For BC/On Obsession

You're stuck in my mind, and I can't get you out.
I'm so sorry
But I alone know of your presence
and your influence upon me.
I drift through my day, customarily gesturing at others.
And you are with me, even though you are not.

In another world we are woven together.
we are new friends talking of books
we are old lovers tenuously reunited
we are bitter enemies in perfect misunderstanding
growth and progress and developments are made
I respect you
You respect me
caught in perpetual possibility

I long to strip this web from my sheltered self
and stretch it across my breast for all to see
its intricacies
its schema
the raw energy
the basics of me, the basis of me
a fatal flag to fly
baring uniqueness to this world

Why do you stay with me long after you're gone?
We have never met, and we may never be.
But chance fuels my odd faith
And the hope of reciprocated respect is my ambition

Strength

I have so much more of myself lying beneath my skin. Below my flesh lies a strength that has slept for eons. This strength is so much more than I can currently imagine--I'm not ready. For now it rests, awaiting a summon from a wiser version of myself.

I have not needed to summon its aid in so long. There has been a reign of peace for ages.
I fear the time to make the call may be nearing.

A Disturbing Dream

This morning I woke up feeling disconcerted.

I had a dream early this morning. I went to the store to buy a fish for dinner. The fish I chose happened to be one that I was supposed to keep alive in a tank until I was ready to cook it. Ok, deal. Well, the fish kept hopping out of the tank onto the floor. What a difficult fish. And this fish wasn't just any old dinner-sized fish, it was as large as a basketball, so it wasn't easy to heft it back into its tank each time it jumped out. Well, one of the times it jumped out, I couldn't get to it quickly so it was out of its tank for a long time.

It changed into a child and began to play.

Now, this being a dream, I didn't think it was anything too out of the ordinary. So I tossed it back in the tank, and it turned back into a fish. This seemed perfectly logical to do in my dream, and hey, it worked. Now if this wasn't odd enough, I proceeded to bake the fish. (WHAT THE FFFFF! I BAKED THE FISH PERSON!) I didn't actually eat the fish, though, because once it was done, I remembered that it had been different, so I decided to notify the company about it. (A little late for that!)

As I made my way to court regarding the fish person situation, the dream started to morph into something Harry Potter-related. Harry and Luna joined me as I was walking to the courtroom, and we were being escorted by policemen. We convinced Luna that she needed to slip away and tell the world about the fish people so others would be able to free them.

Once the rest of us made it to the courtroom, someone was already giving testimony regarding the fish people. A fish person was even present in the courtroom--a 30 year old fish person. "And I killed a fish child. What the hell is wrong with me," I finially thought in my dream. It only took me the whole damn dream to realize it.

Then I woke up never wanting to eat fish again.

*********

As near as I can figure, the dream was trying to tell me that I'm killing something wonderful that's trying to change and grow by doing what I think I'm supposed to do with it. And it's not phasing me. I'm going through the motions. I'm tossing it back in the tank then frying it up because that's what you do with a fish. The fish is my life. It's showing me what I'm doing to myself. Part of me has been trying to change and grow, but the rest of me keeps pushing it back into what I think I'm supposed to be doing. Stay at your job because it's secure; why bother changing when you already have a routine; don't take risks, you have a family to care for; don't sacrifice the little time you have to yourself; your hobbies are enough to explore yourself; everyone has a job. 

What disturbed me the most was my attitude during the dream. I know it was just a dream, but I BAKED A FISH THAT I KNEW WAS REALLY A PERSON, AND I DIDN'T CARE. I didn't care, I checked out of reality, I wasn't engaged, I didn't take action. I need to wake the hell up.

Yesterday I was talking with someone in an INFJ community who happened to be a non-conforming Crisis-Intervention Counselor--meaning she meets with clients outside of clinics at their homes, at coffee shops, etc. I've been contemplating the life coach/counselor road for a while, but I've been hesitant to go back to school for any type of counseling degree. I don't really want to be a counselor. I don't want to work with others who need therapy or drugs. I want to work with others who are a lot like how I was a few years ago when I knew I was ready to lose weight and get healthy--just going through the motions, but wanting to change something, and not knowing how. I managed to do it with the support of my few close friends and an online community, but some people aren't so resourceful.

I want to help others do whatever needs doing to get onto the track they want to be on. I guess that really does define the role of a life coach, now that I think about it. I just don't see myself as a "business professional" life coach, which is what I see all over the place when I try to research life coaching. I can't help clients who are trying to get into Fortune 500 companies in pressed suits because I know nothing of that kind of life. But I can help busy parents devise meal plans or guide their understanding of the emerging personality types in their children. Or I can help someone going through their mid-life crisis figure out what they really want out of life. I can help others through their transitions from one part of their life to another. I can help someone on the road to a better self-image while they get healthy and gain self-confidence. Most people don't need clinical therapy, just someone to lean on. Someone to listen. Someone to offer advice when its needed. Someone to push when you need pushing or to hold you when you don't want to fall. In an age of instant messaging, cell phones, and constant connection, many of us are more alone than ever. And we don't know what to do because no one's listening.

All the skills I enjoy have been leading up to this: eating healthy, cooking, exercising, organizing, personality typing, problem solving, learning on my own (autodidacticism), the way I gravitate to balance out others, and the ability I have to walk in their shoes. I can't stay here at this job forever. I'm not growing anymore. And I can't see myself holding some other dead-end job. I'm not going to up and quit since that would be foolish, but I need to take action at pursuing something that I feel good about. I need to actually apply some of the strategies I keep reading over and over again. I need to contact people who have done this before. I need their advice and guidance so I can apply it to my own situation. I need to get off the sidelines.

But I'm so scared of failure. Logically I know that staying inert is a thousand times worse than whatever minor failure I could encounter, but that doesn't stop my ego imp from making me feel scared to try anything: What makes you think you could give others good advice? You aren't smart enough to help others. You can't help them. Self-employment? That's a lot of work that you're too lazy to do. You'll give up--you have before.

Sorry this turned into a rant. I guess I needed to get some of this out of myself. It's not the first time. 

Meet Me Halfway

The Dream:

We were in a fairly busy food court. As I spoke with Thomas, Guy joined us and sat next to me. Why did he sit next to me, I thought to myself wildly. He's Thomas's right-hand man. It took everything I had not to gaze at him. I tried to act casually as I continued my conversation with his best friend and counterpart, but all of my attention--everything in my being--was focused on Guy. Possibly sensing this, the exchange with Thomas dwindled, and I soon found myself relatively alone with Guy. We seemed to have our own conversation simply by sitting next to one another. We had not touched or looked at one another directly, yet we both conveyed love and understanding. Inwardly I yearned to hear him speak to me--to ask me to see him again. Outwardly I busied myself with my phone. My ego began to chide. It denied that he'd even sensed my wishes. Ego lashed at me, "Why would he want to be with you? You're no one. He doesn't even know you exist. See how he has ignored you?" Instead of fear, I gave love to ego. Before ego could jibe again, he spoke:

"Can you meet me in Missouri?" He turned to me ever so slightly so I could see his profile.
"Hm?" I perked up, frozen, but elated that he asked me to meet him. Missouri? As in halfway to LA?
"Can you meet me halfway?" Ah, not halfway literally...

Can you meet me halfway? Of course I can! I didn't answer aloud. Instead I let my head fall to his shoulder. He wore a beat up brown leather jacket that felt like love. It was so comforting I snuggled into his arm. He snuggled a little himself as an acknowledgment of my answer. We still had not seen each others' eyes. There was no need. We sat there together with love, oblivious to the rest of the world.


The Reflection:

• I seem to be communicating more often in my dreams without speaking. Last night's dream was more of a conveyance with hope of reciprocation, which happened.
• My confidence in unconditional love is growing. I'm catching myself more before making negative comments or having negative thoughts. It's more congruous to re-frame a situation and avoid negativity. It's easier to feel love than hate. And I'm very happy to have feelings of unconditional love for the day because of a dream.
• My thoughts of Guy have changed since the pregnancy. I see him more as an equal to convey love to, instead of placing him above me. We are all equal, just different.
• Can you meet me halfway? Does this have meaning? Or was it just a device of the dream? I'll think on it today and see where it goes.

This Blog's Purpose

When I began this writing blog a few years ago, I wasn't sure what I intended to find. Was I looking for myself? Was I looking for answers? Was I looking for other people who felt the same way? Did I want to help others to understand themselves? I assumed if I put several focused thoughts in one place, that they would somehow manifest an answer that I didn't know I was looking for. Pretty vague, eh? It's easy to see now that I wasn't specific in my request, so of course I wasn't going to get a specific answer. As of two years after the blog started, I do not have one follower or even a comment. I'm aware of only two people who have ever read an entry, and I didn't even receive a confirmation of what they may have read or thought of the blog.

To put it plainly, this blog is a hot mess.

I now have a better understanding of manifestation, so instead of throwing thoughts to the universe, I need to have a goal visualized.

Passion Without Attachment

What does that mean? A love for music without judgment? Helping others with no expectations? Creativity without concern of outcome? It means I must accept everything as a potential muse and not become reliant on one thing. I must love and appreciate everything.

But, oh, the daydreams I've had! They are so wonderful, yet terrible. I suppose they are a byproduct of fear. Fear of pursuing dreams. Attachment to a symbol and perceived identity. (Although I did run into an odd synchronicity between a portion of the daydream and real life. I'll keep it in mind.)

Focus: Be thankful for what I have. I have beautiful music that fills me with energy. Will I ever see them live? If I don't, it won't lessen my enjoyment of the music. I can always see them in my dreams. Will I ever meet them in person? They have their own lives, as do I. They have their own path just like I do. If our paths happen to intersect, wonderful. If not, rejoice in their journey.

Keeping Perspective

Time to back up again. Take it easy. The music isn't going anywhere. Breathe.

I feel like I need the music to fuel something. I need it to do something. I feel *driven*. Steve Pavlina asked yesterday, "Is your music still in you?" I know mine is. What can I share? What would others appreciate from me? What do they need me to do for them? All I can muster right now is dancing/rocking my heart out as I drive, cook, bake, and play Star Trek. This relieves tension in the short-term, but it's not enough.

I wrote some poetry the other day, which I really enjoyed. (I've always enjoyed the creation process for writing.) And for once I'm not ashamed of it in any way because it came from my heart. It was genuine. I felt it quite deeply. It's not perfect, but would I like it if it was?

Should I be writing? ...Should I write about what I feel inspired by? If only I could travel and be inspired to write and share this with others. It's such a fantasy; my writing could use a lot of work to boot. The beauty of writing is that you can write about anything your heart wishes. I'm just not sure how I would share that with others.

Ah, I already wrote a much better post about why I like to write. So what am I waiting for?

Need to Let Go...Again

Boy, did I get upset yesterday over nothing. Thankfully, an article I read this morning gave me the perspective I needed to regain-- "The Illusion of Need". I let my happiness be determined by the outcome of something I have no control over. For a short while I was even worried that I had been ignoring problems when the truth is that I was inventing problems to worry about! I became stuck on something that I had no control over instead of concerning myself with what I can definitely control: my attitude.

Focus: I will remember to enjoy the moment that I am in. I will pour my passion into creativity and exploration. I will be present and let go of the attachment of how things need to look. When an outcome does not go as planned, I will not suffer. I will face the unknown with love because there is nothing to fear.

To Remember Love and Light

For a while now I've been reading many articles by Erin Pavlina. Recently, several of her articles as well as other experiences I've been having have all just clicked. I can relate to a lot of what she has written, and I find myself inspired and validated by her blog. We are here to learn, grow, and experience. We are all connected. We are all part of the same whole. When we die, we return home to the rest of our higher self (yay!). Memories are hidden from us behind a barrier while we are here. (It's normal, not malicious.) I've always felt the gravity of good and evil and desired to help good control balance.

I know that I am here to help others remember. Remember love. When I was an adolescent, on what I thought was a lark, I remember thinking that I was put here "to help others know love." Periodically I've thought about that, always feeling differently about it. At first I thought it was romantic love (teenagers, sigh) which lead me to desire--after a horrible break up--shutting myself away in a box so that I might never hurt anyone again. I fell into such a deep depression that it took me a while to let myself be loved after that. My self-esteem was shattered, and I felt lower than the lowest living thing possible. I fell into a rebound relationship thinking I was ready to be loved again by someone who seemed knowledgeable on matters of the spirit, but I almost went too far with the relationship. I almost walked willingly off a cliff into the arms of something negative and undesirable. During that relationship, I found the soul I had really been looking for, and it turns out I had known him for years.

That experience opened my eyes to many memories that I'd been looking for. Those memories and my purpose had been seeping through to me for years, but I had brushed much of it off discounting its relevance. It's even taken me over six years to prepare myself to discover my true purpose. I had to raise my state of consciousness to better reconcile the information I remembered. I used to feel worried, isolated, even arrogant and self-righteous at times because I remembered memories from a past life.

Now I know that it's more important than ever to love unconditionally. It's what I've chosen before, and I want to do it again. Even if I can only reach one person the rest of my life, I want to help them remember the love that is with them. It will be a slow process as I'm not sure yet how I will reach people, but I am confident that I can live my outer life congruently with my inner life.

Focus: I vow to do my best to love unconditionally and live consciously. I resolve to forgive myself and others for mistakes and continue to share love and postive energy. We are all here to learn and grow, and I will do what I can to live up to my potential and help others to do the same as they walk their own paths.

Letting Go

I find it is becoming easier to let go. Over the past few weeks I've begun to exclude many non-important activities in favor of more fulfilling pursuits. My routines are far from perfect, but I've felt much more congruent internally than I have compared to the past few months. Lately I've rediscovered the benefits of knitting, painting, music, imagination, listening, and just feeling.

The biggest distraction I'm working on letting go of is distraction itself. Meditation is coming along slowly, but I'm gaining good experiences from it. At the moment it's more of a weekly rather than daily practice. My meditations seem to leave me with questions rather than peace and clarity. I appreciate it as I enjoy the focus it gives me. (My days seem to be riddled with poor focus or a lack of focus altogether.) Hopefully one day my sessions will leave me with a few answers instead.

Last night's meditation took me up a hill in a forest (I always try to travel up in some way). There was a familiar dirt path that lead me towards the cottage. As I walked it, a small flickering light caught my eye off to my left. I walked over to it and discovered a small, amber-colored stone. When I picked it up, somehow I knew it needed to be cleaned, so I rubbed it. As I rubbed and polished it, I felt a bright sensation in my forehead. It took some time to clean it up, but afterward I felt better. By the time this was done, I was starting to lose my focus and felt tired. Right before I made it to the cottage, I sensed the woman with me. She told me it was ok to go to sleep. I would be able to come back later when I was ready.

Many of my meditations end that way: "You can come back when you're ready." It's not negative, though; it's conveyed with love and patience. I guess it's hard work getting ready to listen, eh?

A Content Explantion of Past Foresight

What have I done?

The avenue I chose was admittedly tragic in every sense of the word. It was the swiftest, most ironic opportunity that I possibly could have seized. Why? Well, what would you have done with evil in one hand and death in the other? Death was the lesser of two evils. I would have died anyway bearing what I carried. My will would not have withstood bringing such a thing into being. I am sorry to have caused you grief. It's no one's fault that it happened. If it's any consolation, I felt safe in your arms before I left.

I chose where I stood, therefore I chose where I fell. I made a sacrifice to prevent a dangerous outcome. It was time to move on—time to wait. When this memory came back to me so long after, I can attest that I felt comforted and relieved.

I can still feel you, even so far away.

Originally posted Decmeber 16, 2008, edited and re-posted November 13, 2009.

Religion

• More and more I realize that it doesn't matter what religion you follow because we are all on our own paths. I no longer feel any distance or resentment towards others based on their beliefs.
• I do not look down on others for their values.
  
• I accept that others do not have the same opinions as me, and that it's ok for them to have said opinions. (Sometimes I become too rooted in what I believe and feel hostile or defensive because of another's opinion, but then I step back and realize that they are entitled to their own opinion.)

Coming Together Again

Periodically, several occurrences will all point in a similar direction (aka synchronicities). They are signs. They may indicate what to focus on, which way to go, or an answer to a question (whether consciously asked or not). Here are a few recent signs I've had:

Firstly, to my surprise, before today I knew little about Carl Jung. Most of what I knew was related to his work with personality archetypes, which were later used in developing the MBTI. Yesterday Jung's Liber Novus (The New Book) was published as The Red Book, as he so often referred to it. I'm quite interested in reading it, as it reveals a side of Jung that I was not aware of--he believed that spirituality was essential to life.

Jung's work on himself and his patients convinced him that life has a spiritual purpose beyond material goals. Our main task, he believed, is to discover and fulfill our deep innate potential, much as the acorn contains the potential to become the oak, or the caterpillar to become the butterfly. Based on his study of Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, Gnosticism, Taoism, and other traditions, Jung perceived that this journey of transformation, which he called individuation, is at the mystical heart of all religions. It is a journey to meet the self and at the same time to meet the Divine. Unlike Sigmund Freud, Jung thought spiritual experience was essential to our well-being. Crowley, Vivianne (2000)

I agree with this vision wholeheartedly. It's interesting that Jung came to this conclusion in much the same way I did. For the past few years I've studied various religions first with the curiosity of obtaining knowledge and understanding others, but now with the intent of self-growth on my own spiritual path. The wisdom gleaned by others on their own paths may be helpful to me in developing my own. I research and plan to the best of my abilities in every day matters, so why should I not employ the same methods in my spirituality?

Secondly, but also related to Jung, I've started pondering meditation again (inspired by a random encounter to Erin Pavlina's website last week). And I see that Jung developed a method he called active imagination. It involves allowing emotions and unconscious feelings to play out as a narrative or their own entities, while you simply observe and respond rather than try to influence the unconscious. He believed this method to be a bridge between the conscious and unconscious. I intend to research more about it.

Thirdly, this morning one of my Care2 newsletter articles was called Breaking with Tradition. It discussed the pros and cons of traditional behaviors, but challenged their necessity in self-growth due to the stagnant nature of tradition. Tradition is secure and comfortable, but self-growth is all about pushing your limits and evolving, not following what someone else has already done.

Lastly, I've been helping a dear friend this past week, and it has led me to play a role I've never had to play. I have a unique perspective, and I sincerely wish her to heal and grow from the situation she's enduring. It's not every day a loved one goes through a crisis, and it's in those times that we rise to fulfill many of our potentials.

What do all these signs point to? It sounds silly, but I now realize that it's ok to make my own path, even though I've been walking down it for a while already. I've been doubtful the past few years in whether I should try to find clues from others or decide how I will walk to the end. I guess you could say I've been walking my path, but looking over at others as they walk their own, wondering if mine should look anything like theirs. I now realize that it's an unnecessary comparison. Years ago I decided I'd go my own way, but lately I've been looking for a reaffirmation of sorts. This was it.

The skeptic in you could argue that chances for growth are around constantly, so why am I choosing now to see signs of it? Well, that's why I am on my path and you are on yours. :)

My World

Currently my world is anxious. I feel hesitant to move a muscle. The delicate web would shake and wake a terrible beast that I loathe to disturb. I must wake it and deal with its actions or a worse monster will appear in time.

I want to unplug. I want to read, dream, bake, and create. I want to make others happy and hurt no one. I do not want to cause conflict. Balance says I can't have joy without pain, though. And so I consider: Do I have the confidence to fix the world?

The Beliefs of Others

So what do I make of it? Hearing someone's beliefs? It's been so long since anyone asked me how spiritual I was and whether or not I was "on the same page." It doesn't matter if I'm on the same page, though. We're all on our own journey.

It is interesting to hear what others believe. Secretly I do want to share mine with others, but as always, it's a bad idea for me to wear my heart on my sleeve. Inevitably I get burned. I'm scared of being laughed at, rejected, or even worse, ignored. If only humanity felt as I do. As I long to be understood, how much do I understand?

What drives me to understanding?

Passions

The "guilty pleasures" I indulge in fulfill or express a part of myself that I don't otherwise give in to much. The best example I can give is my love of Christopher Hall's band "The Dreaming." His music is decidely emo and full of lyrics that ache for love. While I don't empathize with most of the lyrics (anymore), I enjoy the music and emotion that he puts into the music. His energy and sincerity is what I really enjoy. Each word he sings is genuine, and I saw it plain as day on his face when I met him.

Christopher Hall and Trent Reznor are struck from a similar mold. They are truly passionate about what they do. As a fan, I enjoy the intricacies of their music and songs. I even find it cathartic to sing along, but in the end, it's their life. This raises a question that I've danced around for years: What am I passionate about?

Passion: a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything: a passion for music. (What an appropriate example.)

Now, understanding that passion is exemplified through an enthusiasm and desire for something, it is assumed that I might be passionate about the activities I enjoy the most depending on how strongly I feel for them. While I love music, and it is often the bridge of my comparisons, it does not fill my every waking thought. Musicians eat, sleep, and breath music. I simply enjoy it.

The definition of passion does claim "anything" as the object of passion. The question could also be posed as: What do I desire?

That question is one that I can answer:

I desire mental states and activities which put me closer to fully understanding my potential and purpose. I desire understanding and wisdom. The activities that aid me in this desire include: self-improvement, listening, learning, guiding others.

It may make me sound a little like a tree-hugging hippie, but I really do feel this way in my heart. Simply, I want to understand and be understood, and in turn help others to do the same. I want to help them understand where they come from, where they belong, and where they are going. Without the journey, it would all be meaningless. I want to be a guide.

To Remember

Even after dawn the memories pull at me--a dream deferred. Their cloudy images have lost description and purpose, but the feelings linger. Determination, terror, sacrifice, unconditional love. Love. Words cannot do justice to that love. I was born to love. I killed and was killed for that love.

What do these memories mean to me? They feel like a security blanket, a beacon. An old friend. An aspiration. A hole, a wound, a tugging string. A soft wind, a blade of grass, calm water, the warmest touch. Harsh blades, harsher words, unjust intentions. They are balance. They are a world forgotten, yet they are a part of everything.

What was is now gone. What will be has been written.

Some feelings cannot be shared. I cannot express the longing I feel to be complete again and understand the past.

A Dream/On Love

He held me close, as a friend. Each of us needed comfort and support. We knew our faults and graces, no need to deceive. He knew my heart and I his. I wanted to know him forever.

Not of the deepest love, but closer than what exists now. Hands have not forgotten what time has sundered. I see his eyes.

In the madness he held me. Nothing else mattered.

~~~~

This came from a dream about someone I want to know. Upon review it also fits someone I *do* know. The only difference is love. The one I know has my deepest love. That love is my foundation. But should love be subjected to partiality? Although we may love differently, love is still love.

That deepest love may extend to all. Do I not fight for its existence?

Nostalgia or Preparation?

I feel as if I'll drop a thought if I don't write something this morning. I feel antsy, just like most mornings.

I've been thinking about the past (when am I not?). Today specifically I've been listening to some old, nostalgic music. Thinking about what it meant to me years ago; comparing it to what it means to me now. Memories flow through more current thoughts, relating values and lost feelings.

So many songs:
The first cd I bought of my own volition, even though others I valued didn't care for it. The songs that make me think of old friends now lost or gone away. Ex-lovers. The voices I swooned over and cried for. The words I still remember--repeating them now reminds me not only of my own growth and change, but of the world's changing landscape. I'm not one of the kids anymore.

More often now I realize that I'm not as overly-nostalgic as I thought I was. I don't run around in reverse, I have blinders on. I see little but that which lies ahead of me. Reflection is necessary to understand what will come. The future is endless and finite. While I do dwell on events from the past, it's from a desire to understand what must happen. How does it fit together?

Home is such a small world, and it is so far away...

As far back as I can remember, I've always been fascinated with a small cottage in the middle of a forest. There is ivy on the whitewashed walls. It's small, maybe two or three rooms at most. Nearby a quiet lake waits for skipping rocks and reflection. Some of the details escape me, but the feeling survives. The whole scene gives me the sense that I'm safe, I'm home. Nothing can harm me there, and I can stay there forever. I have yet to see inside the small abode, but I know I've been there before. I would take a trip there, but there is a problem:

It now only exists in my mind.

This is the home I've always dreamed of--the home I used to live in.