Polarity and Me

Some times I have to talk, out loud, about the state of polarity in the world and this seems like a good time to do it.

There is a Matrix inspired concept of being “Red Pilled” ( you go down the rabbit hole) or “Blue Pilled” ( you live a superficial life and avoid the rabbit holes at all cost.)

I feel born “Red Pilled.”

I am at a point in my life, where even if I wanted to, I could never conform to the norm.  I would risk death by being myself, and I’m not even that controversial.  I think I am pretty logical about stuff, but I also have a strong spiritual foundation which influences my perception; I would say for the better.

Everyday people are being offered the red pill or the blue pill.  Everyday someone takes the red pill.  Every day several choose to keep taking the blue pill.   The concept of perception changing, willingly is scary.   It’s like choosing to take a drug that will alter your perception.  It’s one thing to get drugged without consent, it is a whole different thing to accept the unknown and ride out the journey, wherever it may lead.

I don’t want to be on social media, but I keep having to reconcile the fact that I am not “allowed” to leave yet.  I don’t make big marks because that isn’t the point.   I am the epicenter of an undetermined radius of beings that pick up on my electric fluctuation, in turn I feel their and we create a harmonization of frequency over time and space that levels the so called “physical playing field.”

The major resonance that exists world wide is vastly different then the mood or feeling that the MSM gives you.  It isn’t even close to the maps and charts dictated by polls, or analytics because the frequency being judged on a higher level, has mostly to do with the state of the mind, heart and intention plus follow through.

It also has a lot to do with our misconceptions of love and acceptance and how we play that out in the “real world.”

In my observation, most people will not take the red pill because it will flip everything on it’s head, just like Alice flipped down the White Rabbit hole.   It will flip definitions, perceptions and relations to the commonly accepted flow of expectation.

What I can tell you for truth, is that anyone who is drastically polarized enough to be consider “Far______” have taken the Blue Pill and continue to.

Those who have taken the Red Pill will speak through the levels of mourning.  They made a decision that would change their lives forever and lose normalcy as they know it.  They won’t want to celebrate holidays.  They won’t want to buy luxury vehicles or frivolous things.

Red Pillers want to pair it down.  Simplify, and try and extract themselves because the reality of the construct is so disgusting that it becomes hard to deal with.  Relationships become harder to maintain because it becomes near impossible to find common ground.  There is no more keeping up with the Jones’.  No more waiting in lines for new releases and Apple Products.

Red Pill makes you want to just get by until you die.  Do what you can for those living while you are alive.  Red Pill makes you attuned to the spiritual battle when once you may have denied there could be such a level of existence.

My whole early life was a push-me/pull-you of drive.  And I feel so blessed to have pulverized my dreams in the ways of my youth.   I am invigorated by the fact that I have deprogrammed myself into a point where nothing of this world is enough to stumble forward, toward.  That may sound cryptic, but it isn’t.  I have a freedom I can’t articulate, and most can’t comprehend.

Is there laundry in the afterlife?

I don’t know.  And even though I hope not, if there is, I bet it smells even better than Earth Laundry.

What I want you to know, is that polarization is a choice, but that choice is perpetuated by perception.  When you no longer wish to be in that polarization, you will find anyway you can to disrupt it and escape it.  “IT” will always try to pull you back in, but it becomes harder to slip into once you align your mind with your heart and use your will as a backbone.

My hope for my periphery is that they are able to sift and sweep through the bullshit, in order to see what games are at play within this matrix; then be moved to remove them piece by piece individually by expanding their movement beyond their perceived physical reality.

We live in a world of infinite energy.  Seriously.  We keep making, and the Universe keeps providing while we tell ourselves that we are in lack and the world is over populated.

It simply isn’t true.  But it’s the modern dialectic.  It’s true in subsections, elevated to exposure to posture the plight of the underdog, passing penance placed to those who claim to capitulate care.

Continuing the polarization of people.  Struggling to live, find balance and a leg to stand on.  Pulling apart partners who praise all but one thing.  Serving a conflict with reaction as a side and Solution as Dessert.

Placating those who know better by offering few options in a limitless World.

 

My Best Friend: Unsettled Awareness

I went for a walk today, obviously sans dog.  And something happened in my brain that I haven’t experienced in the decade I had walked with Claddagh.  I became aware of what other people may think about me, as I walk along, alone.

When I had Claddagh, our walks were interactive.  It was just her and me in the world.  I have no thoughts to the perceptions of the individuals passing me in cars.  They only existed as obstacles in crossing the road, completely depersonalized inside their automobiles.

Occasionally someone might hoot out at me, grabbing my attention but mostly I would choose routes of alleyways and side streets without much traffic.

It’s a pretty straight shot along a busy road to walk for a pack of smokes.   Dog-less the short trip is mind-numbing.   I feel the cars pass, and I become extra aware of the expression on my face, my posture, and gait.   I’m in this thought and I avoid eye contact with drivers.  I think about this solo jaunt and I’m sad and lonely.  I am sure my face has that “melancholy far off look.”

Each and every normal thing that I do, for the first time, again- without my friend, I make note of.

“This is the first time I have put gas in my car without Claddagh.”

“This is the first time I am popping into Goodwill, real quick, without Claddagh.”

“This is the first time I am going through a Chick-fil-A drive through without Claddagh.  No one told me how cute she is and if she would like a dog treat.”

“This is the first time I am walking around downtown without Claddagh, and no one strikes up a conversation about her.”

This new internal narration doesn’t make a good movie. I am having a new conversation by myself with the world around me, and I am the only one who knows the inside jokes.

I was barked at by a squirrel for a good five minutes today.  Claddagh would have been amused.

When Claddagh and I would walk, I would try and see the world through her eyes and engage in that way.  The only time I would suspend this reality, would be on “athletic” jaunts where I would want to keep a steady pace and an elevated heart rate; other than that we would be as lackadaisical or as excited as she wanted to be while trying to maintain a lead that wouldn’t choke her.

It was only in the last year or so, that she was beginning to walk on a leash like a well-paced partner, no pulling forward for the lead. I was really starting to appreciate that shift in her maturity, but now I just think it may have been a side effect of her heart tumor.

If you are ever deciding to get a dog, get one that is young at heart and really foster that personality trait.  Much like people, they may age into later years and be mistaken for younger because of the youthful and playful nature they exude.  That is precious energy to embody or be surrounded in.

Madge Midgely e Alessandro Muresu: Fct 1&2

Alessandro Muresu's avatar-my lost tapes

Sono molto contento di quanto ho compiuto oggi. Sul mio canale YouTube ho caricato i due tronconi che costituiscono una lunga traccia che Mandie mi ha inviato pochi giorni fa e alla quale ho lavorato immediatamente, chiudendo le incisioni nel giro di un giorno solo. Non ho ancora finito di ringraziarla, sia per il prezioso contenuto di quella mezz’ora circa di intensa notturna immersione nella natura dei rapporti, con un telefono a fare da medium mentre attorno si sloga un traffico dal lento respiro che sembra procedere ad occhi chiusi, sia per apparire fra le mie collaborazioni ed ospitarmi fra le sue. Anche per chi conosce poco la lingua inglese, diventa emozionante seguire le inflessioni della sua voce che varia con l’intensità del racconto e delle considerazioni. Ma non sarà difficile capire il senso. Mi ha subito impressionato la potenza di quei pensieri e anche il modo pulito e schietto…

View original post 140 more words

#SimplePoem3

If I am to take you at face value for the work done under a different lens, then I’d agree whole heartedly

I’ve yet to have conflicts with the space of your spirit and it’s astute ability to gain such levity and perspective

It was just a few years ago I began my personal triad on the elements and ideas of layers but no one wanted to listen

Suddenly I understood it all to a new degree, after a dream, or a vision

My excitement couldn’t be contained, so I spilled over this fervor onto the lives of others and they pleasantly asked for a napkin at first….

The second time was beyond inconvenient; I’m not sure if the third was the worst or just a curse~

We haven’t talked much since and I wonder if I stained their perspective?  Should I request a cleaning bill?

I sat with Swedenborg on a swing, in a park after dark so that we could share a distant perspective over 3000 years under stars that only seem to shift by season.

I pushed forward in my wondering, in regard to worlds he knew better than me, before he interjected and said that “I already know.”

Not even “knew.”  Know.

“No” was exactly my conditioned response.

How could I possibly ever know, or knew…

And then I saw the layers of my beingness laid out liked embroidery rings of various sizes, inside and out like stacked Russian Dolls.

One inside the other with plenty of wiggle room.

Tonight every cell is full of love from top to bottom. Radiating from in to out.

The First One layer is always sending that intention. The time has come for us to let that knowing be- Our being.

I will set my radius as far as Spirit or Heaven will allow.

#SimplePoem 2

I wish there was an “OFF” switch for feeling

Or a big  red button saying “REBOOT”

because I see- I am you, and I know those bruises but we feel complete with commiseration.

If I could find this proverbial fuse box, I’d break it; I might even rearrange the settings

Tamper with the electricity that powers this frequency that looks to destruct through connected unavailability

Here is me, silently okay in a quiet and dark corner avoiding the horrors we choose to ignore

But what do I know?

We can’t live with this dissonance if we ever have a hope or a chance for something better, because the weather is shifting, and most find themselves unprepared.

Hearts are shifting into definitions that have little relation into the articulation of the station in situations.

So what do we do when we are asked to respect old grooves while carving new corners?  There are many among us and not one of us was given a solid tome to reflect on. No book for “Modern Day Manual of Spirit, (For Dummies)”

But we die every day looking into the faces we may see in our proximity.   And the pain is so palatable sometimes we are unable to find remedy.  But we seek it.  Mr. or Ms. Fix-It, on the corner.

Today my eyes were opened wide on a past I had, because of the current situations of an old friend, and it required deeper introspection.

I’m floored.  I’d say more but I don’t need your questions to implore these newfound breaches of the innocent by their own accord.

Here is where I settle the score.  All IS FORGIVEN. I will keep living, and if my meek voice isn’t heard it will resound in a ROAR.

Until then I will stay in safe places around faces who pose no threat, because the best and worst yet, are to come.

 

#SimplePoem

I’d trade in all this tobacco for a wide green pasture planted with plants that meet my pleasure.

I’d cast off this cyber connection if it led to the lesson of real interconnection.

I know I can go to the earth and immerse, but while I am human I love to converse,

plants are quite peaceful and abundant in knowing, I know that us humans continue to grow and I want to be a little water.

I want to redirect the sun.

I want to speak sweetly as the seed has just begun to grow.

I want to show what I know with a peaceful hand.

I’d trade all these advertisements for one real conversation about something that doesn’t rely on superficial reactions

So, I will keep sewing, quietly toiling while minds keep wandering to pointless places

I have a love, I wouldn’t trade, no matter time or day

Take it or leave it, I haven’t put an expiration date on it… but that doesn’t mean that it has a shelf life beyond me.

I don’t work in guarantees.

I offer what I can, while I can, relinquishing my hold on what I think I am

I work for Creation, because in lonely days that is the singular satisfaction I find to encompass everything we blind ourselves toward.

Focus on the seeds of being that are ready to burst free with life and living.

 

 

A Kittery Tale: Catoon 1- Tailer Trailer

“She was a kitten born in a sketchy trailer park; adopted by a kind old neighbor on the brink of death. 

She had the survival skills of an ally cat and dreams of loving comfort, a place and person to call her own.  A person she could trust… and rely on… for a life time.

This cat would transcend time and space to find the perfect place to land… in Dimension 18.  

Little did the humans know, the cats were grouping again after nearly a catillion years.  Within their own ranks and factions, a night fight was brewing with intensity and the expanding breeding program appeared to be out of control.

Quantum was sent as One in a team of Nine to right the balance of nature and protect the dimension.   As a Siamese Ragdoll she was congenial unless provoked by  prey or a distinctive enemy.  Quantum was hell bent on the kill, but more than that, she is intent on saving Dimension 18.

Can Nine cats, with nine lives save the 18th Dimension?  If Quantum has a choice, Dimension 18 will exist forever, and she will walk into infinity with all nine lives and all nine companions… The Human included.” 

( so if I get around to this I might make a rough comic… but I just like the idea of it as a movie trailer for a comic.)

My Best Friend: 2 Days and 22 Hours

It is almost one month since I put Claddagh down.

That phrase is so gross to me; “Put them down.”

My dog was already a submissive… she was “put down” in many ways in her early life.  I am still disgusted at it all.

But, you know what?  I will only talk about it here.  I bombarded FB for the first two weeks with my pain… and now in modern decorum I will pretend it doesn’t rip me apart on the inside.  Oh, geez, am I following the steps of my forefathers, who chose to sweep inconvenient truths under the proverbial rug?

People don’t know how to mourn, these days.  Our fast paced society urges us to “get over it and move on” as quickly as possible.  We treat ourselves like processed food with defined expiration dates that serve as suggestions.  You might be cool eating an out of date yogurt at your own house, but if a host of some other house offers the same thing, you cringe.

“Keep it in house.”

See, I don’t feel like I am allowed to mourn my dog companion for more than a couple of weeks.  It isn’t allowed to break me, because their life expectancy is so much shorter than ours, and I should have known better.

I don’t feel like I can allow Claddagh to be the portal in which my previous pain, loss and suffering is filtered through.  I just don’t feel like I have permission to fully feel, even though people say “take your time” and “feel it fully.”

I don’t feel permission because I am always trying to integrate and get along, and no one likes a Debby Downer, or a Miserable Mandie.  I don’t feel permission because the extent of the pain is mine, alone to bare.

After day three, I told myself, “You HAVE to stop crying.  You HAVE to buck up.  No one cares as much as you do about it, and no one wants to hear about it.”

If you make it a mantra, I guess it makes it easier to adhere to, just through repetition.

If left to my own devices, I look out the door and say “All I really want is my dog.”  And I imagine what that looks like, only to further upset the state of my heart.

Honestly, I don’t care if I upset you if I end up crying in reminiscence of my dog; but because I am empathetic, and I know you don’t want to hear it, I will self censor.  I am not looking for your pity or sympathy…. I know you don’t know exactly what to say and it may be uncomfortable for you, that every topic you excavate leads back to me and my dog.

I am sure it is annoying, or at least uncomfortable.

I’m sorry, but I’m not.

I suppose if you don’t know what to do in the awkwardness, just smile.  Know that I experienced a facet of love in life that I would have otherwise avoided, and that in and of itself, is bound to make me a better person in the long run.

I know she wasn’t as interesting to you, as she was meaningful and profound to me, and that is okay… but try not to sweep her memory away in your urgency to bring me back to whatever you feel is your self perceived center.  I will take my time, and I require no rush on your end, for it will not bring any benefit.

She was “my girl”, ya know?  I don’t even know if I am allowed to use the same distinct whistle if I find a new dog friend… I feel bad for chiding my cats with her same belly rub rhyme.   Things are flowing into each other with my other animal friends,  where it once was distinct and individual.

And I liked that, ya know?  When her whistle was our whistle and not like any of the other whistles that were common for the other animals we mutually knew.

I kinda wish I got a Chilton manual on how to deal with this,or a “When your Dog Dies for Dummies” book,  even though I know, internally all I need to know.

Life cycles are beautiful, until you see the shame in loss.  My dog should have lived forever… I mean, that is how I feel. I never thought about getting another one, even though at times I thought about re-homing her due to my own personality flaws.

I’m looking at rescue dogs, trying to find a face I recognize.  Not Claddaghs’ face, per say… just a face that feels familiar in the rustic part of my being that is perfectly adapted to animal companionship.  I know it will happen when it is meant to… if it is meant to.

No worries here.  I just miss her so damn much and rightly so.

 

Love Letter

The magnetic specter of our dance is gratifying in its own way.  The ebbs and flows, the way it goes carving-marking along the way. Deeper than ditches run, farther than a tumble weed could tumble, we fade into each other and the landscape.

When time is timeless what does time mean?  Perhaps a momentary infinity of you and me on this hypothetical horizon, watching the shades fade from hue to hue. Darkened silhouettes along the terrain, enveloped in some other domain existent but far between.

Specks in the dust, they say

Each meaningful and yet inconsequential in their own way

Working the wheel.

Beating the drum.

Reading the same script, over and over again

“You play this role, and I will play that.”

Expectations, at times hum-drum because you know you’ve played and acted these roles before, whether hero or villain you are familiar with the score.

Dum-ditty-dum-ditty-dum-Dum-ditty-Dum

The pipers come piping, the drummers do drum. The hamsters keeps spinning,  song after song.

So what?  In mixture of this intoxication in our physical being- how can we sequester such feeling? I cop it up to hormones, emotions and dealing. Avoiding the meaning it plays on some higher reality. You have yet to play the lover or the beloved.

The world at my fingertips, hair on end as I keep feeling this world, again and again.

I can be the gyroscope, and if you can hold a steady plane. Let me spin inside your skin until our souls touch again. In some perfect balance of day and night, taking flight to higher heights than either has ever known. Sew yourself within me- carefully.

Together we can be stronger than before, a united front of protection in this mundane place of normality. We would be allowed to dream bigger dreams. See ourselves as champions.

I can share with you my secrets of the cosmos- my ever evolving mind.  This heart holds divine space for you, there has always been a place for you in the core of my cerebellum, telling me to move muscles and sinew forward until the crux of time and space collide.  The horizon simplified, no longer lingering in hypothetical realms or parallel dimensions.

Our compartmentalization of feeling somehow becoming null and void?

Not under my watch.

Collision only means more unseen potential

 

My Best Friend: Just When I Was Getting Comfortable

I felt sick as a dog on the night of September 11th.  I was waking up hourly to empty my liquid bowels.  Standing up made me nauseous and I was afraid I was going to shit down my own legs.  I figured maybe it was one of the eggs I put into my dinner omelet.

The cats weren’t helping.  They wanted to lay on my stomach, causing me more discomfort.  I just wanted to sleep it off.

The 11th rolled into the 12, and I tried to go about my normal routine, but I wasn’t feeling normal at all.  My uncle came over to help out my grandma and I tried to sleep the day away, but was reawakened every hour or two by demanding felines.

I slipped in and out of dream space.

The woman accuses me of being an escort because I have a stack of cash.  I tell her I just sold my truck.  She also accuses me of having fake “air inflated” breasts.  I tell her that “that isn’t at all true.  I got fat and lost some weight and now I have stretch marks.”

Other strange thoughts invade my mind as I toss and turn.

I just don’t want to feel this way anymore.  I just want to sleep for 24 hours straight.  I just want to be taken care of because I don’t have the energy right now to care at all. 

I wake up early on September 13th.  I go to my Facebook feed.  There she is in my memories.  My fur buddy’s 10th Doggaversary.  Today would have been our 11th.

See just when I was settling into the idea that I no longer have to fill her water and food bowls, I am reminded of how far we went, and how close we came to 11.  I think about how, we would celebrate together since my birthday is so close to the day we found each other.

I realize, it wasn’t the eggs that made me sick; it was knowing that I would have to wake up on the 13th and deal with a new slew of emotions.  And that settling into emotions is much like the settling of sand which can be moved by a breeze, or a wash of water, dried out by the sun and stepped on, only to be encrusted into the indentations of some passerby’s shoes and transported to places unseen.

I’d like to not have to do anything for a while, so that I can just sleep if I want to sleep and dream these weird dreams, hoping we eventually reunite in that dreamspace for a little bit.  And, see I know I can’t tarry there long, but I would still like the opportunity, nonetheless.

 

A portal of inner exploration