Here is a note in my new AI organizer: write about slavery, the way it happened in my privileged middle class upbringing and how it so perfectly dovetailed into working for the man behind the guru curtain. The more I write things down, the more I see how primed I was for becoming a slave to a false prophet, trained from an early age.
There are bigger pictures, played and replayed, in similar ways throughout society. Find parallels in a youtube conversation about The Plight of the American Farmer. Farmers everywhere, not only in America, have become slaves to an industry that chokes them to death with regulations and lies. That industry is not interested in the health of soil nor the health of eaters.
Who owns this world and who is going to take away their license to kill?
There is a Telegram exchange that tempts me to write about the haughty hubris of long gone friends who remain with the dark lord, who look down their noses at me from their deeply doubled down beliefs in a lie. I was dunked in that shaming sensation regularly while I lived in that hazing cult. Questions about the unusual activity of the motorhead relegated the questioner/me, to a low level doubter who hadnt risen to the program that allowed for no doubt, no questions, no peeking under the covers of a narrative that enslaved followers to do all they could for the lofty leader, way, way up there, high above any questions. Like Fauci on the world stage, currently being exposed for his wicked criminality. The big S science man has lost his imperial robes. At least thats one bullying Saruman finally revealed as the lying murderous money grubber he actually is. A bigger picture of what lesser criminals also do, convincing the brainwashed to ask no questions, to waive informed consent, and to take it on the arm for the sake of a greater good. Smaller pictures play and replay in similar ways throughout society.
My brother comes close from whatever realm hes gone off to, that ether world between death and life, making himself available here while he wanders the in-between. He reminds me of my own coming end. I wonder if how I have lived will determine my dying? Lots of beliefs rally for attention. My very sane husband reflects them all back to me and hearing my wild ideas coming from his quadruple Capricorn sensibilities, I have to laugh. Laughing at myself, laughing at my ideas, and then tumbling into a playful wrestle with the one I love so dearly.
I appreciate your patience with my meanderings, from slavery to hubris to wrestling.
Returning to the topic of what topic. From within my own internal drive, I feel a long time longing gaining momentum, an urge toward claiming what was mine within the cult and continuing in that direction, moving from an illusory goodness I imagined toward some actual goodness that is real. Truth be told that was my holy grail in joining ranks with a bunch of seekers. Finding myself in an outer world constructed of intricate lies and feints, I was looking for something real. Was any of it real? Was all of it just another lie?
How to see clearly and know what is? In reality, is there any actual wholesomeness that is untainted by someones twisted wishes to fuck with peoples lives in order to make a name and a buck, and at the same time have a laugh on mere moral mortals? Quite of few of those alien dark lords out there, not only selling spirituality, etc. You can find all sorts of mind numbing narratives for purchase these days. The ones that come from Pfizer you best look alive for. Their pills will kill, freely and legally.
A quote surfaced some time ago and I keep it close. From Butterfly Rising on FB: Never be ashamed of how deeply and passionately you loved someone who destroyed you, because destroying things is just who they are…but loving things, deeply and passionately, is who you are.
I feel somehow seen and vindicated by that quote. Yet in this moment what jumps from the page are the words deeply and passionately. Feelings this strong have become a red flag for me. Becoming excited or impassioned about anything nowadays is suspect. It still happens. I recognize a sensation in my body, as if I was a bottle of soda water just shaken up. My nervous system is revved and ready and making plans. My brain is shifting gears and taking me for a joy ride. However! I might finally be learning how to slow my mustang down. Intelligence may be breaking over me. There might be a new dawn and a new day for what emerges from my endarkened cult cocoon.
I woke the other morning with a deep sense of calm. It was lovely to lay still on the bed. I completely enjoyed being in my body and didnt want to move. That was one of the abiding joys in the cult, to sit quietly, to be still. Peace be still and know. Such a sure thing. On this morning it existed in me without any external motivator.
Or did it?
What separates me from anything outside of me?
Only my beliefs.
The night before I had fallen asleep with my brother close and looking at me from the inside, wanting justice for his— what to call her— his manipulating unmanifested partner? I do not know of entities and ghosts, but there are a multitude of worries in the world to capture me and turn my mind to madness. I declined his phantom query and fell to dreaming my own dreams.
The next morning, waking up in that sublime stillness, I felt I could embrace all of it, whatever it is that surrounds me, whatever it is that compounds me, whatever it is that comes to me. For a brief time, it was all okay by me to be part of everything, and for everything to be a part of me. In these moments of stillness and mind altering oneness I wonder, am I me or am I everything?
I can feel that sensation now. Wide awake. A steadiness in need of nothing. A pleasurable weightedness without any antsiness to move or to do. Certainly not to fight my brothers battles after hes gone. If hes gone. Maybe not all gone. Theres a sense of him inside of me, an influence, but everything is liable to influence me, everything and anyone. Should I be more careful? Where am I in the all of everything? If I am anywhere, I am in simply being the awareness of it all, and for a transient time, I am all of it.
I am that!
This is my deepest experience of reality. Undeniably real and true.
Moments like these the culture at large has no value for, unless you are a spiritual teacher perceiving your livelihood in it, or a Saruman hungry for the power in it. Regardless of good and evil intent, moments of reality cannot be sold and consumed. They can be seen through, not rose colored, but as a clear perception of what is, transient glimpses into the reality we are living while barely knowing it.
I remember, right after my dad died, I was genuinely enlightened for two whole weeks. I have often wondered if that was a gift, in spite of himself, to his starry eyed daughter in search of the real? For two whole weeks each moment of my life was complete. There was not anything of any sort of difficulty in any difficulty that presented itself. Everything was as it was without question or doubt and perfectly okay as it was whatever it was. After two weeks time that perspective vanished and I was back living the dream.
It occurs to me there was something a tiny little bit real in my cult life. Wherever that culture met my knowledge of enlightenment and of awakening and of truth. I knew something, as we all do, before I met the motorhead. Was I innocent, or needy and greedy, believing his culture was a way to expand my awareness within reality? Which in fact it did do, but in a perverted way— more to be said on that, but not yet.
For now, Im asking myself, are those moments, or weeks, only an experience, or were they the truth of things as they really are? Was it reality showing itself through the denser fabric of the life I have dreamed up for myself?
For now, I look to the depth charge that exploded in my heart when I learned of my brothers death. From that depth there was no doubt nor question but to love this world and everyone in it. Is this the essential clarity needed for transforming my dream world into a real world, one I can see clearly and know for sure what is? Thats precisely what I had wanted, throwing in with the backcountry motorhead guru. Wanting it, I believed it could happen.
My brother looks on, smiling. And my other brother beyond is nodding, too.
It’s a sign of the times that the word “awakened” has made it into the urban dictionary, where it is defined as “spiritually aware of the universe and [its] direct metaphysical connection to one’s own being and the connection it has to all life forces.” It is so mainstream, in fact, that political candidate Marianne Williamson has made part of her platform a call for “moral and spiritual awakening.” —Chopra.com
"LOVE IS ALL THERE IS, LOVE IS ALL THERE IS, LOVE IS ALL"