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
There is a feeling the feelers, feel as they stumble forward while standing still- being blown by the unseen wind.
You can only find two ways and, ultimately, neither is it. Only the third way is but the third way is the only way that you cannot search to find, it can only find you. Then, being shrewd, you pick up on this secret and you begin to look for a way to be found… hence, one of the two ways creep up in disguise… so then you notice your own hack and cheat and just stand there in a now oblivious space, feeling nothing much but fear… You got no ways, no plans… nothing you devise does anything (but the opposite, as it seems)… and that which you want, you don’t know when, how or if at all it will ever grace you. You don’t know when, how or if ever the third way will find you … then you start to think about the third way.. what is…
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I’ve walked. I’ve hummed… and I have let nature take its course.
Another lovely sonic story time collaboration! Enjoy!
Alessandro Muresu –
You can explore my other audio recordings of various length and content at the links below-