Wednesday, December 16, 2015

The Truth Pt 2


And Thus We Are Led to Today...



     The ship is in ruins and I am stranded on an unfamiliar beach with half my original crew either dead or lost at sea. This story consists of two major elements - 1. The search for the exotic scent and 2. Relationships. Both appear to be entirely unrelated, but are directly intertwined. My reaction to each stems from my reaction to my own personal upbringing. 

     Let's talk about relationships.

      I avoid letting others get close out of the fear of having the life sucked out of me the same way it's been sucked out of me through my relationship with my mother. When I do get close in relationships, I have a natural predisposition towards putting the needs of my partner over all of my own needs. This creates a vast separation between my mind and emotions which in turn fuels an incessant internal battle. I put the needs of my partner above my own, suppressing my emotions and needs towards myself until I feel numbed and annoyed and then oscillate towards the opposite direction - ignoring the needs of my partner.

      In a futile attempt to suppress my emotions and live a life based purely off logic, I demonize my emotions, believing them all to be nothing but lies leading to weakness and pain. 

     This distrust of my own emotions manifests itself through a distrust in others. At its core my need for superiority and external validation is ultimately rooted in a distrust of my own self. My shadow self. The core emotional part of the psyche that has been ignored and criticized for so long.

     Perhaps chasing that ghost ship into treacherous waters was exactly what I needed to recognize the Truth.

     Intimacy is sharing your reality with someone else and knowing you're safe, and them being able to share their reality with you and also be safe. However, if we are crippled by fear of our own shadows we can never truly be intimate with another, for we will manifest that shadow through projecting it on them over and over again. Tied up by own self-imposed shackles in front of a fire of our own construction, we watch the walls as our own shadows dance upon them. Transfixed by a show we are convinced is independent of ourselves. Unless we recognize these shadows as our own, they will forever cripple our relationships and make intimacy, and thus individuation, impossible.

     Most people likely hold the belief that most of our lives is spent avoiding the classic negative emotions such as pain, fear, anger, sadness, and loss. I disagree. I think the emotion we spend the majority of our lives avoiding is anhedonia. If that is even classified as an emotion at all. It's not pain we fear so much, but the feeling of Nothingness. Of emptiness. Of absolute lack of meaning. The "death" emotion.

     The irony is that unless we spend time with anhedonia there can be no intimacy with the Self. And without self intimacy there is no relationship intimacy. Because anhedonia acts a mirror to one's self. It forces one to see the Truth. To see one's total self in all its incompleteness, the shadow and all. To face the Shadow is to face our greatest fears and the things we hate most. Within the Shadow we see every single thing we resist against.

      The truth is that relationships are like divining rods for locating one's own faults and weaknesses. There has been so much anxiety surrounding the "relationship" of Jude and me. The pressure of this need to uphold the image of the "perfect partner" accompanied by the fear that if any of my shadow were to show itself she would run to the hills screaming. Maybe I am attempting to mold myself into the perfect partner out of a deep need for affection as a result of the emotional neglect experienced in my childhood. Or maybe I am just so doubtful and distrustful of my own value as a person that I am constantly searching for reasons to doubt and distrust her, just so I can avoid the pain that could potentially accompany intimacy. An excuse to break things off just for the sake of being able to say "it was my choice." The illusion of control.

     Since the beginning I distrusted Jude. I felt that she was intentionally distancing herself or not being entirely up front and truthful regarding her feelings and inner world. Perhaps she may be doing some of that, but the Truth is that I have been the one distancing myself the entire time. I have been the one who hasn't been up front and truthful regarding my own feelings and inner world. I am the one who distrusted my own self. 

     Because no one could possibly see the real me and care for me.

     No one could possibly love that.

     No one could possibly see who I am and not run the other direction.

     No one could possibly want to spend time with me for who I am and have no ulterior motives regarding their own self interest.

     Right?

     I am finally beginning to understand the meaning of the phrase "you cannot truly love someone else until you love yourself."

     And that means the whole Self. Including the Shadow. Especially the Shadow. Once you learn to exercise compassion for the shadow self, you can exercise compassion for all beings. Unconditionally. Because you see people for who they truly are and you don't shrink away, because what you recognize in them, is you. I understand now that my crippling fear of Mel being manipulative was due to a fear of myself being unconsciously manipulative towards her. My fear of her lack of faithfulness was due to my lack of faithfulness in my own ability to remain committed to a single individual. My distrust in others is ultimately at its root a distrust in myself. I feel others can never love me, because no one could possibly love me. Especially, I could never love me.

     We tend to see the world in terms of our own struggle.



Sunday, November 29, 2015

The Truth Pt 1

     I awoke from a dream early this morning teary eyed. The sun just beginning to trickle through the cracks in the shades. In this dream I saw myself, 21 years old again, walking towards my apartment at Ramapo filled to the brim with excitement for the weekend that lie ahead. Basking in the anticipation for the legendary parties my roommates and I used to throw accompanied by their equally legendary hangovers. My girlfriend would be visiting this weekend just as she did each and every weekend since February. It had only been a couple months - still the honeymoon phase, and there is still that strange combination of feelings ranging from happiness to nervousness flooding through my brain. I think that combination of excitement and doubt is part of what makes those first few months of relationships so intoxicating. One day you're floating on a cloud and the next you're sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The laws of physics are completely irrelevant as you each begin to construct an entirely new shared reality with its own rules (or lack thereof). Those initial months in a new relationship are fueled by the collective imagination of the couple as they perceive a field of possibilities as expansive as the night sky, select the most exciting one, and then pull the present forward to meet it. Those initial months are what remind us that reality is malleable and each one of us is the architect of his own fate.

     The tears in my eyes were a result of guilt, disappointment, and shame. Guilt for what I left behind and what I failed to achieve. Disappointment in the results I created. Shame for who I have become. Five years ago and prior I had assembled a tightly bonded group of friends. Through our late night explorations of drugs, video games, and adventures we not only had fun, but were emotionally vulnerable with one another. It was more than just partying and fucking around nonsensically. We were moving towards something greater, the crew of a ship sailing valiantly into the stormy seas ahead, climbing over the peaks and mists to discover something new, a whiff of the exotic scent we'd be chasing, even if just for a nanosecond or less. We weren't just drinking buddies. We were warriors and the world was ours to conquer.

     Five years later and where are we? The remnants of the ship are scattered across the beach. Several crew members are either missing or dead. The adventures we thought awaited were more perilous than any of us could have imagined. A few of us made the smart choice and recognized what was ahead, escaping on the life rafts before it was too late. Others sailed bravely (or naively) onward, deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of treacherous waters that followed. Tempted by the illusion that a great treasure was waiting for us somewhere in the distance. 

     After seven long years since this journey began, actually, scratch that. This journey began as a young child. The exotic scent captured my attention when I was very young. What is the exotic scent I refer to? Mystery. The unknown. That thing that has captivated the human spirit since the dawn of time. I soaked it up like a wet sponge as much as I could through the only means I knew. As a child it was through stories. Movies, television, and books. Perhaps my earliest memory of it resides in the fleeting and amorphous experiences of toddler. The day I awoke from a nap in my crib only see a purple misshapen blob sitting right next to my pillow. I wailed. A mom never truly knows why her child cries. It may be out of hunger. Or it may be out of something the average 21st century American adult can never possibly understand.

     My father showed me the The Menagerie when I was probably about four or five years old. The two part episode of Star Trek that revolved around an advanced race of aliens who had the ability to project illusions into their prisoners minds. Keeping them captive in a prison of their own creation with the intentions of manipulating the captain into mating with one of their species in order to continue the survival of their civilization. I think this early experience had a profound impact on the rest of my life. First of all, it was unlike anything I had experienced prior and I likely gained some sort of sense of superiority from viewing something my other classmates had no idea existed and they likely couldn't even comprehend given the chance. However, with it began my sense of fear and paranoia for otherworld powers that I could fail to understand or even recognize.

   Years later and the ship lays in ruins. Some of its members still convinced that scent is real and worth chasing. It's not until now that I finally know better. I'm finally beginning to see the illusion we've been chasing. Only it was never created by otherworldly beings bent on manipulating us, it was created by ourselves. People conjure up delusions for a number of reasons. We are masters at it. Masters of seeing the reality before us that we are convinced is real. Unable to believe anything that fails to align with the story we've been telling ourselves for most of our lives. Our story is everything. That identity we've constructed. We cling to it like a moth clings to a branch on a windy day, afraid if it were to let go it would never find its way back. Afraid that if it were to let go that it couldn't possibly manage to fly through the wind with its own two wings. Our story is everything.

   But every now and then The Truth knocks on our door. And The Truth has a cock. And it's long, hard, and will fuck your story into oblivion.

The Truth

      Typically, the Truth will knock and knock. After plenty of knocking, if you still don't answer the door and look it in the eye, it's going to beat that door down. And then even after getting beaten senseless by The Truth, one still may not recognize it for what it is.

      What is the Truth? In my case it's the recognition that all along I have not been chasing a treasure, I have not been chasing an exotic scent, but have been chasing merely a ghost. The distant song of the Sirens. Pulling me deeper and deeper into an illusion. An illusion I didn't even want to believe, but felt superior for entertaining. My mind convincing me there was some merit to it despite my increased reservations and negative emotions surrounding the experience.

     I created a prison. A prison for my emotions. Demonizing them, beating them within an inch of life, starving them, scarring them, and utterly ignoring them. I built a prison 30,000 feet below the depths of my psyche in the darkest realms of my subconscious and chained them up down there where they could never be heard.

     But it didn't work.

     It never does.

     Emotions cannot be chained up. Because they are a part of who we are. Each time we gain consciousness so do our emotions. The emotional body is not to be scrutinized, but listened to. We must communicate with it, not harm it. They say human beings fear that which they do not understand. What we typically fear is nothing more than our own respective shadow selves.

    The Truth I'm beginning to realize is that I haven't been chasing a treasure, n exotic scent, or anything else of value, but I've been chasing nothing more than a ghost ship. Or I found what I was seeking only to realize it's an image of my past and my home. The place I was seeking I had all along. The road to Truth is pathed in such cliches.

     Being a part of the chase gave me a feeling of superiority, of arrogance, of being "above normality." Due to an intense fear of being just like those around me in childhood. Of being just like my parents. Coupled with an intense distrust of everything I was fed. Unable to believe that everything I was seeking could possibly be fulfilled by the instructions left to me by who appeared to be the most idiotic members of the human race. 

     It couldn't possibly be that simple, could it? And if it is, there's no way I of all people could be deserving of it? The answers MUST be more complex than meets the eye.

     False.

     The sense of superiority I've built up around my sense of self is a lie. A lie I tell myself to feel a sense of value. Gauging my sense of importance through external means - "I am more interesting, intelligent, and all around better than other individuals for reasons X, Y, and Z." Despite the fact that reasons X, Y, and Z do not make me happy. Not only do they not make me happy. They make me miserable. It's the reason so many rock stars, celebrities, and actors surround themselves with lives of chaos.

     To feel superior.

     Because inside they feel nothing.


It Begins At Childhood...

     There is a type of upbringing psychologists call "enmeshment." This was my relationship with my mother.

    Instead of taking care of the child's needs, the enmeshing parent tries to get his or her own needs met through the child. This can take various forms: a parent who lives through a child's accomplishments; who makes the child a surrogate spouse, therapist, or caretaker; who is depressed and emotionally uses the child; who is overbearing or over-controlling; or who is excessively emotional or anxious about a child. If you grew up feeling sorry for or smothered by a parent, this is a sign that enmeshment likely occurred.

    In the process, enmeshed children lose their sense of self. As adults, they usually avoid letting anyone get too close and suck the life out of them again. Where the abandoned are often unable to contain their feelings, the enmeshed tend to be cut off from them, and be perfectionistic and controlling of themselves and others. Though they may pursue a relationship thinking they want connection, once they're in the reality of one, they often put up walls, feel superior, and use other distancing techniques to avoid intimacy. This is known as avoidant attachment - or "love avoidance."

     There is also the neglectful upbringing. This consists of caregivers who abandon, are detached from, or do not appropriately nurture a child. This can range from a parent who isn't physically present, to a parent who is physically present but emotionally distant, to a parent who doesn't provide adequate care or safety, to a parent lost in a work, sex, gambling, alcohol, or other addiction. If you grew up feeling unwanted by or unimportant to a parent, this is a sign of neglect.

     This created wounded children, who are often depressed and indecisive, see themselves as flawed and less valuable than others, and feel they can't face the world alone. In relationships, they tend to have what psychologists call "anxious attachnment" for their partners; become so wrapped up in their relationships that they lose sight of their own needs and self-worth; and be emotionally intense, passive-aggressive, or in need of constant reassurance that they're not being abandoned.

     How is this relevant?

    Through a combination of both these upbringings I have come to be the way I am. Through an emotionally detached father and a codependent enmeshed relationship with my mother, what resulted is a human being who feels entirely responsible for not only his own well being, but the well being of those around him, as well as constantly feels valueless and unimportant. What a contradiction, huh? It's basically being given the position of God, but told no one gives a shit about your existence. The God with low self-esteem. What a joke.

Monday, September 14, 2015



So much has changed. So much. Time changes all. Since I last wrote here? What has happened? The world has moved on. My life has moved on. Or I should say I have moved on from my life. The Matt I knew is dead. He is gone. A new being has taken his place. I forever look upon him with fondness. His wonderful naivety. Naivety that had no choice but to die. To accept the brutal reality of the world and his place within it. To accept his power. The power to make changes. The power to choose. To choose the life he wanted. To grasp it within his fingers and not care as it turns to sand. To grasp at life is to grasp at water. It is a flowing organic process. A process that requires listening. We are in a relationship with life. It is not our slave. Nor are we its.

This is IT. THIS IS YOUR LIFE. THE ONLY ONE YOU HAVE. I am 26 now. I started writing in this blog when I was what? 19? I still feel the same. I still feel the melancholia. The loneliness. The emptiness. The Void. That's because it's the truth. It's always there. We are never. Ever. Going to rid ourselves of it. And that's fine. I accept that. I accept this life. It is what it is. But I can handle it. I can handle the knocks. The bullshit. I can take the punches. I've done it before. I've been knocked down. I've gotten back up. I've had enough. I no longer care. I can get what I want. I can have fun. I can be who I want to be. The crazy thing is that I already am. I always was. That lack of confidence? Give me a break. You're all you ever need to be. All it takes is acceptance. This is it. THIS. IS. IT. Really think about that statement. You're not suddenly going to wake up in a new body one day. A new life. Most people say they want to change. They don't want to change. They want change to HAPPEN to them. Don't be that person.

I know no one reads this but me. No one ever will. If you find this then that's pure luck. The internet is a vast wasteland. This life is a mystery. A great mystery. I've gone down the rabbit hole. Save your books and your pills. I've read them. I've tried them. I don't need them. I'm already there. You can do anything you want to all you've got to do is try. I thought my best days had left me. My best years had left me behind. Then I felt them come right back. If the trees cut stars and eyes to heaven then bend them back and bend them again. If my skin looks tired and old from living, I'll turn it back and live it again. You better pray when the music stops and you're left alone in your mind. Cause I'll be hearing music til the day I die.




There is nothing to say. Nothing I can tell you you don't already know. Nothing I can say to myself that will make it make more sense. That will make it less painful. That will add more meaning. There is no magic pill. No cure. No single step to enlightenment. You're already enlightened. You can do anything you want. Just try. Just try. Have confidence. Confidence to fail. The willingness to look like a fool. Dance in the fire. Look like a fool. For the dream. For life. Just watch. Just watch. You will wish you did it sooner. You will. It's much easier than you dream. Much easier than you believe. Truly. Truly simple. Life. You better believe it. It can be done. The dream is real. All of it. This is it. That thing you've been waiter for. That moment. That perfect moment. That perfect one. It's there. Right there. You're missing it. It's been there the whole time. Your perfect life. You're living it. This is your perfect life. Do you hear the music? Those who were seen dancing were deemed crazy by those who could not hear the music. The music of life. Life's vibrations. Conscious beats. The mind's music. It turns it around. One day you won't be here. One day you will meet your maker. It will happen. You will enter the Void. Become one with the void. And then what? Who will hear your scream? Who will comfort you then? You'll pray. Pray for God. Pray for salvation. You better bet you'll believe. You will. You will.

Why wait? Don't wait for the angels to come and take you away. To save you from yourself. For just a moment. Do you understand? Do you? I bet you do.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Set Yourself Free

Spread your wings and fly
So you can't deny what's there for you
On your own set yourself free 

Go beyond the limit you place on yourself
You'll find the power's all yours 
Fly away, take control 
Beyond the edge of mind you'll make it home

Reach your highest high
Feel your full desire drawing you 
To be stronger than you've been before
Go beyond the limit you place on yourself

You'll find the power's all yours
Fly away, take control 
Beyond the edge of mind you'll make it home

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Voices in the Darkness

I wrestle with my scattered mind as I lay beneath the covers, ruminating over the prospects of future possibilities. The calm light of sleep appears to be far over the horizon with no chance of rising at any time soon. 

Why does this always happen when I have work in the morning?

Voices. Whispering. To my right, over in the corner.

Wtf?

To my right there is a group of people, standing over me in the darkness. They walk around my bedroom examining its surroundings.

"This looks good""I'm not sure I like the windows""Why is the mattress on the floor?"

A group of elderly people discuss the room with one another as I lay in the bed.

"Excuse me? What the hell are you doing in my room? It's six in the morning."

"We're here for the open house, honey," an elderly woman informs me.

"What open house? We're not selling the house. Get the fuck out of my room."

They ignore my resilience and continue to examine my surroundings.

Something isn't right. This is beyond anything normal, and these people are oddly short. Very short... 

It's hard to make out their faces in the shadows. I make several attempts to catch a glance, but each time they deliberately avoid my gaze. There is something inhuman about this.

"You guys aren't doing a very good job of hiding your identities. You're aliens, aren't you?"

They share a patronizing laugh amongst themselves, as if mocking my inferior human knowledge. One of the old women climbs into bed with me. This is fucked up.

"You see, honey, we are here for the house. However, we have to take care of a few things first."

"When did I ever give you permission to come into my house? Get the hell out of here."

She smiles and then they are gone. I am awake. I think. There is a lingering presence in the room. I look toward my doorway. A faint white cloud. I can almost make it out. It darts over me.

The fuck.

I grab my phone and shine the light at it. Nothing. The presence is gone.

Man, I wish I did more drugs. Then at least I wouldn't have to blame the Twilight Zone for this kind of shit.


Monday, February 4, 2013

The Wanderer's Awakening - Pt 1

I let out an exhalation as my feet rise and fall on the hot sand. Its warmth ascends through my body as a light breeze glides across my skin, offering a relief from the hot sun in the clear sky overhead. The dunes of a vast white desert stretch out before me miles in every direction. I am alone. No one but me and the endless sand and dust in the wind.

A figure shows itself in the distance. A man? Standing out there on the dunes. His long robes flow in the wind as he stares, as if waiting for me to continue on with him. It could be nothing but a mirage, but he’s there. Standing. Waiting.

To my left - sand. To my right - sand. I must follow this elusive stranger.

I attempt to quicken my pace, but my legs are slow and heavy. The sand grows deeper. Each step I take sinks down into the dunes beneath my feet. The weight of the sack over my shoulder slows my pace. Regardless of how close I seem to get, the mysterious stranger always seems to be half a mile ahead, each moment disappearing over another dune. My instinct to catch up to the him is strong, yet my skepticism comes forth. Is this a mystic or is this a trickster? An illusion or a real being? The tricksters encountered in the past have been many, drawing me into the depths of their schemes. Lured in by my curiosity and their promises of higher knowledge, only to find myself caught within their web of lies. Chained and held prisoner within a cave of endless illusory pleasures, staring at the shadows of the puppeteer behind me. Captivated with no choice of control and no freedom of thought as my neurological hardware finds itself hacked and rewired by a malevolent existential programmer. Food for the carnivorous fish in the deep sea of a predatorial universe starving for vital conscious energy.

However, this doesn’t feel that way. I have a choice in the matter. I feel the ability to turn back at any moment. My heart tells me to continue on, that this is the way, and so I follow.

My legs are heavy and my breathing is slow in the thick desert air. Hours seem to pass by with a lost sense of time melting away into the sun as it beats down on my bare shoulders. As the seconds, minutes, or hours pass, however, I make it over the top of the tallest dune.

Below me is a vast canyon, spanning far to my left and right. The distance to its bottom looks staggering. Jagged rocks. Darkness. On the other side of the canyon resides a lush jungle. The sound of waterfalls and birds singing in the trees graces my ears. I know I have never been to this forest before, but something feels familiar and welcoming. Across the canyon stands the mysterious robed stranger. I look down, but see no way of crossing to the other side. He stares into my eyes, his gaze penetrating my soul. In those eyes I see my own. The deep blue. The white hair. This is so familiar. Something profoundly deep and eternal resides between us.

I look down at my hands and notice the white paws and fur covering my skin. This is me. He is me. That is who I am. As the realization hits me, a bridge forms. Frail and held together by nothing but some twine and a few boards, but there nonetheless.

I can’t make it with this bag, however. If I lose it though, I lose the only sense of identity I have. I lose my past. I lose myself. Many times before have beings nearly tricked me into leaving my past behind. Tricked me into forgetting my name. The name of my family and ancestors. It binds us to ourselves. If we forget our name we forget what it means to be a human. So quick are we to give up our identities for the sake of achieving fame, recognition, or making a quick buck. Is it worth it though? Is this mysterious forest worth the risk?

Behind me lies the white desert, in front of me the lush mysterious jungle.

I don’t have a choice. I must go. I drop the bag I’m holding and make my way slowly, but surely across the bridge. I feel lighter, I feel free. The bridge sways beneath my four paws and I attentively place each one, careful not to crack a single one of the boards. One misstep and I’ll go cascading into the rocky chasm below. The boards creek with each step and the breeze blows against the fur of my ankles. One step. Two. Three. Four. I will make it across. There is no turning back.

I glance behind me to realize I’m halfway across. A surge of accomplishment and positive anticipation wells up through my veins. With the sense of achievement comes a spiral of light from every direction. Bursts of fire surround me. The bridge. It’s transformed. Pure glass. Not a thin glass, however. Strong. Sturdy. Unbreakable. I look into the crystal flooring to see my reflection. I am older, no longer a young cub, and my mane has begun to grow. With each step I feel myself grow closer to wisdom.

As I step off the bridge I make my way over to the stranger in robes. He stands tall. A white lion. A wise sage, eyes filled with the wisdom of the ancients. His velvet robes embroidered in blue, black, green, and yellow designs. Natural and flowing, psychedelic, but not overwhelming. He stares into my eyes and with his gaze I know this spirit has been with me a long time. That he has been following me throughout my daily life, his silent words speaking to me through every experience, guiding me along the winding rivers. I know now this being is within me. My higher self. My future. My most true form.

We walk through a path in the forest and life permeates the air, spirits in every direction. When I close my eyes I feel the mother of our world, a great serpent. Wise and powerful, stern but loving. Her gaze is piercing. Right to the depths of my being. I know this is not my territory, but it is her territory. She offers it to us. She shares it, the comfort of her love pervading our every thought.

The jungle air is moist against my skin, the trees are tall, and the scent of flowers and flowing water is refreshing as it courses through my body. As we turn a corner in the path, a beautiful sanctuary reveals itself beyond the leaves of the forest. Mountains, hot springs, waterfalls, and lush foliage surround my companion and me. Within its center resides a pristine lake. Water so clear one can see all the way to the bottom, circular stones covering its floor. So white and round they could almost be eyes gazing up from the primordial depths of the Earth. The trees are the most pure green I’ve ever laid eyes upon. This is paradise.

My guide turns to me and smiles.

“Are you ready to find your destiny?”

And with that we walk off into the mesmerizing sanctuary before us, transfixed by the mysteries that await.


The Wheel of Time

I catch glimpses of the faces of those around me as I move through the hallways. Sadness, happiness, apathy. Mostly indifference. The faces of those simply cycling through the motions of life. No soul, no purpose. Am I any different?

Out the corner of my eye I catch sight of a face. That girl. I know her. But from where? The face is uncanny. Green glasses, strawberry blonde hair. Who is this?

She looks at me. A smile.

The motions of life continue. Hours go by. I move through these hallways unaware of where they lead. One of the crowd. Destinationless. Faceless. Then I see her again.

In that moment we remember everything. The life we've known each other, the memories we've shared. The lives we've descended on through the wheel of time. The cycle of Samsara experienced over and over and over again. Tears flow from our eyes. 

"How could I ever forget you?" she says.

Reality sheds its skin before our eyes and we gaze upon the vast and beautiful jungle before us. The immense garden of beauty, one only to be found within the collective dreams of all mankind. We dangle from the branches of trees. Two serpents. Entwined in an act of ethereal love, one with the phantasmagorical sights surrounding us. My rich blue body glide across the deep purple scales of hers to produce a radiant swirl of colorful energy, spiraling outward from the center of our entanglement. 

This is life. This is truth. This is where we are and always have been. This is real.

I awake and dust of the crust from my eyes. This reality - is it but a single world, or but one of many?

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Between the Realms of Gods and Men

Headlights fly by as the rain patters lightly on the windows. The passing of which I've always found to bring back a sense of passing time, reminiscent of what'd I imagine it feels for the passing of stars. Our very own sun, cognizant of its own gliding through the deep expanse of outer space.

There is a driver at the wheel, but the sky is dark and her face remains in shadow. An accompanying sense of familiarity falls over me though. Only one could bring this sense of comfort. Mel. My eyes dart to the left and right, looking for anything out of the ordinary that might be in the sky. An age old habit. One acquired by watching far too much of Star Trek and X-Files in my youth. Or does it predate that? Does it have some basis in the actual collective memory reality of our species? Perhaps there is a reason we look to the skies. Something deeply embedded with our collective unconscious, the return of the holy feathered serpent of our world's mythologies. Quetzalquoatl, Nehebkau, or perhaps the Chimeras depicted on the hieroglyphs of ancient cities.

Then I spot it. A streak in the sky. Gliding like a banner in the wind, rippling up and down like a wave. A white light radiates outward from it, lighting up the night sky in the distance. That is it. The feathered serpent. A radiant white chinese dragon, even more beautiful in real life than portrayed in their artwork. Natural and fluent. God-like. Truly a spiritual being beyond anything of earthly realms, but there it is right before my eyes. Does Mel see it? She doesn't seem to notice.

"Mel, do you see that?"

She looks to the right and seems to spot it, but no words come from her mouth. Speechless it seems.

What is that? Another one. Wait, no. Two. Three. Four? Several of these serpent-esque beings fluttering through the sky. That one actually has wings and almost appears to be a gargoyle. Wow, amazing. Something attracts my gaze on the left. Holy mother fucker. What the FUCK is THAT?

A gargantuan entity emerges from the woods on the left side of the highway. Enormous, unearthly, a beetle like being of epic proportions. Its eyes burn with fire. This isn't a threatening being, however. Merely powerful, wise, ancient. It remains still, hovering over the road, observing the surroundings. Is it even living? It could almost be the entrance or the stone guardian of a holy temple - a gateway into the underworld. Into the world beyond the scope of human comprehension, veiled to us by our rigid intellect and desires for power.

I am entering the realm of the Gods.

Or at least some hidden plane. Beings surround our vehicle. Is there even anyone else on the road? Discs fly through the air. My god, these again. Classic saucer UFOs? Those things only appear in my dreams. Wait a sec... Duh. I'm in a dream. Wow, this is intense. Can I even get a handle on this one? There are living spirits all around me.

The sky fills with saucers and spirits, winged serpents with their white light fill the sky. These could have even been interpreted as angels in some cultures. From the distance the resemblance to chinese dragons and angels is hardly distinguishable. Regardless, their power can be felt from miles away, even as they sore high above the Earth. Such an alien power, impossible to say whether as to its benevolent or not. It is just so foreign to our own sense of self.

You're losing track of things, M. This is a dream. Remember not to be drawn in to its splendor. The distraction of your mind's own creative power. This is a dream.

Then why can't I control anything? The usual techniques are not working. No power of flight, no time/space manipulation or ability to alter the entire emotional feel of the setting. This is strange. Is it a dream..?

Wait, that's Mel's brother. I'm in her house. Was I sleep walking? Kid looks like he's about to puke. Either that or he's just really stoned. Neither would be uncommon for him. Hmm, my vision is blurry. I must have taken out my contacts. Definitely sleep walking.

"You okay, DJ?"

"Hah, man. You're totally fucked."

What could that mean? He points at the floor beneath my feet. I stepped in something. A puddle. Okay? DJ holds up a small vile.

"No fucking way. Did you spill that on the floor, dude?"

He starts laughing. You've got to be kidding me. I've been dosed completely by accident. Jesus Christ, how often does this have to happen to me? That is far too much acid in one spot for a safe trip. In no time I'll be going ape shit. God fucking damn this kid. Oh well, there is no stopping it now. I might as well accept what's about to ensue.

Everything is warped. Waving. The walls are alive. "Throbbing with energy" as Terence McKenna says. It has begun. The onset is surprisingly slow. The buzzing rises through my ears, disintegrating my surroundings. I feel the sun. I feel another environment. Where is this? I know this place, I have been before. Though I am accustomed to its flavor, the taste of deja vu is beyond uncanny. Is this still Mel's house? Is this reality? Was it ever? Don't forget, the questions don't matter. Illusions, merely fabricated by our minds to prolong the discovery of truth. There is no stopping this though. I have been thrown into the pool, regardless of my preparation to swim. Entheogens don't hesitate. This is all or nothing and now the walls are coming down. Light begins to seep through the cracks. The environment shifts. A wall to my right now. I am lying down. Windows to my left.

Is this.. my bedroom?

I have re-emerged, back into the so-called "real" world. The collective memory reality. The ingestion of a psychedelic substance within my dream consciousness transitioned me back into waking consciousness. No matter how many times I have experienced that it will never cease to prove fascinating. The human brain truly is a receiver, capable of tuning into a multitude of channels across the cosmic radio. Switch one neural receptor on, another off, and you're broadcasting at an entirely new frequency. Receiving, broadcasting, the difference is the same. Both a generator and receiver of consciousness, filtering the endless waves of quantum energy through the intricate networks of evolutionary design.

Is this reality any more real than the one I was just experiencing? I noticed no gaps between my perception. It was but a continuous flow. Sleeping into waking. What is different? What was ever different? Is the reality tunnel we send our gaze through any less relevant there than it is here? When all is said and done, life is just a memory after all. An ephemeral thought. A dream.





Toward the Setting Sun

"I'm so glad you are here"

My dear friend gives me a warm hug. I can feel the gratitude pouring out from her heart. She's gone through a great deal of pain in these recent times. I'm surprised to be here though. Where exactly am I? Oh right, we just moved to Ohio. We're staying with her parents until we manage to find an apartment. Right?

This doesn't quite look like Ohio. Does Ohio have mountains? I have the vague feeling I've been here before. Utah? But this isn't Utah. Why would I be in Utah? Utah or not, the sun looks beautiful setting beyond the mountains.

"Where exactly am I?"

"This is Ohio, Matt. Don't you remember?"

"Oh right."

"We have to go"

We climb into my truck. At least I think it's my truck. Well I have the keys, so it must be mine.

The path into the woods is wide and long. The trees are tall and winding like vines. Spaces are carved out within their canopies as if designed to be the living quarters of some archaic entity within the forest. I even catch a glimpse of what seems to be a bed. Hmm. The trees are ancient. Their spirits permeate the air. The presence of the Gods of antiquity flows through my body sending a slight chill down the back of my spine. One could almost say the trees carry faces. That of laughter. That of sadness. Sadness for their lost brethren in the Amazonian jungle.

That one appears to have multiple beings within it crying out in anguish. Their faces and hands pushing out from the trunk as if to say "help me! Let me out!" The entrapped souls of human beings lured in by some force within the forest. The forest I travel so deep into. Am I being lured as well? Will I be trapped within one of those trees? My soul lost for eternity due to a yearning I can't subdue?

Well it's too late now. The sky grows dark and our new home shrinks behind me as I travel deeper into the woods, the past now but a shimmer in the distance. Fading with each step I take into the setting sun beyond the mountains. What awaits me there, I don't know. What I do know is that it is too late to turn back now.



Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Be Like Water

It's incredible to look back at old posts (especially the stupid angry ones) and realize how much everything has changed and how I have moved passed every perceived problem. If there is one thing I have realized in the last year, it is that I am a problem solver. Even when I am crawling and covered in shit from head to toe, I stand back up, clean the shit off, and keep moving. We all have the power to do this. Life will pitch curveballs and throw shit at you over and over again, but it is our choice whether or not that shit knocks us down. It is but a matter of choice. Will the shit knock you down? Will it make you cry? Or will you merely laugh and carry on with what you were doing?

I've received a lot of shit throughout this story. I can see it looking back on the past. I can see that it's gotten me down before. That I failed to understand. I can see now how much stronger I have become. How much I have evolved. How much I have learned. I've come so far and I still have so far to go. Do I expect the shit to stop? Not at all. Let the shit keep flying. It'll fly right through me.