Getting to the truth of who you are

Strange that as usual, although I am loathed to refer to the last few months as usual, I reverted or found solace at least in watching films, some of which I have to say are quite violent in nature and theme, the Bond films that have been made recently, the Bourne films, I even had myself down as a secret agent myself in many ways, but publicly, as i've been open about the healing that I thought I was doing, and felt I was.

So I'm hurting a little from the work I'm doing but ya know what?  The constant physical exertion seems good, the lack of any time to think, just work like stink seems to help, keeping a routine albeit a very late night and very early morning one, whatever, it's earning some money, makes me feel good to being paying my way and even things like writing a certain number of lines, or not using commas, other forms of, whatever it is you call the things that come at the end of lines, or give pause, constipation, separation, pronunciation, I had it then, punctuation, you see, my brain has been quite frazzled, certain things weren't working too well, short term memory, learning new things, takes quite a few times, focus, listening to what someone is saying and not becoming distracted by the surroundings, other soundings, the lack of rhyming here, just writing words is good.

The fact that I'm not so hung up on certain numbers, let's say the amount of times I use the salt cellar in my porridge, eating what I like, feeling as though I have a new lease on life, as though I'm connected to more of who I was in the past, as though memories are opened up to areas I had blotted out, school days, songs of that era, looking back isn't such a bad thing, even though I didn't really like that period so much.

Then I think hey I'll watch some comedies to cheer myself up, I don't have to watch things that I think will inform my situation, always on the internet looking for spiritual information, films, clips, people, articles that will somehow give me some solace, or tell me what's going on, there's a lot of things I've given up, like football, I used to care more about that stuff, maybe only to fit in mind you, I don't miss it, but I did used to enjoy watching it, so I know I became obsessed with spiritual matters because I felt something was going on in the world that I wanted to know about, I felt lead to try to learn the truth of the matter at hand.

I felt as though that was the point of life, but maybe it's just living it, having relationships with the people in it, taking more interest in how they are, if there's anything you can do for them, like I used to, I've been single my whole adult life, pretty much so I always had a lot of time to think of nice things to do for others, friends, whoever, family members, make them a cd of music, do them a favour, fix something with their computer, whatever it was that was who I was, because I guess deep down I knew I wasn't so great at relationships themselves, and today I felt, I had all these thoughts in my head, it's a nervousness, a feeling of lacking any control, feels like a control freakishness, I'm sat in the car, where are you?  Did you hear the horn?  Are you coming?  Inside I'm feeling anxious, is that the right word?  Was all this there but masked by smoking weed?

It's a bit like being born, feeling naked, fresh, unprotected by my lack of caring about such things, not thinking, looking back on conversations I had with someone online, seeing how confident I was, even though they were coming out with some really quite unnerving things, I just seemed to bat them back, give them a positive perspective, try to say something to give them hope, tried to do the right thing, tried to be someone who could give them some words of encouragement, and again just recently I saw this blog as somehow being written by me, for me, as though I would need it all, should reread it all, or something like that.

There is a fear, it's grown weaker and less present, awaking in the morning it came back, thinking about it now is like running a program on a computer, so I know that's why a lot of people end up in therapy or so I think, because they are constantly reliving things, so constantly keeping them current and in that way it becomes a recurrent nightmare, so I hope that isn't the case, I hope these are loops that are becoming less frequent, less self referential, I miss the magical feeling of sensing someones energy but I see that I may have persuaded myself quite easily, taken what others said, out of context maybe.

So without naming any names, or even hinting, let's say the early days when I was dancing and offering massage as a consequence of seeing those who worked hard at parties, at events, who never seemed to have much fun, I would mention it and try to raise a smile, make sure they got a chance to let loose once in a while, the rhymes still occur to me occasionally, so let's go with them, but then I did a massage for a make up artist who did, quite naturally, a very long makeup job on me because I gave her a big donation for her work.

I wanted to sit there, for a while and chill out, when I came round from my reverie, there all over my head, but not my mouth incase I might end up kissing someone I said and over my chest was a huge beautiful psychedelic tree, for me, to my mind, the world tree, and what I wanted to write about is coming back to me, in the past I would write something and come full circle, even talking if you gave me enough time I would finally, even if I lost my train of thought, come back to it, come back to what I meant to say.  The world tree.

There on my chest was this beautiful tree, and when I was ill, or experiencing spirituality, feeling it, being it, you decide, because I can't anymore, I experienced the most creative period of my life, artistically.  I'm not a good drawer or painter, never have been, I can copy things, I even did a christmas present that was considered  quite nice and was framed, but I had to be honest, it didn't take that long, I ruined the thought that counts in that case I'm sure, but that's another story, I gave up drawing when I took up smoking I feel.

Lots of who I was were given up or put to one side forever because in the adult world you have to work.

I have been striving to get back to a way of living where I would have free time to make things again.

But that period of creativity, I mean for real, some would say it was hellish the picture I painted, because well it was, it stands there as a testament, and the word comes out quite naturally, like hymns from primary school or religious songs have been coming to mind from time to time, give me oil in my lamp, keep me praising.

There is this work of art, I painted, with my fingers, expressively, to me it looks like the base, the trunk, the area around and the foliage and cannopy of a tree, a great tree, the shamanic world view, of a great world tree, the norse mythology?  The lower world, looks like this, a place to learn lessons, the middle realm, where we ought to reside, the upper realm that of spirit?  That of ethereal, angelic, that of those above?

You see there are such parallels to be found amongst the different spiritual traditions even Bhuddism which does not purport to be a religion, apparently includes the idea of a hell that is already frozen over.

AS recently as a few months ago, and I see that it was not real, but to my mind something, someone was coming after someone close to me, this was real to me, so I'm proud of the fact that I stood in the way.

I faced my fears in so many ways, as though there are fears in life that need to be faced, I did so, I find them worrying real and difficult to face now, because I haven't been shown how to, or had to, been sheltered from them, don't blame anyone, I have to and realise how stupid it is to judge anyone else, those judgements make me feel stupid immediately, they are just doing their best, in that way I find myself with little to say.

Little because otherwise most of my commentary would be on others, the guy at work with the massive forehead, I didn't notice it because he usually wears a hat, I find myself like a child, staring at the disabled, the strange looking, the things that stand out, saying things that could get me killed, no, injured badly.  Seeing a guy, asking are you from north africa?  Marroco?  I'm from Egypt he says, that was silly of me, of course I'm in no danger but it comes across as judgemental to racially profile someone like this so I know how naive I am and have even been accused of it as though that is something I should be ashamed of or something.

I find the emotions of others very harsh, or maybe i'm being oversensitive, when lately all I feel is as though I am insensitive, care only about my own situation, or as though I'm going through the motions, doing what I think others would do, even though I'm acting, trying to explain this is hard, it's like feeling like a fraud, at life, as though I've suddenly realised how little I feel for those around me, but I get emotional, I've faced adrenaline in such a way that it hollowed me out, I felt like my heart might stop from the physical things I was put through when I went on my wanders around the local environment, and knowing what I put people through makes me scared enough to never wish to put them through that again and that gives me enough strength to make sure i never do anything to perturb my conciousness again if that's what I did.

But then I know that it's hard for me not to try to find, seek out truth, healing, for myself, and I see that it was that that I was feeling as though I was giving others, when I did that first massage, in public, but not showoffingly, just hey let me give you a shoulder massage as you've been working hard to give others pleasure, now you ought to get some relief, I worked, and felt as though I ought to do these movements, I had seen, so I can't say I made them up, but I thought they came out of me, because I was acting instinctively, I was sweeping down the body, and away, now I can see that maybe I was just aping what I had seen on something on t.v. the work of a healer, a shaman maybe, you see I doubt everything, energy, the things I've felt in my hands, the ways I worked for others, thought I was sending them healing, back to square one again, but that person said, you've just cleared my aura, after I had finished, so confirmation bias, I don't, couldn't explain it to you, but my subconcious knows what I mean by that, I took things people said that seemed to confirm that what I was doing was working for them was evidence that the healing I was doing was working and I ran with that and it all became proof in my mind that I was a healer, could send energy, could remotely sense someones energy field, whatever you wish to call it, their energy body, their life-force, the root of all this not esoteric, but mystical, magical, loving healing ways of being in the world.

For me, whether I did it in the right way, whatever happened recently I felt was both a call to arms, but not violence in any way, except in self defence of my family, to ensure they came to no harm, but i saw my own cowardice, my failure to act, reminding me of the time I saw someone run over and was frozen to the spot, the time I was first aider for the football team.  Then there are the occasions where I have responded with real confidence, I guess they were later in life, so maybe that makes sense, without so much fear, I trained for such situations, tried to learn how to cope, but i find myself scared of the future, scared to seek out prospects for living my own life, somewhere else, now do not have any idea why I would want to move away, what I would do there, certainly not a healer, not confident to meet people in a private setting to provide massage, because I refuse to train formally, I can't face the paperwork, the training, that removes to my mind the instinctive within me that seemed to know what to do for others, when it came out of me.

Consistency that's what I'm getting at, maybe it's a fallacy, but I know the ways that I must wait and see.

For I have been through a lot, maybe one day, should I wait longer, forever, be a burden or am I a help here?  I've grown closer in terms of opening up more, and asking more questions but really I feel as though I'm asking these of myself for the first time literally, what do I want from life, how will I cope when I'm on my own, I look back at the emails and relationships I had albeit electronically, but then back in the day I phoned folks, or they phoned me, I've become so isolated because they don't know how to deal with me, or because I don't make the effort to keep in touch, and they don't because I let them atrophy, those friends.

They way I've acted since the time when I chose to see 11:11 as something to be looked into and other signs that I thought suggested the end of days, the start of the revealing of the truth, I've written before about the dictionary definition of the word armageddon and also the other one beginning with A that means

An apocalypse (Ancient Greek: ἀποκάλυψις apokálypsis, from ἀπό and καλύπτω meaning "uncovering"), translated literally from Greek, is a disclosure of knowledge, i.e., a lifting of the veil or revelation.

I read revelation recently, because I had tried a few times, drawn to these sorts of writings and who has time to read the whole of the bhagavad gita and the rest of the vedic writings really?  Not me, I've flicked through, someone sent me a .pdf adobe file of some book about magic, esoteric something or other, crowley, i wrote about him because I had him on my boot as a tiny lepracaun figure to be shooed away, stomped on, it's not funny I'm sure, given the sorts of things he was said to have done, or maybe he's been demonised in order to scare people  off something that would help the normal folk become more than they are, the true human being, whatever it is that the egyptians were doing, the ruling class under the guidance of the priests.

Immortality, the passage to the afterlife with your dogs and chariots, and with your brains and guts in jars.

You see this whole place is a giant pickle, more like a swiss cheese plowmans if you ask me now, I can see the funny side, and hope I offer no disrespect, because I feel as though there's little I can do but hand on in there, knowing I have little desire to answer these great questions any more, except to try to have enough respect to treat myself body and mind, who knows about soul and spirit, so as to be in good health mentally.

At the same time, I'm dropping the superstitious nonsense as much as possible, wondering whether or not once I've paid the debts that I see from the times when I wasn't working and those I know I owe those close, once I've got myself some kinda headway into saving, or at least cleared those debts, just fuck off to Magaluf or one of the other alcohol soaked pleasure resorts and really get debauched because I've saved myself for a love I cannot see, given the lengths I've gone to not to get anywhere near anything romantically.

I've literally faced years of thinking one thing, and not doing anything about it except that, and finding it for nought, romantic fantasies that were clearly never going to be anything but that, communication not withstanding, because i'm too fucking wordy here, and don't speak up in private or in public, face to face.

I don't wish to either, I really don't, I don't wish to enter into any kind of relationship with anyone, and yet while I was doing healing I also flip flopped between work ethics like now, and then going abroad to dance.

It's a wonder anyone has even given me a chance to come back from this latest episode, and it's not funny.

So I'm going to go to bed, now that I'm nearing the time when I get home from my shifts at the parcel factory.  Ok it's a warehouse where things come in on lorries and then go out again, grounding me in the insanity that is the planet we live on, where beauty and inanity reside side by side, and surgical gloves.

They are needed and there's lots of them going back and forth, and toilet roles, and car and tractor tyres, and all sorts of things made out of wood, and plants and trees, and heavy things with fragile written on them.

It's a strange world, where I have to leave my bank card at home otherwise I might go to tescos open twenty four hours and buy alcohol and chocolate, or the salt and vinegar peanuts and cheesecake I did last week.

I'm managing not to completely fall into old habits, trying to remembering the other folks I owe who helped me out in the meantime, the average of high times and low times and here I am hoping to be an average joe.

Keep the old bank balance in the black, don't go out wearing my shamanic, tantric uniform of black trousers, red tshirt, as it became over time, because they were my work trousers, and they were a gift and then there are all the strange things that were happening around me, that I took or made into the strangeness that made me question those in my sphere whose lives i have no influence on and no interest in usually, i see it, i see how uninterested I am in the lives of those who just want to be heard, like I do, rabbiting on but not listening when it's their turn to speak, I see my own self interest, I see it clearly, it doesn't feel nice to see that, lonely.

To know you don't care about others, their lives, just realising how bereft you are, seeing the shadow so clearly, and wishing to come into the centre, the middle way, please, finally, read the red book, liber novus, doesn't that mean new book or is that my poor understanding of latin, c.j.jung's masterpiece?  I don't find the time because I'm trying not to go down those roads, but then I read somewhere or get drawn back my my inability to be interested in anything but the answer to the riddle that is this place, the mysteries, illusions.

Are all seers crazy, do they tread a fine line, are they that much more sensitive, more euro fighter like?

I.E.  Very unstable in some ways, so much so that they can be flicked from one side to the other easily?

In other words, as much as the general populace do their best to be normal and ignore the questions...

Am I just prone, have become so, am trying not to be, to asking them?  To being this fluid and impressionable and will it indeed go on until I enter the tunnel from which a light is said to come?

Because at that point as some in other cultures so, and they know the several stages there are to death, to the procedures required to make the necessary transition from life to whatever happens next, maybe forewarned is forearmed or maybe I'm wasting my only chance at experiencing doing cool shit?

SO I'm torn between eating every item on the menu at the cafe I discovered with a friend and eating really healthily and taking up meditation, I'm torn between getting fucked by some slapper and preserving my sexual energy within me so that it rises up my spine to the higher chakras, there are challenges to that path and I know that keeping good habits makes those less challenging, because you have to eat right, live right, be disciplined, in order not to kundalini yourself into a mental home, the internet don't get me started.

It's like the middle ages or a market somewhere in a pre celtic, pre roman world where all questions could be answered by gutting an animal, asking your question as the entrails told their tails who knows the truth?

I don't but I'm relieved if it's any consolation that my sun gazing is over and my full moons now go unnoticed and i can see why so many fall by the wayside if there is such a narrow path between the eye of the needle and the camels ass as it passes through I hope this isn't coming out as nastily as it might sound to all of you.

It feels like a friend, and there they came about again, and I realised there are things I've done that I don't remember so well, ok I'm getting on, but when folks saying crazy things come around when I'm feeling pretty crazy myself and realising what I've been through, it doesn't help to feel like the whole world is going crazy at the same time, unless that's good evidence that we're all connected and then I hope that's a good thing.

Thank goodness is the closest I come to saying the word, beginning with g that folks exclaim with when they're coming close to feeling as though they wish to describe something incredible in their lives...

Thanks goodness for family

I miss the old days

Said this would be my last go around this mortal coil, felt as though it would be, but maybe that's just me.

Now I revel in replaying the walks I've made across the continent, by looking at the imagery I took.