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Mountain frog, part 1

To go where this is discomfort, like many others’ I avoid doing so at times. Yet the events of recent, they are gently yet firmly pushing me to there.  Yes, it is clear that seeking comfort or something that ‘resonates’ as some people describe it can be a helpful experience. It too however can bind one to inertia. In this situation, I am boarding a bullet train to go stay with my cousin Gen for three days. Friday, Saturday, Sunday and then back home on Monday morning. Announcements, they are being called out across the station continuously by a woman and there is the general sound of noise here, there and all around. A chill hangs into the air making me feel cold as I walk to the front of the train. Ahead where the trains exit of the station, I see that the afternoon clouds are clearing, giving way to brilliant sunlight. Taking a seat up the front end of the carriage, I find myself alone. Alone is how I like it on a train for the most part. Inner city commuter trains, they can be so crowded. Noisy and full of smells, some pleasant, some foul. There is a pattern I noticed years ago, it is that most people get into the nearest carriage rather than walk the extra distance to have some more space. Convenience over effort.

With my hands resting in my lap I sink back into the soft seat as the pleasant heat of the train warms my chilled body. The fabric of the seat, it has an interesting texture to it. I am not sure how long I sit there in silence, but eventually there is the announcement that the train is about to depart. The doors to the carriage, they close quietly after subtle hiss sound. A jolt runs its way through the train as it comes to life and begins its journey to the country side. My destination, it is the final stop, but it is not the final place of abode for this vehicle. The cityscape, it flows by visually outside as the train moves rapidly. Businesses, skyscrapers, homes flashing by. Occasionally other trains pass by at great speed, they are going off in their own direction. Most of them, they are commuter trains. It reminds me of the wonderfulness of how we all share a common space, yet we are going in our own directions. No two roads leading to the same place, each path is unique. Putting in my earphones I then set my cellphone to play some pop tunes. Some people, they think that pop music is not of value. Yet I find value hearing the experiences people put into their songs. From my bag I take out a language book, it is one for Japanese. This learning of another language, it is a commitment to myself to expand my potential and opportunities. Every day, every moment, it has the potential for learning and for wisdom too. Those who capitalize on it, they become successful in their own ways. Reading through my book, I passively observe the cityscape starting to give way to more open land. The first stop of the journey, it will be soon. There is a constant sound of the train, it is not quite a hum. It is subtle and in its continuity it has a calming quality about it.

“Excuse me, would you like anything to eat or drink?” a man who looks about eight years younger than me asks, a trolley of confectioneries behind him. His voice, it is highly accented yet gentle. I like it. I stop the music playing on my cellphone.
“Thank you, but I need nothing just now,” I reply politely.
He bows and then excuses himself, heading down along the cabin to serve the other passengers. His job, to many it would seem thankless. I see value in it though, he also gets to travel across the country at no expense. Stops, they come and go. there is no point in conveying needless detail of being idle. The cityscape, it had long given way to sprawling open fields, some with crops, some not. Houses here and there. A lake immense in size, it sparkles in the sun light and I see a flock of white birds take flight from it formation. A forest, it passes by too. The ancient trees which make it up, their canopies cast thick shadows which veil the interior mysteriously. When my trip in the train does come to an end and I step out onto the platform, night is now descending by this point. A fiery sunset can be seen in the other direction. Vibrant oranges and vivid hues of purple, they are blending together like a water color painting. An old man, he can be heard making announcements over the speaker system. There are not many people here, but those that are seem to be quite at peace. A mother sits with her two young boys who appear to have fallen asleep. A middle aged man, he is resting against the station wall reading his cellphone’s screen, his face illuminated by the LCD. There are others, but that is enough to convey the scene. Final stops, they are often quiet like this.

Outside of the station I find several taxis waiting idly, their engines off. The nearest taxi driver comes over.
“Excuse me, do you need a lift somewhere?” the old man asks in a rough yet polite tone. Silently I show the man my cousin’s business card.
“Ah, I can take you there. Come this way please.”
“Thank you,” I reply softly.
I follow him to his cab, it’s red and white body looks worn by age like the driver himself. I get in and he wastes no time in starting the engine. He takes to driving, I see him glance at me thanks to the driver mirror.
“Are you here on business?” he asks, trying to start polite conversation. Why I am here, it is sensitive information. Inwardly I sigh for a moment, the situation that brings me here is one of my own making and part family intervention.
“I am visiting relatives.”
The road that is being driven, it is through a growing town. Businesses, homes and a fair amount of traffic. There is all of that and more.
“I was born here, I wouldn’t want to work or live anywhere else,” the man says.
I understand his view, this part of the country, it is prosperous yet retains its distant nature. Many goods, they are made here and exported. In this way there is balance between the outside and the inside.
“If you look outside just now you will see mist coming in, it is common for that around this time of year,” the old man explains. This time of year, it is Autumn. I nod in response. This man, he has a kindly nature about him. From all of the lines on his face it seems like his life has been rough. A part of me, it feels sad for the him. After twenty minutes or so of driving we are out in open countryside, heading down a long poorly maintained road. Every so often the car shudders from hitting a bump. Outside I see familiar old trees passing by sporadically, it seems like they have not changed a bit since I used to live here as a teenager. Trees, they are odd beings. They grow so slowly and live for so long. Yet despite their apparent lack of change, they move with the seasons like every other part of nature does. The car, it eventually pulls up outside the three story farm house that once was my home from childhood to my late teenage years.
“That will be forty-one yuan,” the man informs me, sat turned in his seat as he looks at me. Inside my purse the smallest note I have is a fifty yuan note, so that I give him one of those.
“I will give you change, please wait a minute.”
I bow politely, “There is no need, please take it. Thank you.”
I get out of the car and watch him drive off. Walking up the front door, a light above it comes on automatically. With great hesitancy I knock and wait. The old wood giving off a firm sound as it is tapped my me repeatedly. From inside I hear some movement and then door opens, Gen is standing there. It has been some months since I last seen him and he has not changed at all. Just like a lot of this place seems not to have changed. There is a timeless quality to this place. Gen, he is dressed in casual clothes, his hair cut short. The manual labor involved with running a farm, it has left him looking muscular. That however is a good thing for a man.
“Ming, it is has been a while. Please come in, it is good to see you.”
I bow, “Yes it has been a while big brother, thank you.”
Gen closes the door behind me as I set my travel bag down and step into the large hallway with its staircase that wraps its way along the walls, from the first to third floor.
“You should visit more often, I miss you being here,” Gen comments, stepping up beside me.
Memories of why I left here as a teen flood back to me like a stream being cleared of rocks. My Uncle and aunt, they were ashamed by my relationship choice back then. On that last night I lived here, Chyou and I had hurried in here and gone up to my bedroom on the second floor. I can see in my minds eye, she and I hurrying up the old creaking staircase and then hurrying back down not long after with a couple of bags in hand. We had not wanted to linger in case we had ran into my uncle and aunt. That time, it feels so long ago. I was sixteen years old, now I am twenty-nine. My aunt, she died four years ago and my uncle, he is in his late seventies. He is in full time care of my cousin Gen.

“I’ll take your bag up to your room, can you go into the front room. I would like to talk with you,” Gen says in a pressing tone.
“OK,” I response calmly, though calm is anything but how I feel. We temporarily part ways. In the front room I sit on the worn brown three piece leather sofa. This room still has the traditional decorating scheme, but a number of my aunt’s items, they are no longer up on the shelves. A feeling of anxiety comes upon me suddenly, but I do my best to push it aside. Gen, he returns a minute or so later and sits a polite distance apart from me on the sofa.
“Thank you for waiting for me.”
“It is no problem, big brother. What did you want to talk about?”
Gen sighs, casting his gaze downward briefly, “This match-making, are you sure you want to go through with it?” he asks in a concerned tone.
In all bluntness, I am not sure. Yet, I am getting older and the family pressure has been growing. I don’t want to be alone, there is a dream I have of being a mother and having a happy home life. A life which seems very distant to me in the city I have a home in.
“I am not sure, but I told them that I will only go through with it if I like him.”
“I have mixed feelings on the situation,” he responds after a long pause.
“…I do too, but time, it is passing fast and I do not want to end up alone.”
i talk about time passing fast, but time can pass slowly too if you want it too. There is control we all have over our personal time. My mind, it is wandering again with life contemplation, this is no situation for that. Something my deceased aunt said comes to mind at that moment, “Do you remember how aunt Li said I day dreamed too often and kept people at a distance?”
“I do not but it does sound like something she would say.”
The clock on the wall, each tick of it sounds so oppressive in these moments. After a pause I respond, “She was right, I spent too much time in my thoughts and not enough in life. I cannot afford to let my life slip away any longer. I want a long happy relationship, like Uncle had with Aunt Li. Even if that means I have to take an arranged relationship like Aunt Li had wanted me to when she…”
As I say that, I am reminded of the suddenness of aunt Li’s passing. It was a shock to all, as she had seemed so healthy on the outside. I feel a need to shed some tears, but manage to suppress the emotion.
Gen, he places his right hand on my shoulder gently, “I understand. I’ll let them know that you’ve arrived and that they can come over tomorrow. And Ming…”
“Yes?”
“No matter what you choose to do or not to do, know that I’ll always be there for you, little sister.”11:11

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Dream on a wing

Sunlight, it is sparkling mesmerrizingly across the large pond’s surface. From my view on a wooden park bench, there is that which can be seen. Then there are also a great many other things going on, things which cannot be observed directly, but are known. Ducks, they appear to glide across the surface of the water without effort. Though that it an illusion of effortlessness. In that water, their legs, they are paddling hard. There are so many observable events in every life which seem effortless like how these ducks move across the pond water. The vibrantly colored katsura trees around the pond and bordering on the pathways, they are stirring at the gentle wind’s behest. The wind giving these ancient beings movement and in turn they sing a whispering like chorus. One which is felt rather than rationalized. I am not alone here though, there are a few families here and other people on their own like I. Some of them, they are walking slowly around the large pond. Others are sat like I am. A loving couple, they are throwing bread onto the water just now. A couple of years ago I would have thought that these kind people were supporting nature. That was then and this is now though. My current outlook, I see it as we’re all part of nature. Not only that, but the nature of this park is part of the nature of this planet. And that this planet, Earth, it is part of the nature of this solar system and beyond. There is this intricate yet naturally forming connectivity between things on the macro, to the micro and back. All are connected in this way I feel.

The ducks, noisily they move rapidly towards that wet bread. Competing with each other for the limited resources. Maybe it is just me, but such scenes are saddening in a way. We as beings, all to often look for some way or something which already exists, to follow or become like. That is a passive way of existing, at least that is how it seems to me. There are those who seek wisdom, there are those who seek in a more general sense. Each of them, looks for some pre-existing thing. There is a greater potential to be had though. That is of becoming a creator. A move away from following, from seeking. To creating and establishing. Not just creating yourself, but also your own circumstances, potentials and whatever else you want to be. Even to creating your own wisdom. Competition, it is another limiting aspect of every day life. Some people, they perceive that competition is required for innovation. Yet, working together as a pair or in greater numbers, it can lead to something infinitely greater than a single effort. There is power in working together, also there is greater and deeper wealths of potential to be had when we come together.

I had an unusual text message from my uncle recently, the message, it read ‘Your soul, it is spotless.’ When I asked him why he sent that, he said he had felt the purpose to. That is his known, I won’t question his source. However, the message leaves me feeling conflicted. I am an adult, how can anyone with an adult life have a spotless awareness/soul? In some cases, even a child does not have that. There is only one thing that comes to my awareness, that how I am now in body, it is not binding upon the greater wealth of me. The thought of text messages leads me like a river flows, to check my cell-phone. I see that my American friend has not emailed me back. A couple of weeks, they have passed by in silence between us. He and I met by chance online, through a place which was far from positive. Yet, in that place of dark negativity we each found ourselves, we found the light of each other. I would chat with him through a voice app and sometimes text. However, I had to delete my account quickly and forgot to note their hidden username before making a new account. It was a reminder to me, that one should not always rush through things. There are many things I have come to realize, yet I do not always do them. I should, but the older regressive habits and ways, they arise unwelcomingly sometimes like specters from the past. Though I never tell anyone how to live, I still find those periods of slipping giving me the feel of being a hypocrite towards my personal growth process.

This friend of mine, we would chat about living and what some would try to describe as philosophy. I remember the few video calls we shared. In one he showed me a creation of his that he felt explained an aspect of existing. His whole being then, it was alive with the essence of creation and the vibe, it was highly positive. All too often it can be hard to find someone who likes to discuss the same things as you. I value the online friendship with him and hope to hear again from him sometime in the future. Closing my eyes, I let all of the thoughts slip away. The sounds of nature come alive vividly. From the gentle breeze, to the softly stirring pond water. The ducks, they are quacking randomly and peoples voices carry around. There is an intermingling in a harmonious way of all of those sounds. A sense of balance, it arises from the silent potential I just created. Balance, it is something I stopped seeking. I learned that I can have balance at any moment in any situation by giving it the space to be. There is a feel of open-endlessness.

Opening my eyes, I look ahead with a sense of knowing. The stream of my life as it unfolds, I am in it, but I am also it. Distinction, there is none. I am its author and the experience-r of it simultaneously.11:11

No savory delights

I do not recall falling asleep on my sofa, but sleep tends to pounce like that when the intent is only to nap. It is tenacious thing like that, seizing the moment whenever the opportunity presents itself. I awoke about thirty minutes ago, feeling a pleasant warmth, but also a disassociation from my settings. Like something did not fit or that I maybe did not fit here despite having made this place the way it is. It is a surreal moment, where there is both flux and potential to be had.

It is true that weeks have rushed through since I last used this blog of mine. There were times that I wanted to post something, the but inspiration, it was absent like a thing spirited away by time’s gentle hands. This was a period where creativity wanted to rise, but the aspects of working to live managed to hold precedence. Picking up my cell phone I go back into my dim but warmly illuminated front room. It is night time, but night time has a more freeing feeling to it. It is said by some that at night the energy of the world flows more freely when there is less people focusing on it. I find truth in this from my own experiences. Opening the door to the balcony and stepping outside, the sounds of life, they become ever present. Cars, they drive by down below on the street noisily. People, they talk and laugh as they pass by. The sound of a digital bill board, it plays out continuously a block away from here. A great many assortments of sounds, expressing the randomness of any given moment. Between the relative silence of my home and the busyness of outside, I am reminded of a book quote. That quote, it goes roughly like this, ‘People, they perceive a separation between their selves and balance. They seek to have balance, but have yet to realize that they already have it.’ Even though it is quote about balance, the sentiment of it holds true for a great many other things. I know that I too make that mistake in areas of my life, that is, seeing separation where there is truly none.

I shiver as the cool air of outside settles itself upon me like an cold blanket. Exhaling, my breath is visible like a little puff of smoke fading into the either.  My gaze, it Is drawn to the starry night sky above where a few large clouds drift through. Those stars, they twinkle with both hope and potential. But their potential, I no longer seek it anymore and I don’t hold out for a shooting star to wish upon for prosperity. I realized months ago that we each are our own shooting star, our own potential and much more. Tapping the screen of my cell phone, its bright LCD display comes to life illuminating my hand. The cute icons and picture of Chyou and I at a party as the background greet me once again. There are no new text messages, yet I feel a need to scroll through the list. Names like Mo and others flash by. Mo, she helped me find a new job in general retail. It is not an ideal job, but what job is? I’ve yet to find one that is perfect.  If I had enough finance I could create my own perfect job, but that is not something I can do feasibly in the immediate future. This need to check on things frequently, like checking text messages or emails, I dislike it yet keep doing it sometimes. More than anything, it is a way to waste the precious time of one’s life. Duru, duru… spinning around, waiting for something to happen. Rather than the creating of things.

Chyou and I have this term, we call it ‘Silent Knowing’. To us, we look at it as those moments where the greater bulk of our spiritual awareness speaks to what us. A knowing that needs no prompting and does not carry the taint of emotions or rationalizing. Recently though, I came up with a new term of my own, I call it ‘Silent Doing.’ It is letting yourself be in the flow. Thoughts, they are not occurring during this. In that flow state one does things naturally, like how the wind blows where it can without hesitancy. This ‘silent doing’ has helped me with my novel writing project when the motivation to write faded like water evaporating in the sun’s warm light.

I open my cell phone’s web browser and swipe through photos of traditional Tibetan clothing. The abundance of color and beauty in them captures my interest. There is a sense of power I pickup in Tibetan culture, at least that is what I get of it. This life of mine started with living on a farm, then there was the move to this town at nineteen years old.  If my uncle were here, he would say that it is foolish of me to day dream about living a truly rural life like some Tibetan people do. Yet living as I do and even when I was at the farm,  it was never truly living in harmony with the land. My Uncle’s outlook is his though and mine is my own. My culture, it has a wealth of ‘spirituality’ to it as some people abroad might say. They would not be wrong, but there is always something greater to be discovered and experienced. The aspiration of becoming a successful and independent, many people including myself share that. It is a commonality, a positive one. Cold drops of rain fall upon my head getting my attention. The sky above, it has become clouded over darkly and it is beginning to pour. I go back indoors and the warmth of home, it rushes to greet me affectionately.  The soft feel of the carpeting beneath my bare feet , it is has a nice texture to it.

Texture, it is important in life. Not just in clothing appearance, but in all ways.  The feel of the painted white walls here have a slightly rough texture to them. The fabric of my sofa, to the touch its cloth threaded material tells a unique story. Being able to focus on and appreciate such things, it is very much life enriching. In every day I do my best to not lose sight of texture. Textures of experience, touch, taste and more. A life led blind to them or without that variety, it is depressing. The rain, it is coming down fast now. It makes that pitter patter sound against the window and balcony door nonstop. Laying back into my sofa I close my eyes and relax to the sound of the rain as it intensifies from a rush into a roar. It sounds like a stream noisily rushing down a mountain side. My thoughts and then my awareness, they travel with the water. The destination, it matters not. The moment to moment of the voyage, this is what I put importance on.11:11

Haze on the hills

Summer is here again, the nights, they are long and bright. The weather, it is unpleasantly hot at times. Sat on my sofa in the front room, with this laptop resting on the arm of the chair. It is humming away happily. The house is quiet, bar the sound of a soft breeze coming in from the outside through an open window. I see the cityscape cloaked in a haze. A thunder and lightning storm has passed through earlier. The skies, they had rumbled angrily and each strike of electricity came with a mighty bang. It is easy to understand how people of the past could read such weather as the Gods being angry at them. The universe and living, it is like an energetic entanglement. If many people in a city are in turmoil, then their energies will become manifest in how nature around them. There is that tangible and intangible connectivity we each have with nature and everything else. That is a bit of wandering off topic, I want to write about a couple of things.

‘Stay in the flow’ a saying goes, but which flow or whose flow? There are too flows many to count. For those periods where volition is high, creativity blossoms like a flower in summer. Then there are flows where there is steadiness, like a stream flowing forever on. Somewhere, in one of those, I’ve found something to be wary of in the long term. It is easy to enjoy the comfort of a routine, it is also easy to enjoy a problem free life when that is created. Volition, the drive from self to keep growing and to be curious – it can sometimes dwindle when in the embrace of consistency. The past couple of weeks, they have been in the latter of consistency absorbing my volition. Days, they went by as if in a blur. Work, come home to make dinner, some hobby time and then sleep to repeat it all over. The dreams I am making real, like learning a new language, getting better at drawing and other things. I found myself doing them less over time. My best friend Chyou might say in a laughing response to this “So you want to have some problems in your life? Maybe you should try spending time some time with a couple of my friends.”

no2scaled11:11

Those ‘friends’, i know who speaks of. You could tell them one thing in passing, then weeks later people would be talking about something you had not done. Having problems, they can help stir motivation in the short term. To have consistency and strong volition co-existing, I am certain there is a flow for that. As long as something exists, it can be obtained, if it does not exist – create it. I am not a great creator for now, but I am an aware creator. Each moment, leads to a choice and the creation of a scenario. Choice, it is empowering, but so is owning that choice during and afterwards. Today, for example I chose to do something. It did not work out well and I became annoyed in the moment. In the aftermath of the moment I reminded myself that I had chosen to do that. The outcome of that choice, it was a unique situation that will never occur again in that exact way. The times I am annoyed, the times I am sad, the times I am lonely. They are all my choices and I love them all. They are part of my story.

Stories, specifically recent stories, that reminds me of when I visited a cousin this week. Their home, it is styled in a very traditional manner. The wooden floors in parts, they are worn by age, some sections creak audibly when stepped on. Tall ceilings and large bay windows that look out onto homes across the street. Though I would never say this to my cousin, the place their home is in – I do not like it. The area, it is is dirty, covered in litter and the people there, they show as much care for their environment as they do each other. My cousin, she has a son, he is three. Being around him, it reminds me of the days spent baby sitting as a teenager and some of the time I spent wondering how children do some things better than adults do. They always try new things out and if they fall. They get back up and keep on trying. To them, every moment, every day is a new adventure. Those are ways I have been working back into myself. There are so many adults who give up after one failed attempt at something, who take every ‘setback’ as a rejection or personal attack. That way of experiencing life, it often leads to negative places.

On that day, I found myself baby sitting the child while my cousin and her partner stepped out to deal with an emergency. The boy is quiet and does not do much around people he does not know well. He wandered into the hall and stood there. Looking at me and then the furniture in the space. There is a confidence to him, standing there like he owned everything. What he is thinking, I do not know. He went over to pick up a soccer ball sized earth globe resting against one of the walls and kicks it about a few times. That inspired me, subtle as his actions were. I’ve always looked at the world with ‘respect’, but looking back on it, what was that ‘world’ I was respecting? When I’ve been thinking about realities recently, it has been pushing me to see how I had been living by other peoples ways and ideas for so long. That to be genuinely living my own ways, I have to create my own ways. To my cousin’s son, the globe of the Earth is a soccer ball, he does not want a normal soccer ball. I hope he continues to do things differently as he grows up.

11:11

Roaming Bud

Days, they feel to flow by me like a stream down a hill side. Days, dates, months, what are they I end up asking myself more and more lately? They mark the passage of time, but whose time? Where does my time exist in there? I know that i have my own time, but such things will not acknowledge that. So much I see around, it sings and curses in oppositions. Middle grounds and all the infinite shades, they are around. Yet few venture there let alone acknowledge such ways and places. One side it curses, filled with adversarial combativeness whilst the other side sings a song of a haunting siren.

In my growth recently, I have been seeing the illusion of separation more clearly. Yet keeping out of that has been inconsistent for me. All around there are things to distract and drag awareness about like a rag-doll. It can happen so subtlety sometimes. This month for example, a close relative of mine got their own home after a long time homeless. A lot of it has been to helping them setup there. The draw on my health was strong. From the weakness of form, came weakness of energy and my own awareness, it was swayed like a branch in a wild storm.

At this moment, I am just home from a long peaceful walk. The night it was dark and warm, the skies cloudy and the moon, it was crescent shaped. Cars passed by me like boats down a stream, each occupied by someone I will never know directly. Their bright lights coming and then fading off into the veil of darkness. On embankments around old trees sit, a soft breeze gently moving their long branches, making their leafs sing a calming melody. Night. Day. Sun. Moon. Darkness. Light. So many ways to see illusions of separation.  In the absence of day, there would just be night, and vice-versa. Night, it holds many fond memories as does day. Like memories of lovely nights where people gathered and released candle lit lanterns down rivers. Each one containing a wish from someone’s heart. The candle light from them lanterns, the night embraces it and makes it abundant. A candle’s light, it is not nourished by the day, but rather by the night. There is no separation between ‘night and day‘ for they are just concepts. We move, the planet moves, light moves. All is in movement in the flow of existence. In the un-measurable infinite, everything and everyone exists. Not in opposing forms and not in a mushed together soup where everything and everyone is exactly the same. Definition colors the world and the infinite, definition we carry through our live here and on beyond. Through it we expand and so does all else around. We are all unique yet we also connected to everyone and everything else.

If I could be elsewhere right now, it would be to drift off into outer-space for a while. Where comets and planets roam free. Perhaps then I could fully hear the universe’s song.

 

 

Loving Sand

Spanning infinitely off into the distance in all directions, the dunes of sand, they may appear unforgiving. Some think the same also of the sun as their body sweats in response to its contact there. Yet that is a perception, a perception giving power, given form. What any environment can give or take, it is in the eye of the beholder. Where your focus goes, your energy goes. The grains of sand I hold in my hand, they like I are part of infinity. Infinity, some call it nothingness, the great void that they fear. Those beings who cling to the known. Like someone sitting round a campfire in the dead of night. Afraid to venture out, they will never come to know the boundless potential that is awaiting for them for the specters of fear they give power to prance around them endlessly. Specters casting shadows which are larger than their size.

As part of infinity, each has been connected to everything else. It is when one chooses to see their self as separate from the rest of existence that they become [disconnected.] Duality, opposition, they are like snares, snares made to trap awareness’s.

If you think of having an enemy, you will have created one for yourself. If you think of a fear, you will have created yourself a jailer.

The desert, it is a interesting way to discuss cognitive growth. One might see walking a desert as arduous with no direction or aid. With the sun bearing down on you, sapping you. One can also look at the desert as a vast space of opportunity for cognitive growth, with the sun providing warmth and the night providing coolness. Sustenance always around, but only for those who are able to see in the now. Those who are caught up in thought, they succumb to seeing mirages and therein in become lost.

In my life I have abundance and actualizing. When one holds desire, they hold in them the state of ‘Not Having’. When one holds the idea of seeking growth, they never come to find their own path, their own way. For they are choosing the opposites of having, the opposites of being in flow. Desire will forever be desire, the absence of having. Same for seeking, it will never be ‘having.’

The spider, it inspires.

11:11

 

Coronal Choice Plumes

In this experience, I find myself ever considering new things. Like light sparking on the surface of a body of water in beautiful morning daylight, each sparkle is unique for what it wants to convey. My awareness, it has been considering choice and responsibility lately.

By taking responsibility for even the smallest of your actions, you are ever increasingly empowering your own volition. That coat you chose to wear today? When you get home, put it away yourself when you get home. Don’t leave it laying around for someone you live with to do it for you.

Choice it is a beautiful multi-dimensional expansive thing. Like a flower, the beauty of it is in the eye of the beholder.

You can look at your own growth in an infinite amount of ways. Many look at their inner world, a space that often needs a lot of attention as their enemy or as a petty tyrant like they call it in antiquity. Those inner aspects being seen as something to smash into obedience or slaughter from existence. But inside, those are aspects of you. Empowered choices you made in the past. Choices which got you to where  you  are  now. Why destroy what is part of you? That would be like cutting of your own arm or another limb.

“This is my enemy, that is my enemy.”~Me

When all you choose to see are enemies then that will be what your own reality is comprised of.

The approach I have been taking recently, it is to transition and clean all those aspects into my new reality, my new way. Each was and still is a part of me and will be changed to be part of my newer more expansive ways.

Whatever you focus on, you empower.

Do you want to be focusing on everyone and everything being your enemy or a danger? Do you want to focus on the world being a big scary place with many bad guys?
Do you want to be one of those who is helping hold in place a negative reality on this planet?

Whatever you put your focus to, you are empowering and helping hold in place. You are choosing your own reality.

You can choose where your focus goes and what you want be present in your own reality.

All that is around, each is part of infinity. Each an individual expression of a different aspect. Flowing from what you can to what you cannot see yet.

I see no enemies, in myself nor others’. I see expressions of infinity working their selves through their own processes at their own rates.
11:11