Shape is the language of form.
I had a whole inner realization about that recently. Everything, from the fairly unique size and shape of your liver, to McDonald’s golden arches, to a crumpled-up gum wrapper, everything has meaning.
We may be oblivious to what that is, as oblivious as we are to what the birds are saying or what a cloud pattern means, but it’s there. All of reality is talking to us with its very existence.
That reminds me of this time in ’97 when I was flying from Seattle to Los Angeles. It was just a high psi day in general. I remember the day because I ruined my favorite rosary, one made of pressed rose petals, by sweating on it as I ran around the airport (my former boss recently sent me another. I owe her a big letter and an apology for not writing sooner. Communication is the bane of my life lately!). I was fairly ‘aware’ that day, more than usual at that period. I knew things about people spontaneously, sitting in the lobby. And I knew before we had seat assignments that I’d be sat next to this couple and sure enough, it worked out that way.
Anyway, on the plane I looked up casually as people were starting to leave, and suddenly realized that every person was like an encapsulated symbol. I could tell from the way someone’s body was, and the way they stood, even with their back to me–whatever details of their body my brain observed even unconsciously–what would be the nature of their face, the look of them, I mean in temperament.
It was like people’s bodies literally WERE their beliefs–wow that reminds me of Seth’s comment we “live in the body of our beliefs”–and I could just SEE it for that moment, as if every body were a symbol, a symbol with as much obvious (for that moment) meaning to me as a stop sign. It was so obvious in everybody at that moment, I wondered how I could possibly not normally see this.
I could perceive really clearly the beliefs that restricted people. And to me at that moment they looked just… well they were just manufactured, the things they feared were not real, the fears were just obvious distortions in their pattern, some subtle way of being that my brain was able to interpret. Like they were clearly limited by these things.
It was like looking at a plant and seeing that its growth indicates lack of water or overhard ground or the heat of summer or whatever. If you know these things, and then you see a plant demonstrating those symptoms, it’s just obvious, even if you never saw that plant before and intellectually knew nothing of it.
I had the feeling if I really focused in I could get detail but I didn’t bother. I was just kind of in awe of the whole thing. Maybe that was a shape is the language of form experience and I just never thought of it that way before.
It’s different, so I wonder why it reminds me of the morning in Seattle when, mysteriously while on the bus to work one day, I could feel colors in my body. The more rich the color, the more impact. Every color had a place it impacted inside me. Different per color but there are many shades of things in anything living.
Single colors like billboards had close to no effect — tiny bit but barely — while trees were very clear. As we went through the city I mourned how little “real life” there was to give me the feelings, as nearly everything I saw was dead, was cement and asphault and steel and glass and plastic and so on. It started to get disturbing just how little was “alive” in the city, when I was suddenly judging it by being able to “feel the reflection of the colors of living things” inside me.
I walked a back path to work through a little park I’d wanted to go through for some time. I walked around a corner nearly into a bush filled with rich red roses. It hit my heart like those old optometrist blows-air-in-your-eye things, and I gasped and staggered a little and then just stood there with my mouth open in awe at the effect. Clearly that is why red roses symbolize love in our culture, that impact on the heart/chakra. (Even though the heart chakra is associated with green, go figure.)
I walked around looking at all the plants and flowers and feeling them in various places inside me. Flowers seemed like living gems then. Like some little piece of me in my torso felt happy because of a peach-colored flower.
When I went into work, the entire environment felt dead. Every desk, the lighting, the flooring, the computers. There was not a mote of anything alive that I could find in there. Not only that, but since I could “feel” color — even nonliving things, just far more subtle — I could also feel that the colors chosen for business are intentionally nonstimulating.
I wanted to run from the building and sit with the flowers. It would have spelled the end of that temp job, but sometimes I regret that I didn’t. By the end of the day, the sense-ability had passed.
I wonder if things that natives around the world consider certain symbols are based on colors or shapes. I mean it’s not too hard to figure out that way back, the sun going behind the moon or the moon looking red is a pretty big deal. Does it really mean nothing? I mean, is an eclipse truly meaningless? If we really ARE “cosmology” then we are all part of all of this.
But maybe for example, a crow or one seen dead or one seen in a certain direction, really IS a ‘symbol with meaning’. Maybe it’s not that natives were ‘just superstitious’ but that at moments of insight, some of their people would realize what a certain symbol actually was or meant, and teach others.
I know, I’m rambling, but that reminds me of the only ‘Omen’ I ever had. I mean the real old fashioned kind.
My cats–all 7 of them at the time–actually managed to drag a GIGANTIC dead crow–damn near the size of a raven–into the house through the cat window. Now, the cats could barely fit through the cat window and it was a good 3x the size of the largest one. And the window was up a little plastic kids’ slide and more, so how the hell they got this thing in I will never know. But it was, weirdly, very clear at the instant I saw it that they had all worked in a ‘tandem’ way I don’t know if they ever did before or after, to make it happen, because it was important. Not like they knew what it meant. Like they were just part of my overall reality making sure I saw this.
So somehow, something woke me up at that ungodly hour of dark, and I stumbled out of bed, and stepped into the hallway, and there in the hallway floor outside my door, sat 7 cats looking up at me and a gigantic dead crow between them. Now I will grant that nobody is going to see this without some kind of reaction, sure.
But I didn’t react like “Ewww, a giant dead bird!” (Note: I love crows.) The instant I laid eyes on the whole scene, it gripped me, and I understood what the cats had done and the effort of it, and I understood this was literally “An Omen” like you hear about it old stories, and that it was the first of three signs. And when the third arrived, the thing that was being warned about would occur.
It was not a positive thing. What specifically it was, I don’t know. But it felt really really big. Looming and huge. Like end of the world or your country being overtaken or something on that large a level. Not personal, more national or even global.
I didn’t really know what to make of it all. I buried the crow the next day and life went on.
Some time later, maybe a few weeks, my aunt and I were having a talk. She’s the ditzy blonde who is definitely the most psi-prone of her generation, though unfortunately an abysmal lack of critical thinking or education on the subject mean it’s probably better off ignored in such cases. Anyway, just by-the-way, she tells me this dream she had and for some reason was moved by the night before.
There were two cats. And one cat was big, and one cat was small. Both were tabbies, and the small cat was a tabby that was blood red color scale instead of grey. And the red cat ATE the normal larger cat all in one gulp. And she (my aunt in the dream) was looking at the red cat which had the tail of the other one sticking out of its mouth still, and it just felt so disturbing.
As she related this, I understood clearly, like someone inside me just outright told me, this is the second omen. The second of three. It had not until that moment occurred to me that an omen could come from someone else! I mean I would think an omen would be something specific to me, and maybe a physical event, but that was not the way of it. There was no doubt. I mean most things I question until I’ve killed all the magic of it but this I just “knew” in my gut with no question.
It seemed to me that her dream had some parallel with the famous biblical dream where the thin cows devoured the 7 fat cows and it meant 7 years of famine in Egypt. I didn’t know what this dream meant but all things considered, it did not sound good. Relating the two things to death wasn’t much of a stretch.
It’s been…. 10 years? I don’t think I ever got the third omen. I wonder if that means the probability passed, and I won’t. Or if someday I’ll be minding my own business and it will occur and I’ll realize we’re all doomed or something.
Maybe symbols like the dead large black crow, and how the small red striped cat ate the larger grey one in one big gulp, have some real obvious form-as-language, and color-as-communication, meaning I just don’t yet see.
I dreamed recently that I let some man access a sort of wireless communication port I was only one of 23 people in the world to have, which led to some central authority computer or something, that he began a sabotage on. I knew he might but I let him anyway. I didn’t feel I had a reason to be loyal to the powers that be that ran all that stuff. It began a countdown before all 23 would implode or otherwise be dissolved or rendered inert if someone couldn’t figure out a solution. There was some tech that had a super thin silver metal swiveling layer on it. A ‘simple’ female coworker was there, she was another of the 23.
I have an overlay of alter psychology here like this might symbolize suppressed aspects of self.
Following this, I was being ‘watched’ by official sources. They suspected I was the one of the 23 who had done it but had no proof. Finally I had to live in a place they specified so they could monitor me, and they sent some man to live with me just to be a watcher, hoping he’d learn something. He was to act real nice and interested in me personally, live like part of my household, but really it was a ruse, it was just his job. They used some technology that actually made us slightly psychically connected, because they thought this would give him some advantage, if he could feel and maybe get info from me.
I knew that the parts of me that had the info he wanted would never come out to give it to him so I didn’t have to worry about whatever he could read of my mind. I also knew that I could use energy work, which this tech greatly amplified, and the man would in the end love me, and not them.
I’ve managed to pointedly not get around to doing any of a zillion things I feel I greatly want to. I am back in that state where I feel like there are many of me and we are having a battle of wills.