For at least a week, my mind kept wandering the same ideas. About my aeons and chakras being physically part of me, overlapping with each other, integrally part of each other. Of any physical issue being their issue too, and my issue with them. And probably they are all that is around me too, but usually that is slightly too much to wrap my comprehension around, even if my abstract brain cells get it, or pretend they do.
I haven’t been meditating in a long time, though almost daily I ask Mark to touch me and sit with that for a few moments. When I am in this away-from-meditating cycle, though, it’s almost as if other parts of me are getting to be up front in the manifest personality. Most of them are uncreative, grim and survivalist and not very happy. But I guess that is part of me too.
One day the back of my head suddenly observed:
I can’t exist. There is no me. I’m not real! I can’t exist!
Because all the sudden I realized: there is no “I” that is separate from other things. There is no “me” that is not them. What I call my body is chakras, and Aeons, and many other things too, but there is no “I” here. I am all of that and none of that and every shade in between. I am as temporal and conglomerate as a moment of sunset. What I call “I” is the cumulative gestalt of all this energy of other identities.
It was such a shocking thought, the way it came through, that I literally quit breathing for a moment and stopped whatever I was doing and just sat in a sort of awe with it. Only a few times in my life has a sudden thought hit me so hard from inside it literally stopped my breathing and utterly arrested my attention.
It occurred to me that perhaps I am an emergent property. The project manager identity, borne of the contributions from a shifting conglomerate of energies. The spirituo-socio-political, morpheously-shifting-compromise.
I felt bereft, briefly. I grieved for the shattered illusion of a ‘me’ that could have been just-me.
Then I felt a ‘correction’ inside me, Mark’s input, I think: that it was an incredible honor.
“My” very existence has been brought about for a very specific focus: to be the caretaker of all of this, all of these identities, all of this energy, as a part of the divine that “lives through” all of them, all of me. My joy and life is as important as theirs, and is an integral part of theirs, just as theirs is of mine. They trusted me, and they still trust me. They give me the honor of giving me the charge: the leadership, even though “I” am merely composed of the myriad — and often contradictory — energies of the not-others, and even though all of them are, as their own identities, powerful and amazing and to a great degree, for “this” me, due to the difference in our natures, wholly unknowable.
I spent much of the next few days thinking a lot about my body. My liver in particular. The idea that everything from ‘Taurus’ or ‘Venus’ to ‘my Aeons’ to ‘the Four’ to ‘my heart chakra’ are all totally literal and yet totally overlapping: they are one. It is like in science, the molecules that used to be together and they split them up and do a physics experiment and the separate one shows the same experiential responses as the one having the experience; it is EXACTLY THAT, the universe, and we overlap with, we ARE, Taurus and Venus and our Aeons and our chakras and more, and every element having an experience is also sharing that experience. Because, I realized, at some point in a no-thing that we wrongly think is “time” everything was one, and now it is everything, but it’s really all still one, just having the experience “as if” separate — and the separation is merely an experiential perspective like anything else.
I kept coming back to the idea that when I am being cruel or kind to my liver I am affecting a lot of identities and a lot of me — both directly and indirectly. That there is no such thing as “just my body.” I am more prone to think that way because of lipedema, because it has gotten so much more ghastly and horrid the last couple of years, because like most people with such a condition it feels like my body is this horrifying thing I am trapped inside, as opposed to it feeling like “me,” because the latter would require I felt some sense of control over its fate and at least in terms of its ghastly expansion, I don’t. I wish I did. Although feeling I did when all my diff behaviors resulting in nothing (evidencing I do not) would be even more horribly suicidally-demoralizing and I don’t think I can handle much more of that genre of energy, I have more than enough already thanks.
In the dream, later, there was a mountain. There was a cave there, a large entrance, and I understood that this was “the mouth” of the mountain, and that all caves are the mouths of mountains, and that the energetic structures we consider unique to us such as chakras, well they are not the same for mountains but there is a lot more to their energy spectrum and its operation than we have any idea. That chakras are one version of something there are a gazillion versions of.
I went inside, and it was a place I knew, like a house, conceptually. (I have had dreams like this often and I feel this is my symbol for ‘the many rooms of self’ to a great degree.) I wandered for a bit, at home. There was a small part to a back and side area that had been closed down for a long time. I’m not sure it had been empty so much as just totally closed down, like an area that becomes broken and disused and so now it was being reopened and refurbished. I saw that they were going to make a library out of it, perhaps it had been that before I wasn’t sure; and some other things I didn’t understand.
I recalled having had a dream that part of that area was going to have some liquid in it, an area like a fountain with a very thin channel-like creek running through it, and more. There was a fellow there who was the main manager and my friend. I told him of my dream, and he was fascinated. He showed me these architecture plans, which sketched out exactly my idea. He said he had been hoping to get permission for that, but now that he knew I had dreamed it, he was sure it would come to be.
The library portion of the new area was nearly done and I donated all of my books to it. When I went in to see it, though, I saw that it had all of my journals, and my blank books bought to use as journals. Not the books written by others.
There was a wall at the far side that was made of totally smooth stone. Well they were all stone, we were inside a mountain but this was totally smooth and nearly white, a sort of creamy color. It got my attention for some reason, as if it were “waiting for me to notice it,” and then it began shifting.
It became very 3-D, going far backward, as if it wasn’t just the wall shifting but really that whole part of the mountain, the wall just happened to be the part facing me. As much of it receded and all of it rearranged itself, it created what I understood was “seating for the council.” As if some people would sit there and they were the ones who made decisions about the mountain. It reminded me of the kind of council some some centuries old wealthy group might have. Somehow both elegant and ornate. Even though on the surface, all I saw was the now impossibly smooth stone in those shapes, it was like it carried the energy of so much more.
Then it changed shape, morphing entirely, and instead became a complex, beautiful combination of mountain and library and things of nature and more. Like an almost magical outdoor glade, that somehow had every representative of nature and color in it, trees and bushes and flowers and birds and butterflies and rivers and more, and yet could not possibly be all that, and yet it felt like that. Again, like the energy present was all that energy, even though the form showing it to me was only the stone.
Then it changed again and became something else I can’t recall. Then it changed a few more times, from thing to thing. I had this subtle memory-overlay suddenly, of Helen Keller and the story of her finally understanding that the shapes being made in her hand meant this-experiential-thing. At which point I realized it was telling me something. It was ‘showing’ me. Trying to communicate with me. Lots of forehead-chakra there, the visceral vividness.
When I opened to that, the meanings started to come through. First, that the council was merely the ‘inhabiting spirits’ in a way; the council was that room that the wall created, and the council was also the library, was also the mountain, that all these things were really the same thing, made out of the same materials, they were just different perspectives, different geometries, a different presentation of the same overall underlying energy-material and actually something even underlying, composing, that.
I also suddenly understood that this story was so much bigger than the moment, or the mountain; that it was everything and all things and all time.
I felt suddenly that this information needed to be preserved somehow, so that people would know what mattered about the mountain, about its libraries of stored knowledge available, about the living world that it all represented. I said to someone, we need to found a cult, a secret society, something!, like a small collection of people who can be a continuous service to this end, who will be educated to understand these things for each generation, who can hold this knowledge. This seemed so hugely important to me, that such people must exist, that we must ensure they exist, that for the sake of our species, our planet, this information had to be kept alive, by which I mean, literally present within sentient, biological forms of energy.
Later, on awakening, I had the sense that there in fact IS an eternal lineage; the people who understand. I also felt that there are certain genetic configurations, the ‘potential’ for them set by genetics, not a specific family line mind you but merely the potential in place, which has myriad opportunities with all the racial blends all over earth at this point in time (even allegedly white people are usually from many different lines if you go back far enough). But the actual manifestation of those are set by spirit: who will ‘carry’ this ability or be this knowledge or however you want to put it. Those are the same thing in this model, ability and knowledge: to carry and BE the “inhabiting spirit” you might say.
I understood that the mountain was ‘my body’, but that my body was a part of this earth, and all mountains and everything else; and that the Aeons are my “council,” but I am part of the council for the larger body, or I would be if I’d pay attention (perhaps it is 4th of 4); and I understood that the wall had been showing me how the Aeons and the mountain (“world”) and me were all the same thing, and how this is all just a matter of perspective.
The library examples one area of that world which stores and processes “information and resources,” but I understood the information literally was enzymes and minerals and stuff like that. (Later I felt this was a small part of my liver which sufficient liposomal-C and other things, and having cut out things that might do it harm, are ‘restoring.’)
I remembered getting the info not long ago that minerals and such are ‘qualities;’ they are information; they are identities as surely as ‘virgo’ or ‘three of disks’ are; they are a collection of energy assigned a label or title which is the definition of any identity. Copper is as alive as I, it merely has a different form and is vastly more present ‘within’ every other imaginable form. It ‘has’ and ‘IS’ information, energy and geometry. My relationship with that is just as dynamic as my relationship with another person.
But my familiarity with the library, and its usefulness to the mountain of which I am a servant, is going to depend on that relationship. And I understood that somehow even though the mountain is vastly larger and merely contains the library, that the mountain is as much a servant of the library as the opposite; that everything is equal even though everything is unutterably different, in scope and power and nature.
Then I woke up, and felt that was an “interactive explanation” for what I’d been thinking about lately.
The next day while working, I realized that underneath my attention, I had been having a conversation. It was with an identity I sensed as male and we had been talking about the cave… the mountain… my body… the library… the dream. His name was Taixlee — pronounced “tie-LEE” but I sensed a depth-of-thickness I translated as a letter H, just “behind” and “overlapping half of each” of the T and the A in the word. The letters of the word came through with understanding of the sound. (Chakra sound-stuff is so odd!)
I was not sure, when I became aware of it, if he was the same guy I was talking to in the dream — I thought perhaps so — or a guide of sorts, but it seemed to me that becoming consciously aware, and getting his name right off, and associating him with the man in the dream, was a clue that this was him.