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First of the time series of archmeds.

Archtype: “Not getting enough done because I don’t have enough time.” Modified somewhat by whatever Inner Guide thinks is best, a standing permission.

He appears as a human and there is something ‘off kilter’ but I can’t see it. I ask him to take a form that makes any energies I need to ‘interact with and resolve’ more obvious. He vanishes and then reappears as the same guy except all mixed up. His foot is on top of his head. His leg is hanging over that. One of his arms is stuck through his torso. You get the idea. “Rather like the chaos of legion,” I say to him, and I take him apart in pieces and put him back together. Then I put my hands on his shoulders and imagine doing this for every cell in his body, too.

He seems better. I pull energy into a ball and create an oval shaped mesh-like map. I don’t understand it but I know it will work. “This is a map,” I tell him, “Of you. Kind of like a DNA map. I’m putting it here in your chest and you should never again be THAT mixed up. This will help you reorganize.” He takes it and I ask him, “Do you have anything you could share with me so we can integrate?”

He hands me something that looks like a big pocketwatch. But before I can touch it, it morphs into a long sort of calendar-grid. But before I can touch that, each of the squares turn into colors and bleed into each other and it becomes a soft knit scarf where each stitch is a slightly different hue, like the sort of yarn that is many colors. I put it around my shoulders as I say, “Like a stitch in time. Funny.”

He appears beside me and points a bit in front of us where a building appears in the distance. “That is a map of time,” he says.

“How can this be?” I say. “It is in 3-D space. Not time.”

“There is no such thing as your 3-D space without time,” he says.

“Oh. Well but… how is it a map of time?” I insist.

“As a concept, I suppose you could think of space as horizontal and time as vertical,” he replies. “Anything that is physical in your world is woven with time, just like the scarf. There is nothing that is not as much woven by time as by the seemingly spacial materials you call solid.”

I think about this for a bit.

“Your issues with time will show up in space, and vice-versa,” he finally adds, as if giving a hint to a somewhat slow mind.

“Oh…” I say, thinking maybe I’m getting it now. “So like, my recent issue where my house was stuffed with my ex’s stuff, and I had no space at all, and I still don’t have space for my little desk for dowsing, and stuff like that… you’re saying my not having time and not having space are sort of… reflections of the same core… issues?”

He nods.

“Would making space, in a feng shui kind of way, have any effect on my time?” I ask, thinking this sounds like the stupidest logic I ever heard and wondering where I got the idea.

“Actually yes it would. Moreso the more you recognize why you’re doing it.”

I turn and look at him.

“Somehow I feel like you’ve told me more than I’m able to grok right now,” I say. “I mean I hear you, but especially about every physical thing as a map of time, that feels like it’s important, but aside from an intellectual way I just feel like I’m not getting it.”

He weaves out of the air something of odd shape I can’t make out clearly, and he puts it through my chest sideways and then front to back and then pulls a strand up through my head. I have a sense of like a sailor’s compass, as if somehow the patterns of the stars above are as important as where the arrows point to down here, or at least related. “This is yours,” he says. “It’s always there, but now you are more aware of it.”

I nod in thanks, and wonder what the point is.

“Time is woven through you,” he says. “You have as much ability to manipulate time as you do to manipulate space. The more you realize this, the better you will be at it. You’ve been considering yourself a victim of time, as if it is apart from you. It IS you. You weave it out of yourself, just like you do the rest of your reality. Limits with time are limits with Self. Do you understand?”

“Best as I can, I bet,” I say with a half-smile. “Thank you for working with me. I hope we meet again and can merge.” He nods, and vanishes.