The loneliness of the long-distance dreamer

There are times in this world, where it all become bleak and cold, freezing beyond frostiness, and you’ve got a few choices:

– You can escape from it.  Use a narcotic, or eat, or see people, or read, or do anything to take your mind off of it.
– You can reach into it.  Don’t be scared.  Go deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

When I was back home last time, one of the miracles of my time back there was in seeing the fear, but not in feeling fear because of seeing the fear.  I saw the beauty of the fear, and it was ecstatically beautiful.
I went to the top of the stairs, in the dark, the place where in my dreams for most of my life had been craziness, and in lucidity I saw people fall down the stairs because of forces that are not human, and there were violent bangs, and things slithering into my back.  I found that the fear of that place was nothing when matched with the love that I was feeling inside.  The joyful, the resonant, the integrative.  The love spoiled the fear, and it was messy.  I laughed as I communicated with the energies.  And when I had realised I could do it, I went forward into other places where I had never even contemplated going into before because of the craziness there, and I went right in with this childish laughter and stole the darkness of this area and replaced it with light.
The same was so with the people in King’s Lynn, my home town.  I could feel so much craziness there, so much fear, so much darkness.  But what is this darkness?  It is an absence of light, yes?  When you have light inside, do you not offer it to the darkness, so as to fill a dark area with the light, as to even things out somewhat?  I sat in the town centre, by the cinema where I had always felt fearful in the past of what would happen if a gang approached me, and I ate my sandwich medatively.  I saw people closing in on me, and then moving away.  People were inquisitive.  That’s what it is!!  People are inquisitive when they close in on you – do they get some love, or do they not??  When they see you, and they stop you, they know that you have something that you can give.  Their instincts tell them this.  And are you really going to let them down so harshly, like you’ve been let down before?  NO!  This is time to take steps in the right direction.  When they come up to me, every bit of me must be tassled into giving out absolute adorative love.  There is no other way.

AND THEN I GET BACK TO THE SUBJECT OF MYSELF.

It is perhaps most scary at times to go into myself, when there is fear there.  This is the deepest rooted, deepest feeling, the deepest kind of fear, for which there is no comparison.  And when this fear is there, what do you do?
The fear is bodily, and it is in the mind, it feels like it’s in the heart, it feels like it is everywhere.  It is as if one single emotion has absolutely taken over every part of you, and, as I said at the beginning, there are two steps to take.  Which do you choose, and how do you choose when you are being controlled by this thing that has taken you over?

There is no alternative for me.  I must understand the distance between myself and my body, and my mind, and my heart, and everything about all of that.  Only when I realise that there is a part of me that cannot be overrun – this freeform observation of everything that is going on – can I see through it all.  Sure, I see fear in the heart, I see fear around the body, I see the mind full of fear.  But I see that!!  It is like seeing clouds over the sky – the clouds are always, always temporary, and moving, and they cover up something so much more vast underneath.  It is the same with everything that I observe around my existence – sure, there is so much there, but really what I’m looking at is action happening in a particular place.  There’s nothing more to it.

So if I’m really scared of this scary action happening in my body, then I should surely look at where I’m really scared and observe that for a while, see it all going on as the fabulous puppet show it really is.  Why would I need to run away from something, anyway?  What dictates that I should be more scared of this one thing than the next thing??

Yesterday, after having my right hip pumped with a lot of crazy stuff, I was being pushed down the corridor of the hospital in a wheelchair (my first experience in one) by a hospital porter, with Rosie walking behind, we were walking towards the MRI unit, when the lights started fading into darknesses, and people’s material outline became the only things present.  All I could see was fuzzy outlines of people’s bodies, and it was notable that it was only people’s bodies that I could see the outlines of – there were no objects that I could see the outlines of.  Speech and sounds became very distant, as I was becoming a part of the bubble that was taking me away.  I played with this, and decided to continue trying to use language in response to what was going on.  ‘Woaaaaahhhhhh, everything’s fading away, I can’t see much anymore and I can’t hear you with my nose……..’  Of course, words got jumbled apparently as I slurred away.  The only real discomfort I felt from this way the feeling of nausea, as I know that noone likes to see someone being sick in front of them and so I was adamant not to be sick in front of those that were around me.  It didn’t help that there were loads of people around me, checking up on me and stuff.  I’d experienced going into this world on the non-physical on many times before, and so maybe for me the experience was not so full of fear.  There was something magical about it, though.  When I was ‘coming-to’, when vision was returning as well as sound and non-nausea, laughter began to spurt out of me like a viper’s tongue.  It fuelled my blood pressure some much-needed higher digits.  Also, it all came out naturally.  There was nothing that caused it to happen but the lightness of my mind.  My mind had become so very light-hearted that it craved this adoration of the ridiculous.  Everything became a part of the ridiculous for me, as well as myself, and we were all playing our jolly little song together.
Then I got the prize of going into the MRI machine, which for me was like being given a gentle hug for half an hour.  I felt blissed out in there, it was so incredibly relaxing for me, and I vowed whilst in the machine to make the most of it because I may not get the chance to go into one again anytime soon.

In observation, there is silence someone.  Go find it, before it gets late.

 

Originally from: http://sisinvincible.livejournal.com/116954.html on January 15, 2013, 17:04.

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