Monthly Archives: February 2017

Can you save my life? ‘Cause I would save your life.

I go to sleep late, at gone 6am because I have a chest full of something and don’t want to sleep on that. I watch hours of Gayzer Frackman’s videos of getting in the way of Cuadrilla at Preston New Road, somehow feeling a part of it.

I do my puja at 5.30, aware that pujas are now happening at Skanda Vale, Wales, and at Soma Skanda Ashram in the Alps. And I am here.

I get into bed, cuddled up tightly to Mummy Bear, comforting life-force throughout everything. Every night at Soma Skanda was the same, and at Skanda Vale before. A good teddy bear, with the best of energies in, makes a world of difference.

Almost immediately I’m in a room, kind of like a classroom. Angela is there, as well as quite a few others I know, and some I don’t know. She’s dramatising something, and I’m unsure of if she’s mad at me or just making drama. It was often that way at Soma Skanda, but really great to have that. She put her eyes to the back of the head, and feigned fainting, and actually did faint, hitting the ground hard, backwards. Within an instant she shrinks in size to a baby, actually becomes a newly born, or maybe even a yet-to-be-born, baby.

The energy completely takes over. The whole room is transfixed, or reacting in extreme ways. I am suddenly feeling extremely sick and dizzy, find a sink but nothing’s really coming out, but I’m imagining that it is. Then I lose all ability to do anything, and fall sideways hard onto the ground. Someone I know does too. We both shake as our bodies shrink very quickly, us about to become lifeless babies.

I wake before it completes, but everything’s suddenly different. I hug mummy bear tightly, and tell her my dream, and she’s there, hugging me, helping me with my breathing. Distance is nothing.

I’d read Jonathan Livingstone Seagull earlier, at about 2am, and the teachings sowed themselves in me. There’s so much to become, we are not this body and this mind, we are everything.

I hear the train running in the distance, and slowly go back to sleep.

Now it is not raining for the first night in a week. I can see everything when I’m up on the Downs. It feels clear. Like we’ve all been through something really quite intense over this past week, and now it’s cleared.

It’s cold, but things have cleared.

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No point sitting around, waiting for things to change

Tonight, 2am, misty rain and Efa Supertramp in my ears. Recreate the future, recreate your future.

I walk barefoot. I stopped walking barefoot when I got my motorbike, over two years ago.

Through the feet we root ourselves, contact vayu with prithvī. It’s like things are suddenly real again, and I feel the energy flowing down into the ground, this is what I’ve needed all along.

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He that sows thorns should never go barefoot.

I read in a diary I kept in 2012 of life being so different. There was no need for work. There was optimism. There was so, so much energy, and it was just there. It didn’t need to come from anywhere. It was just there.

Now I live my days by the next day. When it rains, it halts my flow of watching the sunset on the downs. It keeps me inside, and when my mum comes home I’m living the story of years ago when I would feel guilty of not having done anything much in the day. Forgetting all the time that the day begins at night for me here, now. It is when I have energy for everything. I explain that I’m so affected by energies, and it’s only at night when I feel so natural. And it’s true, but partly because I don’t have a backbone yet.

I could be free.

My bank balance went down to my last £35. My phone, which I use for internet and music and as camera, and for work, got water damaged and developed a serious fault. But it’s all repairable. But if it weren’t so repairable, I think I would happily go and live a simple life again, for a while.

The Swamis were keen to urge that I need to focus on what I want in life. I told them I couldn’t be a monk because I see myself having family in the future sometime. They tried to get me to focus on that as immediate, that my life should centre itself around that. But that’s not why I didn’t become a monk. It’s not what I decided. And yet, it seems to be how I’m living my life. I wanted to go to gigs again, and I wanted to get to a place where I could thrive again.

So I now compose this poem to the girl that stays with me mystically through everything. And it’s written in Scandinavian languages, because they’re beautiful, and it needs to be beautiful, which cannot be done in English or German languages. She wants to dance and to thrive in life.

Let’s dance until the morning light
Stand on the streets, stand up for our rights
We’ll paint this city bright tonight
We sing from our hearts and they call this a fight.

Well I don’t believe in your lies
And I don’t believe in your money
And I don’t believe in the way
That you make us work till we can’t smile
And I cannot understand why you do anything for money
And you cannot understand why I do anything to be freeeeeeeeee.

And this makes getting a job very difficult.

Barefoot bloody tree-hugger.

But thaaaat’s liiiiiiiifeeeeeee!!!!