Making myself blog regularly is part of keeping my attention on these things. Feel welcome to add comments. I love hearing from others and am happy to trade links with blogs that cover similar materials. ~ Palyne
This is my "internal" blog. I practice a form of insight or meditation variously called shamanic journeying, conscious dreaming, active imagination, etc. This ties into my dreams, my philosophy, and my ongoing attempt to understand myself, my reality, my universe, and how they interact inside me.
I have a motley assortment of folks whose views have influenced me, from Seth (Jane Roberts) to Heinlein, from Crowley to Christian Mysticism. But at this point my influences are primarily prayer and the "internal" sources.
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Posted by Palyne on March 3, 2010 at 7:14 pm Central
We had all applied to go to visit this other … place. Far away but I think on this planet. We were on a very, very large airplane. Me and Ry had a seat near the front. Luggage, and a little bit of other luggage-stuff somewhere else. C and her kids were going too but they had a seat in some separate section near the back.
I went and got something to eat and then sat down again and realized two of my cats were now with me. Why had I brought them? Then I did a double-take. One was Rene. She disappeared long ago. How could she possibly be with us? I noticed that other people, many of them now suddenly had pets they recognized as well. Except they didn’t seem to find this odd, that they had just appeared. Only I seemed to be reacting.
I ran to the back section which I hadn’t visited. I went into the door where I was told C and her kids were, and I looked around wide-eyed as I made my way across the small room to her. I told her about the cats and Rene. She pointed out her tiny dog was with her now and hadn’t been before, now that I mentioned it, but she hadn’t noticed until then.
Then I said, C, I’ve seen a room kind of like this before. It was in a dream that was a ‘programmed dream’ related to Mars. This small room with a drinks area and bathroom, square, and it feels like there is no motion. This is a lot like that. I think this is some kind of symbolic information I’m getting. That we are going to another PLANET, maybe.
The Captain came on a video screen in every area. And he told us that things were not as we thought. We were being taken to another planet where we would live from then on. There was no choice. But we were not in danger. Then it went off and briefly, people kind of freaked out. Abnormally briefly. It seemed like people accepted it with unusual speed. I made sure all my luggage was gathered together and Ry stayed close and we were ready.
Then I went back to the Captain. I thought it was odd that people were not bugging him but after a moment of reaction, it was as if everyone else just forgot what had happened, or accepted it as the way it was now. Weird. These people act like they’re in a dream, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. I stood quietly until the Captain had a moment. He looked at me.
“Will we be slaves?” I asked him calmly.
“No, not at all,” he said. “You will be living like our own people.”
“Will we be second-class citizens?” I asked. “Forbidden from things others can do or get, biased against?”
“No,” he said. “The first, no. The second, we don’t think so.”
“What is the point of this, what do your people get out of this?” I asked.
“You will be observed throughout your lives,” he said. “We wish to learn about your people in detail. So we have a large diverse collection of people, including their families and pets, and some ’sets’ of social acquaintances.”
“Will we be dependents?” I asked. “You are taking care of us?”
“Actually, the adults will need to get the hang of the society and get jobs fairly quickly,” he said. “We will help work that out for you. But you will work and live where you choose.”
I was just about to ask if they looked like what they appeared to look like, when the Captain — clearly a recording, I now realized — came back on the screen and explained that something in the air was going to cause a profound change to our skin, so that we would be inoculated plus changed in some way that made us able to live in that environment. We closed our eyes, and it felt a bit odd, and then opened them and looked at the people around us. At first it looked like a sort of rough ground black quartz texture, but then that almost seemed to absorb into the skin and we were left looking pretty normal except the skin was very … thick.
I went through some of my luggage, back at my seat. “What different choices I would have made if I knew we were going here,” I said to Ry with a sigh. Many of my choices such as my electronics were probably useless. I suddenly wondered… given the dream symbol similar to the other, and the appearance of my cat that I didn’t have anymore… so that meant this was a dream, right? I was dreaming? And like the Mars dream of the future, we were being taken to live on this other planet but it was on ‘the dream level’. Which somehow was just as good to them. They were ‘implanting this probability’ into our reality, like Mars? Or just using the dream state? And our people lived and operated on that level pretty much like they did in what we consider the waking world. Hmmnnn. Feels real to me now, I shrugged to myself, Though maybe later I’ll be thinking of it as a dream.
I wondered if being lucid in a dream was the equivalent of being psychic in a reality. Was there a difference? Were psychics really just those ‘more lucid’ in this reality? So they ‘had a feeling’ before things happened, and they were aware of things that were out of place or time?
We had arrived. It was a small chaos with getting people off the plane. Ry and I sat quietly and waited for everybody else to be off and quiet to resume before we began gathering our things. The Captain and some crewmembers were not far from us now, and I stepped back toward him. I smiled at him and said, “Thanks for the journey, Captain. I know it isn’t the destination I planned, but I doubt either of us had any real say in that. The ride was smooth and the service was good, and I appreciate your plane’s quality operations.” He seemed a little surprised but thanked me in return, and I gathered up my luggage and Ry and we began down the large ramp toward the planet.
It was open-air at the bottom it appeared. I couldn’t wait to see the new world. I was suddenly intrigued and fascinated. What would it be like?
And then something forcibly woke me up — which was not easy, I was sleeping very deeply. Gahhh! And I freakin missed the new world!
Posted by Palyne on March 3, 2010 at 7:09 pm Central
This meditation was recommended to me by some identity inside me. (See ‘Your Worst Enemy’ a couple posts ago.) A spontaneous, clear suggestion.
Getting around to it was another story. I fell asleep repeatedly, got distracted, forgot everything in my head and otherwise lost track of what I was doing about the minute I decided I was going to do the meditation.
Then I started getting paranoid. Maybe I gotta do this because that energy is hurting me or about to and I don’t know it. Or, maybe there is some terrible disease, and working with that would help clear me of it. It was hilarious. I got more paranoid by the day.
Finally, I got to it. I was not as altered state as I wished by any means, but I knew if I let that happen I would be unconscious or distracted. I was half-working at the time and I finally thought you know, there is no reason why I need a whole ritual for this. Every time I make the time for the minor surround ritual of ‘doing it’, something happens to interrupt. So I should just do it, right now, no matter what else I’m doing, no matter what my state of mind. And if that makes it… well, less impactive, less spontaneous, because altered state stuff works so much nicer, well too damn bad. At least I am finally doing it.
My thought previously was, Whaddaya bet. The arch looks just like me, haha. Then Eva commented that also (great minds think alike) which cracked me up. But it didn’t work out that way.
Before I had IG bring me the focus arch, I brought in my favorite archs to help. Responsiblity, the Angelics, Jupiter, and then a variety of other planets and Sun. I called in Saturn and demanded of His Obnoxious Greenness, you can help! — surely his only value can’t be to kick my ass once every 30 years.
But when I opened my eyes, it wasn’t that IG had brought something to me. I was just in another world entirely.
I didn’t see any structure, machine, creature, or anything else that might be an arch. I stood there for awhile waiting, but nothing happened. Given the landscape, I started to wonder if maybe that was itself the arch. It was … stormy. I don’t mean the lovely grey of a mysterious storm, I mean charcoal and brown, muddy and violent. It was night time or maybe that was just the storm. I couldn’t see much in the distance. I felt as if I were standing near some kind of shallow canyon but it was as flat where I was as it is on my plateau.
I wandered around the environment. It felt as if any minute now, something with teeth was going to leap out and rip me up. I’m paranoid, I thought to myself, and then thought, Well no wonder, considering the archetype! I kept thinking, if I just keep looking, something will happen. You know, the archetype will appear.
Someone in me said: Or not. That’s easier, but doesn’t always happen. Maybe you’ll just wander around paranoid and wondering.
I frowned-in-concept at whoever it was. I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend my meditation wandering uselessly around, I told us both.
My Worst Enemy! I bellowed into the storm. Get yer ass over here and talk to me!
And there it was.
An insanely attractive man. OK now that part was a little surprising. It wasn’t so much his physical looks that were so attractive, although they were lovely. It was a genuine attraction like chemistry. OK, there was the minor detail that he had demon horns on his shoulders, that his eyes kept sliding to black and then glowing red, and that I understood, instinctively, that he wanted to kill me. Darn it, that does tend to make a man a tad less attractive doesn’t it. I was torn between wanting him (ahem) and wanting to punch him in the head, a feeling that invoked quite nicely despite my lack of any decent altered state.
He swung at me when I got too close, and he had nails or claws that raked down my chest. I looked down at myself, a little blood blooming. I guess it’s a good thing I’m so non-altered state, I thought to myself. Since I don’t take it as seriously or feel it much this way.
someone-inside-me: Actually it’s too bad. Taking it more literally and seriously would be useful.
The enemy stood about 15 feet away from me, staring at me with an arrogant sneer I would so loved to have wiped from his face with violence. I pondered how I could hurt him in return.
someone-inside-me: That is not the way.
Me: Yeah I know. That doesn’t mean it isn’t a lovely temptation.
someone-inside-me: Because this is your enemy?
Me: Hello, he wants to kill me. I’d say he qualifies.
someone-inside-me: Is it him that wants to kill you?
Me: Who else would it be? His mother? Come on.
someone-inside-me: But you just wanted to do him violence.
Me: Well — well — well only because he felt that way about me first.
I suddenly felt like a whining 7 year old. Dammit. I hate it when that happens.
Me: So you’re saying what, that if I’m all polly and hey Mr. Demon Worst Enemy let’s share rainbows, he’ll just go for it?
someone-inside-me: No, he would probably kill you.
Me: AHA! You see? Even you agree. Whatever parts of me you are. Never mind, “it’s supposed to be seamless,” it doesn’t matter, yada yada, I know. Forget it.
someone-inside-me: You were given the key not long ago.
I spontaneously remembered. Writing this, I’ve sort of half-forgotten. But I think it was in an archmed. (If not, a dream.) Something about, the solution to someone working against you is not to take on the same energy and fight back. It is to cure the darkness that causes their motive. Or something. I forget.
Me: so it’s love your enemy, is that it.
someone-inside-me: That’s a bit simplified.
Me: well say something useful already. How do I cure the darkness that causes his motive, or whatever?
someone-inside-me: first you have to recognize that darkness for what it is.
Me: how do I do that?
someone-inside-me: you recognize him for what he is.
Me: uh…. my enemy? I thought we’d established that?
someone-inside-me: he is only your enemy if you choose to provide him that role.
Me: You just said he would kill me. HE. Would kill ME. So I think what I want really has no part of it.
someone-inside-me: it has the part you give it.
Me: You’re not making sense to me. There’s this dude. He is my enemy — I mean HE chooses that, no matter I choose. He wants to kill me. This all seems pretty simple to me. So I can either kick his ass, which sounds like an interesting idea by the way, or I can be all Barney and love and light and hope that enough Rain-Of-Love and so on will somehow change him into something else, like other archetypes. I see him. What am I not recognizing? By the way, why do I feel simultaneous attraction and repelling-violence?
someone-inside-me: the same reason he does. You are bound by the energy he carries.
Me: why should I be bound by it? It’s his problem.
someone-inside-me: It’s your energy. He’s carrying it for you. He is, in a way, a good friend, on a soul-level, or he wouldn’t be doing that.
Me. {….. silence ….}
someone-inside-me: you did not choose to release the energy, but you did not choose to carry it. You project it, so someone else agrees to carry it for you.
Me: uh huh. So…. you’re saying that… when he carries that energy, he is… he is changed by it. Like it joins and alters his identity. Makes him a demon at least to me. Instead of whatever he might be without that energy.
someone-inside-me: good.
I started getting a clue about the point he was getting around to, too damn slowly.
Me: So you’re saying that I need to see who he is separate from that energy, I need to recognize what is him, and what is energy that is a projection of me.
someone-inside-me: good.
Me: And then what? Are you implying that I will have to take this energy, because it’s mine, and then release it, or…? So in a way it’s not that I’m healing him. It’s that I’m releasing him from the energy which is mine, and then I am healing myself.
I rolled my eyes. This just seemed… well predictable, now that I thought about it.
I focused on the archetype. I closed my eyes and asked myself to feel inside me and help create a visual that would separate him from ‘the energy he carried’. It seemed to take a little while, and then it started coming into view. Oddly, the him-separate looked a little like the souls/angels in the grocery store that day. Like a sort of solid but soft but pure light. The back of my neck (in my regular body) had this sudden ‘rush’ all the way through it, as if my brain stem was involved in this, and something about recognizing the soul apart from the energy felt literally like an archetype merge except weirdly localized to just that part of my body.
I had this associative overlay then… I suddenly felt that this said something about healing. That in order to be the kind of healer the masters have been, you have to be able to reach your soul out and see the soul you are working with, as distinct from all the energy that they are carrying.
The energy was dark and violent and there was a lot of it. As I sat attempting to gain rapport with the ’soul’ part of him instead, I began to realize that all that negative energy… it was an arbitrary collection of consciousness assigned a title… it was an identity. That got my attention. I started to feel that the idea that people have ‘attachments’ — like energies or entities sort of stuck to them or in them — was quite literal. That there is no difference between a collection of negative energy and an identity; all collections of energy are an identity if you look at the collection as one.
I then had the sense that our ‘evolution’ as an allegedly intelligent society had actually hurt us in this way. That in the old days people could look at negative energy and say, “That’s a demon,” and cast it out, and as much as we tend to think they were all morons, that actually worked a good deal of the time or, obviously, they probably would have quit doing it. I had the idea that we’ve been educated by Hollywood, not reality, about that.
And the ability to “personalize” that negative energy, which also meant to recognize its boundaries or scope — basically define its identity — actually allowed the consciousness of the people involved to intentionally “deal with it” far better than we do. I had the humorous sense that if I were to translate this into geometric terms, that assigning it an identity was the equivalent of making it all cohesive so it stayed together and then attaching a handle to it so you could grab it.
I thought of a book I read about about negative energy once and the author had managed to make everything, even a mole on your body, into an ‘attachment’ that was a ‘negative energy’ and so on. I recall having peals of laughter during parts of the book, though in fairness I found other parts interesting. I thought to myself that this perspective probably worked fine for the author, but that it was just a perspective; it was just his.
Well, yeah. Sure. But all of life is just perspective, right. I can see things as a vibrating cohesive collection of energy or I can see it as “Jane” or “my couch” or whatever that collection of energy might be “from this perspective.”
Then I thought of personalization as I call it. Didn’t that affect this subject. Well sure. Just like people can’t talk to God worth a damn when they perceive that energy as some ineffable intangible generic field of energy — something with no center, no identity, no handle — well, they can’t talk to so-called demons like that, either. If you don’t personalize energy, whether it’s archetypes or deities or a energy causing an illness or pain, it’s pretty difficult to have a conversation with it, or cast it out, or whatever.
I had this sudden insight that this was actually playing out in analogy in our world. The political enemy that is not any specific group of people by race or nation or uniform, a confusingly generic collection of particles intermingling with everything else. We keep trying to find a perspective that will let us consolidate that into an ‘identity’ so we can ‘target’ it. Instead it’s just kind of everywhere and nowhere. I thought: cancer of the body-politic. It is metastasizing.
Me: Well yea but… I’ve always felt like ‘recognizing’ negative energy as an ‘identity’ in some way validated it or made it stronger.
someone-inside-me: That can be accurate. Your attention in that manner can help consolidate energy into functioning as an identity. Some, though, are already doing so. In which case your refusal to recognize this only means you cannot address what you will not recognize. This kind of energy can have significant effects.
Me: But honestly, when I hear people talking about negative entities, demons, whatever, I usually think they’re kind of nutcases. It’s not that I don’t think such things can exist, because I guess at some level I do. It’s just that it is usually so apparent with such people that they are part of any such thing that is present in their life.
someone-inside-me: You are all part of everything that is present in your lives. You are more attuned to recognizing it in this case, in others, because it supports your desire to avoid this subject as a whole.
Me: What subject? Demons or something?
someone-inside-me: Anything negative, particularly anything negative that you are allowing in yourself.
Me: But if I don’t believe in it, and belief systems drive reality, then … then it shouldn’t really affect me, right?
someone-inside-me: If you truly believed differently, it would have certain — what you might call ‘protective’ effects. However, your belief in this area is not the genuine belief that structures reality. It is more of a surface story designed by ignorance and denial.
Me: Thanks for the diplomacy, criminy.
I thought for awhile.
Me: So are you suggesting that I should “reframe” all negative energy as an entity? I should go around ranting about demons or something? This is so NOT going to happen.
someone-inside-me: The original point was that an individual’s identity, combined with new energy, becomes a new identity. In order to find the individual, to release them from that energy, you need to learn to feel them, see them, recognize them as an identity without that energy.The divisibility and grouping of energy is yours to decide, and your relationship with it will depend on how you frame it. Sometimes if you wish to ‘deal with’ that energy, you have to recognize that it is not an abstract, any more than people or trees or political groups are.
Me: And… this helps me how, I mean, not to be unkind, this is all interesting and all, but what’s the point?
someone-inside-me: There are several. The point you are looking for is this: when you perceive something as an enemy, you personalize it. Then, you can interact with it and, ideally, accept and heal that energy. As long as you are unwilling to consider a given energy as adversarial to you, you do not recognize the negative effects it may be having in your reality.
Me: So… lemme think. So like, let’s say that my buddy John has knee pain. You think if he were to intentionally, perceptually structure “knee pain” — just the pain, not the knee — as a sort of… identity that he could meditate with, negotiate with, concentrate on sending healing energy to, that sort of thing — that this might be more… constructive or effective than simply thinking of the energy as some abstract field of misfortune which, among other things, made his knees hurt?
someone-inside-me: In most cases, yes.
Me: OK here’s what is confusing me. I swear when this meditation got going, I was thinking that maybe the point was learning that when I think someone is my enemy, they are really not, they are actually a pure soul and the enemy-energy is separate, and not part of them. But now it seems like you’re telling me to recognize that enemy-energy.
someone-inside-me: Recognize the energy; do not confuse it with what you might call the souls that share your reality.
Me: I get confused about people as a projection of me vs. people as their own… identity. Actually now that I think of it, that’s just as much an issue for the archetypal world. But it’s confusing in the real world, for sure.
someone-inside-me: Your language does not support the structures that would better allow understanding.
Me: ok so let’s say that I learn to differentiate between ‘the souls’ that share my reality and “the energy they carry which is a projection from me”. What then?
someone-inside-me: You recognize more of yourself in others, then; that is part of the point of “projection”, is to see things more clearly, and give yourself a chance to interact with it.
Me: So humorously,we’re back where I started. In a way, my enemies ARE ‘me’. Because without that energy that I am projecting, that they are carrying, they would just be… people.
someone-inside-me: that works.
I turned my attention back to the archetype. On the bright side, all the demon-like qualities had vanished, I had no sense that he wanted to do me all possible harm, and he was a normal, nice looking guy. On the down side, well, I had not only lost my desire to punch him in the head, but I’d just lost my desire for him, period. The attraction was pretty much gone.
Now that was disturbing.
Me: What does that mean? That if I’m ever attracted to someone, it’s because they’re my enemy??
someone-inside-me: No, it means that the identities you interact with in your world, you all carry energy for each other. It’s not always negative.
Me: And what if I don’t project energy of a certain kind, so they aren’t carrying it?
someone-inside-me: then either you have integrated it, and that energy is now clear and aligned with your larger more singular intent, or you carry it yourself.
Me: Oh. So… that’s like… chronic pain, or a disease, or a phobia, a neurosis. Maybe how it manifests says something about the nature of the energy.
someone-inside-me: Yes, but it’s not always negative energy; it is often positive.
I had the understanding inside me that if you carried an energy you had not fully integrated, it would be what attracted you, what fed you and yet also sometimes drove you crazy. Like music, for some people. Or a given desire to be the perfect wife. Or whatever. That when we actually really want to explore something, we actually keep it a little bit separate from us, so we can “interact” with it. For I am divided for love’s sake, for the chance of union. That when we had truly integrated something we lost our attraction to it. We lost our attachment to it, literally and figuratively.
I did all the typical healing things on ‘the energy’ that was separate from his true nature and part of my projection. I discovered that if I simply “looked for that” in him, I could actually see/sense it just as clearly as you can hooks and stuff in psi healing work. I finally got through it, and then I went up to the guy and hugged him, tentatively and then strongly. He was “just a guy.” I felt like I needed to merge in some way but nothing felt right at that moment.
A few days later I was finally having some quality time with myself which was seriously overdue, and decided to bring that archetype, the guy who was left, back and just give him all that energy. That was nice and again I had a strong twinge all through the back half of my neck.
In the end, much of this felt as much like a ‘lesson’ as an ordinary archetype meditation. I don’t know if that’s doing it without much altered state in place, or some avoidance on my part, or what.
Palyne
Posted by Palyne on February 22, 2010 at 2:32 am Central
This has been a weird weekend.
First of all, I’ve been trying to do a meditation for a couple days now. It does not matter how much energy and alertness I have when I begin; a short time into it (and ‘getting around to it’ takes forever to begin with) I just pass out abruptly. This is the “your worst enemy” meditation it was suggested by someone internal, probably Inner Guide, that I do.
So far all I have accomplished is completely screwing up my work life, which was supposed to be filled with work this weekend, instead of filled with abruptly going to sleep, when I’d already had enough or too much sleep, resulting in being nearly solomnic. Now it is nearly 2am on a Monday and I will write this and then be working from now until I’m off Monday afternoon, or later — since I have something that was due Friday night. I could just kick myself. If I knew it was going to be that difficult… I would have done all work BEFORE attempting it.
Now I know. I will need to do the meditation perched on the edge of my couch, with the light on half-dim, so I am not comfortable enough to pass out and if I do, hitting the floor will surely awaken me. This is not as difficult as ‘The Knight of Wands’ tarot that took six months to get through, nor as difficult as the ‘Fear of Psi’ meditations that required broad daylight, sunlight in a window, standing up, eyes open, back to a wall, radio in the background, projecting the archetype against the other wall. (I suspect people who don’t do these meditations have no idea how… visceral they can be.) This is merely obnoxious. I will get it done.
My work schedule is the secondary problem. A hideous deadline looms both tomorrow early, and Friday for a bunch of things, that I am the only one free to do and already trained on, so it falls to me. I don’t know how much time — how much time without serious sleep deprivation — I will have this week. But I will get to it.
*
Today fairly early I happened to see online, and now I can’t remember how, a photo of red blood cells. My whole body reacted with adoration. Like the color and shape both ‘fed’ me. Like it was the art of the most beautiful woman or faery creature. I just breathed it in for awhile.
It reminded me of a remote viewing session I once did on red blood cells. It had that powerful sense of “divine technology” that I’ve since learned is how I interpret microscopic scopes of biology/botany/chemistry/etc. I went so on and on about how I loved that target that my tasker for it eventually sent me a framed photograph of the feedback. It sits on the top of my bookcase headboard.
I had such a desire to see it, more and more, to have it in my life, that I modified my desktop background. Currently my 1456×856 screen has an all-black background with a picture of the 12 Aeons (renditions of them anyway) in a circle around it and a small square showing the IG/Four in the bottom corner. I revised this so that all around that circle, and above and below it, are the red blood cells. Then I just kept switching to the desktop and staring at it in fascination.
Here’s a pic. Stupid, isn’t it. This is how completely nuts I went. And I should have been doing other, more constructive things.
But it wasn’t enough. Not enough! I must have more, more! Red blood cells are like my pxrn for the day or something. I went googling. The net equivalent to wandering the strip clubs. Medical microscopic galleries, oh my! And I ogled all kinds of red blood cells, and white blood cells, and platelets. And I found tiny movies of them too, the 3D cinema stuff is big in the medical world. And I read all about the 5 major kinds (and there are sub-kinds) of white blood cells. And how AMAZING it all is. Absolutely amazing.
How alive is this life inside us? If giant aliens looked down and saw cars the size of microbes, would they assume our highways were blood vessels? Would they assume we had no independent intelligence? That we were all some variant on amoeba stimulus-response?
When white blood cells need to get to something outside the blood vessel? Fairly recent discovery. They simply sprout sucker-legs and walk. I am not making this up. They slide through the capillary or whatever they’re in and stomp out and kick something’s ass. When a big blood parasite, looking like a half-strand of spaghetti, is roving through? The white blood cell — a single one — communicates with tons of red blood cells, commanding them like an army, in a process that can take hours. They gather in massive hordes against the body of the thing and entrap it so it can’t move. Then the white cell wades in to the center of it all and sprays it with something that causes the skin of the pathogen to fester and break open and then as it bleeds to death, in its own way, it’s dead enough that this and other white blood cells can clean it up by absorbing it. I used to think that white cells were in blood and so when invader stuff came through, it would “eventually run into” a white blood cell that would fight it. No. The white blood cell basically perceives it in the distance, with no recorded way of knowing of it as far as we’re concerned, and hunts it down to kill it. White blood cells also in their varying forms have specialized duties, like soldiers; some are officers, most are footsoldiers, a few are engineers, and a rare subclass are snipers. When even platelets are floating through the bloodstream they are happy little disks, until ‘activated’, at which point they look like little multi-point thorns.
And this is just one teeny tiny particle of one teeny tiny part of biology, and yet even the details of the four major components of blood (plasma, white cells, red cells, platelets) are enormously complex and obviously more complex than even we know yet. Most of our photos are electron — something basically killed and stained — though scopes get better. Darkfield scopes like Rife invented (true darkfields, not the ‘adapter lenses’ pretending to be that) see things while alive, while changing, and gave rise to the field of pleomorphism, an ‘alternative’ field of medical study I find a fascinating branch. But still the point is, that is astounding. HOW MUCH intelligence does the body at that level have?
Are we complete morons that we are assigning nothing more than biochemistry to everything going on? Couldn’t a larger intelligence find something similar with which to attribute everything in human society as well? Does a blood clot look like a highway multi-car accident? Or a fishing net full of sea life? Does a bacteria ‘dealt with by the immune system’ look like an episode of COPS? What is it that makes us assume, as if we are LEGION, and nothing else has intelligence but us, that the body is ‘merely’ biochemical?
I have access to some of the best university textbooks around on things like this. I like the pretty pictures. But I swear, the mode of teaching is absolutely mind numbing. I could not possibly remember all that crap and why would I want to. It seems to me that nobody teaching this stuff finds it miraculous and amazing and then starts at the beginning and teaches it like that, sharing that wonder. Come on, this stuff is incredible. Instead it’s this huge disconnected set of overly complicated terminology and drawings of pieces of cells or whatever that have no translation, no meaning inside us, it’s just a bunch of complicated dead words. It’s amazing that the people who most love any subject, ever get through a degree about it, let alone have any wonder left on the other side.
I stared at the desktop red blood cells again for awhile. Then I looked at a neat picture (here) and it occurred to me: these are not just little disks and blobs. They are not just the blob eating the string or fuzzball. These are the freaking tigers and zebras of the inner world! There’s jackals and snakes and birds of prey and more. Inside us, it’s not just that they are cute little geometric shapes. Oooh, a red one, how pretty! No, that’s just our super limited perspective. Up close, they are CREATURES. They are not just some chemical component of life, they are ALIVE on their own merits. They have tribalism, they have cultures gone wrong, they have cells turned to the dark side, and they have an entire universe in our body, in even any tiny part of our body, that we barely have even an inkling about.
I just couldn’t get over the idea that I was looking at creatures, things I only saw as ‘blob and disk’ but that up close they probably perceived themselves differently. To them maybe every one is as unique as the faces/bodies in our world. How does a white blood cell know a red cell or even a sickle-red cell, from a pathogen? Obviously there is ’some’ kind of recognition. Biochemical. Riiiiight. Do you think giant aliens look at the frequencies of light, sound, and heat, a teeny tiny spectrum in their larger world, and think that everything humans do is based on this? Because IT IS. Explain what is so unique about human life and interaction in reality vs. that of the components of our blood that makes us in any way superior. I don’t see it anymore.
I have no idea what came over me. I’m just suddenly obsessed with the blood. Especially red cells visually, but really the whole thing conceptually.
And if I ever get any time NOT working this week, and get done with the ‘worst enemy’ meditation — oh my god. You don’t think that suggestion could be because something biological is going on that needs that energy worked out do you? Gahhh! — then I will get to some kind of meditation on the blood as well.
The body is a miracle. It’s like oranges and water; two things I cannot observe up close without feeling like there is clearly some divine intelligence involved.
Posted by Palyne on February 21, 2010 at 2:55 pm Central
I’ve been reading “The Red Book,” Liber Novus, which is actually a combination of writings but mostly a big work, previously unpublished, by Carl Jung. It has with it a lot of writing by other people as editorial notes, translator’s notes, and an introduction long enough to be a short book of its own. I’ll be quoting from it in this post, and probably another couple in the future.
The first part of the book is the original writing from Jung, which is calligraphic, and in German mostly I believe, and is “Illustrated” with many pictures, mandalas and symbols he chose to put in it. Beautiful.
Rhea White might have called it his own personal Exceptional Human Experience Autobiography. If Jung had lived today, he’d have a blog like Psiche, but given he was far more brilliant than I’ll ever be, probably something extra.
I find it fascinating, prior to even diving into his own intentional archetype work — “active imagination,” he called the process of allowing the mind to present images, beings or landscapes, and interacting with this — to read about how his involvement in this came about, and a kind of overview of his thinking on these things, and some of his comments about it.
It’s also interesting to see that a century later, here I am sitting at a laptop computer using the internet, something not even conceptualized in his time, although it may be the closest thing to the realization of the “collective unconscious” since that funny little thing we call “reality” — and many of the same realizations, and issues, have come, or gone, and stayed obnoxiously present, in my life and experience as similar things which he was going through as well. Honestly, the correspondence between my own weird internal life and his is rather validating in some respects.
I have read a little bit (online) from Jungian analysts. Though I am a fan of Jung himself, I am not on the same page with the whole J.A. sector; I don’t understand it. I don’t mean that I can’t wrap my brain around the sometimes abstract or complex nature of it. I mean that when I experience this archetypes work over the years, and then I read some essay by someone in that genre, I am overwhelmed with the feeling that whatever they are talking about, it is not borne of these experiences, it is not the voice of insight from experience talking, but rather, armchair intellectualism gone amuck.
Usually I see in such people a wish to be able to tell others what their experiences mean; a side-effect of psychoanalysis as a goal I assume. Most psychoanalysts in my view would be better served by more living and less thinking, and figuring out what their own experiences mean first. Jung actually attempted this very thing, which is what makes him a brilliant forerunner in the whole genre, and not one of the endless armchair orators. I’m reminded of a story I once read where Shakespeare comes back into a college classroom as a student studying, of all things, Shakespeare, but has no idea what on earth the teacher is on about. The pontificating ‘advanced analysis’ of what his work ‘really meant’ is, rather like religion, much more about the endless fractal of self-pleasure an intellectual can engage in and not about the spirit of the thing at all.
Jung had what I consider certain pre-conceived notions about psychology and divinity, and so a great deal of his experience was forcibly stuffed into these models especially early on. Yet even he quickly and repeatedly outgrew some of those models and was forced to reconsider “what it all means.” He had a great deal of self-education in areas like mythology, as one of several examples, which showed up in his imagery as well. Or perhaps it shows up in all our imagery; he was just educated enough to recognize the roots of commonality. In some respects, his role as a psychoanalyst, and intellectual, and scientist, forced certain boundaries upon him that hapless proletarians like my friends and I are blessedly unbothered with.
In other respects, it is his role in those areas that forced him to attempt to approach this with some degree of organization, and documentation, and with the hope of better understanding. I imagine that was exceptional in his day. I don’t think it so much is today. Or perhaps it is ’statistically’, but as the internet has made the world so small, we see enough of it, and read enough of it in school, to consider this normal. If we have this today, my friends and I, it is maybe in part because this seems intuitively obvious to one who has even half an intellectual bent; we have all heard of the combination of “science and magic” and have the benefit of the personal explorations in such from people who have gone before, including Jung himself. Plus, it is a way of externalizing the internal, of being able to objectify it later and not simply forget it or be lost in the inner-abyss, and perhaps in small part a way of constantly trying to reassure ourselves that we are not crazy.
Some of the writings I’m most influenced by that I feel affect these experiences, such as Jane Roberts and Aleister Crowley and William James and Edwin Steinbrecher, have surely added at least a century worth of insight to the fortunate descendents like me. I did not have to reinvent the wheel. Better still, the definition of that wheel was vastly more open to individual experimentation and interpretation by the time I arrived at it. Though I imagine in another century from now, humans might be even more understanding than we are today. We can only hope.
Taking his cue from William James, among others, Jung contrasted directed thinking and fantasy thinking. The former was verbal and logical, while the latter was passive, associative, and imagistic. The former was exemplified by science and the latter by mythology.
Accepting and interacting with the irrational of the imaginal realm, and then documenting it, and then evaluating it — literally while within it, symbolically while outside it — seems rather normal now, though it was a novel and utterly brilliant step forward in Jung’s day. Getting to the point where one maintains a firm stance in ‘the real world’ while simultaneously learning to take seriously what happens internally, and not just write it off as ‘just imagination’, seems part of the growth that everyone doing this work runs into. That the important part is the experience/interaction, the sharing of energy, he understood.
Everyone, he claimed, had this ability to hold dialogues with him- or herself. Active imagination would thus be one form of inner dialogue, a type of dramatized thinking. It was critical to disidentify from the thoughts that arose, and to overcome the assumption that one had produced them oneself. What was most essential was not interpreting or understanding the fantasies, but experiencing them. This represented a shift from his emphasis on creative formulation and understanding in his paper on the transcendent function. He argued that one should treat the fantasies completely literally while one was engaged in them, but symbolically when one interpreted them.
Some of his ‘cosmology’ that shaped his experiences — or their understanding — I find curious, and often there is a sort of “genre in common” with some of my own experiences. This is something Jung studied and I do not — the relationship of all people in this realm, of the collective unconscious; which also relates to the relationship between man and nation, for example. This has parallels in Jane Roberts’s work, though from a different perspective. I find such topics huge and fascinating but frankly beyond my interest and probably beyond my intellect. The ’symbols in common’ in places are interesting though.
In Jung’s fantasies, a new God had been born in his soul, the God who is the son of the frogs, Abraxas. Jung understood this symbolically.
I had an Inner Guide who was my brilliant teacher and yet also, while a man in form with me, something akin to a giant frog in his true nature. It is difficult for me not to see the ‘inner guide’ as being easily cast in a ‘god/soul’-role if someone had a different mental model than myself–especially one like Jung’s. And what are the odds of a man/frog/god showing up in two people so separated by time, space and much philosophy? In his drawings I see on occasion other little elements. I guess we all have our own private Tarot.
My own introduction from medical-model skeptic to something more real on the inside was via a decade of study of hypnosis; trance states fascinate me. This eventually led to spontaneous experiences across a spectrum, probably related to Kundalini, and then a many years study related to psi, and the ‘archetype’ stuff folded in before, during and after that primary focus, but dominantly was allowed in my psychology at all, because of the work with trance and psi. I called my blog Psiche to combine both the Psyche of psychology and the Psi of connectedness with the universe and others. Apparently Jung had a little bit similar progression. And I often feel like the lone ranger with this stuff, though I know I am not. Similarly, Jung was not alone in the world with this study and experience-set, though his comments indicate he often felt so.
As indicated, Jung had had extensive experience studying mediums in trance states, during which they were encouraged to produce waking fantasies and visual hallucinations, and had conducted experiments with automatic writing. Practices of visualization had also been used in various religious traditions. … the fifth of the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola … Swedenborg … psychoanalyst Herbert Silberer … Ludwig Staudenmaier, a professor of experimental chemistry; published a work entitled Magic as an Experimental Science. Staudenmaier had embarked on self experimentations in 1901, commencing with automatic writing. A series of characters appeared, and he found that he no longer needed to write to conduct dialogues with them. He also induced acoustic and visual hallucinations. The aim of his enterprise was to use his self-experimentation to provide a scientific explanation of magic. He argued that the key to understanding magic lay in the concepts of hallucinations and the “under consciousness”, and gave particular importance to the role of personifications. Thus we see that Jung’s procedure closely resembled a number of historical and contemporary practices with which he was familiar.
On occasion, some of the archetypal exploration leads to serious (though temporary) destabilization and re-stabilization in a new center, because the entire concept of “I” — the identity — is so demolished; because the concept of the “Self” as a vastly larger and multitudinous entity arises, and figuring out what is I, vs. Other, vs. Both, and how does I exist through that other and vice-versa, is an entire study and experience and issue, wholly apart from [though inextricably entwined with] whatever the topics one might be working on directly in meditation. Much of Jung’s experience also included this.
In 1921, the “self” emerged as a psychological concept. Jung defined it as follows: Inasmuch as the I is only the center of my field of consciousness, it is not identical with the totality of my psyche, being merely a complex among other complexes. Hence I discriminate between the I and the self, since the I is only the subject of my consciousness, while the self is the subject of my totality: hence it also includes the unconscious psyche. In this sense the self would be an (ideal) greatness which embraces and includes the I.
also:
Yet even these profound allowances for archaic and original speech across abysses of meaning fail to approximate the destabilizing experience, in and through language, to which Jung testifies.
That exploration of this … internal and supernal cosmology, for lack of a better way of putting it, becomes the whole work — with everything else being subsumed as a part of that really, and it being a seemingly cyclical process — is something he apparently accepted as well.
The realization was that the self is the goal of individuation and that the process of individuation was not linear, but consisted in a circumambulation of the self. This realization gave him strength, for otherwise the experience would have driven him or those around him crazy.
Jung encountered other ‘identities’ that were part of his ’self’ but separate from what he knew as his ‘I’. It is possible that in all people (him, me, and you) existing paradigms determine how we evaluate these.
Then I came to this, “Perhaps my unconscious is forming a personality that is not I, but which is insisting on coming through to expression.” I don’t know why exactly, but I knew to a certainty that the voice that had said my writing was art had come from a woman …
Regarding some of his “inner identities”, sometimes it sounds to me like he was going through the changing of inner guides, or perhaps it is simply ‘other identities’, who knows what cosmology works.
Jung… would converse with him [Philemon] in the garden. He recalled that Philemon evolved out of the figure of Elijah, who had previously appeared in his fantasies: Philemon was a pagan and brought with him an EgyptoHellenic atmosphere with a Gnostic coloration … It was he who taught me psychic objectivity, the reality of the psyche. Through the conversations with Philemon, the distinction was clarified between myself and the object of my thought …
He called these seemingly wiser identities “dominants” in some places.
He realized that much of what was given to him in the earlier part of the book (that is, Liber Primus and Liber secundus) was actually given to him by Philemon. He realized that there was a prophetic wise old man in him, to whom he was not identical.
One of the most important realizations I’ve come to over the years, is pointed out plainly here regarding Jung’s observations as well: that the identities one works with, even if they are clearly a part of or influenced by one’s own paradigms, or myths or collective consciousness, still these have a degree of autonomy and existence outside one’s mind as well; they are not merely imaginative constructs that we invent; they are more like existing constructs that our imagination allows us to interact with. There is imagination which comes from our intent, from the “I”; and then there is an entire world where we have our input, but a vast amount of energy beyond our sense-of-I also has its own input, and we meet and interact there; it is as “ontologically real” as what we consider reality.
Jung called it the ‘collective unconscious’; Corbin called it the ‘imaginal realm’. I call it the inner world when talking to myself, but I understand that it is my imagination+intent that opens a doorway inside me, into that dimension, which is much vaster than I can comprehend and seems to contain direct access to the energies of the universe, although my only way of experiencing these, with the sense-of-I and the body I have right now, is via symbolic interaction and conversation.
The boundary between the imaginational and imaginal is rather fuzzy and it is literally a developed skill and art to learn to stay there; to maintain your own autonomy while allowing the-others’ autonomy; to be shocked, astounded, grossed out, effused, and other surprise emotions from the interaction; all this without getting lost in the experience like a dream, yet also without pulling back to controlling the experience like a daydream. The former is being swept away by the river, and the latter is standing on the shore thinking about it; learning to walk the fine line of control and allowance to stay in that ‘imaginal realm’ actually takes practice. Crazy people think it’s all autonomous and happening ‘to’ them; people unable to allow this for themselves, may think it’s all imagination; and they’d both be right, because they are both lost; the goal is a whole world that bridges and encompasses both of those.
When you get one level of interaction down, a more complex level seems to arrive, challenging you yet again.
One needed to pay particular attention to these dominants. Particularly important was the “detachment of the mythological or collective psychological contents from the objects of consciousness and their consolidation as psychological realities outside the individual psyche.” This enabled one to come to terms with activated residues of our ancestral history. The differentiation of the personal from the nonpersonal resulted in a release of energy. These comments also mirror his activity: his attempt to differentiate the various characters which appeared, and to “consolidate them as psychological realities.” The notion that these figures had a psychological reality in their own right, and were not merely subjective figments, was the main lesson that he attributed to the fantasy figure of Elijah: psychic objectivity.
If it weren’t for psi, precognitive dreams and visions to be exact, Jung might never have arrived where he did experientially. But as anybody who works these areas knows, the first and often most major ‘experience’ related to opening your awareness is amazing amounts of ‘convenient coincidence’ as I once called it, or synchronicity. Jung invented the use of that term for this:
In 1952, through his collaboration with the Nobel prize-winning physicist Wolfgang Pauli, Jung argued that there existed a principle of acausal orderedness that underlay such “meaningful coincidences,” which he called synchronicity. He claimed that under certain circumstances, the constellation of an archetype led to a relativization of time and space, which explained how such events [as precognitive dreams] could happen.
One of the things in the inner world is that polarities are the same thing; I’m told that is Binah in the QBL. When we ‘merge’ with an archetype, and even interaction is a small degree of that, we are uniting opposites: the part of us un-integrated with that energy, for a new result. This is much of the work, no matter what the topic of focus. And this means wading through all the parts of self that are not-I to begin with, absorbing them and exploring them, enlarging the I, becoming the ‘fuller’ self. This generally results in substantial personality changes, in my experience. (It also results in substantial changes in experiential reality, though these do not always happen at the same time.)
The basic issue discussed here was how the problem of opposites could be resolved through the production of the uniting or reconciling symbol.
The goal in this period was one of conserving previous values together with the recognition of their opposites. This meant that individuals had to develop the undeveloped and neglected aspects of their personality. The individuation process was now conceived as the general pattern of human development. He argued that there was a lack of guidance for this transition in contemporary society, and he saw his psychology as filling this lacuna.
Jung noted, that this process had three effects: The first effect is that the range of consciousness is increased by the inclusion of a great number and variety of unconscious contents. The second is a gradual diminution of the dominating influence of the unconscious. The third is an alteration in the personality.
At such moments, the factors suppressed by the prevailing attitudes accumulate in the collective unconscious. Strongly intuitive individuals become aware of these and try to translate them into communicable ideas. If they succeeded in translating the unconscious into a communicable language, this had a redeeming effect. The contents of the unconscious had a disturbing effect. In the first situation, the collective unconscious might replace reality; which is pathological. In the second situation, the individual may feel disorientated, but the state is not pathological.
Blessedly, Jung was brilliant enough to see this as a path of personal evolution, and his psychotherapy views were shifted as a result:
Out of his experiences, he developed new conceptions of the aims and methods of psychotherapy. Since its inception at the end of the nineteenth century, modern psychotherapy had been primarily concerned with the treatment of functional nervous disorders, or neuroses, as they came to be known. From the time of the First World War onward, Jung reformulated the practice of psychotherapy. No longer solely preoccupied with the treatment of psychopathology, it became a practice to enable the higher development of the individual through fostering the individuation process.
One interesting thing I note is that Jung did not seem to treat his patients as if he were the wise one who knew everything and they were the subjects with some problematic label attached. He worked with them in conjunction with his own experiences, and often respected them greatly apart from that work. That alone shows quite a difference in how ‘therapy’ was approached by him vs. many in today’s world. He saw that this powerful archetypal work was part of personal evolution, but that these same elements showed up in the therapy for severe neuroses as well.
…”the reason why the involvement looks very much like a psychosis is that the patient is integrating the same fantasy-material to which the insane person falls victim because he cannot integrate it but is swallowed up by it. “
Jung eventually realized, it appears, that much of what we consider insanity or madness is, like I said in Bewilderness, less an issue of the perceived other-world being crazy, as it is an issue of a psychology being unable to integrate and ‘deal with’ perceived other-worlds, other-beings, etc. He realized that the underlying basis of much of what was officially insane was probably a shared world or experience; but the personality itself was having some extreme problem in how it was reacting to it or dealing with it.
In 1912, in Transformation and Symbols of the Libido, he considered the presence of mythological fantasies-such as are present in Liber Novus-to be the signs of a loosening of the phylogenetic layers of the unconscious, and indicative of schizophrenia. Through his self-experimentation, he radically revised this position: what he now considered critical was not the presence of any particular content, but the attitude of the individual toward it and, in particular, whether an individual could accommodate such material in their worldview. This explains why he commented in his afterword to Liber Novus that to the superficial observer, the work would seem like madness, and could have become so, if he had failed to contain and comprehend the experiences.
I also found it interesting that his copious reading often seemed bent toward finding the larger-picture of these experiences and corroborative accounts and parallel processes around the world regarding them. I see this in some small part as the attempt to ‘find validation’ that I expect we all go through. He simply succeeded at it far better than most. One way that he “dealt with” the likely science-as-social-paradigm reaction to his work was by not talking directly about his work at times but instead talking about all the parallel things, and the work in general, not personal.
With his seminars on Kundalini Yoga in 1932, Jung commenced a comparative study of esoteric practices, focusing on the spiritual exercises of Ignatius of Loyola, Patanjali’s Yoga sutras, Buddhist meditational practices, and medieval alchemy; which he presented in an extensive series of lectures at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology.The critical insight that enabled these linkages and comparisons was Jung’s realization that these practices were all based on different forms of active imagination -and that they all had as their goal the transformation of the personality-which Jung understood as the process of individuation.
Talking about the process of inner-world work in general:
Visual types should concentrate on the expectation that an inner image will be produced. As a rule such a fantasy-image will actually appear-perhaps hypnagogically-and should be carefully noted down in writing. Audio-verbal types usually hear inner words, perhaps mere fragments or apparently meaningless sentences to begin with … Others at such times simply hear their “other” voice … Still rarer, but equally valuable, is automatic writing, direct or with the planchette. [...] For some people, Jung noted, it was silnple to note the “other” voice in writing and to answer it from the standpoint of the I: “It is exactly as if a dialogue were taking place between two human beings … ” This dialogue led to the creation of the transcendent function, which resulted in a widening of consciousness. This depiction of inner dialogues and the means of evoking fantasies in a waking state represents Jung’s own undertaking in the Black Books.
There, he depicted the method of eliciting and developing fantasies that he later termed active imagination, and explained its therapeutic rationale.
He initially was a little too left-brain for all this… I know the feeling. There was a lot of resistance. He changed.
Up to this point, Jung had been an active thinker and had been averse to fantasy: “as a form of thinking I held it to be altogether impure, a sort of incestuous intercourse, thoroughly immoral from an intellectual viewpoint.” He now turned to analyze his fantasies, carefully noting everything, and had to overcome considerable resistance in doing this: “Permitting fantasy in myself had the same effect as would be produced on a man if he came into his workshop and found all the tools flying about doing things independently of his will.”
And he undertook what I call archetype work fully.
From December 1913 onward, he carried on in the same procedure: deliberately evoking a fantasy in a waking state, and then entering into it as into a drama. These fantasies may be understood as a type of dramatized thinking in pictorial form. In reading his fantasies, the impact of Jung’s mythological studies is clear. Some of the figures and conceptions derive directly from his readings, and the form and style bear witness to his fascination with the world of myth and epic.
The separation of self and other is the crux of this, and sometimes that complicates dealing with reality. I think this is commonly run into by shamans and high-psychics as I call them (people highly intuitive; this is not the same measure as people necessarily good at intentional psi, I might add). In my words, I would say that most of the evolution or “individuation” as Jung called it, is obtained by the interaction (merging, to various degrees), with everything that is ‘other’ (opposite), and integrating that into the larger personality. This means accepting it unto yourself, making it your own so to speak. There are some hazards and side effects of grasping pieces of a gigantic, super powerful field of energy, and integrating it. In a perfect world, you regain your equilibrium, your personality changed but your center-of-I-ness restored in a slightly larger collection of energy, and move on.
Here, he differentiated two layers of the unconscious. The first, the personal unconscious, consisted in elements acquired during one’s lifetime, together with elements that could equally well be conscious. The second was the impersonal unconscious or collective psyche. While consciousness and the personal unconscious were developed and acquired in the course of one’s lifetime, the collective psyche was inherited.
The problem is perspective. If you take on a radically different perspective, and attempt to carry that perspective into this one, that is not the same as taking on a given energy and carrying it. The perspective can really mess up how you relate to reality as we know it.
Jung wrote that it was a difficult task to differentiate the personal and collective psyche. One of the factors one came up against was the persona-one’s “mask” or “role.” This represented the segment of the collective psyche that one mistakenly regarded as individual. When one analyzed this, the personality dissolved into the collective psyche, which resulted in the release of a stream of fantasies: “The treasures of mythological thinking and feeling are unlocked.” The difference between this state and insanity lay in the fact that it was intentional.
A lot of “god-like” and “you are the chosen one” stuff comes from this area, in my experience. Having a degree of droll and sense of humor about it, rather than taking it literally, seems to help combat that particular side effect.
In the beginning of his developing in the inner-world’s direction, it was precognitive experiences in the 8 months leading up to the outbreak of World War II that first got Jung thinking on a lot of this, in ways that traditional psychoanalysis, which thought it could explain your dreams, couldn’t handle.
It is important to note that there are around twelve separate fantasies that Jung may have regarded as precognitive:
1-2. OCTOBER, 1913 Repeated vision of flood and death of thousands, and the voice that said that this will become real.
3. AUTUMN 1913 Vision of the sea of blood covering the northern lands.
4-5. DECEMBER 12, 15, 1913. Image of a dead hero and the slaying of Siegfried in a dream.
6. DECEMBER 25, 1913 Image of the foot of a giant stepping on a city; and images of murder and bloody cruelty.
7- JANUARY 2,1914 Image of a sea of blood and a procession of dead multitudes.
8. JANUARY 22, 1914 His soul comes up from the depths and asks him if he will accept war and destruction. She shows him images of destruction, military weapons, human remains, sunken ships, destroyed states, etc.
9. MAY 21, 1914 A voice says that the sacrificed fall left and right.
10-12. JUNE-JULY 1914 Thrice-repeated dream of being in a foreign land and having to return quickly by ship, and the descent of the icy cold.
(One can’t see #8 without thinking of Seth and ‘probabilities’. – pj)
As a psychiatrist I became worried, wondering if I was not on the way to “doing a schizophrenia,” as we said in the language of those days … I was just preparing a lecture on schizophrenia to be delivered at a congress in Aberdeen, and I kept saying to myself: “I’ll be speaking of myself! Very likely I’ll go mad after reading out this paper.” The congress was to take place in July 1914-exactly the same period when I saw myself in my three dreams voyaging on the Southern seas. On July 31, immediately after my lecture, I learned from the newspapers that war had broken out. Finally I understood. And when I disembarked in Holland on the next day; nobody was happier than I. Now I was sure that no schizophrenia was threatening me. I understood that my dreams and my visions came to me from the subsoil of the collective unconscious.
At this moment, Jung considered that his fantasy had depicted not what would happen to him, but to Europe. In other words, that it was a precognition of a collective event, what he would later call a “big” dream. After this realization, he attempted to see whether and to what extent this was true of the other fantasies that he experienced, and to understand the meaning of this correspondence between private fantasies and public events.
And this leads to the part that I think is what separates individuals like me from grand visionaries like Jung. My entire model and experience is based on me. I know that there are correlates with others, with religion, with the occult, with mythology, with psychology, and the degree to which I care is usually measured by the degree to which I am feeling insecure about my sanity on any given day and would like ‘validation-by-corroboration’. It would truly be a massive, many-persons, many-lifetimes undertaking to even begin to comprehend how this utterly amazing, mindblowing, lifechanging, ineffably confusing process and experience might relate to more than one person at a time.
To try and figure out what the commonalities are and what they might mean or how they relate. To see how the dreams and imaginal workings of individuals relate to the destiny of a nation and the psychological evolution of a species. To put it all together, not just on an individual scale which is difficult enough, but on a mass-scale. So understanding of psychology, and politics, and the very future itself, is part of the equation.
he proclaimed the psychological processes that accompanied the war had brought the problem of the chaotic unconscious to the forefront of attention. However, the psychology of the individual corresponded to the psychology of the nation, and only the transformation of the attitude of the individual could bring about cultural renewal. This articulated the intimate interconnection between individual and collective events … the deep subliminal connections between individual fantasies and world events-and hence between the psychology of the individual and that of the nation. What was now required was to work out this connection in more detail.
This is what Jung was actually trying to do, to begin. A global scope, a species scope of it all. My mind boggles, frankly. This is why he was a genius, and not just another person doing archetype work and writing it down. I have no interest in following those footsteps but I respect the hell outta the effort.
In these sections, he attempted to derive general psychological principles from the fantasies, and to understand to what extent the events portrayed in the fantasies presented, in a symbolic form, developments that were to occur in the world. In 1913, Jung had introduced a distinction between interpretation on the objective level in which dream objects were treated as representations of real objects, and interpretation on the subjective level in which every element concerns the dreamers themselves. As well as interpreting his fantasies on the subjective level, one could characterize his procedure here as an attempt to interpret his fantasies on the “collective” level.
About the book itself, the introduction says of the chapters:
… they begin with the exposition of dramatic visual fantasies. In them Jung encounters a series of figures in various settings and enters into conversation with them. He is confronted with unexpected happenings and shocking statements. He then attempts to understand what had transpired, and to formulate the significance of these events and statements into general psychological conceptions and maxims. Jung held that the significance of these fantasies was due to the fact that they stemmed from the mythopoeic imagination which was missing in the present rational age. The task of individuation lay in establishing a dialogue with the fantasy figures-or contents of the collective unconscious and integrating them into consciousness, hence recovering the value of the mythopoeic imagination which had been lost to the modern age, and thereby reconciling the spirit of the time with the spirit of the depth.
I respect very much Jung’s insistence on attempting to be rational and scientific about a process most irrational and mystic. I agree completely.
The work on the unconscious has to happen first and foremost for us ourselves. Our patients profit from it indirectly. The danger consists in the prophet’s delusion which often is the result of dealing with the unconscious. It is the devil who says: Disdain all reason and science, mankind’s highest powers. That is never appropriate even though we are forced to acknowledge [the existence of] the irrational.
I’ve said before that I am sometimes disturbed and confused by the fact that when I write, the sense of I seems to have a variety of energy sitting in on it, some of which would not be “I” in other moments. I wonder sometimes if when I am blogging about something that is an actual conversation, sometimes which I am having at the moment, or a memory of something I am only recalling at the moment, if this is not my creative writing, my art, instead of true spontaneous spirituality, to which I’m attributing it. Then I get lost in the possible overlaps between those.
Jung was a painter, and he had his own version of this issue:
He recalled that he received a letter from “this Dutch woman that got on my nerves terribly.” In this letter, this woman, that is, Moltzer, argued that “the fantasies stemming from the unconscious possessed artistic worth and should be considered as art.” Jung found this troubling because it was not stupid, and, moreover, modern painters were attempting to make art out of the unconscious. This awoke a doubt in him whether his fantasies were really spontaneous and natural.
On hearing from a contemporary who was doing similar inner-exploration work, he had the wise advice:
I would not want to say anything more than telling you to continue with this approach because, as you have observed correctly yourself, it is very important that we experience the contents of the unconscious before we form any opinions about it.
People often consider Jung some kind of student-of or offshoot-of Freud. This is very inaccurate. The introduction explains why at some length. Jung himself pointed out, as this was happening even during his own time, that this was ridiculous and that all his primary influences were different people and that he’d been involved in such work long before (and around) encountering Freud, with whom he initially found commonalities (as he did with others) and with whom he later felt was on a path that wasn’t the answer. In traditional psychoanalysis, “interpreting dreams” was a big deal and was done analytically and via a lot of deductive reasoning, and this would go for ‘conscious dreaming’ as well. Jung came to a different perspective thanks to his inner work.
Here, he contrasted Freud’s analytic-reductive method, based on causality, with the constructive method of the Zurich school. The shortcoming of the former was that through tracing things back to antecedent elements, it dealt with only half of the picture, and failed to grasp the living meaning of phenomena. Someone who attempted to understand Goethe’s Faust in such a manner would be like someone who tried to understand a Gothic cathedral under its mineralogical aspect. The living meaning “only lives when we experience it in and through ourselves.” Inasmuch as life was essentially new, it could not be understood merely retrospectively. Hence the constructive standpoint asked, “how, out of this present psyche, a bridge can be built into its own future.” This paper implicitly presents Jung’s rationale for not embarking on a causal and retrospective analysis of his fantasies, and serves as a caution to others who may be tempted to do so. Presented as a critique and reformulation of psychoanalysis, Jung’s new mode of interpretation links back to the symbolic method of Swedenborg’s spiritual hermeneutics.
As a last note for today, because I have to do some work now, I’ll add that Jung, like I and most others I know, had a compelling urge to project, to physically manifest, the symbols and experiences and identities and landscapes and events and more, outside of him; to make it real. The Red Book is itself a testament to exactly that effort, of course, with all the calligraphy and illustrations. Eventually though, even that wasn’t enough. He literally built an ancient-style stone tower to represent this for himself.
“Words and paper, however, did not seem real enough to me; something more was needed.” He had to make a confession in stone. The tower was a “representation of individuation.” Over the years, he painted murals and made carvings on the walls.
Now that is what I call manifesting it into your reality!
Palyne
Posted by Palyne on February 20, 2010 at 12:20 pm Central
Many days ago I was minding my own business, working, not thinking too intensely about anything, when I had the sudden communication that I should do an archetype meditation on “My Worst Enemy.” It was so sudden and out of the blue and clear that it was obviously someone internal telling me that.
I’m not sure I have a worst enemy in this life. I have a few people over the course of my life that I’ve seriously disliked, usually for reasons good enough to justify homicide, but even in the closest-to-current time instances, I always eventually come to understand that while their behavior may seem evil, it’s really just that they are very sick. In the past I have temporarily cared enough about some subjects to feel strongly about someone involved, but I have lost that. I simply don’t feel enough for that to matter anymore. I still have people I love, but I’ve lost the gumption for anybody to hate.
I forgot about it.
It came back again in the same way, powerfully and out of the blue, as a reminder. But I forgot about it.
It came back again the same way, this time with the added thought, “Maybe some other part of you desperately needs this, and it is something you can do for them.” Like the issue might not be THIS life, but some other identity, reality, life, Aeon, whatever. That seemed an interesting idea, and then altruism and helpfulness and healer was involved, and I decided I’d do so. But then I forgot about it.
It returned… a couple times, at least. Literally I am being harrassed about this!
Last night I decided I would take a break from work while I was still decently awake, and I would do an Aeon round, sorely overdue, and the meditation. But I only got fractionally through the Aeon round before falling asleep. Which wiped out the work schedule I had planned, dang it.
This morning I woke up at a decent hour and decided to continue where I left off. I got a bit more through the Aeons… and fell asleep. I woke up, determined to continue, and finally made it all the way through the Aeons, at which point I again fell asleep. Good grief! Talk about denial.
I woke up from a long multipart dream, a boring one, you know, typical dreamish stuff from life. I still want to do that meditation and finally I am ready to start collecting archetypes (Jupiter already joined me the moment I thought about it a week ago) to help, as I suspect a med on that topic might be … challenging. But then my denial kept saying, “Well you should blog up to this part and then you can blog the rest afterward.” Which I find unnecessary and another excuse. But to remove that excuse I’m doing it.
I realize now that when I say, “my worst enemy” or any other archetype, I am working with something huge, a composite of energy that is so much more than just some situation in my life. All of the me that is my Aeons, and my many existences, anything with which I “share” energy-source, could be involved in that “My” criteria. It doesn’t have to be limited to this tiny reality I spend my waking time in. Because really, even if it had some name attached, that wouldn’t matter to this dynamic. You could think of our identities like the multi-faced or multi-armed visages from history. Even though many may be involved, in different ways, the source — the barrell of the kaleidascope — is the same energy, or close enough. Maybe that tunnel of pieces is turned a bit differently for a different pattern-result in each identity, but it’s still all the same energy for the most part, the same components. What affects one would have to affect the others.
So if you’re healing yourself, it’d be impossible to avoid healing other parts of you too, which may be far worse off. In fact maybe the anchoring energy is actually from their life, not yours, but you’re both experiencing it because you share that energy. Someone has to heal it, and it doesn’t matter who as long as it gets dealt with. Maybe the identity which is the primary anchor for that problem-pattern is the least equipped to heal it because they are so enmeshed in the situation, so it almost has to be someone else.
And maybe, curiously, it’s actually harder to project or conceptualize into a clear model in order to deal with it at all, in any identity which doesn’t have some reasonably ‘manifest’ version of that energy, at some point in their life anyway. Some amorpheous blob of energy with weird side effects in reality, is not the same as a clear situational problem.
I guess it had not until now occurred to me that all problems, and all healing, is soul-wide. It’s all of the me’s. I had thought of problems this way a little I guess, when vaguely understanding that Nero had worked through a lot of stuff to get to his level of awareness, but he kinda had to work through the rest of us to continue that, help us on our own path, because we are inextricably wound up together and he can only go so far before all the rest of the larger group gets clearer too.
I remember when my last IG gave me that gift and I met the woman in my genetic lineage who’d been the original recipient. She had this terrible enemy that was clear even in the meditation. Maybe the work will also help her in some fashion. (I went to get the link to this meditation. But oddly it isn’t what I thought. I remember meeting her, and describing what she looked like, and the looming threat in her life, and all kinds of things. And yet the link with that brief IG-experience has zero about her. I don’t know if that is in something else, or it’s in my head but never got written down!)
Totally offbeat thought: Is “soul retrieval” kind of like a “defrag” of the larger self? Find all those pieces all over and broken chains and bring them back and make them as succinctly gathered with the rest of themself and the rest of everyone else that is active information, as possible. Defrag seems like a good visualization form.
Well, off to meditate. Hopefully.
Posted by Palyne on February 9, 2010 at 9:07 pm Central
I’ve been working on cleaning out and archiving old hard drive materials. My digital life is reflecting my physical life, as I try desperately to “get rid of clutter” and concisely organize and store the rest. In the process of this, I’ve had to do quick-skim through a zillion documents in text, rtf, doc, and odc format, with titles like ‘temp{date}’ and ‘dream’ and ‘holdthis’. That’s me, organized and original… not! I found a number of dream journal entries dating back to around ‘04. I read through each of them, remembering the dreams as I read them, wondering why most the time I have no greater insight about them now than I had at the time.
And then I stumbled on one I did not remember. AT ALL. Now that it’s been 24 hours since I read it, my mind tells me I’m starting to remember “a little,” but it’s hard to say what imagination might be supplying there, vs. memory. I did, on reading, have a really instant and clear visual of one of the components of the dream, so maybe I remembered that part. But I sat there really trying to remember, and it was like something I had never seen, heard of, or thought of before in my life. Go figure! It must have been one of the dreams I woke up at some ungodly hour from, wrote in a text file on my laptop, then went back to sleep. I probably forgot it existed the next morning so never read it when I was ‘awake’ to remember it.
The dream gave me the weirdest “vibe” though. I mean it’s just a dream, and yet it had this gut-feeling of importance, it was nearly frightening. The date was ‘November 2007′… that’s all I know. I wrote it in half-shorthand so this is the longhand version of my dream journal.
I was standing with my hand on the shoulder of a man that I knew (in the dream), when everything started shaking just a little. “Is that you?” I asked him, but then I realized we were having an actual earthquake. It seemed consistently shaking but still fairly mild, for awhile, until suddenly it was like the land almost turned sideways for a moment, sharply to the left, and then everything crashed down and changed radically around us, and all the power went off, and then after more chaos I don’t remember, we were on the ground with stuff all over the place, inside some structure.
When we recover, the ground is still shaking strongly and consistently, it just goes on and on, but not the extreme stuff of earlier. We pick ourselves up off the ground and brace ourselves with a half-squat and against each other. “Oh my god, oh my god!” I say to him, as we both are trembling, “This area is doomed! That was SO severe!” and we stand there with each other, shaking from the ground and from our trauma, until eventually the shaking reduces and then finally stops.
We look at each other for a long moment, and then we rush out the door. The landscape outside is utter chaos, stuff all over, and we find our way to a fairly open little space and look around at everything, and realize there is this gigantic building not far away that was NOT there before. He points at it, and he says to me, “My god. Look at the Red China command!” It is a giant building, brick-like, much wider than tall, and it seems to have broken literally in half, with the center of it now collapsed and much lower.
I find myself in the dark of outer space, looking at Earth which is far below. I realize with a dawning sense of horror that this quake was caused by a “thing”, not by nature. There is a spaceship hovering in orbit. It is the weirdest looking thing. It is shaped like those paint-by-number, double-sided, long plastic things which are little squat round cylinders filled with paint. Except this is longer, and metallic. A couple of the squat cylinders near the middle are missing, but those shapes missing are not the two very middle across from each other. At the end, there is this array of long shapes with bulbous ends sticking out. I “understand/know” that this blasted the earth, and that the intention of those in the ship was to cause chaos, and in particular, to cause a “back-to-ground-zero” effect in culture (destroying technology and infrastructure and government).
Just as I am wondering what I can or should do, it zips away. But I know it’s coming back before long.
I am suddenly back with my buddy. We are facing the giant China building central break. There is this really long wide “sidewalk”-like area which comes out of that building. Something starts pouring down the walkway, pouring and creeping and crawling. First it is wispy like it is white smoke. Then it is stronger, and more dense, and then finally it becomes like a rushing river, coming out of the chinese fortress and pouring out toward us. I don’t know what it is, but I interpret it as energy or water and I realize it’s going to overtake us and I will drown. So I say in some panic, “What do we do? What do we do?” to my friend, and he whirls around and takes off running, and I follow him. I understand that we are trying to find the highest elevation. He runs through a door which closed behind him and I was trapped, but I finally got it open and continued, following. We began basically scaling this broken building, trying to get to the highest area of it so we would escape being overcome by the flood of whatever it was.
I thought that was odd, interesting, told my best friend about it, and went on with life. I’ve been working ridiculous hours the last 3-4 weeks, to the point I do almost nothing but work and sleep. Later, finally I was keeling over so I set my alarm for work and closed my laptop and turned over and went to sleep. But when I woke up this morning, it was from a dream.
I cannot believe I don’t have anything on paper!, I said in frustration to someone near me. I can’t believe I dreamed this, and it came to be, and now I can’t even find the original notes and show you, because dammit, everything is digital, so now it’s gone! I felt such fury at myself. I’d been warned. I’d actually had a chance to prepare, unlike everyone else on earth! But I’d thought, “It’s just a dream.” So I hadn’t done a damn thing.
There were local people who were military and they were dying to have any information about what happened or what might be responsible, but some woman going, “I once dreamed…” wouldn’t cut it, they said. If I could show them that I had dreamed this years before, and show them the description of the shape of the ship that had done that to earth, and the issue with China, it might help. We theorized, me and the people around me, that the symbolism of the stuff pouring out of the Chinese structure was that this was nuclear fallout or something related to the damage in China. But that was a planet away and even the top military guys didn’t know what was going on there. Hell they hardly knew what was going on a mile away.
They were worried about that kind of thing, but we really weren’t. We were worried about how to feed the people. The children in particular. We were sleeping in the wreckage of various buildings, tons of people side by side on the floors. It wasn’t winter so the shelter sucked but it was ok. Food and water and where a zillion people use the bathroom, those were the real issues. What to do with people injured when the hospital was comprised of a few people with training and knives and needles, because we sure didn’t have any more machines, or much in the way of medicine, that was a problem. The world doesn’t stop just because the world as you know it has ended.
I thought again about the dream, about the ship I’d seen so clearly all those years ago, and even finding that dream and feeling that gut-sense of prophetic in it and STILL not taking it seriously, not even printing it out. Part of myself argued. Where would you put it. Come on, you can’t use half of Canada’s forests to put the internet on paper in case computers become unavailable. But all the resources were gone and I was just so angry about the whole situation.
Well I don’t feel any better about it after the second dream last night, that’s for sure!
It seems so sci-fi and unlikely. And yet that’s the one image that was utterly clear in my head when reading the dream from years ago, when everything else was foreign: was the sight of that ship. Who the hell would build a ship shaped like that? It was just weird. It was almost like a collection of ships held together as one, each one being a squat little cylinder.
So I was writing this blog post, and about two sentences ago I felt myself literally passing out. I looked at the clock; true, I’d technically been off work over an hour although I’d really only taken a break to write this. But I was wide awake until then, I’d had enough sleep. It definitely felt like when I chance on some topic that some part of me can’t deal with when I’m conscious so it just knocks me out, as if to process things on some other level, or maybe just get my conscious mind out of the way. I was waiting on something for work I still didn’t have yet, so I decided to let myself doze awhile. I slept about 3 hours. Then I woke up, realized the time, about 8:30pm. I still didn’t have what I was waiting on at work, so I decided to make an image of the ship. I knew it would be kind of poor — I don’t do 3D images (yet) or even particularly good 2D… but it came out alright.
Just as I finished, the stuff from work finally came in, so I have to go now and get back to it. The aliens, of course, are some “different reality” than the world I work in…
PJ
P.S. Oh, the horror! I cannot get that hideous ugly white border off the display of my picture. It’s not the image. It doesn’t show in preview mode. I have edited every stylesheet in the theme (there’s a crazy number of those) to forced a zero border on anything even thinking about being an image in content and it’s still not fixed. I’m so ashamed. It looked quite cool until that, and now I am a hopeless, helpless nerd. Sigh…
Posted by Palyne on February 3, 2010 at 4:58 am Central
A few of the last dozen posts just bug me.
They bugged me only a little while writing, but I was oddly tuned out of them, writing on the fly and not editing and rereading like I normally do (to make sure mindless phonetic spelling isn’t making me look like an idiot). I wrote them and moved on. I was busy, I told myself as I did absolutely nothing of import. If necessary, staring at the wall would take priority over actually being forced to read my own writing. Gee, imagine the torture for others.
But in the rare moments I wasn’t in denial, I knew what it was. I’ve just finally reached the point where I can fork it out of myself and look at it and talk about it.
Despite all the weirdness with ‘identity’ I regularly go through — my ‘metaphysical understanding of self’ makes even most schizophrenics look boring, I suspect — I haven’t been in any serious danger of losing track of myself; only of losing track of how to categorize and recognize what I see in myself. The ever-present “sense of I” makes it alright. Most of us change identities when we dream, but it still feels like I, so it’s fine; it’s all me even when it’s not me-me. Yes, that makes perfect sense. It was one, and then another, and then the normal one again.
In several posts, I felt as if some part of it was not me-me. I mean it was going along fine and then like, a couple paragraphs, they were to me, not from me. Or they just felt clearly in the mode of someone slightly else. Now, I realize that this is allegedly normal for any kind of creativity and even just ‘creative expression’ of factual things. And I realize that like I’ve been told, “It’s supposed to be seamless.” And I realize that as much as I commune with a whole congregation inside me, it probably doesn’t even seem like it oughtta be surprising.
But if it bothers me when I don’t really know precisely who I’m talking with internally — who they are — it bothers me a lot more when I have the odd sense of not knowing who I was when I wrote something. And how did it slip in for only a sentence, a paragraph, the choice of two specific words in that sentence? My “sense of I-ness” was continuous. I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t intentionally pulling in some other energy or identity.
Is it that I am losing track of myself, or that my previous definition of self was so ridiculously limited, that now that I am opening up to a larger… self, anything outside the box I’ve lived in all my life seems slightly foreign and disturbing?
*
There are other things bugging me.
I had a dream recently, one of the ‘linear’ sorts that are a whole story unto themselves, at least sort of. I was in this other reality where a type of neural mapping, and biochemical pseudo-replication of this map temporarily, had been discovered by science and promptly changed our world. There was a section of dream I had no recall of, when I finally got around — about 36 hours later — to telling my best friend about it. (I’m lucky I remembered any of it by then, frankly.) I had some superfast visual flash-chunks, no context. My brain picked up where the dream was finally changing into something else, some bridge that was just bizarre and stupid. So I didn’t know the end.
But like has often happened when there is some meditation I’ve lost a chunk of, when I began writing about it, and just about the time I reached that point, there it was. I remembered now, and it was a funny sync to my own mind which I suppose was part of the point of it in the first place.
But in a way, I find this bugs me too. How do I know that is really what happened? Oh, because I “remembered”? Maybe. Sure, some of the pieces seem to fit. But what if I didn’t? What if some part of me is making it up as I go along, and it’s part story not just real-dream? (Did I just say “real-dream”?? What the heck is that??) What if some other aspect of me is even dreaming that second part even as I write it, like to fill in the blanks?? OK that’s a weird idea I admit.
*
I think I feel like, my definition of integrity in communications has always relied on a certain ’sense of self’ being present in what I communicate, no matter what the form. My sense of ’self’ is … changing. Mind you, I have no problem with the self I’ve always been. I mean, I am not losing touch with that at all. It’s just that there is a larger collection of energies that I guess are also me, but are relatively new to the collective of my attention, and they are not part of that traditional sense of self I have always relied upon. And now it makes me doubt things a little. Doubt what is really from me, what is real, what is coming from some seemingly other yet not-’other’ source, what is legitimate, what I can fairly put out for others and know is True for me with a capital T.
I feel a sort of … uncertainty sometimes. Like I know that this section is solid, but this other section… or that sentence… well it was real while I wrote it… and it doesn’t seem NOT true or anything like that… and yet it doesn’t have the same feel inside me as the other sections. I’m not sure what to do about that. Clamp down and say, don’t mess with the ‘me’ that communicates? How can I spend half my time attempting to integrate with a larger collective of self and then demand that none of it show up in my writing because it’s part of me now? But if it does show up, how do I know what is really-real? What is the difference in the legtimacy-in-this-reality between the me I’ve always known and the aeons? Is there any difference at all? Is “me” just what Seth called “the Focus personality” — a few energies collected as the ‘face’ of the rest of the larger collective?
I think maybe I’m jealous. I speak for me. Nobody else! No matter how I adore my aeons and accept them as part of me, I am jealous to even consider that anybody else would ever speak for me. I think maybe I have a control freak response going on here. They can be subservient, absorbed into ME; I will speak for them too, no problem. But the idea that ‘distribution of self’ is across all of us, and the “I” I’ve previously known is not the sole controller or focus anymore… ok, that just BUGS ME.
PS I wrote this the other day but didn’t have time to post until now.
Posted by Palyne on January 31, 2010 at 7:17 am Central
Too much in ’survival’ mode from over-work to have much going on internal lately. Did do an aeon round recently. And woke up from this dream the other day.
.
It was “almost” an accident, the press release said. The media told us about it from every screen. Scientists from several countries had been working for years on neural scanning, from ever-better imaging techniques to a cornucopia of ideas about “what it all meant.” Their enthusiasm for neural imaging as the crystal ball of ‘base-psychology’ was a little bit contagious, and the media began following the story like some soap opera of biochemistry, based on the tarot of the brain. Science had never been so popular.
So it happened that when a small team discovered how to take the latest 3-D imaging “pattern” and replicate it or at least ‘the effects as if one had it’ in anybody — temporarily, of course — with a semi-synthetic biochemistry cocktail (or in English, with a needle and syringe into the arm or the ass), it took about 24 hours for the implications to sink in, and then the entire subject just exploded.
The scientists were rock stars after that. This one discovery generated so much combined public enthusiasm and outcry you’d think it had been the unveiling of some ancient god and modern aliens all in one night. From dire warnings from the pulpit to philosophical rantings in text, it seemed like the whole world for the first time agreed on one thing, at least: that this discovery was absolutely-damn-amazing. Whether that was good or bad was up for debate, but the discovery itself was astounding.
I thought so too, as I listened to the news on my drive to work one morning. Some fervent dreamer I’d never heard of was waxing on about how, with a shot akin to a vitamin B boost, you could quite literally “see the point of view” of someone else. Surely this would revolutionize the evolution of our culture. You could now truly walk a mile in your enemy’s shoes, as the old saying went.
They tried to make it illegal in counties all over the country. It took about 6 minutes for half of Tennessee, Georgia and a slew of counties across the bible belt to decide it was drug-induced, and it wasn’t “you”, and it wasn’t in the bible, and hence it was bad. To the delight of the watching world, though, none except a few counties (which already outlawed drinking, dancing, and general happiness, as a religious imperative) were able to pull together any reason science could support for it being bad. After all, it had, at least so far, no measurable side effects, it was temporary, and far as anyone could see, it didn’t actually hurt anybody. Bill after bill to outlaw it failed to pass.
Later on, I was to think that maybe it would have had a 10 year wait to hit the public market, while various drug test trials were run, if the knowledge hadn’t hit the whole world including our enemies all at once — it wasn’t just ours, countries all over the world understood it promptly and began to implement it – and if the government hadn’t been so gung-ho to map as many people as possible just to see what could be learned. Or more importantly to some funding sources, what our enemies, god forbid, might be learning. Several programs were set up which offered a trade: Go let them scan you, take some psychology tests, and you could choose from a whole neural-library of a pattern you wanted to experience for a few hours. Be a famous basketball player, a hollywood beauty queen, a five year old little girl.
I had to try it, of course. Early on, in fact. I was one of the crazy people who waited all weekend in line outside one of the authorized clinics. I had fully intended to ‘take the map’, as slang put it, of this guy Jason, a movie star who’d been paid a fortune to give up his map to encourage the public to go make the trade. But at the last second I had some bizarre change of perspective, bit of a pun there considering the subject, and I chose the map of this 87 year old grandmother who was, it was said, in perfect health, and had 7 kids, 20 grandkids, and 37 great-grandkids. It was probably because my grandmother had died just two weeks before and I was still raw inside. But whatever the case, I spent about five hours with a pretty radically different “perspective” than my own.
There were variants on the shots that could make it more powerful or last longer, but they weren’t what was approved for the trade. It didn’t matter to most people. This was novel enough to leave everybody begging for more. But of course, it took about ten minutes for black market ‘mapping’ to kick in as an entire industry. It was harder and longer and had a longer, more intense ‘confusion point’ when shaking it off, when that pattern ‘blended’ with your own, but that was actually the favorite part for many people, and many deliberately ‘raw’ variants that emphasized that part of the experience rose up. Back-street commerce was instant and huge: be anybody in their library, and I nearly burst out laughing one day when I saw a man open his coat furtively and show a list of names to someone rather than an array of gold watches, and I knew many of the names were movie stars from the lab break-ins that had occurred around the world and distributed ‘patterns’ like music planet-wide. It was like Neuromancer meets Disney and they met in the middle over money.
Some of the media misunderstood. So some of the public misunderstood. The rumors about it were ridiculous. It did not turn you into someone else with history. It wasn’t like you knew the details and private life of that rock star. It wasn’t like you would know physics, or kung-fu, by taking the map of a person who did. It wasn’t any of those things. It was just a pattern, that the brain accepted, for a time; it was a perspective. You simply saw things in a different way for awhile. But not just some things. Everything. It wasn’t just a shift of opinion on a few topics, it was a fundamentally different state of mind. It was a genuine “escape from self” and “exploration of the-other”. The ultimate drug, in a way. It didn’t make you high, it didn’t make you low, it just made you different.
It was the backstreet market that found the dark side first, as least as far as I could see. Who would have thought, really, but it was basically some medium-size corporations who paid for the first venture into that potential. How would the CEO of the competing company think of this? If you thought about the problem, or product, or strategies, “from their point of view,” would you get an insight into their planning? It turns out — yeah. Not perfectly, but in general, you would. And what if that CEO had not been mapped? Well that is easily taken care of. He’d just disappear for a few hours into the shadow of a car with some tough looking men and when he returned, usually with memory wiped — another benefit of fairly recent science — suddenly his pattern would proliferate like a fractal available through every pirate mapman, as they came to be called, first in the city, then through the whole country and then the whole world. The enthusiasm the pirates had for sharing patterns was almost awe-inspiring. The government and military wished their communication systems worked half as well.
And then it got darker. How does your enemy think? The mafia wanted to know. The military wanted to know. Hell, the wife and the other-woman wanted to know. It had begun with people wanting to share the patterns of the people they admired, but it shifted into a much larger market of people sharing the patterns of those they hated. Ironically, and some people got a lot of humor out of this, the murder rate actually went down. It was now more profitable to kidnap someone for the scanners than to kill them for their wallet. Everybody wanted to sample everybody else. It was a phenomenon on a global scale.
And then it got darker. Could you map the pattern of someone limited to an experience? Sure, it would mostly be ‘just them’ like normal, but the rabid biochemical of an intense experience affected their map temporarily, which parts of the brain were ‘most active’ and so on — especially if some illegal setup had the ability to map it literally during that experience, and it could replicate to a lesser extent in someone else. Parachuting was the most popular map for about a week before sampling rape, from both sides and in both genders overtook that in the black market statistics. As the overpaid and zealously enthusiastic black market scientists got better at isolating and creating patterns of an experience, rather than just a pattern of perspective, a number of crime statistics such as rape and prostitution went down as well. Why risk disease and arrest when you could have the same experience for money — made with the scanners or paid to the mapmen?
It got institutionalized, eventually; prisoners were allowed to request the maps of a variety of non-criminal sources, in the experimental idea that this might have some side-effect, even after it wore off, of the “new perspectives” giving their own brain some new neural connections and some different points of view. As much of the law abiding world became more criminal with illegal and even deadly experiences for sale, the criminals became more settled, often verging eventually into philosophy and brotherhood instead of the normal prison culture. It was a little bizarre, I thought to myself as I drove to work one morning.
Had it been only a few months since I’d been right here, on the way to work, and heard about the new discovery? It seemed impossible that so much change could have happened so fast. In my opinion, the world had just gone nuts. The government, freaked out by the massive illegal mapping of people against their will, and by the weird ‘addictive’ quality of this allegedly non-addictive and temporary drug of sorts, had finally, after the fact, temporarily tried to make it illegal. Well, a few highly conservative people, one from a county where it was already illegal, did. The pirates fought back with more money than organized crime had ever had: within 3 days, all but 5 politicians — I mean literally the entire government – was revealed or proven to have engaged in this, and often to be deeply and repetitively engaged in this, which made the entire voting bloc just fall away in their embarrassment. They could either seem like a mortified criminal and step down — or band together to instead present it as safe and harmless and hence no issue at all. There was no stopping it now.
I wondered, on the way to work, if we had accidentally created The Akashic Record. Was this the whole point of life? To bring our experience back to the collective? What was wrong with having it before you keeled over? The philosophers had never addressed that possibility.
I turned my attention to the likely events of the rest of my day. The aspect of me that reminded me of the boxer I’d sampled thought my boss was an asshole who was always looking at my boobs instead of my face. The aspect of me more like the grandmother I’d sampled understood he was very young, and saw his insecurities and his potential. The Zen master I’d sampled, I felt as if he were still “the shadow of a memory of a perspective” inside me too, and he had no worry about it either way: it was a beautiful day this morning, right here, right now. Of course, the assassin that some backstreet miscreant mapper had given me instead of the nun I requested, calmly considered that I could simply arrange a terrible accident for my boss if it all went badly, or coax him into a compromise that would let me ruin his marriage and sue his company for sexual harrassment if necessary. I scolded most of them. It’s just a job already.
Grandmother thought we should be focusing on more positive things, and reminded me that I’d been willing to plant some iris and tulips this year and it was about time to arrange for that. The poet was composing something abstract and philosophical in the back of my head, and the philosopher just the other day had reminded me of this old Twilight Zone episode — or was it The Outer Limits? – that had a variation on this, as if prophetic, where people could “sell memories.” And I remembered a Kevin O’Donnell, Jr. book I’d read when young, where these alien whales could “buy your dreams.” This technology wasn’t really any of that, but it kind of verged on it if you were buying the experience-map option. I thought again about the flowers. Digging deep enough holes for the flower bulbs would be a lot of work. There was always Derek, my potential boyfriend. He might help. Of course he’d take that as interest from me. But maybe it was. Is not, part of me said. Is too! another part responded. The plumber shadow from that map had an opinion about Derek’s family; he wasn’t even catholic for godssakes! I giggled. Neither was I. A whole fight broke out between the shadows, the aspects, and I pushed it all to the back of my mind and ignored them. Nobody had ever told us about this side effect. Some people went stark raving mad from it. Some seemed to get a lot wiser. Everyone seemed to get a lot less predictable. And most peoples’ reality got a little more interesting.
I shrugged, and let the Zen Master come forward. The late Autumn sun was on my left shoulder, and I felt content. I closed my eyes, as the rocking of my car on the monorail, the 6:19am to metro, nearly put me into a trance. The world was below. I was here, a seemingly normal person, a responsible, respectable young woman, as long as you didn’t talk to my bad-maps. Who were arguing in the background I realized. Make friends now, I demanded of them. Or else. Still they balked. The Zen Master had given me the idea and it was a great one. I would imagine myself back in both of those maps and then imagine energy and love rushing through my body and “blending” them with each other and then with me. And damn if it didn’t work pretty well to deal with aspects in conflict, although on occasion the result of the three was a little… bizarre. I mean sometimes it was hard to track how it even related. A merge could work but all the sudden I loved this shirt with yellow flowers I’d have found hideous the day before, and kept craving black olives. God only knows why. The side-effects were unpredictable. Some psychologists were probably making fortunes just to teach people this as if it were some arcane science, and not something you could do on the 6:19. The Or Else started to sink in apparently, as the little bit of Me-ness in each of the arguing shadow patterns realized their threat of obliteration and scuffled into the background.
I sighed in satisfaction. Another 8 minutes to enjoy the sun on my shoulder and the rocking of the rail.
.
It’s hard not to notice the sync of this ‘technology’ in that dream world and my ’spiritual life’ in this one. – P
Posted by Palyne on January 20, 2010 at 12:06 am Central
In the movie The 13th Floor (one of my favorite movies), one of the secrets to figuring something out was to go somewhere that you would never, ever go. Somewhere you would never have the slightest reason or desire to go.
(Critics hated the movie; scifi buffs, especially those who like a plot that requires brain cells, loved it.)
I had no desire to meditate on my most ’serious’ life-issue (obesity) but after a couple of promptings from my friend went ahead and did so, and it kicked my butt–very powerful. When I thought about this recently, I realized that many of my most powerful experiences have been in response to things that I did not expect to have any impact on me at all. Like my fear of psi meditations, holy cats.
I thought of all the times I did meditations with my friend from way-back who taught me this stuff. How often the stuff that sounded simple, innocuous, quite boring frankly and even a little stupid, ended up rocking my world.
It reminded me of a college ‘creative writing’ class I once had. Now I grant I was almost guaranteed an A in that one, because I brought my guitar and sang some of my work, and teachers love that stuff (so did me and the class, it was fun). But the thing I found was that the ’structured exercises’ often pulled great stuff out of me, stuff that I never-I-mean-never would have come up with on my own.
It’s the same with music. Put a crazy-heavy structure on what you’re going to write, a whole list of rules, and you may end up with something cool which sounds nothing at all like your ordinary stuff. (Or, for that matter, like what you expected it to when making the specs.)
I was thinking about The 13th Floor recently after watching it for probably the 20th time. (That has nothing on how many times I’ve watched other movies I like. Anything worth doing is worth overdoing!) I was thinking of it as an analogy.
Where are my boundaries?
Is there a place outside the reality I define?
Could it be that I am not fully challenged until I stumble onto the border-zones of self?
Maybe the big question is, what takes me there?
What things can I do to send my attention in directions I would normally never send it to on purpose?
Posted by Palyne on January 10, 2010 at 3:56 pm Central
I was just laying here, half asleep with my eyes closed, listening to the ‘celtic woman’ music guilty for putting me to sleep so fast I’d left my dinner sitting in a bowl nearby and never got a single bite. I was mentally browsing between a dream I’d had earlier (long past in the night), and problems of the world today, such as current war issues. I started to understand that there was some relationship between these two things, but I had no idea what and wasn’t up to thinking that hard.
I was in the middle of the foreign question when I suddenly saw a small solution to it. Not a big solution to everything, but a solution to the tiny piece that I had been thinking about without meaning to, at that moment. I was a little surprised at it, as it was one of those things I might never have thought of but once I did it was so ridiculously obvious that I felt like we’re all just morons for not seeing this clearly.
A ‘voice of understanding’ said to me, the solution to a problem is always lying dormant within the problem itself. The energies are not separable. I saw that it had a little bit in common with the ‘all polarities are eventually the same thing’ kind of perception… but different. It reminded me of how in hypnotherapy it was said that a subject tells you both the problem and solution generally in the first visit and it seldom has much to do with their ‘presented problem’.
The dynamic of the solution-shift had almost a physical feeling built into it, when it became, or grew, or “birthed” its own solution. Like something inside it all sort of “inverted and then bloomed.” There was an oddly geometric and internally-kinesthetic feeling inside me. Then I saw: of course my body feels it; because all energy including that problem is part of me, if it’s part of my reality.
PROBABILITIES
I remembered a time when I was thinking about Seth and ’shifted out of a probability’ where an earthquake was happening. How utterly bizarre it all was, and so this-is-live-not-memorex. I had been sitting in my ground-level window opening, at home in Camarillo CA back then, reacting fast like a soldier to the situation I’d planned for just in case. In my head I was screaming at Seth, “I thought you said it was MY choice?! I don’t want this!” and then thinking with anger-but-humor that if we really *can* change our reality, THIS would be a damn good time to figure out how! And I looked across the street, at this multistory bank building that was covered with those big blue-ish mirrored panels, and the entire thing was shaking like jello it seemed. As the shaking of the world around it, and it-itself, was reflected in every panel of course, it looked crazy. And then “reality inverted.” Swear to god that’s just how it felt. Like when you are looking at one of those trick line drawings that relies on the natural shifting of your visual focus, and suddenly something that was pointing toward you is now pointing away.
Inside me there had been a subtle feeling, physical, that came with it, almost the energetic equivalent of a click, a feeling to that ‘inversion’. I found myself exactly where I had been when the massive quake hit — literally with my arm out reaching for a book, across the room sitting in bed one morning — with 100% of the memory but none of the adrenalin. It almost broke my brain, the experience. I felt as if I had literally ‘jumped tracks’ in some way, and I had several experiences related to “reality and timeline” for awhile during that point of my life. That these did not leave me in a straightjacket is really a miracle of its own.
The inversion physically during that experience — where the bank building seemed to get infinitely far away in a micro-instant — reminded me of this. I mused about that lazily for a bit.
SOLVE-ATION?
Then my thoughts idly shifted back to my dream and the situational problem in it. I applied the same “feeling-dynamic,” without regard to any of the informational-detail at all, to the dream situation: and there it was! The solution was located, as so-obviously there-all-along, and the whole central part of the situational ‘thing-itself’ just ‘inverted then bloomed’ inside me.
I ran back into the dream, so stupid in my lazy morning drifting that I forgot you’re not supposed to just be able to do that!, calling to the women, some kind of magical nuns (probably an energy called/created by the Ave Maria in my playlist!) and I said, look, look at this! This is how it should be done, this is why it’s all a good thing, not a bad thing. Maybe talking to them required a dream-state because I was showing them this when I abruptly fell asleep again.
When I woke up, I remembered Nero once sitting in on one of my dreams, and telling me (repeatedly, because I am so dense…) how I had to know a solution existed, no matter how impossible it seemed. I mean totally have faith/believe it WAS there, and then look for the feeling of that energy, that solution and there it would be. He had played it out with me in my dream many times. It felt a lot like that same dynamic. You couldn’t “think about it” to fix it. There was utterly no hope for the ‘rational’ side of the problem! That much was obvious.
So you had to make a place inside you for the solution, and then you had to *know* it was there and *look for it* while knowing it was there to be found, so that those two activities in combination created this “tuning into the probability” effect that would make it so. It would bring you to a probability, out of infinite experience, that gave you what you needed. The solution would often be something you never would have thought of in a million years. Or, hilariously, it was often what I call “Scooby-Doo Logic,” where something completely “accidental” and unexpected happened — say it with me, “Incredible Luck” — that would totally give you the clue or change the outcome.
ALL FOLIAGE IS PATTERNED ON THE SEED
Then I realized I couldn’t remember the dream that was so clear earlier, nor the foreign problem and solution I’d been focused on. Darn it. They were interesting and I wanted to blog them and now I couldn’t. But I did remember the point of it, and felt someone internally was showing me this, when I reacted with disappointment to the memory part. Like, “Hey, you are missing the point! The point wasn’t those situations, it was the resolution they had in common!”
The point of it was that solutions are not found in “the topography of situational energy” but in the core. This has a translation: The solution is seldom found in the ‘logical’ part of the situation, the surface “presented-problem” as one would say in therapy, and that’s why some problems, as the saying goes, are such a tangle of hopelessness that we have no sword but laughter. They seem hopeless because their solution is not something logic can address. If it could, it probably wouldn’t have become that terrible a snarl to begin with.
You have to meditate on the whole thing together, to begin. “Let it be” inside you for awhile. While you do this, some part of you figures out the pattern of energy, just like how your eyes-brain subconsciously find the visual pattern in those 3-D magic-eye pictures. Accept everything. You have to, because the answer is always in the key of the problem and if you’re rejecting the problem, like you can’t even let yourself be honest about its existence and reality, then you’re not giving yourself the full energy pattern to work with. OK, so you’ve got it all inside you and some part of you is mapping out the whole situation, and the problem inherent, which in a truer energetic-sense is more like an impossible tangle-ball of what used to be a fine gold chain, and less like whatever surface-situational thing we think is the problem.
Then you have to “grok” — truly have faith, believe, understand, accept — that the answer IS actually inside there. It is a pattern within the pattern. A hidden picture, except it is energy that feels like it is inside your torso. You haven’t seen it yet consciously maybe but you have to totally trust that it IS there. The solutions is creatively compiled *from* the problem+situation, so it cannot fail to be there, because there’s lots of energy and always enough to creatively compile a solution.
This is not about THIS problem, whatever it might, it’s about ALL problems no matter what they are. The main reason we doubt solutions is because we look not at energy patterns — if we did, we would recognize everything more clearly — but we look at the surface of the problem. Its novelty distracts us! Oh, TODAY the problem is our boss, our wife, our car, our health, our presence in a foreign country, sure… but those are just the pictures on the surface.
It is like how the same archetypal “plots” make up hundreds of movies, but the characters and specific situations change. It’s all the same plot; the energy pattern is the same, in whole or in part. Maybe just how fundamental this is isn’t obvious. For example people compare Avatar to Dances with Wolves or Fern Gully, but those are just the most-obvious archetypes. The energetic relationships that both define and resolve ‘the problem’ are more versatile than that. For example, in one movie, it is tall blue aliens on another planet in Avatar sitting on a natural resource, and the soldier there from the enemy who is changed in part by his relationship with a woman of their people, following a shift in his feelings about himself when he is ‘freed’ from a limiting physical situation (his legs). But in Pretty Woman it’s a corporate takeover man who is changed in part by his relationship with the man who owns the company, following a shift in his feelings about himself when he is ‘freed’ from a limiting psychological situation (about his father). The movies are nothing alike, but the same ‘problem dynamics’ in small or large pieces are arrayed all around us in the real world and in what we create, see?
For the most part, a small number of fundamental energy complexes populate our reality and our problems. Being holographic in nature, it’s simply that they replicate into every aspect of reality that we create, because the patterns inside us are always present in the screen-pictures we project outward as our reality.
So it’s not about the situation we distract ourselves with on the surface, it’s about the basics of how energy functions, fundamentally, which is no different in any given situation. Every problem you have ever solved, every solution you have ever discovered, every moment of luck or synchronicity you have ever had, both in life and in dreams, from personal relationships to near-misses on the highway to a lucky shopping day, all of these are repeated evidence that this works, that your answer-pattern is ‘within’ the larger situational and problem-pattern, like some kind of gematria of energy-anagrams inside you, and you can and will find it if you allow this to happen.
You merely need to accept that it’s there, and look for it knowing you’ll find it any second now, and it’s going to present itself. There is this shift, this “inversion of energy” inside you, and suddenly there is that pattern-of-solution! Suddenly visible like a flower handed you from the very inner-middle, one creatively manifested out of the very kaleidascope of energy of the problem itself.
Like the first time you ever see the true 3D-ness of those magic eye pictures, do you remember your first time? I remember mine, and I was going, “No way! Oh my God! That is so cool! How is this possible?!” The first time I saw one of those was during my ‘Bewilderness’ era and it sparked more metaphysics than any other event for quite awhile.
IT’S ALL ABOUT ME. HEH.
I laid around awhile more then, thinking about this, thinking about how helpful ’someone’ has been to me in terms of ‘insights and training’, and how I now have so damn many ’someones’ that I don’t even know WHO unless they provide me a specific energy or sense-of-presence. When I get irked about this I remember Nero and Taan telling me, this is supposed to be seamless, this relationship between us. It’s all “me” and some “them” and there is no difference. But I like it when I have a sense of difference, of other identities. It makes it easier to keep track of than having “many versions of me” working it out inside me, without names/identities assigned. I had the feeling then that the problem is that this IS a problem. Because it really IS ’seamless’, sometimes a given ‘perspective’ walking me through something, it is not ‘me’ vs. ‘Nero’, it is more like, 17% of me and 28.9% Nero and 11% Taan and 2.7019% Auk Sham and so on — so I don’t get “an” identity because there is no ’singular identity’ involved. I guess that makes sense.
I am wondering if all this is, in part, an answer for me.
I was standing at my refrigerator just last night, looking in, and thinking to myself, maybe there is no solution. Maybe I should give up hope. I am never going to truly understand my metabolism.
I sometimes feel I am never going to understand why I can eat a fraction of what someone 1/3 my size does, whether in calories or carbs or both, and not lose weight. I mean yeah I get the logic of it “sort of” that there’s all kinds of hormonal things going on for a long time not addressed, but all this science is still in infancy, our own best experts are still flailing around it like confused moths in disagreement and chaos and not a solution from any of them, and this particularly goes for morbid-obesity which, if you talk to endocrinologists and geneticists who work with this, almost seems to be another problem entirely from the folks who need to lose 40#… the same things that work with the latter have zero effect on the former or even make the problem worse or create several other problems while at it. They will work for awhile, to a degree (if the internet’s massive collection of effort is an indicator, the variable-limit is about 150# women, 200# men), and then stop working, and then what. Someday we will understand this, and scientists will then be going, “Oy vey! Of course! Yes, it’s so obvious!” — but that hasn’t happened yet. They discovered the hormone Leptin years ago and funders were orgasmic thinking it was the answer to obesity, but then it turned out… no, it wasn’t. Hey look it worked for mice!–er, it turns out mice aren’t humans, who knew?
Like everything else, the solution is not outside, it is inside, it is something about how the body processes hormones and proteins and everything else. It’s a giant mystery as hairy and unsolvable as the middle east at this point, a problem gradually getting so much worse that it starts expanding (no pun intended, but maybe it should be) to take a larger and larger role within society at large. If pain in the body is a message, “pay attention to me!”, and the more pain, the louder the cry for help; then problems that grow into monstrous proportions are the same thing, just seemingly external in the case of world situations. The jihad of my fat is a problem unsolvable by the levels of logic available.
So I wondered if this had brought on the whole walk-through on solutions to impossible problems. That I needed to get back to focusing where I had to begin with; on inner-work. That taking supplements, and eating X not Y, Y not X, small amounts of X and Y, no X and Y and only Z, drink water, lift weights, do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around . . . uh, this helps ‘to a degree’ as I know, I’ve lost a lot of weight… but it is not the solution, it’s just cleaning up the outside of the problem, so to speak. Metabolism is hormone regulated, and there is so much science doesn’t even know yet about the pituitary and amygdala and liver and you’d be amazed how every part of the body ties into this stuff. Fat is now beginning to be understood by science as a distributed ORGAN (as is skin), not inert junk in storage, it actually “does” all kinds of stuff, it’s not just inert luggage. How weird is that? My fat is alive.
The problem with my metabolism–with “the abnormal enlargement” of that organ, just like people have enlarged hearts or gall-bladders — it’s internal. When I solve the internal problem–and I say when not if because I’m the world’s biggest optimist apparently–I bet it will seem like one of the many external solutions suddenly begins working. That happens sometimes–rarely for people at really high weights, but on occasion–but the solution or what works or doesn’t is different for everybody, which does suggest that some internal change makes it possible, at which point no matter what external approach one is taking, that would probably be ok.
Much like remote viewing/psychic work; once you accept you can do it and get in the habit, it really doesn’t matter what dance you do for it; the dynamic that is actually making it happen is below that.
People take ‘external solutions’ as drastic as surgery and end up fat again. Or they lose what they could have on low-carb, usually up to about 150# for women and 200# for men, but they’re still 150# overweight and for nearly everyone supersize, beyond that level, nothing else changes. There is obviously more to this than the various over-simplistic wishful thinking about calories, carbs, or how you dance naked under the moon.
LESSONS
It seems like a problem for which the tangle is so hopeless there is no sword but laughter. So maybe it was an explanation for me. That looking at the surface of the problem “distracts me with its novelty.” That whatever the problem, it is an energy pattern, and it is inside me, and it’s probably playing out in 1000 ways in my reality not just this one, and there might be a solution but it isn’t hammering it harder from the outside. It isn’t sending in more soldiers. It isn’t imposing higher taxes. There is a solution, but it’s not from that direction.
Well, I bet I am the only person regularly correlating obesity, psychic work and international problems, hahahaha!
What do you think of the subtitles. I thought that might make it easier in long posts.
Posted by Palyne on January 6, 2010 at 4:20 pm Central
If I don’t see it, it can’t see me.
If it can’t see me, it can’t get me.
So if I deny it, I’m safe.
OK I feel better now.
Every so often, like a cyclical thing, I hit a wall of great frustration, avoidance, and denial. The last time it seemed mostly in response to the Aeons. It took a talking-to from the 3rd of 4 to set me straight. The time before that it was the horrible Knight of Wands, aka the mother of all archetype meditations.
This time I’m not sure what the issue is. If the most threatening thing is “major incursions into my identity,” it might be the growing information about and understanding of the role of chakras. In a way this feels even more disconcerting and threatening than the Aeons did. But that isn’t even up to full level of interaction yet. So then again, maybe it’s not any one thing. It might just be some overall accumulation of weirdness that at some point reaches brain-frying level, and I have to deal with that before moving on.
I seem to be in rejection and denial of everything. The other day I wrote out this dream/daydream. Usually I read things through in the edit screen, then again right after posting to find errors in real-display, and sometimes again later in RSS. I didn’t read this even once, just typed it through and didn’t even want to look at it. A friend started talking to me about it; I didn’t want to talk about it. I consciously noticed this reaction and told myself I should go and read it, maybe there was something in it of import I was having an issue with. It took me many, many tries to actually finally read it.
Just a dream. Would make a nice story, fleshed out. So what. I can’t see anything in it that should disturb me, unless it’s some acceptance of ’sharing’ myself with the river-of-sky spirit like the ‘riders’ did in the story. I don’t think so. Since IG introduced me to that entity and it gave me that ‘golden girdle’ of a rider I’ve never even had any awareness of it, never even thought about it again. If it weren’t for that dream I wouldn’t even have that model for what that meant. If that is something more real than just a pretty story, it hasn’t yet presented itself to my experience. So it doesn’t seem like it is that specific thing.
I’ve been avoiding the Aeon round for days. On the 1st was the last day I did one and today is the 6th. I’ve been thinking about things I want to meditate on, archetypes and body meds, but have had no desire to do any. Even when I have time, space, peace, quiet, everything is in place… I don’t want to. I feel my denial like a tangible, physical thing with no specific area of location. I’m still pretending I’m meditating or ready for it, but it’s not real. Like me and my “inner self” are playing that pool game where it calls out, “Marco!” and I call back, “Polo!” while getting out of its reach as fast as possible.
Posted by Palyne on January 4, 2010 at 11:15 pm Central
I was having such a hard time staying away from daydreams. It’s been quite awhile since I had this issue, after working consistently on that for some time. I was finding myself in them — the typical sort, good natured but based on some darkness I was (of course) saving myself or someone else from. I finally shut that down, once it started reaching something involving violence, by getting up and doing something else for a short time, for physical distraction.
Later, I sat down and got back to work for a bit, and then realized at some point I was in a daydream. Curiously it really was a daydream — I was consciously ‘driving’ it energy-wise — but the part that bothered me immediately once I paid attention was, not all of it. After awhile of thinking about this on a parallel track (my own daydreams, hacked by multi-tasking!), I decided the oddity bugging my brain was that I have some unconscious belief system this feeling and awareness was violating. Up until now, it has worked like this:
- I am not dominantly ‘driving’ a daydream, meditation, vision, or whatever, and so I generically assign “some-one/thing-else” as responsible for it. I have learned to accept this although it took a very long time. Now, I call those something other than daydreams, though the terms vary depending on many factors.
- I am dominantly ‘driving’ a daydream in which case it is mine-all-mine in participation and responsibility. I call those daydreams.
Somehow, and not on purpose I don’t think, category 2 seems to have lost its willingness to accept that there are other energies besides my conscious self involved in daydreams. I accept that the “percentage of driving” varies in #1, but somehow in the latter it’s just me, as if when I am the one in charge, I’m in charge dammit, what’s ours is mine and what’s mine is my own! Like it’s all my creativity. And often it is. But sometimes it’s not. But when I’ve been ‘driving’ I have just taken credit for that creativity.
So what does that mean? I asked myself. Some wily ‘tempting’ energy is snaking about, calling, come play with me palyne, wouldn’t you love to go to somewhere like Tibet? (The possible location of the daydream I was currently involved with.) Or maybe it was some part of the focus-energy, a creature I had met once before?
That made me wonder if perhaps a lot more of our daydreams are… hmmn, how to articulate this… well, group-efforts, more than we know. Whether it is some other part of us, or some other part of something, or some stray glob of energy floating through air, god only knows! I remembered a dream I once had.
Me and the 3rd of 4 (twin/mate) were together so I perceived myself as both male and female parts. I had met an ‘entity’ that was ‘the flavor of strawberry’ – the sort of intensely sweet rich you get in strawberry preserves (which younger in life I was for awhile nearly addicted to). Although I think there was slightly more involved here, as if that energy overlapped a little with other energies such as its actual ingredients, its actual effect on our bodies, etc.
It was what you might call an Inorganic, as Casteneda referred to them. Like that energy of that flavor was somehow that creature’s “domain”. I mean we think of such things as if they are all off somewhere else, in some distant magical realm we don’t visit; we don’t think of our perfectly ordinary world as being a total stew of energy and amorpheous ‘zones’ that are ‘of’ or ‘run by’ other consciousness.
When we (me/mate) experienced that taste of sweet-rich-preserves-strawberry, we were, in some way, ‘in’ its world. And whatever emotion we gave this, such as enjoyment, was akin to feeding it energy or something. And it wanted this, it wanted to tempt us toward that. In the dream, the female part of myself literally dived for that energy and rolled around on the ground clinging to it like something sexual. The male part of myself recognized it for what it was, and dragged me up, pried it away, and led us out of its ’sphere of influence’.
When I woke up, I’d thought, my god, can you imagine what powerful inorganics chocolate, coffee and cigarettes are?!
So why am I here? I asked myself, now paying more attention to my daydream.
I realized I was living in the past: I was… recreating something past. I hadn’t begun at point A and wound about to reach point R. Rather, I had begun at point Q, reached R, and then went back to point A and intentionally worked my way through the process of a whole story that would lead me to point R. The Q-R part had NOT been self-created daydream, at least I don’t believe so. That part, had been spontaneous like a vision I was enmeshed with, without any conscious recognition. But it started in the middle of something. Then my mind went back to the beginning and played it out from there like a story that already existed.
Would I be aware of this if I wasn’t working so hard to be “aware” I wondered? Probably not. And because I was doing this — pushing the energy, on purpose, to re-view the history — I thought of it as mine, as “daydream.” But the daydream wasn’t my detail. I mean the ‘driving’ energy part was mine, the energy, but not the navigation, not the environment. It was like the path was already laid, was the path of the least resistance, which I followed, with its details and its strangeness, not even noticing that somehow I was having a self-driven daydream but the content was actually a dream — or something that was definitely not ‘consciously’ invented.
It actually felt slightly like when you are writing a song or story and you are so “in the zone” that it just rolls out in front of you and you’re literally oblivious to what you’re even saying and it’s as new and interesting to you as to any reader. It’s like the fabric of the landscape, which is to include time and emotion and many other things, was already there, and I was merely walking the pre-laid path. Like a video game. Like… well like destiny vs. free-will, where in the right state of mind they are the same thing, and we are totally choosing freely something which we are also completely destined for in the smallest detail.
How much of our daydreams are “really” ours? When we are so tempted to keep daydreaming, keep creating, is there… encouragement? Even for ordinary dark/violent sorts? Maybe I saw it in this one but maybe that dynamic is often present, to varying degrees. In this one, the energy tempting me felt like an actual entity or its energy. Normally though, are we tempted by the inorganics that rule the domain of our lusts? Our addictions?
I was so tempted by the energy of this entity, who felt like a good guy obviously, that somewhere in the middle I let go of all thought, and just allowed it to continue on. This was a great deal like the “linear detailed dreams” I sometimes have.
Except usually… I am asleep for those. Go figure.
It was a mountain of snow and literally months of travel and then many weeks of walking and climbing, and me and my men and the animals were near-frozen by the time we reached the small castle buried in the folds of the rock. We wore heavy dark-furred boots that went past our knees, and dark-furred coats that went nearly to the ground, and over our hoods we had dark-furred brimmed hats. Our faces were covered with some light material close-up, but nearly covered anyway by the folds of the furred hoods and the low brim of the hats. Our hands were gloved in the same dark fur and we all held large fairly heavy sticks that I felt were sheathed swords mostly, but a couple of different shape had shot (like single-shot), and we all used them as walking staffs. Mine was much lighter, though it certainly didn’t feel like it by then, as I struggled to keep on, and we all gasped for breath in the thin air. We had lost two men on this trek so far and I felt their deaths keenly as my responsibility. We had to succeed or it was all for nothing.
I was the only female in the group. They were taking me somewhere I had said I must go, though none of us truly understood why; a long way from home and up the mountain to people with whom we had nothing in common. I had some role with them that made this just the way it was. They didn’t understand but they would die to obey.
We reached the castle in the dead of night, and perhaps they would have kept us out, strangers with weapons (and they were ridiculously short, the lot of them, making us seem like giants, they seemed rather taken aback by this), but for the horrible storm that arose just as we arrived; any man would have mercy. So they let us in and gave us a large empty stone room with a fireplace at the side, and they brought in some straw and course woven cloth for sleeping, and started a fire for us, and left us a large basin of water that seemed for washing, as another smaller had some unrecognizeable food near it and I assumed that was for drinking. I stood with my head down, unmoving with a few others, until they were fully gone, before the room got warm and I finally took off all my outerwear. I smell like animals, I thought to myself with a sigh. There would not be much to cure that, but I took from one of the storage bags some things which I knew would help at least somewhat.
The men eventually stood with their backs to the wall and let me do a sort of sponge-bath, and after I was done I put on this heavy velvet-like white dress with sleeves so long they covered my hands if I didn’t push them up, and that had a very high collar that literally went as high as it could with a bit of stiffness and then a soft edge flowed up all around my neck so only my chin and bottom jawline were revealed. I watched myself do this from outside me as much as I did it from inside me. I put on long soft but thick white boots that like our walking boots, went to just above the knee, but had this outer tie of sorts just below the knee.
I understood these were ceremonial clothes, and they also defined my ‘role’: I was a rider. I reached in the bag and pulled out a rectangular woven piece of cloth, slightly formed, that glinted with gold in the firelight, and weighed heavily in my hand, as if some of the threads for the weaving had quite literally been dipped in gold. It went around my waist, and a long cord wrapped around it from bottom to top in a complex macrame I knew well. I pulled on long gloves of a light color that were wide at the wrist and went over my sleeves. Then I brushed my straight black hair, rubbing a cloth treated with something nice smelling through it, and braided it down to my thighs where it reached, and it was done. I touched the gold around my waist. The men in this temple would recognize this, I expected. I hoped. Surely they would. This was the girdle of the rider.
I recognized it then. From this life, my palyne-life. This was the thing that a creature once gave me in a meditation, a creature that my IG had introduced me to, not an archetype meditation, just a spontaneous thing IG had done one day. I had called it on my blog the flying dragon because that is culturally what we have called it, and some pictures that utterly fail to begin to describe its glory were known from asian art. But it wasn’t a dragon. It was “the spirit of the river in the sky.” A demi-god; a deity. Certainly for these people it was a deity; their temple, high at the top of a mountain, was dedicated to this creature.
The rider’s girdle was a symbol, as I understood at the time. But what I had not understood was what one was riding. It isn’t like riding a horse. It is riding dreams, riding energy, and sharing it; channeling it through oneself, as well. I understood without thinking much about it that my physical body was a nexus, just like long ago I had an experience where the ceramic of a small dragon was a nexus. My body was the nexus between that god (small-g)’s energy, that super powerful nature spirit, and my reality. It was my ability to allow and slightly harness and hold onto that energy as it wove through me and around me, like the weaving of the girdle, that allowed that energy to more proactively act within the world as we know it.
I slept for a bit, curled up against a man I knew was the blacksmith, a burly bear of a man I had known since I was a little girl, who had been kind to me and my mother when my father died and was as much my father now, although of some slightly lower… class or caste, was the feeling. As we expected, morning came ridiculously early for these people, as soon as the first light rose. I was hidden behind the men on purpose, as a monk spoke to the captain in a language none of us, including the captain, understood a single word of, but he seemed to get the idea. We all rose and followed him out.
There was a large, long room, that was ever so slightly tilted, with a fireplace on the end a bit lower. I puzzled over this, thinking maybe it was to make cleaning the floor a lot easier, until I decided it was the heat; it rose, and so they could put a fireplace at one end, and warm it all the way to the other. That seemed pretty smart to me. There were a few dozen men there, maybe 40 or so, squatting around a very long low stone table, each with a bowl in front of them. My men clumsily squatted, far too large by comparison and not used to squatting with such limber grace, until I stepped out from behind the blacksmith as he moved to the side and the room of men got sight of me. I realized my standing in front of the fire probably outlined me in light and made the effect that much more intense. A loud gasp like a single-gasp times 40 filled the room, and dozens of pairs of eyes wide as saucers and mouths in awe stared at me silently.
I looked at the far end of the table, knowing the man sitting there had some kind of authority here. He was astonished too, but he seemed taken aback by a greater and more serious amazement; I knew that he knew why I was here, and I smiled at him kindly. The men started talking all at once then, a fast rising-higher babble of amazement and excitement and even mild panic, until a sharp word from him and motion with his hand rendered them silent. He stood, and then carefully bowed to me, and all the men followed him in this. My captain looked at me with a stern mouth but laughing eyes, and I knew he was both relieved and chagrined. He had seriously wondered if I was just a bit delusional, but now he knew I was right to have led our journey here, to have risked himself and a couple townmen and a few of his soldiers for my whim.
We were there three days before I found him. I didn’t know I was looking for him until I walked past him. I mean I suspected I was looking for someone, but I wasn’t really sure of any details. The creature, the god, the nature-spirit, whatever one wants to call it, he had told me in a dream to come here, so I had followed his instructions. That’s about all I knew.
He was a young man, maybe 18 or so. He was sweeping when I walked past him, stopped in my tracks and turned to him. He was trying desperately to look down, out of some polite cultural habit I assumed–or perhaps it was because I was a woman–while the other part of him I could tell desperately wanted to examine every part of me in great detail. I handed his broom to one of my men who cheerfully took up where he left off, and I raised his chin up to see me directly. His eyes were clear and alive. I could see the sparks of fire and water and air in him, and yet the grounding in earth, that would make him so ideal as a rider. I was surprised. I thought riders had to be women. I mean it had always been that way for us. But now I saw that was not what mattered.
I considered that I had never seen this before, I had not known these were the qualities until now. I was the only rider I had ever known. My aunt, the last rider, had died in battle before my birth. It was a family legacy I was born into; the eldest daughter of the eldest son in each generation, was the tradition; a virgin until the rider cloth was handed over, at which point she could marry. But there were no more sons in our line; my father had died when I was young, so that could never happen again. I had not thought a great deal about what was to become of the rider line. One only saw the creature directly–usually in a powerful dream or a smoke-filled hand-led journey in a hut of one of the holy ones–a couple of times in life, it was said, and myself only once some years before. I suppose I had assumed that my eldest daughter would simply take the lineage, as I lacked a brother. But when I saw the young man I knew this was not so. He was why I was here, why I’d been told to travel to this place. He would be the next rider.
It had seemed to me, from the few days at the temple, that their faith was an old one. They had not actually had any manifestation of the creature in so long that they had forgotten to expect it. Maybe they did or didn’t even believe it was real. Maybe for them it was merely a spiritual symbol, not a nature creature as real as you or I, though less visible to mere mortals. They went about their castle life in a simple way, cleaning and eating and praying and some music at night and sometimes art. One of my men, unusually good with languages, said his impression from attempting to talk with them was that they were much more active in summer, when it was merely very cold instead of beyond freezing. Personally I figured since the demi-god was only around a couple times in each generation anyway, and at that in a rather metaphysical contact (although there was a story from several generations back… well never mind), maybe they should just make a trip to the top of the mountain for a great ritual, but live in the valley where the temperature was a little more sane. In other seasons, at least. But it was plain that they lived at the top of the mountain because at some point in time, probably someone, maybe a rider, had figured this was closest to it.
I just stared at the young man with a small smile, and he took the bold opportunity to peruse me in every detail, his eyes coming back again and again to the foot of golden fabric wound around my waist that marked me as “the god’s” in his world. I had the odd sense that some ‘greater part of me’ was looking through me as well, sharing my perceptions but also seeing much more, in the young man. I wondered if this part of me was in fact the lord of sky, the river of air, and I had never before thought enough about it to become ‘aware’ of that part of me being part of him. That seemed both disconcerting and fascinating. After a couple of minutes, I smiled at him, touched his jaw with my gloved fingers, and turned and walked away. I could feel it building in me now, that there would be some kind of ritual, like the kind the holy ones had done for me when I came of age, and he would be next. I did, just a twinge, feel a sort of sadness. This was a big part of my identity. I was the rider and everybody knew. I was special. This would end that title. It would be his now. I’m not even old, some part of me mourned, not as old as one normally was to give it up to the next generation come of age. But whatever the reason, it felt rather silly and pointless to argue. I felt an accepting sort of fatalism then. It simply was, as it was meant to be, as all things are, and so it is.
That night at dinner, I got up and walked beside the table. All the men of the castle stopped eating. I had not done this before and they seemed very sensitive to my every move and expression. I watched the leader, who watched me, and I stopped behind the young man. I put my gloved hand on his head and I looked at the leader and nodded my head, and he nodded in return. He understands, I thought in some relief, and I went back to my place and ate the bowl of food they had provided. The moment they had seen my attire they had been giving me other things in my bowl than my men had, small chunks of meat and some spices. Strange but fairly good tasting. I wondered if the young man would be treated specially, or if his ascetic lifestyle would stay the same. I supposed it would be up to the man in charge and how he reacted to all this, in the end.
Early the next morning, we were awoken early. The man in charge led us all through their castle which at some point ceased being stone walls and began being mountain walls. It was built into the stone of the mountain and I could tell that over many years it had gradually expanded into a minor fortress of twists and turns, many hallways we all had to duck to walk through. After walking slightly downhill for a bit, we came into a giant cavern, but with most of the top open to the sky. I could tell that they had been working hard to clear many many feet of snow out of this. Three inset-only fireplaces were blazing, their smoke rising up the surface of the walls in well-worn paths of darkness. What we came for was at the far side, actually it took up about 50% of the curvature of the outdoor room, though it was sheltered by natural stone above it, and set back several feet under a wide ledge. It looked in fact as if it had been made to fit under the ledge for protection from the weather elements. It was very large, colorful winding statue of the river-of-sky.
I went close to it, and ran my hands lightly across its face, unable to stop smiling hugely. It was so charming, the art of how they rendered him. Similar to the asian art we know, but more accurate; the head more flattened vertically, and the body much longer and in a much more complex sinuously graceful shape; and the ‘feathers’ were many colors of blue of the sky. They had not mistaken this for actual feathers, I could see; they understood it was the play of his energy against the air that caused that effect. I touched it here and there with my gloved hands, seeing how the fireplaces were positioned for effect. The many ‘featherings’ along its body looked like they really do, like feathers of flames made of air… it had looked a little dingy, slightly sooty, at first glance, though up close I could see that it was simply old and worn, cracked and patched in places, the paint faded, but now I saw how the reflected flickering began to make it look like the whole thing was in constant motion, just like he always is, of course. I was delighted, and I clapped my hands and bounced a little, laughing as I stepped back, grinning at the temple master who grinned back at me. We did not speak the same language, but we both spoke this. I had seen a couple of very small statuettes of the creature in the main castle, but this one was huge! This is the one they use for major prayer/ritual, I realized.
It occurred to me that they were expecting ME to do something. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly insecure. I was not a holy one. I didn’t have any actual rituals. I was merely someone marked. They don’t know that, some part of me observed, and everything about you is foreign to them anyway. Well, that much was true. Was that the Lord of Sky, talking to me, I wondered? Feeling like that other-part-of-me? I felt as if I had to do something. I couldn’t just take off the girdle and hand it to the fellow, it felt like it needed to be some really big ritual. I mean you know, these guys lived in a subfreezing mountain castle totally dedicated to this creature. There was no bigger deal in the world to them, surely! Besides, I knew that the more energy put into a ritual, the more likely the energy of the creature would be present for the gifting, as he had been for mine.
So after a few minutes, I stood in the middle of the room, as the light of day began to filter into the sky above us, and I began to sing a song that my grandmother had taught me, that is usaully sung annually in the harvest time. A song about the Lord of Air, the River of Sky, the Flame of Wind, and his journey through the many-worlds of our earth, and how he would sometimes come and choose a maiden to be his vessel, to share his dreams at times, to bring his energy into our world, to wear the golden gear of the rider, which sometimes in some generations certain holy ones could “see” on them even when the person was wearing nothing. As for the maiden part, well, I didn’t have any answer for that, for why his choice was a man and not a woman this time, but who was I to argue. These people didn’t speak my language anyway, they wouldn’t know the song was about a maiden, or if they had the sense of it, perhaps they would think it was about me.
So I sang it twice fully through, as it had a sing-song rythym and a bit of drone-note repetition and nicely induced that state of mind so good for prayer. I sang the chorus repeatedly at the end, it was the same over and over, and all the men joined in, repeating the sounds and tones, until the deep area under the ledge of half the room was echoing back the song, and many of the men were just singing very low notes that harmonized but had no words or rythym, and it was a fabulous effect that made the body sway even without conscious intent. As I swayed, I began to untie the complex corded weaves of the cord around my rider cloth, and as I got closer and closer to finished the whole feel of the room and the morning and the sky took on a very odd, thick and powerful sense.
As I unwound the slightly-formed cloth from my body, a massive, unbelievably massive shape dawned on us above, and we looked up into a portion of the face of the creature, which had halted about a hundred yards above us. Constantly motion of the rest of it was like a shadow, but the view of the fact was so simultaneously amazing and beautiful and terrifying that most the men including a few of mine were on their knees, I realized. The face turned from us upward and the length of it began to move, the impossibly long length of it, with many hundreds of serpentine curves and sinuous winding constantly in motion, much like a snake how the ‘pattern’ of the curve is held where the ‘motion moves through’ that pattern. More and more of it gathered above us, making the entire sky look like it was filled with not-quite-invisible fire-feathers.
I went to the young man and pulled him into the center of the room. I put the girdle of golden cloth around him, smiling sweetly at him, and he looked like he was 90% astonished and amazed and about 10% thinking he had some inkling of this, some feeling all along from the moment he saw me that I was there for him, that he was of the sky-lord, that this was all meant to be. I put one of his hands on it to hold the fabric while I began the weave of the cord, still singing the chorus over and over. The translation filtered through to the me who was dreamy-daydreaming. This is my later, blogging-translation which is not exact but I hope close.
In every generation comes a maiden who is vessel
Who is temple to the river of the sky
And of the wind of fire she will ride throughout the night
She is virgin for the god who lives up high
… She is walking in the world to be his eyes.
As I finished the winding and tying, I lifted a gloved hand to the room and they all fell silent. I changed the words a little and sang to him alone, that he was master and vessel of the temple of the River of the Sky, and walking in the world to be His eyes. And then I bowed very low at his feet, and there was a great noise above us like the sound of a thousand trees bending different ways in the wind, and when I finally rose and looked up, all the room including the young man were staring off in one direction, watching the impossibly huge, long, amazing river-of-sky fly off in a wind-fire flurry of sinuous pattern. I kissed the young man on the forehead then, and looked into his shining eyes, and thought that everything was going to be just fine.
When it was fully out of sight, I stepped over to stand with my men, and the leader of their temple went to the young man and said some things and grasped his arms and they bowed to each other, and then all the men came rushing toward him, boisterous and bouncing and half-shouting with delight. I grinned. It was probably the most exciting day of their lives and one that would be talked about for many generations. I myself had not had the physical of him arrive, not like that; that was beyond-words amazing.
As I looked across the room at the leader, with the cracked and faded statue behind him, I understood something I had not before, and my smile faded as a little sad yet touched realization set in. My travel here was not about the young man. He could have been given the rider cloth in a dream. It was not for him, as I had thought; there was no need for the cloth to change hands; it was just a piece of fabric. My visit was for the temple. One of the few, maybe only, temples in the world still dedicated to this glorious spirit. So long since they had literally seen the lord of sky that he had become a matter of myth. They held the faith, held the line, they kept the statue patched and painted, they prayed and chanted, they trusted from their dreams and meditations that he was real enough, and they had not demanded or required physical proof of him to maintain their loyalty.
But they deserved it. He wanted them to have that. To have a tall foreign woman in clothes like they’d never seen to come officially hand over the rider wear, like passing on a torch, to make it exotic and beautiful and a whole story to tell. To really see his glory, and I had the inner sense that he was laughing in delight as he rolled away, creating as much wind-friction on his skin as he could just for the sheer joy of it.
One of my men came in the doorway and said low to the captain that our animals were loaded and we were ready to go. How did the leader know we were planning to leave after I gave away the rider-cloth? I wondered. And how did he know that would happen right now? I looked across the room at him curiously. I’d had a thought, after I met the young man, wondering if the leader would be in any way put out that the designated rider was not him. But as I looked at him I realized that he knew. He knew why the sky-lord had come. I had the feeling that it might have been his fervent prayers to the god, to bolster the faith of his men, to give some kind of manifestation of his glory, that might have been behind the decision to send me here and show up for the ritual.
All this time I had thought it was some big issue about me, or destiny, or the young man, or even the temple then–and it was about the temple, in great part, yes–but I suddenly had the feeling that it was in fact that quiet man, dark and short and with his slanted eyes, who had such powerful energy of his own, and such faith and love for that deity, that he had managed to set in motion this entire chain of events. I began to understand then why he was the leader of the temple. It wasn’t just an honorary title. He was a very powerful man, much like our holy ones, but apparenetly not nearly as weird, I thought with some humor. I felt while looking at him, and he at me, through this big room as the sun rose, the men still milling about around the new rider, the whole setting starting to feel a bit surreal, I felt as if he knew a little of what I was thinking, that I was realizing the larger picture of it and his role, and I slowly lifted the hem of my dress and bowed low to the ground, facing him, acknowledging him. He bowed in return.
And then I grasped arms with the young man and nodded a goodbye, and my men and I were led back to the castle where we donned our cold gear and then to the outdoors, followed by the energetic men, where we struck out alone, and I looked out over the valley so incredibly far and distant below, as we began the long and perilous journey back toward home.
Um. Yeah, and then I wrote an email about an XML problem in a website at work and … it’s just another day.
I wonder if my meditations are simply making me more ‘aware’ of my mind. Maybe the mind always self-propels (energetically) even when using “other energy or pre-created paths” to … create, and I am just ’seeing this’ more clearly than before.
The one thing I find interesting is that I hadn’t really thought about that creature since IG introduced me to it. I had asked for a trade of energies like I do archetypes, though it wasn’t an archetype at least not of the normal sort I ask for. Yet I was so powerfully drawn to letting myself “fall into that daydream” — the non-self-created, although-self-propelled, daydream — I couldn’t resist it, as if it was the energy of that creature drawing me.
Now I wonder why. Was I just interested-with-passion? Was the creature more real than I granted and I was drawn to that energy? Was the creature literally wanting me to become this and do this and it isn’t real except in that daytime-conscious-dream? Was I sitting-in-on some identity who once did that? (She felt like the people who are normally the 2nd of 4, the Queen, ‘dominant in body’ in our life there.) I really have no idea.
000
But back to daydreams. Awhile later in the day I had another ‘comparison review’ like I had with remote viewing the other day. I re-experienced a part of yesterday where I was really wound up sexually. Then a part of this one time when I was just dying, I felt, to go get this sweet apple fritter donut from this place real early in the morning. And then a moment earlier today when I was having a semi-violent (savior) daydream and was having such a hard time resisting it. And the perspective flashed between the three repeatedly until I “got it” and saw that it’s the same energy. Food, lust, drugs, daydreams, they are all the same energy. Then I thought of that entity that was ‘the taste of strawberry preserves’ and it occurred to me that maybe if everything in our universe is energy, that means food and drugs and experience, too. And if identity is an arbitrary collection of consciousness assigned a title, then that could definitely be, for example, the components, culture, practice, addiction, experience, and more, of something like alcohol, or sex, or donuts, or even daydreams of violently saving someone helpless.
I think maybe I’m losing track of what is NOT an identity. If anything can BE an identity, like an archetype or an entity, if my left leg, and Saturn, and the color green, and the tarot card Knight of Wands, and ‘my relationship issue with person X’ and ‘my problem with Y’, my broken heater and whatever, if all these things can BE an identity; if my desk and my house and my cat and my city can all BE an identity; then what, exactly, is NOT an identity?
Is there any way to carry this perception and this logic far enough to recognize that our soul is both part of and filled with other identities, that we overlap and merge and share even just “percentages” with other identities like chakras — and NOT get lost in this? The linear, logical part of my brain that wants everything to be polarized, to either BE or NOT-BE something, is starting to freak out I think. It’s starting to break down. How can things BE or NOT-BE if they are part-yes and part-no of everything? Where are the boundaries of identity if there are no boundaries on consciousness but what we pay attention to? Does identity actually shift constantly, and we don’t even notice, because as long as we carry “the sense of I” it doesn’t matter whether we are twice as big as yesterday, or someone else in a dream, we still feel like “me”?
The thing about thinking outside the box, breaking through a paradigm, is that you don’t just lose your comfort with the limit on what is inside the box. You don’t just grow to accept ’some of the things outside the box’. The effect more powerful than either of those is that you lose your definition of the box; you lose the concept of the box existing at all. There is no inside and no outside anymore. Everything from flavors to planets has consciousness. Everything from ’situations’ to ‘relationships’ to objects to emotions has consciousness. I realize now that the Four and the Consortium, yes these are valid ways of ‘packaging and grouping’ consciousness and my relationships but they are arbitrary too. It could be done differently. I can already see I am moving toward meeting chakras and working with that as entities and that is valid too, but it could be done differently. It’s all arbitrary; it’s all creative; it’s all alive; it’s divisible in whatever way we want.
I see. And when we walk through a daydream, a nightdream, the experience of chocolate ice cream, of sex, of anything, we are not just having an experience somehow separated and walled off from all of consciousness except our private little affair. All energy is part of something (usually many somethings on many levels). Everything we focus on, feeds it our energy. We ‘pay’ attention, as I was once told. So when we have a negative daydream, we are not just doing that alone. We are ‘riding with’ the identity(s) that rules that energy. If it’s violence and unfairness and the need for defense involved, then we are riding that energy and contributing our energy to it. It has energy to tempt us, just like marketing corporations spend money to convince people to spend their own in turn; they get the greater share, in the end. Alcohol calls to people, as does chocolate and donuts and sex. And I’m not saying this is bad, or that it’s all bad. I’m not assigning values here. What I’m saying is that every experience is part of a larger universe, is a moment of kinship, of riding whatever rules that energy, of bringing it through us and into our experience of this reality.
So when it feels to me like a daydream is literally calling me with energy, with intent, like sex or food or drugs, it’s not just my imagination. It really is. It’s partly, yes, that I have some energy, like money, “to spend.” But it’s also that “the master of that domain”, is leaning on a marketing arm, much like an inorganic in a dream except we aren’t asleep, to tempt us into spending that energy with him. It’s our choice. But it’s easier to make it a choice, I think if we recognize what is really going on.
It’s a huge universe. Jungian stew. We are not untouchable. We are not separate. We are as flowing as water, both being and having everything from parasites to symbiotes, from internal power plants helping feed us to external structures we are built into, and not, because everything is and isn’t and is part of everything and nothing. There aren’t words for any of this and it just sounds insane to even try to use them.
So I’m going to stop now. But I think the point about the daydreams, riding, and energy, is (at least for me at this time) fairly valid.
Posted by Palyne on January 3, 2010 at 4:47 pm Central
I seem to be going through a phase far less obsessive than a month ago. I guess that kind of intensity is by its nature temporal.
I am only doing the rosary-style ’round’ with Aeons every few days. I do think about them often, like new friends you have a collective dozen of crushes on.
I am not meditating and praying constantly, though brief prayers are often.
For the last five days I’ve not had enough sleep until last night, and I worked like 12 hours on new years day (allegedly that’s a holiday, but not for me this year). My sleep schedule got twisted around, and today I wasn’t even feeling like a human being until about 1pm. I think I’m ok now though, and hopefully this week will pull me back into a decent schedule. The hilarious irony is that the first day of an official sleep schedule is when it all went to hell. Sometimes the universe has an opinion, apparently.
I’m about to run out to the store. It’s a thick blanket of snow outside. Must buy food for the next week as the weather is expected to be very bad. So I should have plenty of time, hiding in my room where it’s mostly-warm (we have only space heaters, so the rest of the house is very cold!), to do some meditating. I need to finally get around to consciously working with Ackrck, whoever it is, since it appears IG is ok with him/her/it.
I need to do some more archetype and body meditations. It seems like there is no end to the need for clean-up. I mean I grant that evolution is eternal but you’d think at some point all the sweeping would be done wouldn’t you!
Posted by Palyne on January 3, 2010 at 12:27 pm Central
Weird. The title of this is “Recognition, Novelty, Psi, and Chakras” but Wordpress blogging software is refusing to change it on display even though it is totally changed on edit, on draft, and on listings. Go figure!
I was about 40% asleep last night when someone, I don’t know who, decided to do some mental walk-through on the concept of mental processing and in particular, in a remote viewing (psychic) context.
I drifted through, as if being led down a garden path of the mind, a variety of memories, from all my favorite sessions. Then I drifted through the memories of sessions done on the same target and how they were different, even with similar data, and sometimes I recognized the target in the session. And then the times I totally did not recognize that I had a target I’d had before. Then I drifted through the zillion times I had thought I recognized a target “or its nature or something in it” based on data, and was wrong. Then I went back to the previous where I had accurately recognized the target, and it was like a comparison of sorts between the two.
It took me a bit to ‘get it’. And I swear, I guess I’m an idiot, but I think most of the grokking didn’t happen until sometime the next day, as if the back of my brain was working this out while the rest of me went about life. But when I did start to absorb it finally, it seemed so obvious.
Target recognition happens at a completely different place in my body, than ‘recognition’ in ordinary life. The latter is usually visual, sometimes audible. When that’s the criteria used for ‘recognition’ in psi work, it’s analytical overlay instead and seldom accurate. The body feeling was down low, right at the bottom of my heart chakra, with a substantial portion of energy around the solar plexus chakra too. I could ‘feel’ (although I think I already believed this, so perhaps I was leading myself) that “understanding of something’s nature” came from the heart chakra, and a sense of physical space, shapes, relationships (physically) — “geometry” — was ‘understood’ by the solar plexus chakra, although this also relates to ‘power and will’.
Very subtly, and I wasn’t paying enough attention to remember this very well, I got that as you went ‘up’ the heart area, the ‘type’ of understanding changed. That was interesting. It reminded me of an old era on this blog where I did “the wall of fear” and I described the entire gradient of fear from one side of the spectrum to the other, I understood what every color ‘meant’, the different kinds/sources of fear, and how those colors relate to the colors in our reality (those ones anyway).
I remembered then, a former Inner Guide telling me about how the true source of RV data was ‘here’ and it was right at the bottom of the heart chakra. Then I felt my attention move upward and I sort of… ‘understood’ that each chakra is a whole sensory-universe of its own. We’re like flatlanders compared to our chakras! They are the energy-onion that goes through a zillion dimensions, and they are ‘portals’ for the limited spectrums of the body (various layers of the body, in an energy sense) to sort of plug-into the larger universe and the fuller-self, which they span. They are not just an antenna; they are each a part of our much-larger self and they interact.
As a “collection of consciousness assigned a title,” it is definitely that each of them are an ‘identity’. In fact it occurred to me with humor that they are actually a lot more vast than we are. I mean the “we” that bears our names in this reality. Their nature is much more complex and rich and sentient than our conscious human selves. So it’s kinda funny I’d be wondering about that “bizarre idea” previously that chakras were/had/are identities. A sort of spiritual chutzpah born of my ignorance, I realized.
They are identities, yes, but not an identity like my right leg, no matter how amazing/beautiful that is. Because that is all part of me. I’m… bigger than that. But the chakra, parts of me are not part of it, but a heck of a lot of parts of it are not part of me, I mean the conscious-me. It’s not that it is a higher or lower order of being, it’s just… a different order of being. And each of them have as much claim to our ‘larger self’ being ITS ‘larger self’ too, as we do! In fact if we were comparing ‘density and complexity of energy’ that we innately comprise in our attention, they might have more claim to it.
We are part of the same… big-soul, for lack of a better term, but we are symbiotes. We depend on each other. They have a rather… larger/longer lifespan — as they span many layers of energy bodies and not just this physical one — but we are the focus-energy that allows them to ‘plug into’ THIS reality in a really major and fully-present way. So they plug us into the energy of everywhere-else and we plug them into the energy of here. Except those words make it wrong, gosh english sucks, because there really is no here or everywhere-else in a literal sense.
It might be more accurate to say here meaning “what we are physically experiencing around us” and everywhere-else to mean “what we consider to be remote from us.” And, just to further bend my brain, what we consider remote from us is not just what is somewhere else, or unknown, but also what is somewhen else — and to some degree, even someone else. Chakras don’t have the limitations on time/space we do. It’s all energy to them but they are capable of grokking the “linear translation” we do to arrive at both of those perceptual experiences because it turns out they are part of this dynamic happening in the first place. There was more but I didn’t get all of that info as I was kinda spacey and forgot a bunch there.
ooo
But back to the whole psychic context. So I realized that the target recognition came from the lower area of the heart chakra, overlapping usually with some energy from the SP. After that, going up through the throat and head like on tour, I realized that they each ‘understood’ their own sensory universe (as noted above), but that this was a different version of the universe. Hang on let me see if I can articulate this ’cause it’s super important.
OK. You know how in out of body experiences, you can be IN body and have one experiences, roll OUT of body and have things be different? I mean you’re (usually) still in the same place at least sort-of. But there will be variances. Wait, I just remembered OBEs are not normal for everyone so let me paste in a couple of quotes that give some examples of what I mean.
‘From Here to There’ section, ‘The Rainbow of Soul’ chapter, from ‘Bewilderness‘.
When your perception “leaves your body,” you may still be “in the bandwidth of the physical plane.” You may see “reality” around you just like you did when you were IN your body. As your perception moves toward astral (orange) on the scale, the “reality” you perceive will change. First, things may seem mostly the same yet slightly variant. A chair may be in a different place. Your coat may be on the back of the chair, rather than lying on the bed. As you continue toward astral, more significant changes may be clear, and some features of “normal reality” may disappear from your perception. You begin to perceive more of the reality — and the life — there, and less of what is here. You may see your cat who died years before, sleeping on your bed. You may encounter entities, or discover that the tree outside your house seems to be sentient. The farther you go into this bandwidth, the more different things become. At some point, you will lose most if not all perception of what we would call “our physical reality” (the red band) because your perception has moved outside that range (into the orange band).
The more “in the “physical” bandwidth” you are, the more you can physically feel things in your environment that you touch. “Here” as we know it, if you walk up to a wall and don’t stop, you’re going to feel it painfully when you run into it. In the orange band, you may go right through a wall, and feel it as if your body were made of water, or some solid-yet-not-solid substance. Entities that touch you may register quite physically to your perception, as if they were totally solid and yet somehow were able to reach inside your body. As your perception moves more into the astral and then yellow band, you may cease to be aware of any physical feelings; you can pass through the wall as if it is not even there.
As you move further toward the mental (yellow) bandwidth, things continue to change. For example, you may not only not FEEL the wall you pass through, it might not even exist, and you may find that the moment you think of something — for instance, your friend in another city — suddenly either your friend is “there with you” or you are somewhere else with your friend. Awareness of form, such as one’s body, may often vanish altogether. You still may operate as if you have a form. You simply may not be pointedly aware of it. The above is just a simple example. Your physical body did not go anywhere. Your perception, however, did. Your body, especially if your perception moved into astral-orange but was still partly in this physical-red, may show physical symptoms and evidence of your experience. Because it IS partly physical, and/or is close enough to it in many cases that the body is still affected.
I had one experience where I went back and forth between OBE and ‘reality:
Many years ago I was having a lot of conscious OBE experiences. I woke up one morning sleeping on the floor at a friend’s house and could hear her now and then sitting near me, doing paperwork at the table. I slightly turned my head to look at her, and when I did, I felt myself slide out of body, like the inside of me turned and the outside of me, awake but still feeling very heavy, stayed still.
So then I was facing her direction, which was looking at the back of her. She was turned to the side, talking to two people leaning against the counter, one of whom was an Indian in full Chief-Feathers regalia. That was certainly noticeable. They were just having a quiet conversation.
I turned back “into” my body and I thought, “Did I really just see that?!” and then just to check, I turned over, IN my body, to look.
She was sitting facing the table, her back to me, working quietly on paperwork as I’d heard her doing initially. Nobody was there.
I turned back, lying on my back again. That is REALLY ODD, I told myself. Closing my eyes and feeling ‘loose’, I turned over and successfully “rolled out” of my body so I was lying ‘in’ my body but sideways facing her.
And she was sitting turned to the side, quietly conversing with the same two guys, one of which was the Indian Chief. I kept thinking, “Wow. Wow. I must be imagining this. How could it be that when I’m out of body, it’s not just that there are people here who aren’t here when I’m IN body, but even she is different?!” I stared until I finally felt I had my fill, and I had to go back in body and check again to see if they would really not be there, as they were so totally clear, the voices, interaction, everything, all of this only about 15 feet away from me.
I turned back ‘into’ my body, and turned over again taking my body with me, and looked at her (normally). She was oblivious to all of this, sitting with her back to me, doing paperwork at the table.
I tried to get out of body again but I was too awake darn it!
So the physical reality around us is like, to analogy it, one setting of the kaleidascope. A whole lot of the pieces are ‘hidden’ in this setting, some are layered creating a third color/shape that is neither of what’s really there, and there are some dynamics about temperature and wind and the shape and size of our little view-scope, and we see a certain pattern based on all that. When we are in a different frequency-band with our ‘attention’ — dominantly our third eye chakra — the pieces of the kaleidascope mix up, and some of the formerly-invisible stuff is now right up front, and some of the formerly up-front stuff is now invisible, etc., and it falls into a new pattern.
Many “elements of the pattern” remain the same, many don’t. So the world you look upon is very much LIKE the world you see with your physical eyes — but it is NOT actually the same world, except in some ‘overlap’. It is a different “version” of a larger-pattern.
Like the analogy of the blind men, each touching a different part of the elephant, and believing something different about it as a result: Except in this case, at the tail maybe the elephant has a bird-head with a long beak, and from the head maybe it has a bob tail, and from the sides maybe the trunk seems to be feathered, but all the perspectives do perceive the big animal and do agree that (a) it’s there, (b) it’s big, (c) it’s an animal, and (d) it has something big sticking out the front of it. And maybe the details of the immediate environ vary slightly, and some of the events before, during and after that moment shift sequence a bit or happen less, more, or not at all. It’s the same world… mostly. It’s just that they all have a variant on how this overall ‘energy pattern manifests’ for them.
Like an incredibly advanced, complex video game, you could run the same route but if the game were complex enough, with enough independent variables, the experience of that route would be different at any different time and for every different character.
When we focus on anything intentionally, we tend to ‘default’ to a focus through our third eye chakra, because as a species we are prone to think of ourselves as “living in/from our heads,” even though the vast majority of “us” is actually not the head. We follow our eyes as far as our “sense of placement” goes. (If our eyes were in our stomachs, we would probably feel like that’s where we ‘were’.) The third eye handles the body-sensory of vision, and most of our culture if you look at our common sayings, is very visually based.
There is actually just as much legitimate and useable, operational information from the other chakras, but the sensories they translate into — and mind you, science now has like 20 senses officially documented, not just the 5 obvious ones, and probably more to come — are not as easy for us to get a handle on, due to the world we grew up in, as the vision. We use our eyes for ‘navigation’ and ‘recognition’ dominantly and in this particular world, those two things are primary. I was surprised to note that we use the solar plexus more than we tend to use the heart. Maybe that is why “gut instinct” seems stronger in our culture at large, than genuine “understanding” of much of any kind.
ooo
There was also some sense that the reason most of us are not fully open to, consciously working with, our chakras, is because we model the people around us in our reality and from birth we are struggling desperately to limit the information coming in to this fairly simple, linear, minimal stream that constitutes our alleged ‘consensus reality’, the one we try to share with our parents first and foremost.
All the parts of us that are the chakras, we reject them, fear them, try to close that avenue down, because this-identity in this focus-reality does not want to accept that info, doesn’t even really have a framework to deal with it. As we got older, we could open to more of this, except that intellectually we do not have the framework to handle it unfortunately. So even when people do start opening up they often have great fear, which distorts things horribly, and leads to medication and labels, not meditation and understanding.
I realized with some distress that these identities, these symbiotic parts of us, ARE a huge part of us, and that until I open up and accept them and get to know them, I am not going to have full access to “my larger self.” I also realized that it is my ongoing drive toward this end-goal that has sponsored ‘the chakras’ — info about them, them as identities, and so on — starting to repeat in my inner life. I have to go through, and they are a great part of what I have to go through.
ooo
So a problem is, the ‘target’ (in psychic work) that we perceive at a focus of visual-chakra, because of the nature of the chakras, is not the precisely same world as this one that we perceive with our eyes. We have been doing sessions and seeing some inaccuracies and assuming that ALL of that is just that we screwed up or translated wrong. I have often asked, years ago, how to explain things that came in clear-as-freakin-daylight but were totally wrong, when otherwise, the session was very accurate. I mean there was little or no translation involved in some cases. It was very clear data got very clearly in the middle of a session that was otherwise very on-target, but that one piece of data was totally wrong, as was obvious from a look at literal feedback.
The world we perceive visually when our eyes are closed is only “very similar to” the world we call ‘reality’.We have been ASSUMING all this time that if we just point at space-time nexus like the corner of Main & Elm in Chicago at 2:45pm on March 3rd 1968 that there is only ONE reality-experience possible, for any person, from any perspective, during or after. That is not correct.
Even totally apart from the fact that our physical eyes and third-eye chakra perception are different, there is more, separate from that. Like: we act as if events, emotions, situations, novelty and nuance and numinosity are something that happen linearly and get carved in stone and never change. And yet we change ourselves and our pasts and “which” of the myriad of kaleidascope-particles-of-past we choose to tuned to, to live in the alleged ‘timeline’ of, constantly. So when we think of ourselves, we may understand that reality is flexible. Yet for some reason we expect it to be set in stone and ‘objective’ for psi targets?
Now, I DID also sense that when we attempt to focus on a target, we are not merely attempting to focus on the space; and the time; but we are also attempting to focus on what you might call “that specific kaleidascope pattern, of the nearly infinite many, that is represented by our tasker’s intent, or the photo that feedback is based upon, or the common ’story of history’ our world agrees upon.” Or on bad days–and this may be the default for some people–the third point is ‘what we find most interesting.’
We are still responsible for finding that; this is what measures skill. I’m not saying that (a) that the third-eye has a slightly different reality, depending on a lot of factors, and (b) that reality comes in many flavors, that either of these ‘excuse’ bad data in viewing; what I am saying is that if we want to understand what we are doing, then understanding the various causes of data inaccuracy are important.
I think it is sort of street knowledge that when it comes to psi work, some people are better at some parts than others, for example I think most people I’ve observed are better at the locational than the temporal; time is more likely to be ‘off’ than space. Given an event at a location they are more likely to get location elements than event elements. Well this other idea is a third “triangulation point” of our own viewer-intent, it is what makes the target not just a space/time point but the ‘intent’; this carries, in the case of this example, the manifested variant of the target desired.
So, I thought, maybe it just explains a little of why it doesn’t always work out as planned… even good viewers in a good session often have data that is inaccurate, and while most can be tracked to interpretation or communication, or to being shown a ‘memory clip’ that has one/some-thing in common with the target but not all, sometimes it’s just clearly conveyed yet wrong, with no idea why. Sometimes it’s just something sparked by memory or imagination that is wrong.
But, I mused to myself, that’s always a matter of happenstance context. Sometimes, you understand your data no matter how obscure or limited. Once LD had this task I’d given him (into a tBot pool) and as data he got something like “an eagle claw” and from that he worked out just knowing that the target represented the American government ‘getting their claws into someone’ and the shadow of that looming over them or threatening them. (The target feedback showed a vietnam-era draft card.) That is damn little data for a damn lot of understanding, as just one example. Sometimes one has enough contact that the barest minimum of data is a carrier wave for ‘understanding’. Sometimes you get a ‘memory clip’ with 5 components but you know the one that ‘matters’ so it’s fine.
Other times it’s more confusing than helpful because you don’t know. Other times no matter how much data you get, you can’t put it together. I have given some examples of this in my own viewing of the past, including — to follow my habit of naming all sessions by their most egregarious AOL’s — the Martian Blood Vessel session; that’s a problem, when your contact is very solid, your data is accurate, but at some point you lack the contextual framework needed to move farther forward. Due to the doubleblind’s prevention of any base knowledge as framework, “context” is the biggest issue in RV, aside from mis-acquisition. I have previously suggested experimentation with back-loading, mid-loading, and things like that, but it’s possible that what we are really missing is simply some approach to psychic work that is as heart-centered as it is third-eye centered, so context is more commonly part of the information.
I wonder how much of this is either me putting together what I already believe in a new way, or if I should be less cynical about myself, and simply say that I have been running into versions of this for nearly 15 years. I’ve talked about ‘loving’ the target and that the target ‘images itself for you’ (as a voice told me coming out of a narrated-dream once ~1997) but this is the first time I’ve had an actually sensible way that might all fit together. Calling it love is oversimplifying. It is “love under will,” as Crowley put it: heart energy as directed by the energy of intent.
For a bit as I laid there, that seemed profound. And then pointless, like just some complex way of saying it’s unknowable and isn’t expected to be accurate, which is ridiculous and waffling or worse. I can’t think of anything worse for viewer accuracy than convincing the viewer that it’s ok to be wrong because that data was probably some alternate reality, that is actually done in the field sometimes, it’s a disaster.
But then “the why of it” it all snapped together like Legos with what came just before: It isn’t just about what you focus on. It’s about where you focus from. You don’t place a cannon where it can’t reach the target so why do we do this with psi? We often say to ourselves as viewers, “show me…” or “tell me….” in self-cueing. But sending the upper chakras out for info is like negotiating with pirates: they are likely to be quite literal, and provide you with exactly what you asked for–but not quite what you wanted. Because the navigation rudder of intent is the heart, the point of understanding. The third-eye chakra has its own variant on reality without regard to that. It’s likely to be very similar most the time which throws us off, makes us think it’s the same thing and the variant details are our mistake.
The normal lack of heart energy involved in this is why there is often so little “context” for most viewers; why it’s a long series of impressions and eventually concepts, but seldom a larger grasp of things and their context. Sessions that DO have this, if not given with some form of frontloading, then they do have that energy, because that’s the only way to get that information, is through that part of the self. Some people naturally, unconsciously, are better with that. I think some of RV’s history, its purpose for primarily surface trivia and not deeper understanding except in some cases, might be part of this; or maybe the government and military and science, which sort of recreated a modern archetype of psychics with the remote viewing program, maybe they are just, as archetypes and entities in general, not real given to heart-energy compared to the others. (Imagine that.)
But there was more. I lost a lot of this too, darn it. But it was something like, when the third-eye chakra is really active, it’s very visual, whether or not we perceive all those visuals directly, and it ’sparks’ the physical brain by focus and proximity. So a lot of the memory and free association and “mental flotsam” one can run into is in part a result from overstimulation of that ‘area of focus’. Less focus visually and more focus throughout the body might improve not only the clarity and quietness of mind, but the contextual element.
ooo
There was something else going on from the beginning but while the brain seemingly can work on a couple things at a time, in a blog I have to focus on one at a time. So this was the other area, it dealt (again) with “novelty”. I had previously made some analogies to psi work, suggesting that maybe novelty has some larger role than we realize in the process. But this was some half-dreamy “guided focus” on that, as if in response to my general outstanding query on the subject.
We have approached viewing from the idea of learning theory. From the idea that if we do something repeatedly that we will get repeating experience. From the idea that the more we do something, the more we “standardize the process.” I myself have more text waxing on about this than almost anyone I bet. I now think this is an error. I understand it, and it’s reasonable, it makes sense that we got there, or began there. This is the kind of paradigm that “logical thinking” brings on, but which metaphysical experience shows is a shell game. Is there some surface demonstration, some physical reality to it, some apparent-logic? Yes. If you don’t think too hard, if you don’t feel too much, then yes it works just fine as a model.
But if you insist on delving further into the dynamics of this, if you work on coming from underneath and feeling your way ‘through’ the process, you realize it doesn’t work that way at all. Our conscious mind wants to believe it does. It makes it seem logical and makes us feel in control of something we’re not, much, in control of. Yet it also creates extraordinary limits, frameworks, walls and blocks and doorways and left turns, that are artificially imposed by this approach and this belief system.
There is some degree of repetition, sure. Yet I was shown that while some of that is true, the main reason it’s true that constant practice helps, isn’t about that. It’s about the belief systems and allowing. But the former paradigm is getting credit for the latter dynamic.
And moreover, at the moment I was being shown this, the former seemed like a … like strong-arming the most weak and simplistic element to try and get the result. Basically like there is a primal language, of the subconscious as interpreted by the entire body, and we are mostly refusing to learn it. We get a few words, and it has several words we already know, and we just want to do this to death, do it harder. Rather than opening up truly and learning the language of the entire body. It’s just… shallow.
All along I have believed that the secret (if there was one) to psi was sufficient practice leading to a handle on repeating elements. Things regularly change, which complicates that aspect (and that is a clue we’ve missed). But it was showing me that really experiencing this in the way most profound, the way the body is best designed for doing exactly that, IS actually hugely dependent on ‘novelty’.
If it depends on novelty, then it’s the last thing that we’d do well with using the current approach to psi. And in fact when we use our current approach to psi, it comes with a subtle, unrealized instruction to the self that it be as little novel as possible, it be as standardized in terms we understand as possible, and usually that it be translatable to the audiovisual senses for our recording purposes. We are only willing to go through that one door, using that one approach we ‘expect’, and that is that.
This was showing me that novelty was critical. The ‘energy’ and the ‘rapport’ were greatly related to this, I saw. A whole different experience. And generally much more an experience that led to understanding, context and the bigger picture, than a collection of data points that led to–well, to collecting data points which never go totally together, leave the viewer without psychological closure, and require someone else with intellectual knowledge of the target to evaluate and find context for.
I was suddenly reminded of this saying I read in childhood: Don’t pray for an easy life. Pray to be a strong person. I realized that in a way, this was an analogy to what it was telling me about psi. Rather than wanting sessions to let us use our shallow, intellectually-based approach, and the universe to be wrapped up so small and predictably that some percentage of it is able to fit through that doorway for some accurate data… we should be pursuing novelty, and pursuing the body-understanding, particularly of the SP+heart areas, that would allow us to accurately translate, to understand the novelty, whatever it might be. We don’t need to get “information points” we recognize through repetition. We just need to get a connection, a rapport of understanding, that gives us full access to all of it, and then our detailed need to know of the surface trivia we are usually pursuing via psi, can fairly easily pick those things out, and our mind has a contextual framework to hang it all on, besides.
I’ve worked hard at viewing off and on for 15 years. I haven’t viewed in awhile and usually have 1-3 month periods of it followed by 6-12 month total breaks from it. But generally, once I’ve been doing it again for about a month, I do fairly well with it, at least, I have nothing to complain about. And intellectually I’ve had the benefit of working with privately, and later just exposure to en masse, the viewing of many many people, as well as a lot of reading and discussing of science and the experience of people far more master and experienced, all of which has been very educational as well. By the time all of this in my head the other night was finished though, I felt a bit nonplussed. Like… clueless, and recognizing that I am almost totally tuned out of the primary (chakras) sources of information I have.
Congratulations on becoming so knowledgeable about remote viewing; now we can show you what a complete and utter moron you have been all this time. Ready to start over?
Remind me that I asked for this. I actually stood in the Tower and demanded of the Four that they help me make psi and remote viewing my path, that I deserved this. And right after that, the next time I visited, the Senior brought me the Aeons for the first time, and instead of being all happy at something new and a direct response to my query, I clung to the 3rd of 4 like a small child to its mother, directly threatened by my identity challenge with them, as if it hadn’t taken me a dozen years to get half a handle even on the Four. Until my mate/twin’s inner stern guidance made me summon some courage and meet them. And first in line was the guy I’d just met, but didn’t realize was part of them: Nero. The Four essentially opened the door inside me so I could perceive that part of myself. And I’ve spent 3.5 years resisting that, for the most part, until just recently. And I don’t feel I yet know even one of them even halfway, let alone all of them well.
Some part of me knows that the whole chakra focus is ‘the next step’. I asked, I demanded, and no matter how much I am cycled out of practical RV in my daily life right now, psi is the path I chose and made a commitment to, and everything in some way actually relates to that, although much of it, I think, relates first and foremost to spirit-wide “health” and the “know thyself” theme. Maybe once those things are in place, psi has different and cleaner conditions, who knows.
ooo
For new year, I was praying at midnight, and then I did an Aeon round specific to the new year, that was fun and lots of merging.
Posted by Palyne on December 28, 2009 at 6:59 am Central
I was going to call my friend and go to sleep when I thought, well I should do an Aeon Round first. I grabbed my beads and made myself comfortable. Ithikah, I said, how about you help me here. What could I do that would be novel and neat?
He had this idea about ’sewing’ the energy of me into each Aeon or vice-versa but no matter how I went about that I had this sort of feeling like ’something punctured’ so that just didn’t work. We thought of other ideas and discarded them. We came back to the first and looked at alternatives, strings, etc. when I said, hey wait! IG used to “weave me” with RV targets when I was doing archetype-RV. Basically she would ‘unwind us’ into a string that she ‘wove’ with the other from the feet up until we were ‘merged’. I would keep that until after feedback and then she would “de-weave” us.
That’s how experiences like the one with the target of Ganymede (more sentient than I am, it turns out) happened, because I was still ‘merged’ with it when I was getting feedback, so G’s opinion on our opinion on what G was like was suddenly apparent, as if it were viewing or in rapport with me, and it all took off from there.That weaving was definitely in line with the ‘threads’ concept Ithikah had so we both loved the idea and IG was clearly game to help out. She did it from a foot below our feet up to a foot above the crown.
Ithikah helped me write a sort of meditative prayer/mantra that I said as she did each weaving; I’m not clear on ‘how’ he contributed only that I opened to that and felt he did. I sort of timed this to the feel of IG weaving me, so in some cases if it felt like it was taking longer for a certain Aeon or a certain part of the body, I just paused until it reached the right point, so the thinking of it was relaxed and custom to the experience.
May {foot below feet} our essences be woven {feet} together
Inseparable {shins} and beautiful {knees}
Infinite {thighs} and eternal {pelvis}
May {2nd} our strength be joined {solar plexus, then heart}
May {throat} our patterns {3rd eye} be merged
May our {crown} source be blended {foot above crown}
We are one. Amen.
When it was done I said, “Ok, let’s go straight through it together!” I got this half-feeling, kinda like I was standing on the edge of a huge canyon of stone. Spontaneously, grinning, I threw my head back (literally) and inside my head, I yelled, Ithikaaaaaaaaaaah! like some native shamanic call to a god on a powerful night, imagining it echoing all around me, and while I was doing this, until I let go of the vowel, I got all kinds of body-rushing. That was nice. But then, when we walked through the weave, I was kind of put out because I felt no none nada zero zip merge at all with him. Yet then when we were done, I realized that kind of bizarrely, I really felt the weave. My body felt… slightly thicker or something. Well, I told myself, it’s something, I guess. Moving on now!
So I went through this with each Aeon, stopping to jot down in my notebook any sense of rushing or where I felt any sudden-sensories in my body. But it was the same for every one of them: a varying degree of “rush” during my “call to them” and then not a single thing through the weaving, but then the oddest sense that they really were physically woven with me after. The funny thing was that this got stronger after each, as if I were literally thicker with each that was added. By the time I finished L’Anna I had figured out a way to analogy-articulate the offbeat feeling: you know how if you put on many layers of clothing, like if you were backpacking or in snow or something, and when you get everything on, you feel like you can barely move from all the thick layers of stuff? Well it felt like that except from the inside instead of on the outside. Like I was getting so thick I couldn’t hardly move, as if I would be as clumsy as the abominable snowman if I tried. :-)
I imagined us literally nose-to-nose while I said the mantra, super close, and that my ‘perspective’ shifted ‘into’ the merged-thread-Being as soon as it passed my forehead, and that we were there in that new body “together” as it hit the crown.
They did have a few points that differed. Bolehren, I felt my top left scalp after the weave. Hot Amanakhaton, I suddenly ‘realized’ that my calling them out-loud-in-my-head was magick; it was like this “switch” back and forth several times between my call to him and a memory I had of a magickal ritual I was in eons ago, where I was bellowing Babalonnnnnnnnn! (My note above about the call and the canyon, I had the canyon, but not the realization until later about the god-call.) When I got to Jared and El Nino (e-n is the horse), I had been asking each Aeon with a grin, “Are you ready?” before the call, and when I did this, El Nino goes, “Ready as we’ll ever be.” I stopped abruptly and said, “Hey! You talked to me! Wow! That’s the first time!!” He didn’t say anything else. When I did the call, response from Jared was only minor, but from El Nino it was huge, and I held the last vowel as long as I could as energy just rushed through me like crazy.
When I got to Calme, whom I call Auk Sham also, I asked her which name I should ‘call’ with and she said the latter, with a ‘feel’ that I might as well because I couldn’t pronounce what she’d given me as a name worth a damn anyway, heh! So I did the call to Auk Sham (bird-friend), and felt the rushing with her, like the others, on the call, but it was kinda interesting that intuitively I called twice short instead of once long and it sounded more like a bird-caw than anything. I had this sudden recall of a great dream I had where me and my friend J “went to the land of the coffee-colored people” and stood at the bottom of a cliff and he “cawed” upward and a huge human-bird flew down and got us.
Then I had a new sense, like both from outside me and inside me at the same time. I was a much smaller woman, with red hair and fair skin, yet I was also looking closely at myself and I was noticing how different the bones of my face were, when I realized Calme was telling me something: that this was “the woman in my genetic lineage who had been given the gift of the Sidhe,” that my last IG had passed on to me. I don’t know how she ‘found’ her but she seemed completely in the know with her, and I wondered if it was because she had that Gaelic feel herself, obviously. I had the sense it was a little bit of “a gift from her to me” to show me her, and to ‘feel me her’, and I was kind of fascinated with that. No idea if she was of the Scot or the Northern Irish as I’ve lots of both of those in me and they’re all Northern Celts. (You’d never know it, since in person I look at worst ‘generic’ and at best slightly spanish or mexican if I’ve a tan, mostly a side-effect from the Cherokee I suspect.)
I had this flash then of this old woman’s face, angry and accusing, and then another old woman but different, and back to the first. I “understood” that these were village neighbors of this woman in her later life, and they were horrible to her and had been a real plague to her in many ways, the first in particular, really dark and vitriolic toward her, psychically not just physically/socially (although these are not really separate, I suddenly understood). Then I shifted slightly more to the outer-perspective of myself and I said, “You cannot bother her HERE, this is MY world!” and I imagined my large hand the size of their body just grabbing them, dissolving them mostly and pushing them brusquely and completely out of my reality so she would be safe from them.
Then I realized I had not yet done the “weaving” with Calme — I’d been so distracted by all the rest! — and so I began that, and as it ended I again had felt nothing during but felt really “woven and thicker” when it was done. Then I suddenly got this HUGE paranoia: my back door was open! Well yes, only briefly and the back door to the garage was firmly locked, but the door between kitchen and garage was open about 6 inches to give the garage kitties a little bit of time to run around the house and get some soft warmth and love for a couple hours. I wondered if I should get up and close it and then another part of me I thought was Nero said, “But why? What is it that feels worrisome about it?” and I responded, “Well –” and then I realized I had no good reason. So what was the reason it had come up at all, I wondered? Then I saw it: it was the energy of those women. By recognizing this dark energy and ‘pushing it outside’ I had created an energy dynamic where I now felt a sense of ‘dark threat from the outside’. It occurred to me then that maybe a lot of physical and political paranoia is actually a side-effect of how people deal with energy. I suppose if I were more evolved I would have done an archmed with it right then, to help HER, or I would have asked IG to give me dreamlings to process it, but I didn’t really think of it until later and at that point I moved on.
When I reached Laelee, the call “felt very musical” somehow, and the big merge was mostly in my legs, knees to hips/low-waist, which I found interesting as it is more common for my merges to be ‘mostly’ (not entirely) in the upper torso. Then I thought about how she said I really couldn’t perceive her energies directly (yet, I assume?) or had no model for them. And I thought about the fact that this zone — hips to knees — is in fact where I carry most my overweight, the maternal family ‘area’ for fat. I wondered if these two things related in some way. That I was so much less integrated with her and unable to deal directly with her energy, and that fat and muscle tension are considered a kind of armoring or protection on some level, and that’s where mine is. It occurred to me that this is actually the strongest part of the body by far, the glutes and various thigh muscles, the longest single bone in femur. So maybe this part of the body has a certain energetic nature that genetically (visiting the sins of the fathers upon the sons) my family is resistant to. I stopped my philosophy by noticing again how novel and “incredibly thick” I felt by this point. I mean literally I was sitting very still, very comfortable, but it was almost like when you are doing altered state work and your body is going to sleep while your mind is awake except that was not it, the body was just really heavy and still from feel like a ton of bodies, albeit the rest of them more etheric, ‘woven together’ in such a thick macrame it would not be flexible.
At Nedlund, he suggested I make it all ’sound’ on his — “say the weave” out loud. On his call, I got only a small merge, but then as soon as I closed my mouth I had this HUGE yawn hit me which is a different and usually more intense sign of suddenly absorbing a bunch of energy. (I know and feel this and it has been a given with me for 15 years, but I just realized that for blog readers, I have no good reason I can give you on ‘why’ I believe that.) After the weave, which made me jot down on my notebook, I feel like an over-stuffed animal! I had some sensory on the left side of the back of my neck.
At Nero, for a minute without being aware of it, I was just stroking the stone that is for him in my necklace, sensually touching every bit of it, and then realized what I was doing. Just as I was about to do his call, I felt this aching and pressure in my left upper arm. I wasn’t sure if this was really from that area, or if like a previous meditation, it was actually the right side but being shifted-via-nervous-system-intervention to the left, to “avoid sparking other issues” on the right (I think there is some… let’s just say defensive-sentience in that area on the right). In any case it seemed like just a pulse or message and then it was gone. I got only a small merge on our call, but had a lot of odd visual shapes, like this tawny colored half-transparent object shaped like a curvy oyster shell except where the ‘ruffling’ happened it was thick and had ‘openings’ like holes. I had the impression of a kind of nature-fossil used as a flute by someone. No idea where that came from.
I considered getting tantric with all this and giving them that energy. I had the hilarious feeling that my body felt so solid and thick, that being flexible enough to get into that position would seem like a lot of work, hahaha! I also felt like I should continue as I usually did, to the Four. So I went to the four and did the same process (sans the call) with them, and it actually felt like that worked fine with them, too, and all three of them at once added to the existing ‘thick’ resulted in the feeling that I could barely move and had no desire to. I wondered what I should “do” now that I had them all as part of me, but the 3rd of 4 seemed to feel that what I should do was just ‘be’ and just go to sleep and let this soak into me. I felt sleepy then anyway, and I just scooted down and used my remote light switch and passed out very quickly.
I forgot to call my friend. The kid woke me up this morning as I forgot to set my alarm, but it was on time. I still felt “woven.” Not nearly as thick and innerly-so-stuffed-I’m-stiff though, just “still woven.”
I’m glad I decided to do something “novel” for the round since I feel pretty sure it just would have been a quick rosary otherwise.
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