...something, or someone that aids your spirit. Its humor makes you smile, it makes you laugh, removes you from your grind.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Astrology
When you express the Truth of who you are by being your highest and best, you lift those around you and inspire THEM to be THEIR highest and best. They, in turn, inspire others, and so the Light is awakened in one person after another, spreading love, joy and peace across the face of the earth.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Style of Life
What we perceive as ending, is not actually ending...
it's just changing.
It changes into a beast you don't recognize,
you're not even sure how it became to be this way.
But it's not over...
it's happening!
You are the maker of your own life.
Play, or be played.
Move your own chess piece, don't wait for the chess expert to do it for you.
The Five Huaquas
happiness is dependent on where we focus our attention, and if we focus only on the mundane substance reality, we starve our souls.
Health
There is no such thing as "good" or "bad" food. Perspectives on food and diet have been eteranlly changing. Be the expert of your own eating. Eat what you want, but only until the "dead bite". When something isn't making you salivate anymore, put it down. Only eat what makes you drool-pool.
Listen to your body. If you listen close enough, it tells you what it wants.
Humor
To laugh in the face of death is to understand the dance. It is essential that we invite humor into our lives at every opportunity.
Hope
Yes. People have also bought in the “mushroom medicine” by those in control. Mushroom medicine consists of misinformation, biased presentations and skewing of the facts, facts left out or glossed over or made light of as entertainment. All this keeps people in the dark, and it is perpetrated b y the powers that be in the media, in government, and in the financial/corporate arenas. Basically, people are being fed bullshit, and they believe it. So mushroom medicine is bullshit that fertilizes and feeds mushrooms that grow in the dark. People are taking mushroom medicine every day. Complacency is rampant.
The 4 together = HARMONY
Rites of Passage
Boys in a tribe flourish.
The subtle darkening gradient to which we used to compare is changing...
becoming lighter.
And in this stage, we are the same, yet we are different.
At times, feeling like a completely different person.
But the child is always inside you, as you add layers to your being, piece by piece.
When I run, I hear her laughter. I feel her buoyancy.
I'm confused, but she is not.
She says: "play!"
A newborn child in the care and nurturing of its parents and other image makers is like a block of stone or wood in the hands of a sculptor. A great sculptor will not impose his will upon the wood or stone nor does he predetermine the form he is going to sculpt. He simply communicates with it, sees the spirit of what truly exists, and then cuts away everything that is hiding that spirit to reveal its aliveness.
Most adults, unfortunately, are not great sculptors. They have preconceived ideas of how a young child, particularly their child, should develop and ultimately turn out to be. Their own insecurities and wounding blind them to the true nature spirit within a child. Therefore, we grow up armoring against the pain of becoming something we are not in order to fit in, belong and conform to family, peer group, and society in general. We lose our connection not only to our own true nature spirit, but also to the greater Spirit from which we came. This is a form of violence.
Violence is usually associated with such things as war, rape, murder, or destruction of property. Violence to the spirit, however, is perhaps the most destructive and insidious kind of violence, for it often goes undetected as it works on our inner self. Like criminal defacing of a beautiful sculpure or work of art, it is spiritual graffitti, vandalism of the soul.
Advertising is an image maker that works overtime to answer the question "Who am I?" Unfortunately, it carries the message "You're not okay the way you are." We are measured with external yardsticks and seduced into believing that the images projected at us are really who we should be. What! You don't have a _______? You can "get" okay, if you buy the right kind of car, wear the right kind of designer jeans and the right brand of makeup, live in the right style of house, hang out at the right places. And so it goes. Rape of the psyche. Violation of the spirit.
This is destructive at any age but particularly devastating for a young person trying to discover their own uniqueness and measure of self-worth. These cannot be externally determined for us by others, nor can our magickal mysterious character be carved out of the substance of our being by others. We must become our own sculptor.
http://dtmss.org
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Nostalgia
of my parents. They look so happy and young. Full of life, before they were heavy weighted with responsibilities of nagging.
They're holding me. I'm tiny. I'm a seed. A blob.
I realize one day they won't be with me...and it breaks my heart.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Open Relationships
There are two spirits running alongside me...They both beckon me to follow them. Like the mightiest of politicians, they have me both hooked.
It's easier to pick one, and never look back. But I'm nostalgic: looking back is a constant activity of mine.
I want you to pick the one that I don't want to pick. If you picked it, I would look at you, dumbfounded and in shock. Happy, but disappointed. We would both know that we were giving up on fun times ahead for the comfort and safety of having each other.
Maybe we can have both. Am I being greedy? I give a lot. I donate to charity, volunteer my time. I think it's justified that I'm allowed to have my cake and eat it too.
Maybe you did sleep with her. Who am I to control you and what you want to do when impulse is staring you in the face. Maybe she was fit. I'm not that fit...Being a foodie sure takes its tole on you. But my mind is fit, and my spirit fitter. It can take anything, and wants to take everything. It wants to feel every emotion life has to offer - the hurt, the love, the ecstasy.
Plus, who's to say that in a month and a half, when I'm back at school and you're still here...I'll meet someone that wants to be monogamous but also still have lives apart. Someone who isn't sex ridden, and okay with a fuck twice a week.
Don't take advantage of me. I know myself better, and think better of myself than to stand for it. You may not pay attention to every little detail, but I do. Know that I'm always watching, listening, thinking...of you.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The truth is I want you to want me...I want you to want me back. But in reality, it's not your time to commit...nor is it mine to settle.
But still...a part of me craves for us to work on the things that tore us apart before; to finish what we started.
We have the comfort down...with a little bit of work on communication - we could have it good. We'd bend for each other, but still have fun. We could try...couldn't we?
But in my gut, I feel the timing's off...Like all of life's velocities have spun us into this track where nothing is in sync, and everything is off track. Where something as simple as sharing is a life's work.
Why is it so hard for us to be honest? Not just to each other, but to ourselves. It's like before the idea forms, we've scared ourselves to accept just a taste of everything, but not all of anything.
11th Dimension
"Anger is weakness. Patience is strength."
"Every positive action as a reward"
- Julian Casablancas
Damn Dreams and Damn Horoscopes
All my dreams that have a inkling of Spencer are that he isn't there, and I'm looking for him.
There's a boy there...and he looks almost like him. Spiky hair, expression...and I look to the shoes, but they're pointy. His shoes are always rounded.
I throw a fit, and unfortunately the deflection hits my closest friends.
What do these dreams mean? Do they have any baring?
Are they warnings, or just worries of a silly fart?
Why is it so hard for us to communicate???
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
On foreign politics: Iran to the Security Council
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
New Lessons From Wordy Experiences
Fleas. Umanchata - the collegio. Nelly, Edgar...Magda. Spanish cathedrals. Street peddlers. Inti Raymi. Green men on stilts. Dancing with said men. The Real McCoy. Trivia Mondays and Wednesdays. Richard. Germans. Learning about the male spirit through German Richard. Being wine and dined...and disappointing German Richard. Feeling guilty about the lackage of spreading of my legs...Getting angry about the guilt, and forgiving German Richard in the morning. $7 wines. Peruvian children. Callanca. Profesora Betty. Missing placement on the last day due to Peruvian cocaine, too much alcohol, and a lusty night with a Slovanian girl.
This is me...and at the same time, not me.
Ice cream (helado). mokas - chocolate. Ritter Sport(!). El Molino. New faces, old faces...all within a month. Allison (german descendant, but from Los Angeles). Linda (Viet from New Orleans). Kim (german from Australia). Lesley (Scotland). Gleb (Russia). Armando (Texas). Zak (North Britain). Cameron (New Zealand). Laura (Australia). Sabrina (Mississauga).
Richard and his deep talks. A walking contradiction - so insightful and deep...but in so hollow of a shell. So knowledgeable, so much knowledge...
But on how to live and respect and accept...so quick and long of a plateau.
Intuition of others in check.
But willingness to change the big, starting from the small...unable.
Showed both kindness and vengeance of a German militant.
Not in love, but shared love for the week we became close. We shared.
That's what love is - sharing.
Sharing your fears, your cares, your dreams and aspirations.
Having someone witness that you are not merely a cocoon for a spirit in metamorphasis - but a being that feels - and wishes.
There is no feeling of being more alive than when you are scared shitless.
You know, being euphoric and "happy"...
All our emotions are just programmed through hormones and chemicals in our brain...
But what came first, the emotion or the juicing of the chemical?
Does it matter?
Does it matter if:
God exists
The chicken or the egg came first
If a good person experiences bad
What matters?
Depends on size. The larger you go, the less matters.
So where do you live?
In your own body...Outside your body...Beside your body...In another town...In the stratosphere...
The ideal place would be all at once.
All encompassing, and willful to accept.
Everything's Changed, Nothing's Changed.
To be a good friend, you must be understanding, forgiving.
You need to truly believe in unconditional love - and continue to give it even when their negativity and petty worries overspill into your coffee cup, destroying your perfect ratio of
milk: coffee: sugar
It's difficult to understand why someone so close to you can be so different.
I watch you - on your phone and not talking to anyone around you.
Who are you talking to that you'd rather be messaging instead of participating in life that is NOW.
I don't understand you...You came all the way to down 2 beers, do some texting...
and then go home.
Is it that your rude? Or are you merely ignorant and unknowing of your offensive actions.
As your friend, or maybe irrational lover, I look past these and force myself to see the sweet goldmund that laughs when I pester and tickle you.
I'm trying to get to know the real you...But like before, you have a brick wall between yourself and the rest of your brothers and sisters.
You speak of everyday being an adventure, and of your new positive outlooks...
But to me, you're the same.
Perhaps it's my impatience...
Maybe you deserve more waiting.
All there is to do with you is wait...and hope that you'll present yourself sometime soon.
I want to know YOU, not just your soft lips, and childish giggle.
But...That's not my choice.
It's yours.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
I physically couldn't for a month, but now here I am, back again to the same situation.
My mind and experiences tell me of better things...
But my feelings are still there.
The feelings are the same, the only difference is that you're not crazy about me anymore. I'm still crazy about you. Still want you just as bad and want to just feel your presence.
Or maybe I miss the intimacy. Either way, you're a danglin janglin and I'm the dog with it's tongue wagging hoping you throw me a fuckin' bone here! Come on, I've been good haven't I?
I try to tell myself of how I really actually enjoy this agony...That it's all part of the fun. But my Hong Kong blood makes me rush, want results ASAP. I want you to want me!
I get ahead of myself so quickly and easily. It's been not even a day since we saw each other and already feeling the vertigo, the rush and the not knowing and the constant brain whirring and you being all calm while I'm a hurricane!
Oh this is what it is to be alive. Be tortured, not know...always waiting and on the cusp of an answer that never actually comes. I know you'll never satisfy me...but as a person that is fully alive and feels the utmost alive...the dangling treat is what I chase after. After the chase, after you eat...you just wish it lasted longer.
I can't convince myself to chew longer...but once I've swallowed I miss the taste in my mouth.









