Monday, March 26, 2018

Knowing Where to Begin

"Not all who wander are lost".   Hmmm.  That fits. Those words pop up along walkways and church signs and on cardboard placards the homeless wave at the cars rushing by.

I am not one who falls in one category or another.  I am an amalgam; a puzzle which until just now,
had no solution.

All my life, I have pushed the boundaries....believing that there was always a Paul Harvey option: "The rest of the story".  I have been a disgruntled being.; searching for the polarity of existence.

I am awakening on my life's parallel plane where I have been comatose.  It's an interesting
process to be sure. I have existed on this plane at this predestined venture and now my purpose
is transformational and expansive. I am no longer in denial.

This acknowledgement or validation has come to me though indirect messages.  My
journey through transformational ascension will take concerted effort and a cleansing purge
of my soul.  But where to begin?

Trust- that's my biggest challenge.  Trust of self; confidence of that intuition which has guided me safely to this point. This time, however, there's a rip in the safety net.  That being the familiarity
of who I was.

I like conclusions. They're final-once the research has ended it's either yes or no, go or stay. Beginning again is always an option and perfect for one who can't seem to hold interest very long.
Being optimistic, I prefer short term goals.  The outlay of energy is greater and designed as a catalyst
for quick resolution.  I know "quick" is a relative term.  I haven't been comfortable with open ended
scenarios.  My pattern has been: problem plus plan equals solution.

My problem is: "x" equals plan.

And here we are back to the trust issue. I do not have faith.  I have truth. They're not mutually
compatible. I do not have trust. I have intuition and I don't have any point of reference as to whether
or not the imbalance will defeat or incite my participation.

How do I justify the gentle bombardment of new people suddenly in my life's path? Where is the tether which keeps tugging at me and keeping my head above water?

Where does sudden desire to abandon my life come from?  Perhaps it comes in a dream or a whisper; perhaps in a split second glimpse of the stars above.   The reality is that it sits in my gut-waiting.
I wake up with it and take it with me as I wander; trying to maintain control.

Making uninformed decisions leaves me scattered; remnants of me clutter my brain.  Getting clear, defogging my vision is my intended starting point.

Today, I placed a telephone call to a Buddhist monk.  I am hopeful his meditation practices will relieve me of my muddle headedness.  Maybe with practice, that feeling in my gut will relocate to
my heart and I will become open to possibilities.

Trusting that he will return my call,  I can begin to relax a little. Trusting that I will know what to do with the information is an entirely different matter; but I must begin somewhere.



Monday, February 26, 2018

The Ancient Within

Born an old soul?  I am beginning to see the wisdom of this cliche'.  I am beginning to believe that I was never an innocent child. Hindsight, being all I have, memories of growing up are sparse and the circle of friends just as sparse.  I didn't fit in then, I don't fit in now.

 I am coming to terms with the unpopular mindset of my peers.  At our age, we long for youth; search for it and if it comes in a jar with a money back guarantee, well gotta have it.

If I started this journey with knowledge far beyond my earthly years, I wonder when I will
use it.  Just started a quest to know more about the year 2020.  Two years future could be my undoing or unraveling or discovery of the why of me.

Dad called my perspective "common sense", Mom didn't comment, but my grandmother could
speak with me on an adult level from very early on.

Today is much the same.  The not belonging is rather powerful.  The sense that I am alone among
the masses is not scary.  Solitude dwells in chaos and sometimes thrives there.

Understanding that I must elevate to a higher universal vibration, I wait.  I wait and I live out
the days based on this life experience.  I do what I have always done until...and I will know
because the agony in my gut will leave.  The world will not define me and I will exist beyond
boundaries.  Boundaries of prejudice, and physical form.

Already enlightened, tomorrow is full of possibilities.


Monday, February 19, 2018

Awakening the Muse

My fate is sealed. It could be worse.  Free will could delay the inevitable and there I'd be
enjoying my retirement on the reel end of a fishing pole.

I spend countless sleep deprived days waiting for inspiration.  I had it once, published two books in a year.  Now the gray matter is putty.

Where does one go to spark the mental kindling wood? A change of scenery-something beyond the rearrangement of my living room furniture-is what I want. To be physically immersed in the unfamiliar might be my short term goal. A new vocabulary to describe the new environment would
benefit both myself and my readers.

I am not studious by nature or choice, I dabble and try on.  There is no desire to become proficient; there is a drive-indefinable that keeps me questing.  How remarkable to be so old and not know
what or who I want to be when I grow up.  Latent desires are sparked by boredom. I guess
that would not be a surprising revelation by any one who is more comfortable with solitude.

There are unlimited moments of inspiration in both my waking and sleeping selves. We all have
unspoken glimpses of the universe.  Some of us pay attention.  I need to pay better attention.

My desires float on a single word sometimes. Other times, creativity reveals itself through an unexpected shared moment in nature.  Something catches my attention and I have to rely on my memory to reproduce the encounter.  It's remarkable that given the immense clutter in my gray matter, I am able to recall the insignificant interruption.  But, I do eventually.

The muse is stirring and restless.  Her path travels through the recesses of my darkness
and peaks of my luminosity.  My being transforms through her.  You will discover my truth
if you listen.

I want to leave nothing behind but words on a page.  Considering that to be a fairly green
carbon footprint, my legacy will keep me company through my existential journey.  The words
which I borrow and repurpose, as my own, are gifted to the future. Take great care of them
for I was worthy.



Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Pause

Well, the universe is at me again.  At least I hope so, the alternative would be early dementia which is also a possibility, but I'm optimistic.

My lifestyle has slowed and the minutes can now be extended into moments; sometimes
unexpected, other times anticipated or planned.  These tiny immeasurable units of time define
me and validate the journey.  Knowing that I have traveled with purpose, I welcome the moments
which remind me of who I am.

The pause today, came without fanfare on the warm afternoon breeze.  Windows were open and the fresh air was a welcome respite from the recent deluge of heavy rain.  I smelled hopefulness.
Several months had slipped away and I missed the piano.  I missed the part of myself that used
to play every day.  I wondered what had taken me away from joy.

But joy is subjective and I'm to blame for its banishment. I allowed the complexities of day to day living to interfere and I'm tired.  I welcome interruption of self; I believe in a life fragmented. Living
in pieces, chunks and snippets is freeing.  I'm not advocating for remnants, shreds or merely the lingering remains of a purpose driven life, I'm grateful for the opportunities which come by way of a full stop, deep breathing and choosing to continue on or selecting another path.

Given that mankind follows a patterned existence and is guided by an internal clock tempered
by instinct, perpetuity is optional.  If we choose to limit our routines based on these factors,
we soon run out of that which distinguishes us from the lesser apes. Accepting the belief that
the universe is indefinable and our place in it is transient, makes the opportunity to be awe inspired
so precious and life affirming.

When was the last time you paused in your rush to get to the next whatever?  Do you now regret
that those missed seconds resulted in your not changing? Second guessing yourself and living
with remorse, for not being in the moment, is the fodder for many a great poem.  The what if's
have a tendency to weigh us down.

Challenges can be simply overwhelming. Living and experiencing life are not synonymous.
Perhaps it takes the cumulative missed moments in our lives to make us appreciate the unexpected
interruptions.  Perhaps it takes the unexpected interruptions to make us grateful that there are
more than twenty four hours in our day.


Monday, January 29, 2018

Release

On my mind today is the consistently aggravating choice of free will.  Man kind chooses his burdens. Burdens can bloom; they can overwhelm and become the masks we wear.  How is it that truth is so easily disguised?

I strive to live a life which questions everything. I take nothing for granted and have not struggled much.  I am wandering and not lost.

For some, scapegoats are an integral release of conscience. These are learned coping mechanisms.
We all learn to blame others from very early on.  I think it may be time to rethink this strategy.
Why can't reality exist separately rather than co exist with illusion?

Heavily indoctrinated in the theory of evolution and it's evolving thesis', I want for nothing more than
today.  But there is conflict within me. Who I am is unfinished.  What I am is a simple bridge to what is to be.  I know this and nothing else can weigh as heavily as this burden.

Intuition guides my dreams. My waking hours are filled with apprehension. Being present in the moment is not easy. I marvel at those people who can quiet themselves to all that surrounds and infuses the soul. I'm not wired that way. I have a short attention span and get lost in the details of my life. Perfection is unattainable and I should stop trying and just let it be.  I won't be remembered for the incompleteness of my journey.  Who would hold it against me?  No one is equal to the path I am on.  It is mine through all time.

The what if's which comprise my life's story are autobiographical. To some extent, I am being allowed to choose; to opt in or opt out.  Free will is the migraine clouding my destiny. It is an uncomfortable companion with whom I must travel.  It is the self shadow; always between me
and authenticity.

The surrender is inevitable and beautiful in all its mystery. I'm just not willing-yet.  Being
fluid and eternal, my soul will wait upon destiny which is greater than the burden which I perceive
is mine.

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

The Dwelling I am Dwelling In

I retain a memory that is not mine. It surfaces in my dreams, keeping me prisoner.  I wonder why.

There's a message to be revealed at a time not of my choosing. I wait.

To state that I am familiar with the dream is an understatement because it disrupts seemingly when
my life is on track to somewhere predestined. Every attempt to expand my world thru new endeavors
is thwarted and I begin again, with compass in hand and head in a new direction.

Not finding me has been a life long pursuit; admittedly I am beginning to dread the thought that my options are dwindling. I have searched diligently. I am tired of this hide and seek game.  Time for
the reveal.

In my dream, the house is not my house, but apparently it has been my house in another life time.
Guessing that my previous live's have been consecutively lived with in the last say 400 hundred years, the house has all the amenities of the post industrial revolution era.

I don't recall what happens in the house or who or what lived there, I just recall the house-
the floor plan, wall colors, furnishings and views from all the windows.  Why does the building haunt me? Why do I awaken breathless?

Dream interpretation is very precise and dicey.  Without the benefit of documentation, I have no
starting point.  That in itself is a starting point.  I must journal. I must embrace the probability
that my nightly sleep patterns will continue in spurts.  It's a pattern I have had to accept for as long as I can remember: drowse, rest, sleep, dream, awaken, drowse...

Remembering a house seems a peculiar focal point in one's mental catalogue of self.  In THIS house,
my remembrances are not of who or where or what who was doing, it's just the dwelling.  It's my unfinished life within this building; the burden knowing that I will revisit this house in perpetuity.

I am uninspired to begin again. At my age, I have the time and resources, but no inspiration. All I need is within the house and I fear that I will become part of this house; that it will consume me.
Perhaps that's the message.

Perhaps my destiny lays in yet another direction; one where the path will not lead me back to the familiar. Maybe I am destined for something intangible and amazing.

In my waking moments, I am who I am. But in my dreams, I belong to the universe. Eventually
we will be in sync. Just in time for a nap.






Sunday, January 7, 2018

Relatively Speaking

My genealogy dangles like the proverbial carrot before the horse or the horse before the cart because if I find the people responsible, I'll have the burden to inform who comes after. Woe is me.  Why can't I be more like my dogs?

He, she, she and she are oblivious to lineage. Its' not important and that's a lesson I must learn.  "Who I am is not defined by the circumstances of my birth", she said in a text.  The "she" being my friend, Siobhan Peal-the Shaman of Stonehenge. I have been in dialogue with her twice, seeking advice.  I thought knowing the biological facts of my parents and their extended relatives would bring a new perspective and put to bed the notion that genetics are responsible for well-all my unraveling plans.

Surely, I must be related to other people who just can't finish what they start. Procrastination must be an inherent trait.

According to Ms. Peal, "No".

Well, she should know.

I started, again, on the who am I quest and enrolled in a college course given by a member of the Church of the Latter Day Saints. They have the corner on genealogical record keeping.  They're serious!  The files are kept in a vault within a granite mountain in Salt Lake City. The online program and the web of research will help anyone arrive at their definitive roots.  Some roots are shallow, however and mine are of that variety.  I was able to trace fourth great grand parents on my father's side and not quite so far on the maternal line.  The information was all very organized and it was more a process of elimination once I recalled the vagueness of names I remembered in conversations with Mom and Dad.

The opportunity to further research remains for those more dedicated than me.  I'm done.

Next step? Maybe DNA.  That would give me a geography lesson.  One can never have too few of those.  Borders change, people migrate and inbreed.  Record keeping might lapse from written to oral and back again, but the story could be highly entertaining.  Would the new information enlighten or entertain me?

That last question is the thought behind the delay in this probe. How seriously do I need to know?
Do I want to know? Am I prepared for the consequences of knowing?

Um...

Back to my dogs; their lives are not complex. Routine eliminates worrying about options.
As long as they are living with me, their needs will be met-promptly. Happy dogs equal happy
me.  I believe that they want for nothing. We are symbiotic and they are insightful, intelligent
and compassionate beings.  Their breeding is for another's benefit. Their lineage makes YOU feel superior.  They don't give a crap about it.

I abhor the word "pedigree". It's among a long list of limiting, self disparaging adjectives. To describe any being in the terms of being "less than" because of an ancestral genetic mutation...

I don't understand the rules which define you and me and them as inferior from ourselves and each other.  I appreciate the theory of natural selection and survival of the fittest.  I get that. Was there a king and queen of the apes in that original troupe somewhere in our evolution?  Was the crown then past up through the roughly thought out time line of say fifteen million years ago to present day? Apparently so, and the resulting monarchies are testament to the inbreeding and migration patterns resulting in the several kingdoms still intact today.

As for me, I'm without my breeding certificate.  I was adopted. I may never know.  The state of Washington doesn't acknowledge pre adoption birth records.  I've tried.

To balance the scales, I know that my soul traveled 444.2 light years to get here. That's a long time to consider who my relations are.  The earth is hardly my place of origin.  Science is on my side. The Earth is 4.54 plus or minus 0.05 billion years old.

I am who I am-relatively speaking.