Our Daily Bread

In this journey to overcome loss and grief, I've learned that healing is not a linear path. It's a messy, non-linear process filled with moments of darkness and light, chaos and clarity. As I continue to navigate this melancholic maze that has it's hold over me, I grasp onto the hope that each step forward, no matter how small, brings me closer to a place of peace and understanding.

I am afraid that the best of my life has already passed me by, and that my remaining years will be spent in regret and misery over unexplored higher states of being. I've swam the depths of the lower realms and have made every one of my demons my friends, and most other people's as well. I wonder now if I can make those demons my allies knowing what enablers they can be, like so many fair-weather friends before. Could I "keep my enemies" closer, so to speak. I do not know of many who have been able to successfully pull this off "first try"; and I have been no exception thus far.  To fully integrate my shadow side in a way that is healed and not in a state of arrest has not at present been achieved and I am painfully aware of my inability to move past this blow to my ego.

The ascension process is a tricky one. I think of Relativity by M C Escher and the endless maze of stairs binding one’s gaze to the picture until you are forced to give up, finding no conceivable way out. To be honest, I do not think I explored every option, getting lost in the overview. There may be an escape hatch hidden in plain sight somewhere that makes use of the viewer's assumptions. I won't actually try to find it, but it is nice to think there might be one there, and I think someone should, if they have not already.  

This is why I now know that my best years are behind me. Why couldn't it be me that finds it?  Why did I give up when the prospect seemed either tedious or as if the answer exists already.  Maybe that is why.  Maybe it is because there is nothing new under the sun, very few mysteries left unknown to man.  Then the query becomes, do I know them all or have any desire to know them?  I do not and can not.  Disclosure dictates that things be made accessible to the public, but the keepers of this information are very meticulous in how they cloak the truth so it is inaccessible to the layman such as myself.   I am sitting with that grief in real time and hope that if I keep typing long enough, some nugget of gold will formulate in the form of philosophy within these words and bail me out of the mess I have become.  

It is true that we are multidimensional beings, and it is also true that I have somehow managed to fail in every one of those dimensions.  I do not suffer self-pity, however; I simply have not had the time to succeed, I conclude.  The more time goes by, the less I think I care; the unmanageability of it all being so depressing.  Unless I have a lottery moment, I do not think there will be any immediate improvement in my situation, sadly.  I think I live in more dimensions than most, and it is difficult to keep them all organized.  

I am suspicious of these new AI tools, in so much as they are what the world is embracing with so much unwavering certainty.  It is obvious that we are “advancing” with it, but where are we advancing to?  In this journey to overcome loss and grief, I've learned that healing is not a linear path. It's a messy, non-linear process filled with moments of darkness and light, chaos and clarity. As I continue to navigate this melancholic maze that has it's hold over me, I grasp onto the hope that each step forward, no matter how small, brings me closer to a place of peace and understanding.

I am sitting with that grief of a life not fully actualized in real time and hope that if I keep typing long enough, some nugget of gold will formulate in the form of philosophy within these words and bail me out of the mess I have become.  It is true that we are multidimensional beings, and it is also true that I have somehow managed to fail in every one of those dimensions.  I do not suffer self-pity, however; I simply feel that I have not had time to succeed at not becoming a mess, fighting against forces of nature, as I always have done.

I have weathered many a storm and am bruised and battered from not having been able to tightly "batten down the hatches". To be fair, I did not ask for the storm just as much as the universe did not ask for the Big Bang, Eve did not ask for the rib, and the cosmic egg did not ask to be laid, nor hatched - or whatever creation story you adhere to.  Just like these unwitting protagonists, I exist despite myself and to serve the will of God in whatever manner he sees fit, including comic relief. This is staggeringly difficult considering I am possessed with more imagination and wit than skill. I am undecided what use my "tool" of self has in this New Age of mass productivity and cleverly over hyped and propagandized technology. 

In the olden days, I would have been considered a renaissance woman and pioneer.  Today, however; I am near obsolete, proven to not be made of sturdy and long wearing stuff. I am worn and tired; A fad and a faded fraud, I have been tried and found wanting. My lame life will be recycled back to the landfill and I can only hope my decomposed corpse turned compost proves more fertile and flowers will grow by the side of this one way information highway.  I can only hope that my “body of work” is appreciated by someone before ultimately being bulldozed to make room for yet another lane. #nofilter