Select Page

12-14 of Jan sometime

Dreamed my body was talking to me. I don’t know about what (though I’m assuming everything relates to Lipedema as that’s my primary question / looking for root cause and solution lately). Sadly, I lost it. I just couldn’t hold it in my brain as I was coming to. And the translation was weird. It said:

auto-autonomous pituitary __(something)___
auto-autonomous __(something)___ __(something)___
and I felt the 2nd thing was ‘nearby in the head and affected by the same thing’ as the first.

The first word seems rather, ah, redundant. That’s just how it came through.

I did my standard: searched on each word, them together, and both with the words ‘adipose’ and then ‘lipedema’ in them. Was actually astonished at all I found. Haven’t looked at any of the links I saved in a folder yet though.

*

I did a brief chakra med with my MP3 last night and got lots of yummy ‘rushing’ from it. I do find that when I manage to be enthusiastic and even have a sense of humor and delight, that I tend to have the best results in any meditation. Alas then I fell completely asleep and didn’t take my minerals and woke up just in time for work.

*

14 Jan 2013

I’ve decided I don’t like my last name anymore and would maybe like to change it. I only got this name through changing it to begin with. I chose Gaenir (gay’-ner, hard “A” and first syllable accent) because it was Gaelic, kind of in honor of the paternal grandfather I never met, and in honor of Northern Ireland from which his family was from. Nobody ever pronounces it correctly (most people say gah-neer’ which I loathe). Still just thinking about it.

I feel like it represents someone I am not any longer — just the last name. Oddly the first name immediately felt perfect, I ‘responded’ to it after a day when 2 years of trying to go by my birth name had never caused me to turn when people addressed me as that, which frustrated everybody I worked with, and made me feel more frustrated by the day. I mean you wouldn’t think that being called a different name would be upsetting in any way — but it actually was! And people develop personalities at least a little related to their name I assume, in any case, mine was not related to Laura (pronounced Lara like the Russian form, says my dad who named me, my birth name). But the last name seems like someone else now.

Much like, at the time (age 20) I felt my birth name represented a person that I was not — I never was called by the name really, I grew up with a family nickname instead, and even the nickname, in 5th grade my stepmother made me change it from the spelling mom taught me when I was 5, which was one of my few precious memories of her. I felt like my identity had been stolen and so when I was 20 and this rich guy told me he was reading a book about how names help define you especially with others, and how silly it was to keep your name if it didn’t define you the way you wanted — like keeping the haircut your mom liked when you were four — I agreed. My family called and still calls me ‘Suz’ generally. I don’t mind that form really.

Then again, that jerk later raped me, so maybe he was not the best authority figure to be taking advice from.

I sat down with some numerology stuff, took my three favorite musicians of that moment (they weren’t my faves before or after that, only at that moment), Gordon Sumner [Sting], Peter Gabriel and Bruce Springsteen, took my mother’s name (Patricia Joyce) and my father’s name (Gary Leon) and tried to come up with something that would ‘combine’ my parents names, and yet also reflect the numbers of the artists’ names. So Palyne was patricia and leon, and gaenir kinda rhymed and spoke well with it, made the numbers work as needed, and was Irish to boot, so it all worked out. It was fairly easy to change although the judge acted like I was a moron.

Funny thing is, whoever wrote the book (no idea what book it was) was correct. I was actually shocked at what a difference it DID make when my name was different. Especially since it was a name that people had not heard before and so they had to actually pay attention to get it and remember it (my nickname I’d grown up with was worn by about 10 people in every grade, 2 of which were generally cheerleaders. So I was really happy to get rid of it). A little later, I used the acronym PJ on the internet — for mom’s initials — and later married and since I had no middle name nor did my husband, we ‘traded’ last names as middle names, and his started with a J, so I actually became PJ for real.

Not sure if I’ll really do it yet, or what to change it to, but this is what I’m considering doing instead of getting a tattoo. I actually have the urge to get a tattoo, not because I like them — oddly, I don’t, except on men — but there is some weird energy going through me right now that wants some “fundamental change” and something permanent. My hair is useless at this age so dying it is pointless. I don’t even HAVE any furniture to move around. I don’t want to ink my skin because my size changes so constantly and significantly (I can vary 20-30# in a week just from fluid fluctuations, not counting weight gain/loss more significant) that it would be weird and trashed shortly. (My BMF says I could do it on the inside of the wrists. But I have noticed more weight accruing even in my lower arms the last year. And frankly it would probably HURT more than usual done there.) So perhaps this is some kind of ‘overflow’ from that weirdness.

*

15 Jan 2013

I’m reading the final book of the Wheel of Time series. It’s taken 20 years to get to it, it was just released this month. It makes me stop and think sometimes, although not as much as some previous books in the series. It’s very war oriented of course as this book is the Last Battle.

At one point I started sobbing and realized that I was crying for my people, except my people weren’t the people of my current personality, nor anyone in the book, but someone’s people destroyed by war in some other life or dream or whatever, who for a moment I forgot weren’t mine anymore, or yet.

Then I got mad about it and started yelling, in my head only of course (or they will come and take me away haha), at Mark. He gets everything. Good and bad.

Why? I demanded. Why must humans suffer this horror? Oh sure, it’s all experience I bet, that would be easy to say! Heartless, you guys just WEAR us like suits and if they get shredded, so what? Oh yeah, your “greater glory” makes you “aware” that you can never be separated from God so it all seems just fine doesn’t it! What a fun game, while WE, the people on this planet, the humans, we mop up the blood and tears and misery, all for the entertainment of the larger-selves like you!

And it didn’t even piss him off. Because he completely understood. Or perhaps more literally, he simply ‘is’. Understanding is my translation for a small part of one aspect of the IS-ness, or something.

It suddenly seemed like such a hugely unfair situation. Yeah SO WHAT if ‘when we die’ or ‘our larger souls’ knows that it’s just a dream, a game? How does that help the poor sucker suffering? It doesn’t AT ALL and frankly I’m kinda pissed on behalf of all the poor suckers trapped in warzones etc. I know it will pass, and that the book I’m reading brought that on, but still.

I’m only halfway through right now. It’s long but they’re slow reading, and this book more so than all the others in the series. It didn’t help that I barely knew who anybody was, some haven’t been read about in years, others are new, seriously I think Jordan should have been forced to pay a fine for every new character he introduced after book 7. I nearly quit reading entirely in book 8, when he introduced a huge radical new group of characters. Which I didn’t even like so most of them are still hard to read about.

*

One thing it made me think about. The three leading men in the book series (Rand, Perrin and Mat), if they think of each other, will get psychic flashes in their head of what’s going on with the other. They just avoid doing it. I always wished they would accept it and intentionally seek that out and be closer.

Then I realized that I could say the same — perhaps onlookers could — about me. I have IG and 12 Aeons and the Four and various guides and how often am I seeking them out? Like almost never? If I were reading about myself in a book I’d be griping about me all the time, haha!

*

16 Jan 2013

I told Mark that I want to ‘know’, like him. I want to be fearless or at least have less fear: I want to know on that fundamental level that I can’t be separated from God, which I know in some ways but not in the way HE knows it.

I sometimes have wondered how many lives I’ve spent dirking around and not accomplishing a fraction of what I hoped to before joining the game. A friend said something recently that reminded me of that. Maybe we all wonder that.

*

I had a sort of ‘sponsored insight.’ It was about my anger at how the ‘larger identities’ allow the smaller ones to suffer such horror and misery and death in our world, and how it seems so unfair they only care about their larger good. I had this sudden concept of all the cells of my body that die through abuse instead of natural life span, and the Aeons talking to me previously (in the post ‘what cells do’), and even the realization that in some way I don’t understand at all yet, everything is alive and I translate even portions of my body as whole worlds of places and peoples (such as in ‘captain of the guard’).

And I realized (again) that I am a larger self. Me. Concerned mostly just for myself. Not worried enough that my liver never mind its individual cells are poorly affected by what I had for dinner. How do I know that MY world is not a small collection of cells in someone’s lower right torso? I had a parallel impression; one of cosmology, that luminance grew and spread, and one of concept, that as identities got larger, part of the expansion of the ‘awareness’ quality was appreciation for, and concern for, the smaller identities within. From Aeons to organs.

*

17 Jan 2013

I finished the last book of the Wheel of Time. Before it was over, of course, I was crying-for-real, delighted that actual tears were coming. I never thought I would have trouble ‘allowing myself to cry.’ That’s one thing I’ve always done very well (since I ‘broke free’ in my early 20s and had emotions again), and pitied my soldier friends for having trouble with. Yet I still am. I’m not having much of the drive-by sobbing lately but it’s still happening, smaller and smoother, now it’s just a ‘swell’ of sudden emotion like the ocean and then recedes.

While I was crying I had the sense that I was ‘letting out grief’. I wondered where this grief would come from. I mean: yes I was reading a book which was moving and sad but it was really the ‘moving’ element I was reacting to. I’d just finished reading over 800 pages of warfare but I didn’t cry over that.

I remembered once reading that when people cry over happy or ‘moving’ events it’s not that they are sad but that in their happiness they ‘relax’ something inside them which lets the grief fight its way out as it needs to.

It occurred to me biology works the same pattern. Chronic low-level inflammation just makes you miserable. Drop the inflammation and the body will naturally vent the stuff bothering it, the ‘detox’ effect. From toxins to splinters they fight for release. Maybe bad emotions are like that too.

I wondered again: so where did the grief come from? Is this like, the tears I didn’t shed some day in 1973? That a sentence in a book caused me to ‘open up and allow out’? If so, will I ever vent the grief from my life? Would I need to live to be 400?

And then I had this strange, horrible and wonderful and bizarre ‘sponsored insight’, as I tend to get within a few minutes or max a few days after talking to Mark about a given thing. I had been yelling at him in my head yesterday or day before I think it was, for the grief and fear and misery that humans go through while the ‘larger identities’ of which they are just a part, are not helping prevent it, are not sufficiently sympathetic (in my opinion at that time) to their suffering.

I realized that the grief was not from the book but for the same reason, the grief was not from my life events of the past, either. The events of my past were no more real on some level than the events in the book, I suddenly ‘saw’. Both of them were ‘creative experiences’ and both of them would affect me, sure. But the true source of the passion, the power, was from a much larger pool of energy, of Self.

This is hard to explain but important: I felt this: we don’t experience love and hate because events cause those emotions. We experience the events because ‘the energy’ that underlies what we later-after-biological-filtering-translate-as those emotions is already present in our larger self and it must be worked through.

Seth often suggested that we ignore the emotion, and trust that the conscious intention could change circumstance / reality regardless of the emotion which comes second. I think this is kind of the point: that we ‘pay’ attention and whatever we focus on, energy pours into. Emotion is strong because it’s a lot of energy. As long as we are focused toward it, we are pulling energy from within/self and pouring it through our reality and body and feeling it. To change the energy we are ‘pulling through’ and hence experiencing in events and emotions, we have to shift the flow of that river — change the thoughts.

Then I realized, in a way that almost broke my brain, that we are… we are like vents. Our passion, love, horror, they act through us just like if we were a sweat duct, a nerve ending, a lymph node, in fact we are literally ALL of those things and not just biologically, it is the ‘dynamic relationship’ that matters and it’s on many levels — existing for the primary multiple purposes of experiencing something, while providing both an experience and an outlet for a larger thing, both of which are doorways for all the infinite larger identities which “live through us.”

It is not that larger selves don’t care about our experience. It’s that they recognize that this is ours. They wouldn’t take it from us.

Our experience is the reason we exist at all. That’s why we’re so good at it. That’s how we’re designed. We are supposed to laugh and cry and love and hate and die for honor and suffer in silence and be steadfast in loyalty or mercenary and fickle, to kill and be killed and do crazy foolish things for stupid reasons that lead to doom or lead to new inventions or world changing events. We are supposed to struggle with whether there is a god and whether we want to kick his ass if so for all the misery in the world, and whether there is really evil or merely ideas and behaviors we find unappealing to the extreme, and who is to be in power or service and why, and whether we ourselves are heroes or victims, good or evil, since we all feel the whole kaleidascope of everything inside ourselves. Well it really IS inside ourselves.

Human life is a tarot meditation.

I was reminded of the day in my early 20s, after years of self-hypnosis work, when bawling my head off over the movie ‘Peggy Sue Got Married’ simply ‘broke through’ the mild sociopathy I’d had since the day after my 15th birthday when I woke up and my first thought had been: everything is different now. Any sense of ‘real’ emotion had seemed like a faint whisper at a far distance for years. And then all the sudden it was welling up inside me, and I cried hysterically, and I laughed maniacally, back and forth until I passed out from an overwhelming exhaustion, and then I woke up, thought about it, and did that cycle again, many times all day. For years I cried over anything. I cried over touching cola and beer TV commercials. I felt ‘bubbly’ inside and I had to create a sort of ‘older caretaking self’ that would be gentle with the young self because she felt so fragile.

But it was wonderful. I was bawling my head off with grief unimaginable and it was wonderful. It was something. It was feeling. It was being ALIVE.

I had the sense that all of these dynamic patterns, from the nerve ending to the human life, it’s only one geometry. It’s simply everywhere. It’s not complicated, but simple. What we face in experience, every life form has its own.

My past IG4 for example, she had her own. Not the same as mine because her identity is fundamentally different — all are, but there are you might say families of shape and density as such things go, and I am human and she was some level of angelic. Whatever level let her interact well with me and not vaporize me by ‘removing my illusion of separation’ abruptly.

But the idea that it’s just us, that it’s just humans, was incorrect on my part. Like we were some special thing suffering with heartless oversouls who wouldn’t help us. We are also oversouls to more than we can imagine. But also, everything in our reality is “having an experience.” When we read the newspaper, even IT is having the experience of being read by us. Nothing in this reality lacks awareness because everything of the IS-ness, is fundamentally awareness. ‘Energy’ and ‘identity’ and other things are merely emergent properties.

This whole reality really IS “the amazing game” as I call it in my prayers. It’s all about experience. Dogs and cats have their own version. Angels and crystals have their own version. Trees and nature devas have their own version. Numbers and colors have their own version. The motes of air and stone have it.

And it comes from within. Just like in archmeds, the entire “environment and events” are part of the energy — the land, structures, objects, natural features, everything. It’s all part of the kaleidascope of energy that we are a ‘doorway’ to a little like how chakras as identities are a ‘doorway’ to a very specific bandwidth of frequency which contains worlds and is ‘experience.’

It’s not that I cried over the thing in the book. It’s that the thing in the book provided me “the structure for experience” which enabled me to “release” some of the energy into ‘focus.’ I thought about fiction writing. When I write it, it becomes much more literal, that model, that creation of the ‘structure’ to allow energy to flow through which in turn becomes experience which in turn becomes emotion.

Which made me realize that this is what ‘real life’ is, fundamentally. The energy IS the experience. Just like the environment is the energy in an archmed. The bad guys aren’t just a side-effect of some kind of energy. They are literally ‘composed of it‘ the same way that a castle in an archmed is composed of it. The energy is us, a larger-us.

It isn’t that the larger-selves “don’t help us when we’re miserable” (e.g. in war zones). It’s that our environment is being created OUT OF the larger self BY US. They give us what we ask for. Or, perhaps, a ‘default’ based on the environment of the game, when we don’t.

*

I refused to write this next stuff down three times and conveniently forgot after each. I was on the phone when it came back and I realized I have to write it down immediately so I hung up to do so.

I was shopping with the teen last night. Got to register. Wallet not in purse. Teen took it out to get some cash I approved earlier, didn’t put it back. She’s a whirling tornado of chaos and forgetfulness and mess. Makes me crazy. So I went back to the van, leaving her there, and drove home quickly, got wallet, came back. Earlier I’d had real asthma from slight physical strain and I got it again, pressure in my chest and some wheezing. I gave her the card and sat with the van waiting for her to pay and join me and my body was feeling very emotional as I was breathing hard (white fog in the air as it was sub-freezing).

And while sitting in the van waiting, idly it seemed, I asked myself the same question the Aeonic have been asking me every day for awhile now:

Are you going to work with IG tonight?

And as always I shrugged it off.

And this time, they said, refusing to let me shrug it off yet again: You’re scared.

I reacted instantly. I am not scared! I’m not! I’m not running! I said I would suck it up and not be like that and I haven’t been!

I didn’t know why I was so instantly angry and yelling about it.

Yes, you are.

No! I insisted. I’m not scared. I could work with him ANY TIME. I just don’t feel like doing it is all! Eventually I will.

I heard myself, inside myself, like another person. That’s like the “I can quit drinking any time I ‘feel’ like it” excuse, I admitted.

But I haven’t run since that one night! I exclaimed again.

You think fear only manifests in panic and hysteria? Fear can be subtle, too. You are still scared.

I was meek then. But I said I would not behave scaredy-cat anymore, I whispered to myself. I said I wouldn’t do it. That I’d have courage.

I knew before it came. Work with IG. I wanted to say yes. But I realized why I wasn’t doing so.

Because I’m scared. Of him, of his power, of me, of having me in him, of obliteration perhaps although that’s silly (or not, if change=death), all kinds of things. Yes I have dampened emotion down to almost nothing for awhile now. But the fear is still there.

And I said I would have courage. Which means I need to start working with him.

Immediately, argument about why meditating with IG was such a small simple thing, which didn’t require courage, and hence wasn’t even necessary, started in as defense. Then I realized even more so that I was in denial and defense. I haven’t even finished the love-me-do meditations. I haven’t even gotten through half my Aeons with it let alone the others on the list for it.

I haven’t worked with IG. All I’ve done is occasionally imagine his hand on me, breathing with him. Or yelled at him.

P