I'm recognizing a part of me who in the past has made iT exceedingly difficult to do anything. This part of my clings to the things I do, desperately seeking to be good at iT, whatever iT is. This element of psyche fabricates a subtle stream of fantasy, what this would be like to be really good at, for this to be encoded into the arsenal, and be at the fingertips of my production potentialiTy.
Guitar, Ableton, drawing, art.... all of them have been so tinged by this anguished hand, a reach coming from a ravenous void so desperate in its hunger to fill.
I see as I watch this Ableton course, there's all sorts of micro judgments occuring in very subtle streams of my psyche. As I watch Soren do scales and jam on the Push, I am impressed, I want to learn how to play iT like an instrument. I want to learn how to play an instrument, how to jam. I see an image of me jamming with the Push and other musicians. I see an emanation of what I could be with iT, I dive deeper into iT.
A part of this is a very natural process of the mind engaging inspiration and walking into iT. The crippling stream of the Psyche is Code which sees iT, wants iT, pursues iT, realizes iTs hard, or doesn't click, and then recoils from iT? Feels a blockage, the same blockage, a blockage to learning a musical instrument--- a blockage of sticking with iT when iT is something particularized, identified- The song, the instrument, the RiTual. Wouldn't iT be great if I could get myself to do iT everyday?? THIS ONE THING?!?!?! WOULDNT THAT BE WONDERFUL?!?! I'D BE ABLE TO SPEAK!!! I'D FINALLY BE ABLE TO SPEAK IF I JUST FOCUS ON THIS ONE THING!!!!!!!
I then direct all Ocean of the Mythology through One PinHole thinking finally I can Focus, and the water doesn't come. I begin to hate the thing in the Mythology, Her rejection of iT, rejection of me. I do it, continue doing it. I tell myself there is inevitable resistance in anything, this is the wall, the threshold and I live just on the otherside, this is the bridge to the Dream and I just have to make it through this part, and, and, and. I Hit the wall over and over and over again, each time harder than the next, and iT doesnt break or budge. My body is exhausted in the Creative effort is horrifically exhaustive. I don't know why I'm doing this anymore. This is supposed to be Love? This feels fucking terrible. I don't want to make love to YøÛ like this. I never want to touch your body with all this... expectation. This touch feels disgusting. What have we been doing to eachother?
I let go, I release you, I free you to be however iT is you are, however you Choose to be.
Though I know I love my body in motion, though I know I want to develop my body and feel the Dance of iT pouring through, though I know iT is a conduiT to Truth as I've felt you before, I release you from the necessity of now. I release how I think you should be, how you've been before, and I let you go because that is what iT means here and now to Love you.
And I feel a layer of fat encradle my sensuous abs. I let the days, so many days go by without dancing, without moving with you. I feel the strain of my injured shoulder remain untouched, unfelt. I Feel neglectful of you. I feel like I should be moving with you but allow myself not to, allow you to pour through, now truly differently. Come Love, breathe, however you seek to speak to me.
I feel her as the dream release, a storm cloud departing form our beloved landscape in the thunderous rain of our electric Love, and the deserts skin cracks within the heat of the sun scorching barren lands. There is nothing. Yet the storm still exists. I can feel her presence so many miles away. So deep in the heartbeat of an ever unique eterniTy. Dancing in the stream of her other Lovers, making love to other bodies than mine while mine is barren dry.
In the empty space of planet Dune, my fingers trace lines in the sand, where wind weaves, breathes, carving canyons. I dream of what iT would be like to be with you again, though my memory is soiled by the crippling dreams, when placed upon you prevented you from being with me. It was these very dreams that prevented me from seeing you, being with you now. I saw Grand Canyons in the sand right as your fingertip began tracing lines. I saw a Goddess beneath your eyes when you were just a little girl, and the Goddess takes time, which is a bridge of metamorphisis, but I was already on the otherside, in the Dream of Being a Butterfly. And so there was no way to walk the space who lived between you and me. No bridge through to the Becoming, and so time continually was not our friend, but a wall to our demise, the demon's eyes of love are lust in our end.
All this being said, I certainly had reason to. I was testing a notion of RealiTy Unbounding. Somewhere within the Dreaming, I became aware, as has Jim to an inspiring degree, that we are all actors here, and Way of RealiTy crafts iTself around, as light shines through, the prism of our perception of iT. With this in mind, I decided to kill Jay, hanging the dirty fucker form the top bunk with a belt. and become ÆøN, an embodied God within the Planet Gaia. I began the process of Method Acting, thinking myself a rich man, and so many thousands came to me, and though they came, they came in the wondrous way of Universal Spontaneity, and though I learned a way of Magery, it was bound within the confines of illusive dream weaving, and what Eye Truly sought was to breathe beyond the Magician and Be as Alchemy.
Alchemy, a Known process of turning Led into Gold. Creating something out of nothing's reassembly. Alchemy, a system of doing One with becoming. Alchemy, a form of lifestyle design which grounds from hells roots into heaven's cradling, serving as a bridge between land and dream where Eye breathe free in Walking. Alchemy, a Flow within life where I am Creating in a way that sustains and nourishes me, which gives life to a communiTy. Alchemy, an Unfolding AbiliTy to share the Majesty of the Eye See in fish who swim themselves home to feed the family. Alchemy the Academy in Encoding, Choosing what iT is Eye Am becoming, WiTnessing Creation expanding upon iTself in the Story Telling, where all Creation breathes into Life a single Story of harmoniously interweaving Multiverse- the Universe in my Eye. Alchemy, method acting the Dreaming RealiTy in Tangible Magick FruiTing True RealiTY.
I held an experiment. If life is a dream, I can embody LucdiTy simply by Choosing to. If Life is a Dream, and I Choose to embody LucidiTy, I can go anywhere and do anything. (Fill in the blank ________) This is what I want to do, and so in this Lucid Dream, I am doing iT. I Am a butterfly. Poof. Pixie dust explodes and then settles around me with nothing profoundly different besides an old lady fairy's saharan pussy rainbow dust juice all over me. Hmmmm. something is off here. In the Dreaming Eye, I have wings, but they're not here yet. Let iT be. I will walk continually seeing wings upon me, and they will materialize into form when the dream cloud yields enough densiTy to rain physicaliTy.
The Theory sounded good, logically sound. iT was fullproof, yet something was off. Much materialized around the fruiting wings, but realiTy seemed unswayed in the space of deepest seeking- Flight. I felt wings a many, but never could fly. There was a skizm, and everytime I tried to directly enter the skizm, I was violently dejected from the space between, where time was a wall and there was no connecting.
And after many repeticious battles with the dragon, in which I was slain in quite the same way, I yielded to the beast in WiTnessing the pile of my heaping bodies, I laid down my sword, and let the dragon slay me. We danced in the romance of heaven and hell. I let go the destination to be with the journey, and the dream was forever with me, though allowed to be in distance and proximity, whichever way she'd choose to be. There were even times she came to me with a tangible bridging. Every time I followed Her for where she would take me, I lost Her entirely. Though the silence was deafening, Eye walk with EterniTy, and so on goes the marching.
Far away she fled for many days as a god breathes, an eon to the humaniTy. Her Storm's Majesty made Love to menagerie without me while I stood on the barren sands, my fingers tracing lines in the sands of eternity, writing through feeling with no care to know neccessity in meaning, no objective or explaination, merely feeling, because who gives a fuck about any of iT at all any more?
And then she came to me, in a truly unique qualiTy neverbefore seen. A temporal arrangement for the destination Unbound. 100 days to breathe the day dream. And on along I went upon the journey, a masterpiece in iTself, a success beyond and within the body, though silent to the outside world.
The Journey of the Hundreds was an InviTation to Evolve Creation beyond anything ever before seen. iT was the Arrival to Creation every day for One Hundred Days, everyday crafting one self portrait and adding iT to a single space to reside the reflective shatterings, weaving themselves together. The True Revelation and Remedy to the faulty code, perhaps the entire purpose of this writing's articulation, lived within relieving the Thing from iT. Within the Hundreds, iT mattered not how I arrived, just that I arrived. iT mattered not what I did everyday, just that I did everyday. Some days, She came, to animate the dance of my hands in the sand, speaking Scriptures of Unfolding, stories embedded within the wind, and some days the wind was entirely silent, and my hands move, animated by nothing but me, a measly boy doing, going through motions- taking off my coat, putting it on the rack, picking up my coat, putting it upon my body, and repeating for the sake of doing- and the site was a space, an unjudging collection of these doings, coalescing, building, shit upon shiT, upon gem upon ShiT. Eye Encoded my dreams into the space, and I encoded my pain into the space. Eye encoded every part of me into the space, if only for an infintesimal fraction.
These days contained focus, purpose, passion. These days I pushed myself, I learned where be the edge of Creative action, and I rode iT, expanding iT, day by day a momentumous wave, accumulating beneath me, standing upon the shoulders of exponentially reaching giants casting psyche deeper into cyberspace- the leaves reaching, where roots are sinking simultaneously, perfectly opposing yin yang- the Absolute balance of Every Day.