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The latest trend in my inner life has been the novelty of ‘writing something down’ — let alone ever getting it to the blog — being ridiculous difficult. It’s as if blogging itself has become some kind of symbol for recognition of something so is now subject to the same evasion as meditation itself. Perhaps re-reading my entire blog (I just recently finished), as I was doing in part to look for snippets of certain kinds of info, has brought this up.

It is now the 19th and I have managed to forget some things I didn’t blog right at start of month, and have only pieces of things I wrote in text since then, which I am finally migrating to ‘the blog.’ I suppose the bright side of this is that it is, at least, ‘obvious.’ Or to put it another way, at least in this regard it is more complicated to be in denial about my obvious denial.

~Oct 3 or so. Daily ongoing physical misery is the backdrop for this. Off and on thoughts. Will I die. Will I find Mark. Is it hopeless. Was not thinking any of that at the time, though, so this was a surprise when it dropped in.

Mark sat down beside me to my right, leaned over to me and said close to my temple:

It’s going to be all right.

I immediately yelled, “Noooo!” and turned away from him emotionally, physically, even my body.

“You’re just saying that!” I said in panic. “I’m just making this up! I just need it so freaking bad I’m deluding myself!”

(Aside: I was rereading some old blog posts recently and found a post where I’d been talking with Marcan, who was telling me a given energy was part of an archetype, and I had said, “I felt angry at his offering me hope when it was so pointless. ‘You’re just trying to make me feel better!’ I accused him, actually sort of keening silently now, rocking forward and back as I sat in bed with my arms wrapped around myself.” I had the same reaction to Mark here.)

Mark quietly, close to me again:

It’s going to be all right.

I did the same thing again I think. I can’t remember well now. This is some time ago. I refused to write all this down. Then I wanted to but couldn’t “get around to it.”

I still tried to be turned from it. From the hideous pain of hope that hurts so F’ing bad when one is so desperate.

I don’t remember most the talk after that.

At one point later, though, I was upset about how hard everything is for meditation for me now, and he “adjusted my perspective” and I realized something that made me feel kinda like an idiot. It’s like — well to use an analogy, let us say that you like hanggliding. For me somehow it was like I got a ride to the top all this time and someone else did my setup and cleanup and all I’ve ever done is leap off once in awhile when I felt like it. (I was told previously that until recently, the Four and IG were always very much reaching out and helping. I didn’t realize how much until now.)

And now I’m in “the real” world where there are basic chores and effort that are part of what you’re doing. But it’s new to me, the effort. So here I am freaking out like, oh my god what does this meeeeeeaaannnn, why is it so haaaaarrrrdddd, and making a drama queen production out of it. But really the effort is not something with any great meaning. It is merely an effort because it IS. For anybody. For close to everybody. It doesn’t need to be a big psychological thing. I’m not special or tortured because of it.

If you join the hanggliding team, and mind you it’s a huge honor to get accepted, it means you have to do it just about daily, and you have to pack and unpack your gear, and you often have to do a little bit of hiking to and from your glide points. This is not some unreasonable burden. It’s just the daily bother of reality. Treating it like the basics are shocking and unreasonable, is just silly. It only demonstrates how much effort the Four and IG have been making on my behalf until not long ago when suddenly I had to do it myself. And we see how well I have done… not.

It’s taken me a long time to ‘get around to’ getting this all the way to the blog.

*`

12 October 2015 early morning dream

Out the back window of my bedroom I see my backyard and realize it is nearing the end of winter. Somehow during winter a giant amount of mud and snow have gathered, literally about 2.5 feet all the way across the yard. It looks like normal ground from above, a layer of snow on the top, so I might not have noticed, but some kind of vehicle was (apparently just-previously) backed into my yard, up to my window and then had left, and now there is this huge removed area of mud and snow, so much lower than the rest of the yard like a fat channel through it, which makes it obvious how much of it is just compressed layers of muck, the whole property is like that.

Then there are animals in the backyard like a wild dog or wolf and maybe someone else’s cat. They are digging at the edges exposed by the mud removal, gnawing and such. The dog finally ends up with a smaller dog in his teeth, a little white curly haired yappy type, slightly dehydrated, and I realize that the smaller dog likely froze to death, it’s stiff and dead, and it’s been buried in all that muck a long time.

Then I realize that the yard is utterly filled with the corpses of small animals of all kinds of who froze/died and ended up buried in all that and are now dead, stiff and cold, and various predator animals might be digging them up now that things are starting to thaw. Like it’s gonna get kinda gross and messy as this starts happening.

Some man comes, some people I think but he is the one who comes into the yard, or perhaps the wolf became a man, I’m not sure. He has the stiff body of a dead animal and tries to give it to me. I tell him not to and I back off, and he makes it sound like he’s not going to, but he still tries to come nearer me to hand it to me. I end up yelling at him with a lot of profanity to get away from me and don’t touch me with that thing and go away.

*

There was something more but I have forgotten. I was doing an Aeon round and was just reaching Nero (12th) when I fell asleep and into the dream. He is 12th house which is things buried/hidden. So I feel like it has real meaning. Can’t quite help but notice the similarity of lipedemic body and the ‘stuff buried in the thick mud-snow for a long time’ element. I think I really need to meditate on this symbol.

*

My body has successfully fought off ‘horrible cold’ every day for like 10 days that three people around me very closely have been sick. It started getting a little weaker yesterday, and tonight (Fri 10/16) despite vitamins and more, I’m pretending I am not ill but I feel crappy, stuffed up, brain dead, nose running, sneeze attacks, I have a fever, throat hurts badly, I pulled some muscle right in the middle of my back coughing, and my lungs are so crazy I can hardly breathe (am wearing O2, which is not helping a ton, and having a stuffed/running nose makes that tough).

I spent the entire day leading up to this having a seriously bad brain day — like I was obsessed with events in my past that have made me feel wronged and victimized. Coincidentally my body was feeling victimized at the same time. I feel like I brought it on myself by letting my obsessive daydreaming do that, though I also feel like the body was causing that too.

*

Trivial aside: previous dream relating to the “L and R Nomor” and something that would “trigger” in people related to this, causing much death — part of the weird end-times symbolism I sometimes get with the Four — I saw this quote and for some reason it made me suddenly think of it:

It’s a dangerous game, as we have been warned by the well renowned New York University Professor Nassim Taleb, in no uncertain terms that GMO’s or genetically modified organisms could cause “an irreversible termination of life at some scale, which could be the planet.”

It occurs to me that when you’re mixing so many things that have never been in, let alone mixed together in, the ground, the water and human bodies before, you really have no idea what the heck the result might be. Maybe it’ll be great. Or neutral. Or horrible. Maybe it would have been just fine if not for some other completely unpredictable element.

*

Found an old plan I made for a meditation series for the stables in the table of elements, which set each of them up like tarot: with “this aspect of the energy” that represented ace, 2-10, and the royalty. Then I could do a sort of Trumps series that would be primary molecules (like water for example). I called it “Tarot of the Elements.”

Recently on FB, Kate had a Zentangle book and some pens, and in searching amazon about it, I found these neat little 4.5″ rounded-edge squares that are like heavy cardstock blank white coasters. People often do zendoodle / zentangle using stuff like this, from 3 to 6 inches, to make each one. I thought it would be neat if after each meditation, kind of “while in the feel of the energy” I made a little design that to me, represents the energy of the archetype. Like my own literal tarot of the elements that resulted. So I got 3 black pens and some things to draw on. I didn’t want to spend the money on one of the books but they had several of those sorts that were free for Kindle Unlimited as it turns out.

My sense about meditating is that at this point, Mark would probably be happy if I wanted to meditate on navel lint, as long as I was meditating. I know he will help blend in “what I need” with whatever I choose to do, and I will ask him to. So, if it’s easier for me to meditate on hydrogen, than something that seems more useful but I can’t get to at all, then why not.

*

I am sort of “keeping-on at keeping-on” lately, health-wise. I don’t know how to fix it. Apparently nobody does. So I don’t have a plan or a specific goal, and it’s hard to find anything to hang hope on.  My biggest problem isn’t the several interrelated (one caused the rest) health things, none of which are fatal, but any of which could kill me by surprise if something went wrong, and all of which are making me miserable. The bigger problem is: I am trapped in an 11′ x 11′ room for eight months now. I am in solitary confinement indoors, basically immobile, and it’s starting to have serious psychological side-effects.

I credit myself for being pretty strong psychologically compared to most people I have known, and much of my childhood was torturous and also rather imprisoned, so I’m probably more comfortable with this (and fortunately, I love my room environment) than most people would be just through adaptation. I’m hanging in, but really, nobody can live in that situation indefinitely without some result. I will think I’m fine, and then be in the middle of a normal conversation on the phone with my best friend and just bust out bawling, feeling like I’m doomed and it’s hopeless and so on.

Getting my head around the metaphysical vs. physical, and creating reality vs. the one I feel trapped in, is really very difficult. The head-trip part is harder than the body part, for me at least. I think it is making me depressed but I don’t feel that — I never feel that — I think my body long ago turned off ‘feeling’ depressed because I have ‘normal’ and ‘suicidal’ and not much between, so for my own protection, I just don’t feel it. I usually observe my behavior objectively, and realize that I must be, is all.

Like that I don’t feel like doing anything but listening to music and daydreaming, for stupid amounts of time (the Aeonic told me I was self-medicating, like a drug) rather than doing anything constructive or creative. It’s like being in one of those moods where you are very restless or very hungry but nothing sounds good to do or eat. Pretty sure because I don’t want to do anything I can do while trapped in bed in a box indoors, I’ve done all those things a zillion times now and I just desperately need a break.

I used to drive somewhere in town and park and read my kindle just because it was a diff environment and getting out of my house, and that’s when I had the whole house and porch to live in. So imagine the cabin fever of one small room. I don’t even have a window, though there is a small one in the bathroom, and I try to breathe the air outside and look out whenever I’m in there. It’s kinda pitiful.

I was being horribly morose one day and Ry (my daughter who is now 19) goes, “Mom, I clearly have whatever you have. If you fail, if you give up, if you die, if you kill yourself, whatever, where does that leave me? Facing the same thing you are, except knowing in advance there is no hope, thinking about your dying from it or with it, trapped in this. How do you think that makes me feel? If you give up, you don’t just give up on you, you give on ME.”

So even death isn’t a way out.

I feel like I’m stuck in a single position while the weight of the universe literally implodes in on me. And somehow it feels like Mark is the only way out and yet, confusingly, I don’t know how to get there from here. And I’m having a hell of a time getting myself to even reach for the door handle to go to him.

Well that is my griping for the day. I’m alive and not in terrible pain, I still have my job and a good environment, so I guess I shouldn’t complain.

P