Have you ever been at a point, where it all seems so obvious and you can’t believe people are still arguing over what is blatant?
That is me, here, now in this cybersphere. I thought that by leaving FB I would find respite- but one doesn’t simply go cold turkey with social media- they migrate and adapt.
For me, this was moving over to Twitter, where the conversation completely changed and I felt like I jumped into the deep end of the lake.
On FB, I had over 500 friends and over a 100 followers… I know, I know; nothing to brag about, but it equaled engagement.
On Twitter, I have roughly 90-96 followers and I am pretty sure at least a dozen of them are surveillance. When one of the surveillance accounts realizes I am useless- they move on. That’s cool- what ev’s.
That doesn’t stop the weirdness on my end though- Nope. I am still at the mercy of algorithms when I go check my feed.
My motto: “I’ll follow back until your posts get whack.”
Why? I am not your judge- I am not your jury. If you start posting stuff that makes me want to act in a negative or violent way- I will simply remove you the way I would a thorn or a splinter.
I will pay attention to the wound, give it care with things that will remove the intrusion.
This doesn’t mean I am running away or avoiding things- it means I am doing what I can to control my internal environment which will ultimately impact my external environment. I could let my wound fester, or I could care for it and bring it back to optimum function.
90% of what I see posted online, makes me want to kick someone in the shins- why? Probably because when we hurt we try and hurt others and the things I see posted bring me more than a modicum of pain.
If leaving FB taught me anything, it’s that I am sick of making myself responsible for the pain of others, or assuming that I was the source of pain, to begin with, because that is how hard we can be on ourselves. We will assume so hard that a post is about us, that it will tear us up inside and then overflow into the life we live that isn’t attached at all to a SIMPLE FUCKING POST!
It’s crazy- but it’s real and normal for day to day life. How many people are lugging around their own unspoken guilt and ruining the lives of others because a post was worded in a way that makes an individual have to face their own conscience?
I had to leave because I was on the brink of kicking shins because of the fakeness of all of it. I wanted to kick shins because it would really hurt, in real time- but it isn’t fatal, but it is brutal.
I sit here at times just hoping for a real and raw conversation about how fucked up we are individually and in groups- not because I want to further twist a wound but because I can’t wait to find people who are finally mature enough to address the issue while also avoiding kicking shins.
I’ve found people would rather kick shins until they are bruised or deal with broken toes that have to heal from all the kicking.
I want a conversation or ten to be good enough. Most people would rather mince words, or not talk at all, because they know their words will hurt as bad as a bruised shin.
When I say “I can’t do this anymore.” It is because I truly can not do it anymore. I am smart enough to know that there are others in the world who don’t want to operate on the program we have been fed- and those are my loves of forever. They are the ones who keep coming back, again and again, so that none of us are left alone in the struggle.
Those of us aware of the struggle, say “NO MORE!” We are done.
For some months now- Ale has been intent on this story of “How Wang Fô was Saved” and he found inspiration to record an Italian translation of the story accompanied by music made specifically for this creation.
I was honored to be asked to create an English translation of the story- which Ale also created accompaniment for.
I had not read the story before the recording. I wanted to test my voice with the words- and once I began reading out loud- I said: “screw it- start the recording.”
You are hearing the story unfold for me for the very first time. I am not exactly sure how it will weave. There are moments you can hear my voice fall because I am shocked at the revelations the text is painting.
I was left with some beautiful insights and contemplations. I hope this story can do the same for you. Please join us as we share the story of:
How Wang Fô was saved
Microcosm- Inception- You
While in the womb, you just grew and developed and thought whatever thoughts developing souls think cushioned in a vitreous bubble
Listening to the voices outside of yourself as you are jumbled and tumbled around by your incubator, the love of your creator holds you still and yet, not
You didn’t consciously think “I should grow an arm right now”, while your mother craved pickles and puked at the smell of salmon, or laughed at a joke she once told, and then forgot and told again
She didn’t think about her loss or change of appetite as anything other than a sort of synthesis where you were able to show your first impressions of the world, which were merely reflections of the last one you left
Connected yet disconnected by a few stops from your last departure
As a Mother, she, just kind of dealing with it. And hoped for the best. “I don’t care what it is- as long as it is healthy! Ten fingers! Ten toes.”
She didn’t sit to manifest you, but rather said, “So it is, I guess this will do.”
The Mother Knows, that these impressions can last longer than a lifetime and the purging of herself in the openness of newness is proof. Suddenly a new entity, little-me arrives!
To some, on a sunny day and to others a rainy night.
In each of us, there is the reflection of the Mother, for we could not exist without her.
But in each Mother, there is a reflection of eternity, and she graciously imparts that upon us without request. It is a shock for all parties, and a strange blessing without a manual.
The impression is beyond permanent, it is in the genetics and all of the beautiful unfoldings that appear to be effortless
As I say goodbye to one platform, I open myself up for new explorations. Tonight I recorded a bit of a rundown toward my reason to deactivate my account and put the focus on other places. Join me on this audio journey- and do whatever you want when it comes to your own social media- but if your intuition says “let’s get out of here.” GO, and post haste.
Have you shut it off yet? Do you want to? Let me know about it. I will read what you post and, if you want to interview about it- I am more than happy to hear about your experience. I look at it as walking out of the most unintentionally dysfunctional polyamourous relationship, I never meant to get into.
Sit back relax, and let me tell you about Saying Goodbye to Facebook.
The weather is warming up- and the yard is calling!
Journey Oroborus Wonderdawg has now been in my care for four months, and she is even more amazing every day!
I was reading a post I made last November- about all the dogless moments that were hitting me hard, and it’s crazy to think that so much has happened since the end of last August- but really it is only notable in my little sphere. It probably isn’t profound to anyone else.
I guess to explain a little bit- it is the insights that have befallen me through my sadness and “rebirth” through Journey. Journey truly represents a change inside of myself that is hard to articulate- it wasn’t something missing- it was something that had yet to be awakened but was there all along. Like epigenetics and cultivation, I just needed the right circumstances to enliven something dormant.
I have become more patient, more understanding- attributes I wanted to strengthen but had a hard time controlling and would guilt myself to extremes in regard to; suddenly became effortless as the synthesis of past experience unfolded into a new awakening.
Claddagh and Journey have given me a calmative understanding and awareness. I am conscious of all the ways I was wrong to Claddagh- and I refuse to repeat the pattern with Journey. Journey knows the spirit of Claddagh, they are married within me, and through that devotion our relationship shifts in dimensions. I become a better soul than I was before, and I can feel and see that happening.
It may sound strange- but I really don’t “miss” Claddagh. I continue to experience her every day through Journey because their personalities are so interconnected, there is no room for feeling loss. They are in no way replicas of one another, but they are very much “the same” and the comfort that comes from that is profound in my opinion.
I can compare it to having a few close friends in a place and then moving away and finding new friends who have certain quirks and traits that very akin to friends from the other place. Personality types are drawn to each other and it is a way that we find our “tribes.”
These days, my tribe is mainly my little fur family along with my Uncle and Gma. Every day the humans in my tribe get to see the value and vastness of animal personality and the way it adapts with us. When I am in the yard, and my animals follow me around, I feel like Snow White or something similar. They come when I call, they sing with me, they see me digging in the dirt and they want to help. If that isn’t Spiritual, or Magic- then I don’t know what is.
One of the most profound things to settle down in me through all this transition is facing one simple and “gross” thing- We have to deal with our shit. Not just personally, we have to deal with the shit of others- and the question is, how do we do that? No one wants to deal with shit, but it is a part of life, and if for some reason you don’t have to deal with shit on some level, there is a big problem because it is essential to eliminate waste. If we neglect that fact, things can get extra rancid.
I am cleaning up shit, every. Single. Day. More than once a day, for someone other than myself. And for a while, it would trigger a wave of deep anger and resentment.
“Why me? Why do I have to do this? I already have to clean up for myself.”
Well- I chose this path. Sometimes we choose paths because they appear to have the least resistance, but as we wander that path we realize it may reach a sort of “dead end” which really just means that we have to clear some things out of the way in order to proceed. You have to do the work, or wander around looking for another path… either way it is work and resource.
Journey came to me damaged, which means I need to use all of my knowledge and resources to assist in her healing. By doing so, I am reminded of my own depth of knowledge and it becomes easier to enact that knowing through action because I am driven to assist those who have a hard time assisting themselves- so brilliantly and obvious is this reflection of purpose in co-existence.
How blessed am I? Infinitely so in my humble opinion. A certain sense of joy is becoming alive inside of me that I haven’t felt in what seems like a millennium.
Social Media is an illusion. We trick ourselves into thinking we know one another. We are enticed by pictures and platitudes. (I’d like to do a podcast where I sardonically read inspirational memes.)
I am a person who has probably spent more time hating my physical body aesthetic than I have loved it. I want to, but I can’t see me, through your eyes. I can see myself in a million ways in a million lights, but when I look in a mirror my default has been ugly. For some reason, I am sure the feeling is mutual. You MUST see me the way I see myself- I can’t fathom it any other way.
When I see me, in a mirror- I see a Gollum. A grotesque manifestation of flesh attempting to masquerade as a human. This isn’t new- it is an ongoing saga.
I’ve had a couple of points in my adult life where I “grant permission” for photos. Most times I am caught off guard. With all this technology- I’ve attempted to take control of my image. It isn’t so much that I don’t want you to see them- it’s just that when I see them, I get really rough on myself- even though I know I shouldn’t… but as I get older, and even more celibate and single- I- I don’t even know. Perhaps I should peruse for a book to address these issues, or write one of my own… but I don’t want to- other things interest me more.
I’m thirty-eight, I’ve suffered the yo-yo weight- the meat versus vegetable debate. Yet no one can isolate the reason I always menstruate late beyond the common fate of erratic hormones. Yo- this blows- but I deal, cause I am real- and if no one else is willing to admit it, then I will admit it- I feel.
I want some angelic new deal, where the real me slips from my current skin. I want to see the reflection of within- in the without.
My daily mantra has become “I see the Angel within” in hopes that I manifest that reality.
This may sound crazy- but my spirit has set me free from human bondage in a sense that we obsess about so much that is meaningless. So daily my eyes are set on Spirit and the unseen control battle. Yet, I can not escape my reflection. I can only augment it, moment by moment while dealing with the torrents that come.