October 17, 2018
I had a compelling realization last night as I lay in bed. I’ve never really been in love with anyone enough to feel a profound loss when they died. I still feel the presence of those who are gone. I still feel like they were sitting next to me. Sometimes I even see them, but this isn’t why. I just never loved anyone that much. I’ve only lost family members who were distant or abusive. I’ve not lost any close friends, and this was the one that really got me thinking; I’ve never been in love, not really.
The closest thing I ever had to it was IEO. He was a devastating loss. I felt him within me every day. I heard his voice and felt his presence. Losing him felt like losing a piece of my soul, literally. I don’t know if this is what it’s like for people who suffer the loss of someone close, someone they really love. I just realized I’ve never had that experience, and if I’m honest, I don’t know if this is because I haven’t met the right kind of person or if it’s just part of who I am. Maybe I don’t love deeply, or it’s part of the pedestal. Perhaps it’s just norepinephrine. I don’t know yet, but I estimate it has significance.
I thought I might return yesterday and follow the sun across the sky, but I didn’t. My life became busy, and I let it. There is a lot I have left undone, and some of it is catching up with me. I’ll allow it. It’s time to have everything spotless. This is the most prominent thing in my life. My house is clean. It is immaculate, and I can feel that everything is in order. This is my life now, doing what needs to be done; keeping things clean; allowing my life to be in order. I’m done with experiencing chaos in form. The only disorder I want in my life is creative.
Seeing again the image of me sitting in half-lotus position, waiting for the rising sun, I feel a different sense of who I am today. I haven’t always been willing to be what I’m beginning to see. I wanted a lesser image of it, a less mature image, simply because I couldn’t comprehend it. I was willing to accept the best I could imagine, but what I see today is beyond anything I could fathom. This is something more significant than me. This is something that erases my entire cast. I’m looking at stepping into being an entirely different person.
I feel the sun as it reaches the top of my head. It’s warm and comforting, and I think of Apollo. So, I imagine I am to abandon everything I was guided to do to this point. This is about living in what is mine to do next, and it’s not about chasing anything. So much of my guidance had me running after possibilities. I realize now, this was me chasing my faith, trying to prove my experiences were real. I wanted to validate it with myself, so I could make it worthy of showing to you. I don’t care now. We all know. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. My life is the only place where it really matters. Your life will be found in the revealing of your path, not the proving of mine.
Right now, what I do makes my life better, exponentially better than it has ever been. I am good with this being the only thing that matters. I’m even finally realizing what a fantastic distraction it is. I’ve spent my days moving through notes, having conversations, searching for the big picture, but it doesn’t matter. Knowing the big picture doesn’t make my life any better. It placates me. It soothes my soul, but it doesn’t make my moment any more than it is. It doesn’t feed me.
This is the thing I’m discovering about realization. The moment a new consciousness is realized, it changes the structure of my DNA. I don’t need to spend hours picking it apart. In fact, by doing so, I limit it. It is for me to just write the books and let nature take care of the rest. In the meantime, I have the moment to get myself organized.
By the time I’m done with my thoughts, the shade line is about five feet in front of the place where I sit. I don’t move yet. There is no reason to reposition. I’m not interested in self-examination anymore, and if I sit right up against that line, it’ll be the only thing I need to see. I must allow the picture in front of me to reveal itself before me gradually. It’s such an obvious metaphor, I really hate to explain it. As the sun rises, the light will tell the story before me. I just need to write it the way I see it.
August 22, 2020
I found these last few pages, random gatherings of text called “The Elimination of Source,” written by me nearly two years ago. I remember when it happened. My guides had stopped guiding me. They told me I needed to stop looking outside of myself for wisdom. I think what they meant is that I needed to realize they weren’t a thing outside of me after all.
That moment nearly thirty years ago, when IEO said he was in me, it broke my heart, because I knew it was true. Two years ago, it was still too lonely a thing to realize, I think. Even now, I feel the isolation at the center of my own universe, but I understand the connection too.
When our subject was young, she could not trust those beings assigned to keep her safe. The only source she knew utilized her for their resources more than they provided resources. When it came to food, water, and shelter, she had enough to survive, but with the more human element of love, compassion, and sensory stimuli, she became a source rather than learning to rely on a source. This creates a dangerous isolation barrier. She became alone in a world full of people.
Two years ago, she felt just as alone. She was happy, full of peace she had found through the following of her guides, but she was no less alone than she was on the day she was born.
On the other hand, the human psyche is designed for survival. In an effort to overcome her limitations, she developed a great skill, a skill far beyond the ability of her caste. She found a way to connect with the truth that exists beyond caste. She was eventually led to losing that too. She had to. She had to lose everything, to sit in the barren wasteland of her own soul. It was from here that she could to finally find the meadow quietly resting there.