A reader-friend pointed out that I hadn’t posted on Red Cairo for so long people were going to think I’d keeled over. I have six blogs for different topics and I can’t keep up with one let alone six, so… that’s the way it goes. But I feel sadly remiss at not posting because this one, Red Cairo, is my most personal blog, where I talk about my dreams and weird experiences and psychic sessions and so on. You know, all the stuff that would make readers elsewhere run screaming into the night.
I’ve often felt I survived well in the world mostly because my weirdness was well hidden. I “pass”, as people with issues such as deafness and autism call it; when you function well enough “like other people” that conveniently, they mistakenly assume you are one of them.
I’ve only recently revived the blog at blog.dojopsi.com and not posted much yet, but I’m finally building out more of dojo projects like Taskerbot with some more cool remote viewing tools so I’ll be waxing on about that there. As opposed to anywhere else, because it bores other people to tears I imagine…
I was recently reading this book, “An Unlikely Prophet” by Alvin Schwartz. It’s a lot like a Richard Bach book in many respects. He tells the tale, allegedly true, of meeting a genuine Tulpa — a thought-created being. The book was basically an exploration of the concept of reality, of time, of thought-creates-reality and form. It had a lot of great one-liner quotables in it.
In the book, at one point the Tulpa refers to time as merely being “an atmosphere”, saying that time was not at all consistent or the same everywhere. I don’t know why, but it made me think of something I once wrote where I said people mature “in spots”. It’s almost as if the maturity of time also happens in “spots”.
The Tulpa suggested that in the West in particular we inundate ourselves constantly with media, and most of it subconsciously was to help cement and keep consistent a specific reality and time. As if to keep anybody from slipping. “I am colored outside the lines,” I once woke up thinking. As if atmosphere can be its own imprisoning little-tiny-box of reality.
Time, or whatever it is we’re calling that, marches on. Right now all my cats are living outside for the summer. The two prettiest, friendliest have disappeared. I hope for some good reason and not the many possible bad ones. My property looks severely overgrown and I’m waiting on a hopefully new lawn guy to show up today for an estimate. Welcome to suburbia.
My seeds had a bizarre lack of germination this year. I heard that from a ton of people. That’s very worrisome as all are from good companies. What would it do to the world if terminator chemicals got into organic crops? Then Monsanto would own your ability to grow backyard peas. In any case, so after spending a small fortune on seed starting stuff I ended up going out and spending another small fortune on small seedlings. Then it rained for 14 WEEKS. Good grief! I’ve heard of a ‘wet spring’ but that is unbelievable. I was expecting some neighbor to begin building an ark any minute. My backyard was a swamp. Although my garden beds are super elevated, I sink in the mud around them so don’t go out there if it’s really wet. By the time I went out there, the weeds were 8-12′ tall in the garden beds–I am not exaggerating, some weird kind of super-tall-something!–and this tiny weed that has been a two foot patch of ground cover with tiny blue flowers the last several years in front, took over my entire front and backyard, growing OVER everything, growing UP the 8-12′ tall weeks on each side of the bed, rendering the entire half a backyard into something that looked like a garden abandoned for about 50 years. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Then it refused to rain even slightly for a couple months. It was too late anyway. The garden was annihilated. I think I have one hardy Roma tomato plant that half-survived; my housekeeping helper filled one of my refrigerator drawer with small romas last weekend. I can hardly go out there, I just find it so demoralizing. I will have to pay another small fortune to get help in basically digging out the top foot of all the beds and replacing it with fresh soil, and doing something to deal with the “plant life” that is like a pretty oklahoma version of kudzu.
My kid has her second degree in Jr. Brown Belt now in karate and has moved to the more advanced class. She turned 12 years old yesterday. Holy cats! Hard to believe. We’re celebrating this weekend though as I had no money until then. Money has really sucked for the last several months, but I just need to get off my ass and do some meditating since it’s more like a symptom of my reality than anything specific.
We are homeschooling this year, a gigantic decision we are a couple weeks into so far. She will learn far more here, will not suffer the psychological disaster of our ridiculously violent, drug-ridden, sexually-oriented kids who are worse at age 11-15 than my college was, in our nowhere-midwest public school. My only gripe is that she insists on learning violin and japanese (for godssakes!) which means I have to learn them too. God forbid I should stretch my brain like that. What is she thinking. I paid a fortune for good curriculum materials in many subjects though I have some left to obtain. I’ve got tons of documentary edu and of course am still working on Rosetta Stone for foreign language. Bittorrent is my friend.
I’m learning to cook finally, about time. I turn 43 on September 14th… just a tad late to be learning fundamental life skills. I can’t believe I’m that old. I really feel like I got to somewhere in my 20s and that was it, my ‘sense of age’ pretty much didn’t move from there until I was about 41, when it moved up to about 30. My body certainly kept moving on, but my mind hasn’t felt any older, which is just weird. Maybe it’s that way for everybody. Anyway, I spent last night going through the long-simmered carcass of a turkey that I baked and then dumped in a giant stock pot, and we’ll be having turkey soup with onions, carrots and celery as a result (plus I have, not counting the soup, at least a couple gallons of stock). Did I mention that’s a rather disgusting job that made me feel rather… savage in some way. I’ve mastered briskett (how can you screw that up?) and a variety of things made with ground turkey and beef–as you see, my effort is to learn to cook with cheap meats.
I’m lowcarb, so meat is my primary food, but I can hardly afford it. Veggies are a lot more too. Cheap pure-sugar crap like noodles are ultra-cheap, but real food costs a fortune. And they wonder why diabetes gets more common by the day and is more prevalent in the poor, hmmmn.
I’ve lost a lot of weight, which is to say, not nearly what I need to lose, but I’m getting there. I’m not really focused on that at the moment. “Eat real food” is pretty much the thing; beyond that I don’t obsess except in cycles.
I have totally sucked at weight lifting. I seem to have some emotional stuff bubble up every time I exercise enough to really work out hard that sends me away from it. I’ve seriously begun to wonder if, on some “creation of reality” level, this could be behind my mega weight gain much earlier in life. I’ve always had a problem with “shallow breathing” since childhood, but since breathing is associated with emotion and much of my childhood really sucked, I’ve just dismissively attributed it to that — not wanting to ‘feel’ too deeply. I’ve heard of “Holotropic Breathwork” (a Stanislav Grof tech I think) and how it allegedly can bring massive emotional stuff to the surface for people. I don’t know if lifting weight hard enough to make me breathe deeply and sweat like crazy is the same, but it is certainly sparking something in me. So it has become, much like archetype meditations, insanely difficult to “get around to” as a result.
Our latest music: Celtic Woman. My favorites: She Moved Thru the Faire, Last Rose of Summer – Walking in the Air, Harry’s Game. But the whole disk is lovely. It has some classic covers too, like Ave Maria, Danny Boy and Enya’s Orinoco Flow. Well I’ve also been listening to Linkin Park, Counting Crows, Avril Lavigne, but they are not nearly as cosmic. 😉
I wanted to say something about remote viewing but I think I’ll put that in a separate post.