Dreaming Change (Happy 4th of July!)

Have I dreamed this sea-change boiling across America? It’s a kind of Stadium Wave happening across our country as one group stands up, thrashes about, & another sits down.

In Hawaii & other places, land forms & rearranges itself, heaving from unknown depths in an incredible brew of white heat & black rock. Mountains slide sideways & crush nascent dams. The sun seems to fracture its light or appear as a shadow behind itself. Shorebirds land far inland as their photos appear all over media. Bears move onto porches to reside next to the woodpile. Whales beach themselves in unprecedented numbers. I certainly am not dreaming this.

We are threatened with 5G technology, a weapons-grade “helper” which is proven to confuse minds, cause headache, scramble thinking, sadly being installed in schoolyards. No way I might have made that up. What have “the powers” got against us? Why do they hate us so, to spray Round-Up on our fresh foods before releasing these to market, to redesign vegetable cells & redraw gene structures? I don’t want drought resistance laddered into my tomatoes, or insecticides rendered into my smoothie strawberries. I would love for the corn I buy to be corn & not engineered fuel.

I read about MK-Ultra-driven shooters, each with his own therapist/handler to bring out the worst prior to setting him loose in the populace. I don’t want to meet any Montauk boys – or girls for that matter, during the course of my day.

Information bears many prefixes: mis-, dis-, non-…but all I want is the straight story of events, their causes, their outcomes & how they are being addressed. What happened in Las Vegas & why do we hear no more about it? Were the men in black Kevlar at Parkland School unworthy of notice or comment by mainstream media?

I see short-sightedness & stupidity visited upon my neighbors & friends as a form of friendly fire masquerading as guidance. The skies twist in places, braiding clouds to bruise the logical mind. Groundwater disappears overnight, while downpours loosen rocks, in turn eradicating roads.

Whole populations rise from what they perceive as stinging insult, but instead of simple rhetoric, they line up cannons. Today I saw a star-spangled top on a woman while her significant other wore a sage green tee with a black automatic weapon stenciled on it. I actually wondered which was more representative of America at present.

Huge lines of people are on the move elsewhere & then become the butt of argumentative behavior wherever they try to arrive. I’m well aware not everyone is who they seem to be in these groups…no vetting has been enacted, the children with them may not be theirs & the Four Horsemen often ride alongside them, witting or no. But while we may wish them to return to their roots; this is an impossibility since the divide & conquer mentality of politicos has rendered their homelands deplorable. We created the problem we complain no one can solve.

We close borders to them, while our own destabilize, the very land humps & shivers, children disappear, economy spirals into the gray on the dollar bills, downgrading the green. We’re in an interactive system & need to recognize it’s a closed loop – atmosphere, nation-building, health – all connected in an intimate dance of creation & flow.

We have indeed released the Kraken we were assured might be controlled if only this, that, or the other happened. It rides the crest of the sea-change we experience, tentacles lashing out in fury.

The lies need to be refuted & remedied from both sides. The power to exercise global change must first bear some resemblance to what we wish the change to be. We straddle worlds so divided we cannot conceive agreement & attempt to enforce transformation. This clear & present danger to our individual selves & souls must be brought into order. At last glance, the Kraken was gaining, making this difficult indeed. The whole setup never came with an instruction book, tho many agreed upon what they perceived to be one in the Bible. Unfortunately, rules no longer apply & oratory serves no purpose.

Dissolving each boundary that is set, whether personal, political or perceptual, is sorely needed. Certainly, the world itself seems bent upon dissolution. But ours as humans came first. When promised heaven, what can we do with being delivered to hell?

Indeed, the storm is upon us & before its rage, we race for safety. It takes interesting people to live in interesting times, to counter the curse & give birth to amendment so enormous it is soon obvious we took on too much too fast. I don’t know where life’s demarcation occurs between forgiveness & right action, but I walk that thin line of light every day, in every encounter.

We each need to be great again as individuals for the country to be so. We need to curb the absolute power each one of us thought it so easy to handle. We have worn out the rule of law by applying it with force. Let us now try to administer it with love. It can be done. It is so quiet when we stop screaming. Change becomes possible, when love is used as the unerring power source to stoke its engines. Love is the only leash the Kraken will bow its scaly head to, rest its whipping limbs within, close its bulging eyes to rest upon.

Dig up your individuality, dust off all cliché it has rested in. Move your heart to the forefront, stop trying to think through unthinkable times. We must stop the harm out there to stop the harm being visited upon us. Do it now, as it’s unlikely we will ever have the full story!

Give the impossible its due: our hearts are online now, networked, hooked up, tuned in. Put the children in the center of the circle for protection, remove them from harm. With your eyes open to the future, attend to the present. Declare nothing to be unbelievable, even Peace in Our Time.

 

It Rained All Night

Such a commonplace event, rain. Unless you live in the Chihuahua Desert of New Mexico’s southwest where we’ve had no real rain since February when we had a day of windy-wet weather.

What resulted from a faraway “tropical depression” caused exultation here. A mothering rain fell all night. I woke at 3:30 a.m. to the gentle pulsing flow, swinging my legs from bed & rising with an energy I haven’t felt so far this summer.

I had left the doors & windows open, hoping for a breeze from Turtleback to breathe through & dissipate the built-up heat. To my delight, the chimes slowly named their notes from the yard pole as the rain began. The soothing sound of its fall, the distinctive aromatherapy of a desert releasing heat & sponging in moisture brought me straight downstairs to sit by the door.

The sun is a force of nature here. I joke the heat from the Trinity site (Alamogordo’s first atomic bomb) has revisited us since exiting outside is slowed by a solid wall of heat that stops all progress. I’ve lived here for years-at-a-time twice before, but this third time is exacting quite a struggle to stay cool.

Since I came from Delaware most recently, my memories are of north-facing French doors being sluiced by nor’easters, days & nights of drumroll rain, pouring water, bouncing drops, gusty winds all contributing to zipping up my Maine rain jacket & tying the hood tightly. The rain tossed itself against windows like someone outside was flinging buckets one after the other. Umbrellas were fruitless, turned inside out after two steps.

In T or C this year, the sun is different, intensified into a kind of microwave heat, immediately igniting the skin & clutching the lungs. Sometimes, I want to ask it what I did, it seems a personal affront when temps rush to 107 or 110 of a day.

It’s heavenly to wake to this gentle sound & sit by the screen to inhale moisture. The form & force of recent weather here has been argumentative & I’m so not in the mood.

This steady drizzle is an arpeggio after the crashing cymbal clang of relentless, raw, unnaturally white light. It is grace, softly miraculous, growing my sense of joy in the breaking morning. It’s a prayer answered, one from the people & the land together.

My poor garden fell victim to the unyielding heat. My water bill soared; I brought the containers to the local community garden with a sign saying “Adopt Me’ stapled to each. Many this morning will be offering gratitude that they need not uncoil the hose today & stand outside to relieve the powerful daily thirst of anything green-growing.

An uncomplicated enough phenomenon, this rain. I bow my head & accept heart’s-ease to its simplicity.

Lost In A Song

Music has always, always, always been my mainstay. My idea of hell would be a place inaccessible to music, although then I’d likely subject people to my voice (which might be their version of hell, but ya never know.)

From my teen years on, I’ve followed music through so many incarnations. All teens did, so far as I knew. Love lost & found, dreams won & vacated, moves voluntary & not so much. I danced, not well, with an eye to how others would see me…which isn’t the way to dance at all. Cuz if you can’t abandon your body to the music, it isn’t very satisfying dancing.

Later in life, as a married woman, a “working jerk” in offices, an obedient soul paying taxes to The Man, for years I listened to classical music. Once I read that this genre is really limited – after all, it was stiffly specific to its timeline & there were only so many composers. The radicals of classical music sound rigidly controlled today. Music is art for the ears & what aficionados these are!

Now rock just burgeoned into so many branches from its hip-twitching bluesy roots, like folk, grunge, head-banger, stadium, Brit Invasion, death metal, hard, progressive, psychedelic, rockabilly, southern, surf, & more.

I never had an 8-track, but for a long period, my reel-to-reel was a great weekend’s occupation, taping hours of music, putting together mixes, selecting records, cueing them up, adjusting a sequence, headphones snugged on, crooning along. If I started naming the individuals & bands that dressed me up, I’d add about two dozen pages to this blog, so let’s leave that & move on.

Of course, music that inspires me is always a leading thread. Some Broadway shows have music which pulled me up from my seat to march or crushed me down to weep. “Funny Honey” from Chicago, and “Bound To You” from Burlesque were two of this latter. And then there’s “Never Enough” from The Greatest Showman. But my truest favorites rest with songs with beefy drums laying a road I simply MUST dance down.  

In the past three days, after discovering ‘The Greatest Showman,’ I have been listening repetitively (or more accurately, obsessively) to the soundtrack. If you haven’t heard it, check the web to find a rendition, check out the movie, but don’t miss it. I defy you to stay seated once it starts!

So many songs rip out my heart & return it, raggedly, unapologetically, bleeding to my hands (“Who Wants to Live Forever”, Freddie Mercury), (“Comfortably Numb”, Pink Floyd). “Here,” they seem to convey,” you deal with it, I’m done for now.” And the next track begins while I’m contemplating whether my healthcare will cover this fresh wound. But I have to say for all the drip, I love these kinds of songs. I love having my emotions stirred as though someone has put a blender fork into my psyche, turning both to high.

I love that people are visual, that there is art to look at. I enjoy food a great deal – nothing like a South Philly Cheese Steak to set the taste buds dripping. I enjoy silence so deep that the chirp of a bird sounds as though a cannon has gone off in the next yard. But, ah! Music! “This Is Me,” “This Is The Greatest Show” – what anthems for a life bestirred from meditation to a blown-apart, scintillate conversation with your own soul about who you are & why you’re here.

Today is another opportunity to dance my way through, to be uplifted into blessing, as in “I’m Changed” sung by Angel Travis at Agape Church, or almost anything by Peter Mayer, or “The Cape” by Guy Clark, “I Dreamed of Rain” by Jan Garrett & JD Martin – all of these I’ve mentioned are available via internet. Check some out when you’re ready to go “splorin’” the dusty corners of your soul. They’ll chase off the blues like dry leaves pursued by a leaf-blower. Find music which’ll lift off the top of your head & screw it down differently, that’ll get your hips rockin’, to shake your shoulders, semaphore your arms, stop crash-landing short of whiplash nodding your head.

Live on! Sing on! Dance on! Be inspired. As Peter M sings, “Everything Is Holy Now!”

Love to all –

Carol

Carol’s Carousel

I don’t know what to think anymore. I barely know how to think. Anymore.

I have had to research bump stocks & look up Nikki Haley & John Bolton. I spend time poring over reports about McCabe & Comey to try to understand the current “political scene” when I want to scream at everyone in DC, “Will you just behave?

I am one of a generation which may die off before the changes so looked forward to may even occur (NOTE TO SELF: climb aboard the good ship Hope & stay afloat.) I don’t claim to understand transgender issues, being certain that I am a woman who has never wanted to be a man. Having a penis would really get in my way. I don’t want to leave my stem cells for implants into AI computers simply because someone knows how to do that & thinks it might be a good idea. Hooah!

I don’t get violence. Having been in & around the medical profession for most of my earth-years, I understand physical damage from savagery of any kind: mental, physical, spiritual, emotional. I predict for myself a gradual fade from life after accomplishing as much as I can towards healing on all levels. I’m weary of fighting for the money to buy food for my fridge. I could understand paying taxes if the pothole at the end of the driveway ever got filled; but knowing my money disappears into fitting a fin onto a bomb is distressing. But tax evasion isn’t an option I’ll readily pursue – I don’t look great in stripes. I’m feeling some nervousness about making the monthly payments needed to assure some quality of life, although I have the strength & power within me to work the odd jobs I encounter to earn my way into fresh veggies.

After years of plugging along, pinning slogans like “Be calm & don’t worry”, of framing thoughts like “following my bliss”, or “doing things for the joy of doing them”, I’m slowing down. I’m not sure I’m ready to meet ET’s with golden triangle heads or blue feathers. I have stopped listening to my formerly intensely-followed gurus. I’m cautious about signing up for Starfleet Academy or manning bridges of any kind. Once anticipated, I no longer eagerly await what may emerge from the future to surprise me. I’m really happy to sit in the sun right now, to stay out of the unreasonable desert wind, to watch my little green tomatoes turn into little red tomatoes. Someone once mocked me for “watching the clothes dry on the line” but at this point, that’s quite a satisfying pastime. It indicates the privilege to be clean in a world where so many are not given this option.

I’m happiest when teaching…helping someone figure out something: how to use their cellphone, for example. I live in a town where everyone’s grandkids have recommended they have the latest tech when the “grands” only want to be able to call the kids on Sunday night. “What’s an app?” they ask me, “Can I get the words to come up when I watch videos?” “How do I stop all these advertisements?”

I’m planning to teach a class called “About Email” on Mayday, & the more I research carriers, the more I figure I’ll sound like some paranoid nut when I tell them what I understand about the collection of biometrics by nefarious one-world-government scions, the retention of data by people who are totally not entitled to know that I wrote my friend about how I feel, whether political or pleasurable. How do I help learners to preserve their privacy or get them to understand there is even a need for this in a world where the providers are all-pervasive about control & have the morals of cats in heat when it comes to selling us out? The State does not need to monitor our computers. Seriously, nothing on them is that interesting. For myself, I don’t expect anybody at the State Department to grok my poetry or wordplay. I only have one way to expand into the universe & it is with expression of my personal experience as such. And it comes out through language. If “they” consider RIDING THE LIGHT subversive, my tax dollars are totally wasted.

I know old ladies are disposable as rain puddles. It doesn’t stop me from working towards what I call The Good. It doesn’t hinder me from offering time & effort toward helping others learn how to function at the basic levels of courtesy, kindness, care & understanding, of actively paying it forward. I know at any time some doofus with a God complex can take control of my car & send me over the side of a cliff where others will be endangered trying to retrieve the detritus left by that push-button destructo-mentality.

I guess I can’t explain where I am in the present moment. I had a reaction today at our quite wonderful book club discussion where a totally innocuous book sent me into a red-rimmed rage for no reason I can discern. Reading the book chapters aloud brought me to the boiling point wherein I rushed home & stared wildly about for an hour. It isn’t even a book I admire, but a reaction of this magnitude of anger is totally foreign to me and/or what it should have engendered. WTH? Is it the sugary snack before bedtime that has me so reactive?

At the same time, I am tired of being a spectator; I want to participate in life. I want to travel to see wonders of geography, I want to sit at the feet of a master & take notes on keeping my mind in discovery mode. I want to pay my debts off so the nervousness can re-settle into a joy of life so daily I take no notice of want of any kind. Bread & circuses haven’t interested me in years. It is time for me to expand my thinking to encompass God & the Youniverse to a mystical, uplifting, soul-thrilling vibration. I want to thread that needle spoken about in Scripture, so I can pass through it into either the grace of comprehension or Comprehensive Grace. Isn’t that my birthright?

I am so over Darwin & his purloined theorem about survival. I once read that the word “love” was mentioned 96 times in The Origin of Species, while the phrase “survival of the fittest” appeared thrice.

I once felt I could get closer to the answers of Life’s Questions as I aged. I foolishly thought the world would become more logical, the weather more habitable, my life more accommodating to happiness. I thought I would have friends, if not family, who looked at me with love shining from their hearts through their eyes. But now I rely on the comments of strangers to lift me through the nights. Now I have no ties to what is considered Reality. I opt for helping some with cleaning their houses, offering a class now & then to aid others in understanding the new tools available & coping with their use.

I often tell people I’m allergic to TV, but I still find myself drawn to videos on the computer which show the exotic Cirque du Soleil acts, dancers who can move their bodies as I no longer am able, political commentaries which contradict each other one after the next.

I am as confused as any teenager about my current identity. Who will I be tomorrow? What will my achievements count for…or against? This life made of chapters cleanly divided by time & (at times) geography, by the borders of marriages, the maps of spiritual pathways, the fulfillment of dreams. I’m acutely aware too many of the paragraphs in this blog start with my most personal pronoun. I need to be led into divinity somehow & overcome this tendency to consider myself only human. I used to be able to do that better. How come I’m losing the knack?

The last frontier is never that. Horizons rise & fall regularly. I’m alive so long as I keep moving – even if it is in a circle while the calliope plays corny music. Cuz I don’t know anything, anymore.

Believing is Seeing / Seeing is Believing

People listen to my viewpoints with a kind of fascinated disbelief. Their eyes say, “Oh, come on, Carol, you don’t really believe that, do you?”  but what comes out of their mouths is: “Where do you get this information?” This said, with a peculiar emphasis which is almost threatening. I am challenging their belief system, after all.

When I suggest sites for them to  peruse to form their own ideas or opinions, they shake their heads quickly… They want for me to come up with proof of what I consider my proofs. Of course I cannot do that on my own – I’m telling them what’s been shown to me. Just because I have read that big Pharma is the most profitable business on earth, I am suspect. Because I have seen that there is research showing that computers, iPhones, Echos & other such devices are extensions of the Big Brother Spy State, where does this conversation then go if they are unwilling to watch a video about the Georgia Guidestones, or look at Q Anon posts (or their many explications), watch “Snowden,” or somehow begin to assimilate the twenty-plus years of following such info about which I speak.

I can’t possibly introduce them to all of my sources. This matches that they can’t possibly believe what I am saying. I have watched eyes glaze over for far less info-share!

Are their mainstream media sources any more reliable than my conspiracy theory ones? Thing is, how do we tell? Isn’t this the same thought processing that denies harm in the way Monsanto degrades our foods, Naval sonar testing is destroying marine life, pedophilia is being “normalized” as a disorder instead of a sickening aberration of raising children?

I understand many will not share my beliefs. I am not convincing them, nor doing otherwise than introducing the topics for consideration. To dismiss them out of hand is to simply accept that there may be dragons where the maps don’t draw any more lines. There are forces out there which will put paid to disseminating such beliefs as I have read about, thought about & developed a knowledge base around. These forces are actually paid fudge things up.

Me? I’m just your short Italian debt slave who’s had the opportunity to make a more monied lifestyle only now in later years. Even so, I don’t own a house, a car, my furniture or some of my more recently purchased clothing. I dabble occasionally in paying for food with a credit card when I don’t have the cash to stock the larder. While this is unfortunate (possibly unnecessary) & by no means different from how a large number of citizens live today, it’s the paradigm in which I live, move & have my being. And it is only my beliefs that all of this will improve into a possibility over a probability that keeps me on in that joy & peace that passes understanding.

There are those three stages of belief: 1) No way, 2) Well, maybe, 3) Of course!

Where are you?

 

Don’t Put Your Glasses Down!

Moving Day approaches. Let’s see now, I’ve moved from Nashville to Truth or Consequences (T or C), to Hillsboro, to Ruidoso, to Ocean City, to Berlin, to Fenwick Island, to Hillsboro, all since 2010, & am now returning to T or C. That’s a LOT of boxes to tape.

I’ve given away stuff I’m now re-buying. I’ve invested, divested, shared, thrifted, lost, found…countless items. I have no idea why we need so much stuff, and, believe me, I have much less stuff than most people I know.

Some basic Laws of Moving I have learned:

  • always buy the heavier duty tape – this is not a time to go for cheaper pricing
  • don’t run out of tape – more than you need is just enough
  • note where you put down your glasses every time you take them off
  • ditto on the car keys
  • keep track of friends, b/c they’re generally going out of town on move day
  • always use good body mechanics
  • don’t attempt to move without a strong back
  • tape EVERYTHING you possibly can
  • when pulling boxes out of the trash, make sure they  have bottoms
  • keep in mind Newton’s second principle: two items cannot occupy the same space at the same time
  • this is a good time to consider an investment in robot tech

I’m sure there are a bunch more I could come up with, maybe something relating to gravity, inertia, stress factors concerning cardboard, how much you really want/need an item, and more. But I’m pretty certain you’ve learned them all through moving yourself. And if you’re one of those unusual folk who’ve stayed put for anything over twenty years, I have only a large well of empathy to tap on your behalf should this time ever come to your door.

Desperation sharpens the memory, but only in the desperate individual. My landlord said call him the day before to confirm the move; my hired helper said call him the day before to confirm the time to be here which I’ve just called & told him; the fella I’m buying the replacement (of the identical computer desk I gave away three years ago) said call him pre-move to remind him I’m coming to pick it up. Do men not come equipped with memories?

Reminds me of the story about the husband who, noticing he can’t sign on, calls out to his wife in the kitchen, “Honey, did you change the password?” To which she replies in her sweetest voice, “Yes, I did! It’s our anniversary date.”

My new place is a duplex, with a second floor & two bedrooms. It’s a real WOW after living with roommates, in motel rooms, in efficiencies – all of which have sprung furniture, with at least one chair where the seat can sink into the floor, with questionable mattresses & extra-cold kitchens. Where I am now, the drier is in the garage, a chill walk from the back swinging doors (which only open if you go through them with approximately the force of a battering ram in the hands of an invading, woad-painted army.) It is always interesting to see how other people live. But for at least a year of the lease, I can live with a view of the Caballo Mountains, topped by Turtleback, with a washer/dryer off the kitchen, a bath and a half plus a small graveled yard for outdoors living when the weather brings surcease instead of subzero.

I guess it just isn’t my gift in later life to stay in one place for long. I guess I’m still searching for the spot where I can stay for twenty years, after which they can just open a hole under the living room floor & bury me. No need for ceremony. Matter of fact, this new place was built atop a lube shop, so there’s already a nice big hole under there, tho the hydraulic lift is most likely gone. But that’s okay. Far more comfy than what I’m always telling people – “just toss me down the nearest elevator shaft.”

Wish me strength & fortitude, strong hands & good eyes. While you’re at it, wish me the ability to hammer in a straight nail as most of my pictures hang at a slight angle, like an earth tremor crossed under the floor before dawn. Wish me up a lot of energy over the next week. But I usually have the place together within 48 hours because after living in a roomful of boxes with a Libra’s keen sense for disorder as pain, it will be total pleasure to have my few things arrayed just how I want them.

With all the homelessness out there (I tell people to get to the Walmart they just make a left after the second panhandler up the road.) No disrespect here, just practical directions, really. (Once, passing through Nashville, I gave a woman in a wheelchair a bill as she sat on the corner in a steady rain. She peered into my car & asked sympathetically if I was living in it.)

One thing more: I would move forever if it meant more stories like these. Life isn’t static, but rotting out is exactly that. Each place gives me gifts of light, love, laughter, the chance to meet new people & hug old friends.

Enough sitting now. The boxes are starting to whisper again…

 

Musings of a Part-Time Philosopher

THE UPS OF DOWN

Why not evolve in Order, as ordered by our own inner guidance? Well, hey, I think our inner guidance was turned down in volume to inaudibility by the blare of this beautiful three-dimensional world we live in.

When the mute button was [inevitably] pushed, we were already turned toward the excitement of martial drums, & then War became the go-to lifestyle: existence as a mortal is so easily threatened, survival is a real thrill. Why else would murder, death, & destruction be so popular … smeared across all our entertainment? I can think of nothing more repulsive!

I find my life skills have centered around developing the abilities involved with  polishing relationships, turning negative emotions around & offering my life energy to others in a healthy manner.

But it became human’s nature to find life somehow more exciting as victim/victimizer. This took the focus into more basic directions (louder) in lieu of subtle spirituality (still small voices.) I know from even my morning walks that downhill is easier & can be far more electrifying than the slog up. When you read “lowest common denominator,” it can mean damned low right now. There’s a double-speak about striving for what I call “bigger/better/faster/more” wherein this is presented as what we should be doing, while all about us seems resolute in pushing us down & holding us there. Why are we so surprised to emerge into chaos from whence some say we sprang? It’s a slippery slope to navigate.

I’m not perfectly in tune with Spirit. I sometimes can’t get the channel to come in clearly. I sometimes don’t even trust what comes to me – too much interference for clarity. But I trust Silence. I trust my intestinal prayers to get me wherever Spirit wants me to be, while my heart seems to short-circuit over the Daily News. Shooting my way out possesses not the slightest appeal.

When I trek uphill, there’s a lovely mirror image that appears of traveling back down – to breakfast & a shower & taking off my sports bra.

If we look at our own aspirations, these mirrors of opposites seem to immediately clang into place. “I can” becomes “what if” in a blink. Ideas & manifestations are often at odds because of the mettle it takes to persevere & break through false images. We may not have enough experience in success to power up our belief in it. Going with the flow doesn’t necessarily riding along in someone else’s canoe.

So, where’s your personal Red Zone? What rings your chimes? If it isn’t the Divine which brings you to your knees, it will most likely be the cudgel held by a barbarian.

I think “religion” is a tool of control far more effective than chains. I know a local woman who puts everything in/on God through her Jesus & I consider this as much of an addiction & a power giveaway as smoking crack. Jesus looked to heaven & asked for help any number of times. While we can ask for help from anyone on the other side, it is up to us to generate the belief that help is available. It is up to us to realize we are made from a Prime Creator of love. And PC expects way more than what we’ve set up so far.

We can believe in the ladder appearing at the bottom of our personal well, but we must swim to it climb out, to be uplifted. I have chosen to leave religion out as an entrainment for my mind-heart. But I sure put a ton of truck into Spirituality! And though I take advice from many, I prefer my own orientation towards the improvement I’m asking about.

I’m still a spiritual Innocent, watching for insight everywhere, hyper-aware of its existence & my quest to find personal truth includes only that next best thought. I hardly look over my shoulder to see where I’m from. If there’s a mess, I’m responsible for at least 50% of it. I have learned I cannot clean it all up if it was made with someone else’s contributions. But once I have my part scoured, it is easier to send love to what’s out of my direct control or response & know that’s a healing of sorts.

“I create my own reality” say the reality buffs. I go for that 50-50 interpretation here. Because if the portion I am ignorant of creating is karmic or MK-Ultra’d, I don’t have enough comprehension to clear up the rest. That’s when I reach into the toolkit for the Trust hammer, the Faith screwdriver & the Love drill to just do the best I can.

I’ve overstayed my welcome in the antechamber of assumption. I admit the right to life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness. I am hopeful of a good grounding in “do no harm” as a life motto. I don’t leave the bags of dog dirt (so carefully scooped up) on the crossing from the beach. Just because shit happens doesn’t make it decorative.

Here’s the mystery, wrapped in an enigma, sprinkled over with conundrum & fired in the kiln of “mass consciousness”: Here’s where I separate the red & blue pills for a choice to live in the reality I am aware of having created as opposed to happenstance.

So to what do I owe allegiance? Where do I fall when the line is between service & servitude?

Humans are far too adept at adapting. We see the results of following only, when we ought to be living leaders of our hearts & minds. We ought to be spiritual adepts, en-spirited adults by this time. Ok, that sounds like a great destination.

Re-orienting.

Thanks!

I’m off. See you later, amigos/amigas.

With love,