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Some time ago an odd thing happened: I lost interest utterly, and I mean utterly, in my creative writing. Now sure, it had waxed and waned generally for decades. And everybody has cycles of interest. Everyone reaches a point in some story where maybe they feel it’s not good. Whatever. This was different.

My creative writing (all unpublished, one was online for awhile) currently has a list of six non-fiction books and 21 fiction novels. It is rather a bigger deal to spontaneously realize that in the last six seconds you have lost all “energy connectiveness” with 27 of your own efforts (which range from single chapter done to completed and in rewrite). It went all at once as if it were just turned off, or closed off, or something.

It actually reminded me just a bit of how I felt in 1994 or so, during my Bewilderness period, when I would suddenly realize I had disconnected with a person who, seconds before, had been a close relative or friend. It wasn’t really that the experience was about them. It was more like a realization that NO person really had an internally-connected relationship to me, “…and oh by the way, that person in particular.” Except in this case I wasn’t realizing it one book at a time, just all at once.

Nothing that overwhelming is an accident. So I thought… well… ok then. Maybe my second chakra, which is a real huge part of the creative element of these, simply does not want to allot energy there right now. Maybe he/she (Bessand Ari) is busy trying to survive, with all these health issues I’ve had, and needs to pull in energy for use on more physical things. I had no idea, nor did I have any idea how to change it, so I made up what seemed logical and moved on.

*

I had made the Wheel of Motion version of the periodic table of elements, and once it was finally done and in images (here), I felt greatly better. As if it were just something I had to DO for some reason, no idea why. Even though I had never even heard of its existence until then.

Then for two days, I snuck into the bookmark I had of it repeatedly and just… sort of… gazed at how cool it was… and how good it made me feel… for a few minutes. Repeatedly.

Yes. That is weird.

I took to sitting on the side of my bed before getting up, looking at this big disks picture I made and framed, that has this big circle of “periodicity” from Walter Russell. Wondering idly how Dewey Larson and Walter Russell’s ideas might relate, if they do at all. Russell’s chart that I have as background for that picture is big and round, with multiple rows, and the names of elements and stuff on it, so you can see the sync.

*

Then one morning suddenly I felt driven to return to my list of writings, and I read through most of them, with a few editorial tweaks, and found myself most interested in one of them (barely begun).

I was away from everything for a day due to long work day and need for sleep, but the next day there it was: total interest in this story. (It involves a former elite soldier, an angel, and the end of time as we think of it.) The kind of interest that actually creates ambivalence while you say to yourself, “Lovely, I’m so glad you want to be creative, but I’m actually supposed to be working for a living,” and your Self is going, “I don’t just arrive from 7 to 9 pm when it’s convenient you know, I AM THE RIVER la ti da ti da ti da” as she dances around, so you struggle with it all day and in the end hope you can make up a little work tomorrow, ha!

And a new “I must do some kind of art I can touch with my hands” hit me, no idea where that came from, and mind you I am not artistic, though I am creative and can do some digital art (to me true artists can sketch and paint, though I know that’s a limited definition). (I used to make jewelry and stuff eons ago but don’t count that though I should.) It’s true I’ve wanted, someday if my health allows it and I sure hope it does, to do some furniture refinishing that will let me do some digital art, transfer it to and then paint it onto things like small tables and chests and that, mostly of metaphysical stuff. But what could I do right now, sitting in bed?

Just as I am thinking that, I’m at amazon looking for a supplement (my mind wanders) and I see this lovely line-art picture that is an adult coloring book called “The Secret Garden.” Bemused, I look through it. I buy it, and package of markers, thinking why not? It’s pretty cheap. And some part of the back of my head wanted to have opinions about a 50 year old woman sitting around coloring like a 4 year old.┬áBut then I remembered that I had just noticed the day before how my hand-eye coordination was pathetic. I can barely sign my name. I have had nothing to do with my hands for decades! Everything’s been computer. And in the last few years, when I had an energy crisis and then was sick and then started the heart and lipedema slide into hell, I’ve been pretty well outside the hands-on world also. And to be fair, that picture DID come on my screen just as I had the question in my head.

I spent several days on the new interest, the new novel. Somehow I write a bullet point outline that looks like an episode listing (go figure) and a variety of details of things that are folding into that, and I finish the intro, and then I write the first thing on the outline until it’s done.

Probably due to the subject matter, I suddenly realize that I am closer to Mark (Inner Guide #5) than I’ve been in quite some time. I had previously arranged a daily official meeting where we would do X and Z but I worried I’d probably never stick with it. Instead I ended up asking him to just be with me and share energy with me “not officially” but just because I wanted him. I crack myself up. As if I were more willing to do something if I could find a way to make it an act of rebellion!

Then I got the coloring book and markers, and I started coloring. The markers bleed through so alas, I probably need to buy two copies of the book if I want to color all the pages. I’m not so much into pencils. Even in ordinary writing when younger I never liked pencils. They just don’t make enough of a commitment and rich-bold statement for me.

I literally couldn’t follow a line. My hand-eye coordination was terrifying. But that has resolved and continues improving fortunately. I had a lot of fun with the first picture. I found myself wishing so much that I could just make pictures “spectrums” of colors. Like this one would be 12 shades or orange, and this one of green, and this one of blue, rather than different colors. That seems odd, but that’s what my body wanted for some reason. I was especially craving spring green and tangerine.

Sadly, although amazon has reached the point of having probably millions of products they have not reached the point of allowing boolean searching, and I do not have 3 days to spend online scrolling and saying ‘next page’, so if quality marker sets that have a big range of each color exist I will never know and never be able to give them money to send me some. Because I have no way to filter out gel pens, dry-erase, chalk, pencils, etc. from search.

I tend to fall asleep as I seldom sleep for long periods and my body desperately needs it. Diuretics I’m on often wake me up. Coloring relaxes me and I’m finally using my Echo to find some music of the sort I don’t already have, like new classical and jazz via their iHeart radio. I talked to Mark during, and in the evening would ask him to do our little love-fest ritual. It was actually a very nice, relaxing time.

4/23/2016

I was in the bathroom half asleep, because the diuretic woke me up, when Mark as there and I noticed someone with him, who was sort of like him. I wondered if it was… oh I dunno maybe he was just hanging around with someone today. He gave me the feeling he wanted to introduce me.

Veew. The e is 2-deep, not wide. It’s pronounced like a U though, like few, but actually more e on the first part of the vowel, like the world Galana and its people the Piu. But one syllable.

He is angel level though diff. He is an Aeon of the universe, I got; he is one of the Aeons of the Elements! Oh my gosh! Maybe he’s the reason for my obsession? Or this is a result of that?

He preferred I did not know which right now (my first excited question was “which one?!”), as it might bias expectations in me in some way. I accepted that.

When I got back to my room, first I did this lovely ritual Mark and I have been doing at night and sometimes other times, where I sit up and wrap my arms around a substantial pillow and lay my head on the top and then he puts his hands on my spine from bottom to top, then I sit up properly (somewhat) and he holds his hands over my crown and neck.

Then I lean back against him and he wraps one arm around my torso, and one on my face/hair, and I open my mouth very wide and his meets mine, in what cannot be considered a kiss by any stretch. IGs for me so far have never kissed me so much as they have “resuscitated” me — it has always felt like they were “feeding me the light.” This is an official version, it’s like a firehose transfer of energy, because of the focus he has helped me understand that I am truly and totally open to receiving in that way. It’s weirdly exhausting though, in a way I can’t describe.

When I’ve had enough, I stop it, and then we look ito each others eyes. (With my eyes closed ideally but it can be either.) This is another way of transferring energy from him into me in quantity. We do that for a bit, not long as it is also oddly exhausting, not like this is the result of the energy but like this is the result of the transfer project, like if you move furniture you might have 2 tons more furniture but you’re really tired of carrying it in. Then usually I either lean forward and hug the pillow lay back and talk with him briefly.

We were at the hands over crown level and I was game for whatever he wanted as introduction of the other guy who came off as somehow angelic-ish, it was time for him to put his hands on me like Mark had and I heard myself whining like a five year old, “but I don’t KNOW him the way I know you!” And recognized the “sense of threat to expanded identity” I always get with important energies and said “Oh never mind my resistance” and imagined letting it go, and we did the process, simple, brief. Then Mark and I finished. I talked with him a bit. Then told him how every instant without more of him was torture.

A few minutes later for some reason I refocused on the two of them and told the other guy, I am greatly honored at the visit of your attention and I hope my resistances did not do myself the dishonor or limiting your glory, your energy, within me. Do you mind if we work through it again? He was game, so we did. It occurred to me that this is a… perspective, and a way of conveying it, that I would not have had two, five, ten years ago. It is an acceptance and a respect. And a recognition that the only result of something lacking in an interaction with any identity more powerful than myself, is my own loss.

I think I may have talked to both of them but I don’t recall, I only recall having this flash idea related to a man I indirectly know, who desperately needs job/money suddenly as he is nearing elderly and his wife just had to shift to assisted living. He’s super creative and does stained glass as one of many things. I suddenly had this idea that my friend or his sister/husband or me or us combined might somehow find this guy some SG work which is well paid and can be in installments and for him would be a creative outlet in his new solitude, it’d be just great. My friend’s sister and husband are both high powered marketing people in a metro city he borders so surely if anybody could make it happen… anyway, it was totally out of the blue, but I thought the idea was ‘sparked’ by Veew.

I told them both sheepishly, I have to go and write this down or I will forget it.

P