Yes, we're currently inconsistent in posting as we complete a laundry list of open projects.
No, we don't post in a set format. Surprise!
|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on July 17, 2020 at 7:10 PM|
I re-wrote it, as I like to do sometimes, so it matches my frequency better.
If you haven't yet jumped on the, "Everything is Energy, Frequency, and Vibration; governed by vibrational resonance matching, e.g. the law of vibrational attraction" band wagon (so to speak) then this re-write is going to read rather nonsensical to you (most likely.)
This is my way of feeling better about all the pro-mask campaigning I keep finding myself scrolling past on https://www.facebook.com/RemmyHun" target="_blank">my FB (one of which this was inspired by.)
The next step for me is to turn my attention to the posts I do want to see more of, and give them my love.
After all, I define my vibrational points of Attraction by what I give my attention to (thinking and feeling), [ just like FB gives you more content like that which you interact with, be it comments, likes, loves, etc.,] so as long as I keep riding my "this feels better" train, I'll stay on the "happy and healthy" tracks.
So can you.
|Posted by email@example.com on June 1, 2020 at 6:00 AM|
This post is in loving memory of my little brother, Steel Talon Elliott, who died this year of a heart-attack (non COVID-19 related.)
"Remember you're human." My Mom said to me.
It keeps ringing in my mind because the implication that I think I am inhuman, or maybe superhuman... hangs there. (For the record: I am plain ole' human.)
I cannot help but to recognize this misconception that choosing to be happy all the time means we might choose not to feel ANY negative feels EVER!
When it is more like:
IF you choose to be happy all the time, when you DO feel a negative emotion (and you still do, it's a natural part of our evolution,) you know how to acknowledge it and choose your next thought toward happiness, so that the negative feels only lasts seconds, minutes, or maybe a couple hours... not days, weeks, months, years, and becomes a 'natural state of misery...'
I cannot help but to realize, this is because being happy all the time is not perceived as a human thing; because we (as a series of cultures within a global society) have been conditioned for so long to think suffering is just a part of life, and suffering is needed to make you stronger, and suffering is needed to be triumphant! Suffering makes you a good person!!!
I call bullshit.
I am not inhuman or superhuman, I am just plain ole' human who made a choice in January 2019 ***TO BE HAPPY NO MATTER WHAT***, to stop letting my happiness be tied to specific conditions I may or mayn't be able to experience in a moment.
Yes, it is a choice to be happy!
I decided I no longer wanted to be miserable, hurting emotionally, and carrying weight I couldn't barely contain or explain to anyone, but which saddened my eyes perpetually, and made me feel weak, exhausted, worthless, and (more often than I care to admit,) suicidal.
A little over a year later, I can confidently say I don't feel like that anymore, and can barely remember when I did. Now I am happy all the time, with mere moments of sadness, anger, frustration, etc... moments that last seconds, minutes, or maaaaybe an hour, and then I am able to choose my happiness again, one thought at a time.
I spend my days happy, light hearted, full of joy and excited anticipation of what the universe will bring me to enjoy now, and now, and now, and now.... Every second is a new now.
Even the death of my little brother Steel Elliott and my cousin James T Elliott couldn't weigh me down, despite (or perhaps because of) how much I love them and myself. (Yes, and myself!)
It is not inhuman or superhuman to recognize they left their pains behind with their physical bodies when they died; AND TO REJOICE!
It is not inhuman or superhuman to recognize they are at peace with themselves, and the whole of the universe now; AND TO REJOICE!
It is not inhuman or superhuman to understand they are still with me, and never left me because we are all connected; AND TO REJOICE!
It is not inhuman or superhuman to realize when I mourn their physical presence, I am really mourning I how I felt when around them (largely happy, so largely in alignment with myself... with them happy and in alignment with themselves.); AND TO REJOICE IN THE KNOWING!
It is not inhuman or superhuman to use my thoughts to navigate my emotional spectrum; AND TO REJOICE THAT I CAN!
It is not inhuman or superhuman to realize that my emotions tell me that the WAY I am thinking about (whatever) is not the way my soul/spirit is thinking about (whatever) and so I feel bad for as long as I think like that.
It is not inhuman or superhuman to seek alignment with myself.
It is not inhuman or superhuman to HAVE alignment with myself.
It is not inhuman or superhuman to feel happy 99% of the time.
I would argue (and I thank my little brother and my cousin for taking the plunge into the next, that I might have this thought) that as our soul/spirits are pure positive energy, the natural state of our human existence IS happiness, joy, and excited anticipation, and that only through our thought-conditionings, have we believed anything else.
That, just like their physical lives were finite and they are now gone physically, every single moment we live is exactly the same... finite, and gone from our physical existence.
We think it is normal to mourn the death of a person because we acknowledge we cannot 'get them back'.... yet we do not put the same value on our moments, every moment, that we cannot get back once it's passed...
I am not trying to horde my enlightenment and look down on all those who don't have it (I don't look down on anyone, because they are me, in the deep of it)...
I have been working on forming the image-thoughts and word-thoughts that will help me illustrate the simple truths I have discovered through my own experience, for the express purpose of enjoying sharing what I have learned.
I want everyone to be happy. (But my happiness isn't contingent on it.)
I want everyone to be in alignment with themselves. (But my alignment with myself is not contingent on it.)
I want everyone to enjoy the fact they have negative emotions to help them navigate what their soul/spirit is doing/thinking, and that their positive emotions help tell them when they're back in alignment with their whole self. (But my understanding is not contingent on anyone else agreeing with me. I know by experience and no one can take that from me.)
So, I challenge you, if you read through this whole soliloquy, the next time you feel bad, ask yourself if it is because you're proverbially going in the wrong direction, or because you're thinking thoughts your soul/spirit won't think with you... try to reach for thoughts that make you feel happier... do it consistently, and see if you don't find your life changed forever!
I love my little brother. I love my cousin. I love everyone who joins me in the physical world right here and now, all those who will come, and all those who have come before me.
#loss #rip #mourning #life #inspiration #choosehappiness #lawofone #awakening #emotion #love
|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on April 20, 2020 at 10:25 PM|
on the level of awareness,
automatically hard-wired accurateness,
and sometimes even preemptive
to reality unfurling;
natural chemical clairvoyance,
resonating with energy
action in reaction,
of conscious decisions.
We’re in it.
Get used to it.
with your inner instincts
to most of reality,
consciously aware of.
|Posted by email@example.com on April 20, 2020 at 10:00 PM|
Life is different when you’re poor,
no “seconds” or even any “more,”
mending your own hand-me downs,
making your own musical sounds,
using what someone else threw out,
sleeping on the floor without a pout,
rationing potatoes and making bread
-sometimes out of pancake or cake mix,
saving water when you’re cooking with it
-for the next meal, it’s all that’s afforded;
eating ants with your cereal –free protein,
plus, eventually it becomes like routine,
even the going to sleep a little early
to ignore how much you’re still hungry,
dreams become your playground,
nature is your friend all-around
-offering shade on hot days,
and wind which blows many ways;
washing clothes in a bathtub, one at a time
-then, hanging them to dry, out on a line,
one pair of shoes, probably with holes
-layers of duct-tape “saving” the soles;
during the day, lights are forbidden,
A/C is a freezer breeze and light linen
–if you’re lucky.
That’s not even stepping into public:
social-standards like hitting a road-block,
somehow a burden or disgust to even see;
as if, by sight, others can be tainted by poverty.
Or worse, as if being poor makes you subhuman,
stupid, and too ignorant to have a valid opinion;
not even given a chance or the time to speak,
–someone would have to do more than leave,
throwing up metaphysical, projected walls,
“not me, I want nothing to do with your pitfalls!”
So, maybe I make more of an effort to look clean,
to seem more wealthy than I am, knowing me;
well, then I’m a fraud who must be taking advantage,
of someone or some system –as if that has any wisdom!?
Don’t you realize those who steal to get more,
aren’t really lacking, and not really poor?
Some of us work for it, have family and friends,
we’re all still people, even when poverty stricken;
with thoughts, emotions, and (maybe forgotten) goals
-inside whatever makes us poor, we all still have souls.
I never thought I was living in poverty until I was told that I was living in poverty.
My parents were the first, but certainly not the last, to enlighten me to this status of poorness and I remember being confused and shocked. At the time, I thought poverty meant you were “worse off” than we were.
Those in poverty were people we saw on the commercials about raising money for the starving. Poor people were people without a house, and people not knowing when or where their food will come from, and certainly people who weren’t forced to take showers because “swimming in the ocean is not the same as a bath!”
I learned that there are always those more poor than yourself, and always those more rich/wealthy than yourself, but I couldn’t seem to understand who decides how well off someone is. What was this line of poverty that I seemed to be on, even though I didn’t feel… poor?
Now, as I live in my van with my twin sister, traveling across the United States (post Corporate and Fine Art careers we said “Thanks but no more” to,) I fall again within this economic line of poverty, and I don’t feel poor.
I don’t feel poor because I am richer within than I ever have been, and I am happier because I keep choosing it consistantly. It feels better to be happy no matter what is happening, and sometimes that is literally just finding thoughts that give me relief of the negative things I feel.
"I choose to feel better, consistantly."
I recognize that, as a people, we always want more and our visions of what “more” is grows as we obtain what we want.
Well, I choose to no longer care more about my economic classification than my happiness. I recongize and own that I am the only one living my life, that even my twin does not walk in my shoes, though she walks beside me. Only I am responsible for my experiences as I am the one who controls what I am thinking. I have the choice to change my thoughts at anytime.
When I am shunned for my life choices, I humbly bow and say thank you, not because I’m being cheeky but because I am grateful for the experience that shows me what I do not want.
I don’t want to live a life of shunning people. I don’t want to live a life of telling other people how to live their lives, though I’ve not walked a day in their shoes. I don’t want to feel so triumphant over my own obsticals, so revelling in my own success, that I forget what it was like to be awaiting that sign of hope to give me the strength to keep on keeping on.
I don’t want to live a life where someone’s right to human decency or politeness is gagued by their religion, skin color, gender, sexual orientation, or bank balance.
I do want to live a life of joy, of expressing the nuances of experiences we share in our own perspectives. I want to live a life of agreeing to disagree, but not shying from the conversation because we might not see eye to eye. I want to live in the happiness that is being free of worry, free of judgement, and free of the need to change anyone else to suit myself.
I want to appreciate the little things and be humbled by the big things, but never compromising my commitment to enjoying the fact I am alive and living in such wonderous variety!
Poverty might be an economic status we can segregate ourselves by, but I choose to believe in a community of consciousness, of people being people and ultimately all forming our own ideas of happiness, bank account and owned assests aside (or included as the case may be.)
We all need food and water, we all want shelter and a comfortable surface to sleep on, and ever increasing needs for our chosen quality of life.
IF we all spend less time wondering what others are thinking, telling ourselves what others are probably thinking, or taking to heart what others are thinking, and spend more time finding those thoughts of our own which gives us ever happier feelings, well, we’d probably outgrow the economic situations that put us in the classifications of poverty. (Or, better yet, get rid of the profit society altogether and make the poverty question moot.)
For now though, to me, poverty is a perspective and I have outgrown it.
I am not living a material life, I am living a spiritual one, and these material things are just props in my spiritual experience.
I choose to enjoy every bit of them, no matter their form, price tag, or segway into my life, but I am also no longer dependant on any of them to make myself happy. I realized, looking back, that the perspective of poverty that others labeled me with was just that, a label that others gave me.
It wasn’t until I claimed that label, lived it, and worried about it, became depressed by it and angry that it was even… it, that poverty had a hold on me.
Those worries, that depression, and the anger varieties never actually got me anywhere. I pressed on, I worked harder, I “kissed more ass” (as they say) to get ahead, to be known and favored by those in power, and I succeeding in raising my economic status. Even finacially stable, punching that clock, and cashing those paychecks, getting those raises and making ever more and more and more money…I was still, always, perpetually, desperately chasing happiness that had little to do with how much money I was making, and the price-quality of stuff I owned.
Somewhere along the way I had come to think my economic status was tied to my happiness and in this, I started to create my own poverty. I felt poor because I always wanted more and it always seemed illusive.
So, how did I overcome this perspective of poverty?
I chose to; I changed my mind.
One day, after the unexpected death of my Grandpa Wally in the fall of 2018 (which is a story unto itself I may tell later) I had a moment of clarity. Not only did I not want to love money more than people, but I also made a choice to figure out how to love people more than money, even whilst knowing I live in a profit society where money is required to live.
I looked within myself, assessed my own thoughts and behavors, and yes, compared them with those I know, both family and friends. Ultimately, I realized that it was never the stuff or the money that made me happy anyway, it was how I thought and felt about it.
Let me reiterate that:
It was never the specific stuff, or the amount of money I had that made me happy, at any point in time, it was actually how I was thinking about whatever that made me feel happy! My thoughts about the stuff and money were controlling my feelings, not the actual substances of stuff or money in my life; my thoughts!
We’re taught to want a higher socio-economical status because we’ve been indoctrinated to believe it will make us happier. Everywhere we look, listen, and learn -whether it is directly or indirectly- we’re being shown the freedoms and joys of wealth over poverty.
We think being richer will make us happier because we think of all the things we could buy, and of the relieving lack-of-worrying about the bills that need to be paid. These are not invalid or unlogical truths, but they are misleading because, as a people, we always want more. If our happiness is tied to getting more, we miss the oppertunity to be happy in the journey of getting it, which is the majority of our time and experiences…or worse, to make ourselves so miserable in the not-having that we never get it…
I can tell you how freeing it is to teach yourself to choose happiness, the same way we learned to chase happiness (via repition and consistency), but you will only ever actually know what I mean when you do it for yourself.
When thinking, being depressed or angry, even frustrated or upset, ask yourself… is this how you want to experience your life?
If the answer is yes (and sometimes it is a “yes” in that moment), than carry on! If the answer is no, (and sometimes it is a “no” in that moment), than ask yourself…how can I think about this that will make me feel better? See if you do not feel better just asking yourself that question, just opening your mind and emotions to another possibility aside from the icky feeling you’re feeling. Follow that and keep asking yourself, and thinking the thoughts which make you feel better, and they’ll take you right to happiness regardless of your situation.
This is the power of our thoughts, and the guidance of our emotions.
How will you choose to experience your life from now on?
Food for thought.
“Perspective is as perspective does.” – R.A.
|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on April 20, 2020 at 9:40 PM|
and I see
and I breathe
and I bleed
and I need
Waves of energy
To prove rationality
A true reality
A quiet creed
Is only freed
My fears leave
And find Peace
|Posted by email@example.com on April 17, 2020 at 6:55 AM|
Found myself sitting in jail again: third time, third city, and a woman mid-transfer from the state penententary telling me I didn’t belong there; ”too innocent.”
Of course, she didn’t know it was my third time, or why I was in there. No, she only saw my honest heart in earnest eyes and called me innocent.
I learned a long time ago, innocence is lost in waves throughout life, and I haven’t been truly innocent since I was knee high to a grasshopper. Hind sight allows me to consider the trail of innocence left behind, to discover when and how I’d lost it:
Learning the word “No,” feeling alone, physical pain, emotional pain, manipulation, stranger danger, being molested, being raped, losing the sense of safety, killing animals (for food, or mercy), lies and deception, secrets, self-protection, bullying, violence, breaking the law...
Even things I’m not alone in, or had no direct connection to but doing nothing:
Waste and replace, neglect of political responsibilities, world hunger, fossil fuel, wars, and other such socially responsible, civilized, humanitarian needs.
There were a lot of moments, conscious decisions, experiences that tore innocence from me.
As it was happening though, I was caught unawares and unable to define the changes in my conscious mind. In the moments of lost innocence, I was only aware of how the world, and my impact in it, seemed more colossal; this butterfly flaps it’s wings Tsunami style.
I say “lost innocence” but that is sort of misleading.
The things I actually lost were ignorance, lack of awareness, and that sense of guiltlessness. In the process, my awareness expanded and I gained a weight to the soul inside of me. Anti-innocence, reverse innocence, ecneconni (ehk NEHcon ee), if I were to give it a name.
Do I morn the loss of ignorance or guiltlessness?
Or do I wish for the light hearted feeling that comes along with it?
Maybe I miss the giddy, carefree sense of lacking responsibilities, being completely ignorant of my future accountability so, I consider it a loss and I mourn it.
Sitting there in a concrete room set at 56 degrees (I asked), proud I’d learned from the last arrest not to wear a wire bra and (partially) warmed by my sports bra, marveling that the jail had fingerprint scanners so I didn’t have the telltale ink on my fingers, I was blind-sided by the comment of ”too innocent.”
I thought of my lost innocence, of the irony (?) of being innocent until proven guilty, but still being in jail until the bail hearing, and of her emphasis on my apparent abundance of innocence that didn’t belong there.
I laughed honestly, incredulously.
She was serious, and then, slightly offended.
My bad. So, I blurted, “trespassing,” like that explained it.
She was silent, eyeing me.
I made no effort to explain my meaning.
Finally, she lifted her chin and asked, ”you one of them protesters?”
I nodded, eyeing her this time.
Like a smoke signal, she nodded in kind, sighing, ”yeah, the system is broken.”
”Corrupt!” Another woman chimed, apparently listening.
Effectively, I was taken out of the conversation as more women joined in. None of us were truly innocent. Even as it slips away, life goes on, we evolve, and some of us learn to fight for what we believe in.
Innocence is a necessary sacrifice to responsibility,
a worthy price for conscious awareness expanding,
a mental boss fight right of passage to wisdom,
and I wouldn’t change it or I wouldn’t be who I am.
I embrace my ecneconni.
|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on April 17, 2020 at 6:15 AM|
My Twin says, “I want you to do this challenge A posted.”
So, of course, I ask what the challenge is, and she says...
”Who are you, really?” using a swanky kind of accent, adding in her normal voice, “That’s it, those words, that’s the challenge.”
”Who are you, really?” The moment she said it, I had a mind-body reaction full of a strange kind of trepidation. For what? I asked myself, but the only answer I felt myself give was, ”not even human.”
What’s that supposed to mean? I asked my subconscious.
My first impression came as a non-answer, a kind of murky silence.
I am persistent, so again I asked, ‘Not Even Human,’ what does that mean?
Be careful what you ask for, came the first undercurrent of a warning.
One I ignored, as I kept searching the depths of my own understanding.
“not even human, as in, who you are is not human.” The thought bloomed in.
Startled by it, I rejected it, for I live a human life, how can I not be human?!
“WHO you are, really, lives within the human body, it is not the human body”
My subconscious again, throwing up semi-helpful answers all Yoda-meets-Yogi.
I got it, I don’t have a soul, I am a soul who has a body. Who am I, really?
“You are you; a compilation of who you have been, swimming in who you will be.”
But who is that? I asked, impatient for the succinct.
“One for the good team.”
Disgruntled, I thought back, that’s what my Mom says...
|Posted by email@example.com on April 17, 2020 at 6:10 AM|
“I’m sure you’ll agree, time is money.” He cooed confidently.
I laughed, repeating a bit mockingly, “time is money...”
He cocked his head confusingly, questioningly, without asking a thing.
“Time,” I began humoring his curiosity, ” is a force we don’t yet fully comprehend, but experience moment to moment in forward motion. Money, my friend, is an invention we imagined, materialized, and put a value on. They are no where near the same thing, it has simply become the common conscious agreement that the socioeconomically responsible thing to do is sell our experience of Time for Money.”
“How do you make money?” He was cautious in asking.
“I do what I want with my time and sell what I make to folks with the money to indulge in my bottomless imagination.” I answered somewhat abstractly.
“Ah, so, you’re an Author.” He replied, once again, so confidently.
The Painter in me was butt-hurt, but the Writer in me said, “Absolutely.”
|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on April 17, 2020 at 5:30 AM|
“I had an epiphany! I think I finally figured out how to convey what I was trying to say, in the simplest way possible!” I almost cheerfully declared poking my head through the doorless threshold between the kitchen and dinning room turned everything-but-dinner-room...
“So, in the most basic of basic terms, you see a light-bulb, you can touch it, even break it! It’s a physical thing. Put an electrical current through it and it shines light! Light that reaches well beyond the bulb!”
“Right! So... your soul, inside your body, is like the light inside the light-bulb... it’s your soul, your ‘emotional current’ that shines the light, but it shines outside your body just as the light shines outside of the bulb.”
“So when I said you effect me with your negativity, I’m not saying you have power to control me. -I- get to choose what to do with how you effect me, just like I can choose to put a shade on a lamp to lesson the light that shines into a room, or walk out of the room to ignore it... that doesn’t stop the light from shining, and it doesn’t negate that we still effect each other to begin with.”
“Awesome! So, when you turn a positive, uplifting conversation into a negative because you’re thinking negatively, that’s twice the ‘negative’ light because it’s there whether you said it or not, and then you said it and gave it more power. That effects me twice, because it’s there, and then you gave it more power.
“The hardest part is, you don’t even know that your negative thoughts are true, in my experience 90% of them are not, and that gives the negativity even more false power because the only thing fueling it is your belief; so, by the time I feel it in your mood and again when you say it out loud, I’m being hit with stadium lighting of negativity from you, it’s in your soul not mine, but it does effect me and that’s why I walk away.”
“Yeah... so, I made a stick-figure info-graphic... I’m going to put it on the fridge, you can think on it and I will. It wont happen over-night, communication is an infinitely evolving thing, we’ll keep working on it.” I concluded, wiggling the single pocket-sized sheet of paper before disappearing into the kitchen to do as promised...then, back to my passion; art.
|Posted by email@example.com on April 17, 2020 at 5:05 AM|
because I feel like I’ve lost the ability to communicate meaningfully.
This is not the first,
nor I imagine the last time I will feel this way,
but knowing that doesn’t seem to make it any easier to adjust.
My life, is perpetually having the future on the tip of my tongue,
so tangible and real, yet I stugggle to get it out and beyond
the notions locked inside me.
I’m no da Vinci or Einstein, no Tesla or Rife,
I’m the muse in the shadow of their minds,
the unseen catalyst for great thinkers,
a dot on a timeline of history that (only maybe) gets written,
and I’m okay with this.
I just wish- no, I work harder every day than the day before
to grasp my own meanings in terms that will make sense
to everyone else;
all the better to reach those specific individuals,
the innovators and revolutionaries
born to lead by example
and not pretty pretenses
paraded around by propaganda.
Here’s to growing, even in a desert.