many people and adventures.  I'm sorry, I can't remember more now.  Maybe later when I'm typing out a dream in the future it will all come back to me.

Making Out with the Date that Repulsed me in Real Life

 I was at the farmhouse.  Except it wasn't really the farmhouse.  It was in Illiopolis.  Also it was kind of in Collins Heights in Gillette, Wyoming.   I was in an upstairs room in the farmhouse.  But the lay out was different.  The rooms in the farmhouse run east west.  The rooms in this farmhouse ran north south.  But whatever the spatial orientation, the place seemed familiar.

I was planning on going on a date with that lawyer woman I went out with a couple of years ago.  In real life, she was alot of fun, but it didn't work  out.  And at some level I was repulsed by her.  She was telling me how ugly different body parts of hers were.  They really weren't.  She wasn't unattractive at all.  But still something about the way she was projecting herself to me made me shy away.

However in this dream life, I was all in.  She was upstairs in the farmhouse with me and we were making plans for the date later that night.  We started to kiss and it was awesome.  Like we were one person.  There was no barrier between us.  I knew that when we made love later that night it would also be memorable and spiritual.  Like finding a soul mate.  I may have even told her this.    Then

she left and I was texting her about further plans for the evening.

Then I heard a bunch of kids voices.  One of the kids came in the room and we talked.  I asked him what his name was, and he told me that he didn't have a name.  I felt sort of sad for him.  Then I had the thought that the place was some sort of orphanage.   One of the nurses or carekeeper came in.  She was an elderly heavy set lady.   She was pleasant.  She smiled at me.  I think the boy left.  

Representing the Three Stooges

 I was representing the Three Stooges in a case.  Yes, my dreams are really like that.  They were accused of taking psychedelic mushrooms.  And Yes, my dreams are really like that.  And they were basically admitting doing so.  But I knew that even though they were admitting that they were taking mushrooms, they really didn't know what a psychedelic mushroom was.  They were just being agreeable.  So I was trying to on cross-examination get them to admit to all sorts of stuff which would demonstrate that they were just admitting to everything and really had no idea of what they were saying.  Finally they admitted that they did not know what psilocybin was.

Then I was in a forest with a woman who I thought was Barbara Stanwyck.  Yes, my dreams are really like that.   Sorry but I don't remember that part.

Killing a Ferret in Rhythm

 I was exploring holes in the ground.  Some of them were filled with noxious stuff, but they all had stairways going down into them.  I remember being excited that I had discovered openings to them.  I was me, but I was also not me.  What I was doing was part of a larger program that also involved my daughters.  I may have been my daughters at some point in the dream.  There was much more, but I don't remember it.  I don't remember actually going down the holes.

Then I was in a different place.  I was with a group of young people.  Something like being in college except my group was not receiving any support from its elders or teachers.  I don't remember why.  One of us, who was me, but also not me, encountered one of the large ferrets that was as large as a human (even longer) and sort of alien looking.  Through some sort of musical rhythm, and also some kind of hand mudra, he/I was able to outmaneuver the ferret and in what was sort of a long drawn out process eventually kill it by biting its throat.  This was seen as a great victory.  Even one of the teachers who previously was indifferent was very excited and started showing the group additional hand gestures (mudras) we could use that also corresponded with some sort of rhythm.    It was like a hidden code was being revealed.    I don't really remember what happened after that.  

It all starts to make sense and open up.  And clearly, I'm going down into the holes these days.

In My Dream, I was a Woman who was a Graphic Artist

 In my dream, I remember being a woman who drew graphic art images.  Like cartoons.  I was captured by some kind of gangster who was a monster.  Like some kind of monster in a Japanese anime cartoon or something.  But I was able to escape.  I don't remember exactly how I escaped but I think it had something to do with what I was drawing.  I think i drew this black superhero free of charge and as a boon or some sort of reciprocity I was able to escape.  Not really sure.  

Then I was male again.  And I was at a Replacements concert.  Instead of Paul Westerburg singing, the mayor of Jerome (Mike) was the lead vocalist.  Maybe Westerburg was playing drums.  Anyway they came on stage in a Viking ship.  Then I was above ground on something like an aircraft carrier listening to time.  I remember having all kinds of fun and being with tons of women and hugging them.  But nothing sexual.  

Now that I remember it, before this all happened I had found a spirit guide who was inside my heart.  And there was something about meditating on a straight line or tree or cactus or something vertical and stuck in the ground for support.  It was a great object of meditation.  I kept returning to my spirit guide whose name was Larry or something like that.  So all in all, it was a great evening.....

It Doesn't Take a lot of Entheogens to send me through the Portal.

 Ok, so in the middle of the night, while the pain was acute and the energy was heavy and sticky and I had to leave to catch a flight to Arizona at 6 am and I was sleeping on my futon because I could not sleep on my bed, because the whole country of Sweden was already asleep there and then I hear this voice that I should go to the freezer and get one of my ice cubes that contain a small amount of psilocybin cubensis     Given all the circumstances,  probably not a good idea because it was already like 3 pm or something. But I heeded the voice.  Good job you.

Anyway, it doesn't take a lot of entheogens to send me through the portal.  And when you go through the portal you can see what the pain is all about.  And this is the gift of those little fungii.    And indeed, this is precisely when I should listen to the sacred mushrooms, when they can help me understand my pain and communicate what they need and what they want from us.  That is not quite right.  I can't really articulate it.  But my pain is exactly when they want to communicate with me, and when I should heed the call so to speak.  Anyway, here was the message in the pain:

1.  We are not separate, but entirely dependent on plants and other humans.

2.  Humans are the virus and the cancer to the larger body that is something like Gaia.

3.  I need help.  I am fragmented and broken in so many places.  And that is the pain.  But at the same time, it is intensely beautiful.  So I got that going for me.  And this pretty much applies to everyone.

4.  The signs of helping me are all around.  a.  Ulrika; b. Evelyn; c. That nice intuitive woman from the Dave O ventures.

5.  Mushrooms and plants are indeed sacred medicines in every sense of the word.  

Damn, Van Damn

 I was in some confinement, or what felt like some sort of confinement in a very strange land. I knew that I would have to drink or eat or do something with a big vat they were making that was something like tobacco in a liquid form.  I knew I was going to be forced to take it.  I was just awaiting my time.  But I felt confident because I had already eating some of the pellets of the vat like dog food.  Maybe I felt I was getting a jump on the competition that way or something.  I don't really remember.

Then I was in a different area.  And Van Damn was there telling about how skilled and talented he was.  He was aligned to my captors or hosts or whatever they were in this strange land.   Then Van Damn was approached by a group (maybe just two?) outsiders and he was immediately scared of them.  Like they were the real deal and his fraud was exposed.   I saw fear in his eyes for he knew immediately who these individuals were and that their skill far exceeded his.  The two then proceeded to attack him.  I remember leaving that scene to go tell my captors (oppressors) something like "hey your man is getting his ass kicked over there or something" as if to curry favor perhaps with them.  I'm not really sure of my motivation at that point.  I saw somebody getting badly beat up, it didn't really look like Van Damn, but I assumed it was.  I woke up at that point. 

Veterans and Balloons. And I suppose Hypnotherapy

I was with one of my high school friends.  But I think that part of the dream ended and there was a transition that I don't remember.  

I think I was in some sort of desert and up ahead I thought I saw a beautiful burst of stars from something.  As I went investigated closer, the stars were actually balloons.  Then the balloons sunk down to the ground.  There were all sorts of written letters and messages on them.  I had to put them somewhere.  I think I was with a little boy at the time.  And maybe his mother.  I was trying to dispose of the balloons for the boy.  We ended up putting them in a building that was some sort of shop, but the man who came out was upset that we put the balloons there.  

I remember thinking that we had to put the balloons somewhere.  Outside the shop was a man who was a veteran.  The balloons belonged to him. I guess.  Maybe it was part of some sort of fundraiser.  The veteran had some sort of beard.  Vietnam era veteran. 

I don't remember what happened next. I don't remember how the little boy felt, or if the little boy was me.  I only know one veteran from the Vietnam era.  My old babysitter.  I remember watching videos of bombs going off in a jungle in the basement of our Denver home.  It was downstairs.  That is what I remember from the hypnosis.  I wonder what he wanted to do with the balloons.  Next time, I will have to look more closely to see what the letters said.

We are Here to Serve Each Other

Do you ever notice that when you are with different people, you become different?  Act different?  Different voices come up in you?  With some people, the voice of caring arises at times, others you are more on your guard.   I'm wondering if it goes further than that.  What arises in you is what the other person at some level needs to hear.  Or, from the other direction, we create what we need to hear from others.  The voice that wells up from others is what we need to hear.  In this way, we are all interconnected and helping each other grow, with our without our conscious cooperation.  Its a wonderful thing.

I'm interviewing the muscian Jam Alker on the podcast in a bit on this lovely Saturday afternoon.  One of his quotes that I'm going to ask him about goes something to the effect that music for him has been a way to express his grief, pain, depression, anxiety, etc.  For him, holding it in can lead him back to addiction and using.  What resonates in this message for me is the need to express the truth.    Holding it in does not accomplish the purpose.

Take my experience with the Woo Woo last weekend.  At so many levels, I think she is deceiving herself.  In the past I had kept my mouth shut, thinking perhaps my feelings had more to do with me and not her and generally  not wanting to cast a spell, judge, or put a label on her.  In this past I have shied away with telling anybody they were something, rather seeing that is my reaction to what they were.

And I've kept that inside for awhile.  And eventually it comes out in ugly ways. She even asked me, are you calling me "delusional" and I couldn't help saying yes.  I suppose its far from the "right" speech of Buddhism, but it gushed out of me.  It could have been delivered more skillfully.  But she has this idea that she is some kind of reflector (from human design).  All my senses suggest otherwise.  I feel her energy to the point of it being overwhelming and something I need to remove myself from.  To the point where I am clearly triggered.  Whether or not it is true or not, my impressions were something I believe she needed to hear at some level. If what I said was more about me than here, it likely will not stick on her or cause her any reaction.  But if she does react, then you know it perhaps is otherwise.   

I suppose before sharing "what is welling up in you" with others, it probably makes sense to obtain consent first.  Ask them if you have permission to disclosure how they are affecting you.

In any event, I think what really triggered me a couple of weeks ago was the Woo Woo statement to the effect that "I can feel your empathy for me, but I don't want it.  Its more about you then it is about me."  There was something in that for both of us.  There always is.  That is the whole point you know.   And its not just what Judith Orloff M.D. would say...lol   Its just portals and portals, like endless Russian dolls.  Some portals are better left alone.  I'm slowly learning that.  Shit, after 55 years you would think I'd have that figured out by now. 

The Island of Misfit Toys

Ok, now this is all about the waking dream.  Or is it?   There have been new thoughts.  One thought is that I create the story that I have abandonment issues because I was shuffled around various babysitters when I was young. Blah blah blah.  And as I result I tend to be attracted to women who are not emotionally available to keep up the cycle.  I suppose you can read this on some internet site like "poppsychology.com" or some random self health book.

But the other dynamic is that the women who are into me, who perhaps get me, make me emotionally unavailable, and make me want to run,  perhaps because they remind me of my own  uncomfortable parts (yes, I'm using the word "part" in the IFS context now...lol) and my "protector" parts over and I run.

Case in point, this weekend.  Somebody that gets me.  I mean really understands the moment by moment flux of the change that occurs to me.  And immediately recognizes when I go somewhere else.  Which is all the time, right?  lol   And states that "we are both misfit toys."  Which on one level is correct.  But the misfit part of myself has been shunned since high school if not before. Indeed, that is why I became of a lawyer, or at least one of the salient reasons--just to Goddamn fit in...lol.  Sure, I could have gone to grad school and wrote and studied all the time, but I viewed that as outside of society.  So I went to law school.  I wanted to fit in.  And I did.  And that is how it has played out for the last 30 years, at least on the surface, at least until very recently where I am not as concerned about fitting in.  But I suppose I'm still trying to fit in, maybe just not in lawyer circles.  I'm still trying to play a part.

Now don't get me wrong.  I'm now going into the uncomfortableness of it all.  Like a motherfucker.  Like taking psychedelics to do it.  Like mediating two hours a day now.   Uncomfortableness is my friend and ally.  And If you listen to James Kent, I'm kind of a spiritual masochist. But I digress.  

 The dynamic of being a misfit and trying to fit in and the tension between it all is what has made me what I am.  Caused me to embrace society and not withdraw from it.  Now, I'm forgotten what I'm railing against.  Maybe I'm not even sure.  Now I remember.  Two words,  Maureen D. in law school.  Exhibit B, so to speak.  She got me.  We had intense conversations.  But there was a little voice inside my head that said run.  She is a head case.  Run.  Now I may be a head case as well.  But after I balked at Maureen D. she immediately started sleeping with my roommate and best friend (now deceased John M).  Not that I minded one bit or was jealous.  Thank God she left me alone.  And thank God my little head makes better decisions than my big head.  But we agreed on that one.  I wouldn't f her with a ten foot pole.  And John, bless his heart, did everything and every female.  That was the beauty of John...lol.

So where does that leave me.  My little crystal ball says that when I bring this up, my other co-misfit is not going to take it well.  She's all about relating to me until I don't play the misfit.   And I resist the spell that she is trying to cast on me: turning me into a misfit.    Well is suppose that's better than the other spell, where you keep me at bay by pathologizing me or turning me into a frog, but I think I already talked about that.  Time to run again...lol.

Wow what a strange weekend.  Saturday, woo woo as the delusional life coach.  Sunday on the island of misfit toys.  

Hey, its all good.  Time to get hypnotized again tonight? Right? 

Drilling Down to the Bone

 I was in Germany in the late WW2 era.  Soldiers came into town and I had to to flee.  I had the vague idea that I was going to be a partisan living in the woods and fighting the soldiers.  There were other partisans as well, but I don't remember them.  We had a large white tent on a hill overlooking the town.  For some reason, I thought this would be safe.  I was wrong.  The soldiers came up the hill and I was hiding in the tent.  I wrapped the tent canvas around me to shield myself.   The soldiers did not lift the tent up to see me, but they must have known I was there by because I could feel their hands all over me through the canvas. Then they started drilling.  The drill went into my teeth.  I was expecting the pain to come but it never did.  That is when I awoke.

It was not a pleasant morning after I awoke.  Today was much worse.  I'm not sure what it is, unworthiness, shame, fear, maybe a mixture of all the above.  I'm in flight mode now, so I went to work early and did not do my usual meditation routine.

6pm tonight, prepare to me to be hypmotised.

Penis obling goddess. Ricky ticky tembo no sar embo cherry cherry boochi.

I have been running my entire life it seems, hiding under beds from the babysitters, roaming the prairie outside Casper Mountain.  Now is the time to go back inside and see what I have been missing.  Or, its coming anyway, whether I thought it was safe or not.  Hiding in plain sight.

Rabbits Chasing Foxes (and other news)

 I remember a circle, perhaps a coven of rabbits swirling together outside my house.  Or I might have been in the barn.  Now that I think about it, I don't think it was either, but I was outside and it felt like I was near a structure.  

One of the rabbits broke from the circle and encountered a fox.  At first I thought the fox was chasing the rabbit and I thought that the other rabbits should help it.  Then I realized that it was the rabbit chasing the fox.  Nevertheless, I still wanted to help the rabbit, but I couldn't move.  The fox then came back near me and I wanted to move to get rid of it and protect the rabbit (as if it needed help...lol), but I couldn't move.  As I am awake and typing this now, I believe it was the coven of rabbits that must have given the rabbit its strength and courage.  

Then it was 3 am and I was listening to a theta wave entrainment meditation.  And even though it was going to be a busy day when I woke up, and I still had a certain amount of pain from the super bowl party I entered a state of complete relaxation and something like bliss. And there was a meter maid there.  And I was happy about that.  And I continued to summon her.  And I remember feeling so grateful that I was able to summon her and that all my previous frustrations to summon something similar and been leading up to this.

In other news, when I was born at the end of may, my mother returned to school in August and I was cared for by my Aunt Connie.  Then on weekends my mother would come back from the University of Utah and care for me on weekends at her fathers house.  That continued for the rest of the semester, then she moved to Denver to be with my father who was coaching there.  One of the earliest memories I have is floating around the ceiling at my Aunts place when there were voices and people down below me.  

In Denver, I had a babysitter Carole who my mom went to high school with.  Then while my mom was substitute teaching, I had another babysitter later who my mother said was a quiet single woman who lived in the same apartment building.  I have memories of going to museums and a lake.  My mother told me that this woman used to take me places with her so she wouldn't be alone.  I have another memory of being in the basement of some sort of office building being examined by a man who told me he was giving me something to that the opening of my penis would get bigger.  I think he was also examining me.  My mother doesn't remember anything like that.  I also had imaginary friends named mitt poo and porkywatt during this time period.