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I am alone here in the house. Everyone has gone. I have no friends, no family. This culture here is not my native one, the language the same. Its fair to say i am almost cuckoo. I am a bird that is not native to this nest. I remember learning as a child that when you have eaten your boiled egg you must turn it over and smash the bottom of the shell, that way it wont become a home for a witch. I later mused on the notion of witches looking for abandoned shells to inhabit. Something about this still haunts.
I like metaphors. There is a laziness to them that conveys much whilst remaining naive, so i'll carry on self digesting.....
I sometimes find myself looking at sailing boats on ebay. I start with the most expensive ones and fantasise about living that way, setting off across the ocean, sailing off alone. Then i see in many ways i am already doing this, further and further from land, and the reference points have become what exactly? I have swapped a career and family , and the familiar landmarks of civilisation, for stars and a treasure map i found in a book. The last vestiges of the shore are now vanishing and i sometimes succumb to moments of utter panic when i sense the depths around me. People i knew on the shoreline have said i am mad, unstable and a plethora of other well meant adjectives and advice that was proffered to keep me close to the shore, in touch somehow. But having gained at least one steely eye i learned to question certainties, both of others and my own. My mind and its old reference charts are now so convoluted and unfit for purpose that meanings have taken to eating themselves. I know less and less. I question everything to the point where i know nothing anymore. In other moments I am no longer petrified of the solitude. I find myself breathing great sighs of relief here on my own.
Its true, i am lost, 'turned around' they call it in survival situations. So here i am, marking my 'x' on an unfamiliar landscape , far from where i set off, alone. I drink some water, stop, take stock. The urge is to write this message and drop it over the side, hereby marking my position with an x in the otherwise unknown sea in which i find myself. Silence is making everything seem strange today.
Im rambling, bobbing around rudderless, sure. I remember coming here with a question. Thats what i was doing. (Remember yourself.) I just wondered how any of you other sailors , yeah you out here fishing far from shore, i wonder how you relate to other humans these days?
I ask cos I'm kinda lost out here. Not even sure who or what i am anymore. Lost, but the air sure is clear and the sky real pretty, and the ocean, well ..........
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Oh now, what has seesaw seen on the glistening surface of the sea?
So far he has seen that nursery rhymes hold myths.
So far he has seen that little children are taught to fear the witch.
So far he has seen what it costs to purchase a boat.
So far he has been lured by a treasure chest posing as a carrot.
So far he has learned to question not only others, but also the self.
So far he has torn at the last shreds of his identity.
This is not the Game of Thrones and we are not standing on the doorsteps of the House of Black and White.
There is no need to dispose of the self.
The faceless can still own their heart.
I am no sailor, merely a skilled storyteller.
Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time,
a man set out to sea.
He knew not what he sought,
but he hoped it would bring him glee.
That man skimmed across the surface,
this sail was no different than any other,
as whether surrounded by others or not,
he was constantly only a shell.
He knew not where he went,
nor did he care where he ended.
The boat was his island,
and his island was set afloat.
The brave sailor set himself adrift,
As he knew where to find the answers,
he just did not know how to find the answers.
He sat on that surface,
lost and alone.
That water did not consume him.
That water waited.
Waited for that man,
to consume himself.
The cost of the shell is high.
The cost of the boat is higher.
The cost of living on land is highest.
The cost of diving for pearls is priceless.
That man chose how he wanted to live.
That man paid the price of his choice.
That man chose to become lost,
so that he could become found.
There are witches who inhabit shells.
The myth had a core of truth.
It is a shame no rhyme explained,
what those witches did while inhabiting shells.
Sometimes those witches,
lead sailors to an unseen rocky shores.
Sometimes those witches,
lead sailors to starvation.
Most often those witches,
lead sailors past the point of no return.
What does a sailor do when they are lost?
When they are surrounded by only the horizon?
Where they are left without a rudder?
Sailors cannot go up,
if they don't want to fly.
Sailors cannot find land,
if they don't want to navigate.
Sailors must then go down,
into the unknown.
It is why humans do not tread there.
It is why the sea is often used to symbolize mystery.
It is where the seers go to see,
the witches go to cast,
and energy goes to feed.
It is here where we go,
to disconnect from insanity,
to re-learn reality,
to re-birth the self.
How do seasoned sailors relate to other humans these days?
They don't.
That is a sad thought. I won't leave you with that. Instead, I will tell you that they sail back into shore on occasion. To barter for desirables. Sailors often use humans to as a reference point, to know where they are in time, if it is safe to come ashore or to remain at sea. Generally it is safest to remain at sea. The greatest predators are not the sharks, the wolves, or the witches. The greatest predator is man.
Why are there no nursery rhymes about man?
The shadow is ever present,
in every living thing.
The point is not to control the weather,
not to control the tides,
not to control the outcomes.
The point is to ...
The point is ...
The point ...
The ...
...
..
.
when we no longer have a point,
do we allow ourselves to become lost,
in order to become found.
Relating to humans is easy.
This too carries a cost.
How does one relate to the self?
This is cost is worth the payment.
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Sounds like you bought shares in alibaba, and learned how to rub your version of a lamp.
Thanks for the investment here. Much much appreciated.
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seesaw, you always had a way with painting feelings...
seesaw wrote:I just wondered how any of you other sailors , yeah you out here fishing far from shore, i wonder how you relate to other humans these days? Relating to people is not hard. All it takes is some empathy. Actually, all it takes is the will to be moved to be in empathy mode. And that is the hard one, I guess. A sorcerer needs to find a good enough reason to do that and if the sorcerer is a dick or has been too hardened by life, he or she wont find such a reason. He or she then will not be able to relate to people. This then leads on a not so good path.
A sorcerer needs to realize that the best reason he or she could have looked for is there all along - the reason to keep one's heart alive.
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The distance between. My Wiccan boyfriend left me, and the absence is oppressive. I am not drowning at sea; my bathtub will do. I am consoled because death is near me; I allow it to possess my physical body.
What petrifies me is the loss. I won't allow the loss. I miss him. I beggingly admit I am powerless without him. At whatever steep cost, I am indulging this helpless longing until he comes home to me.
Energy Bodies are beautiful. They let go enough to stalk and catch their prey, and enjoy feasting on the human form... Goddess Awarenesss... Sorcery.
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Hey Amy, welcome to the forum. Hope you like it here.
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Amy Teroczi wrote: The distance between. My Wiccan boyfriend left me, and the absence is oppressive. I am not drowning at sea; my bathtub will do. I am consoled because death is near me; I allow it to possess my physical body.
What petrifies me is the loss. I won't allow the loss. I miss him. I beggingly admit I am powerless without him. At whatever steep cost, I am indulging this helpless longing until he comes home to me.
Energy Bodies are beautiful. They let go enough to stalk and catch their prey, and enjoy feasting on the human form... Goddess Awarenesss... Sorcery.
That's humorous imagery: a bathtub. If one is to drown, make it memorable and do it for reasons that can't lead to regret. Choose the outcomes.
If you want your king, you must be a queen. Kings don't leave queens. Queens don't leave kings. One must give what they expect, if they expect to keep it within their grasp. Amy, you had an adventure and now it's over. It's over. You can sit back and regret the outcome or you can fight for your king. The person you fight is you. To catch a king, the king must be given something of value. What is of value to a king who has everything? Find that and you get to capture the king. Crying over a loss changes nothing. It continues to add to the internal pressure. Doing the work alleviates the pressure and introduces a new arrangement.
Unless, you know, you're not truly suffering then change nothing and enjoy the meal.
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seesaw, rituals can be spatial generators. A designated meal, the revel in watching a sunset, attentive grooming, or even the highlight of drinking bourbon (anything magnifying self and the mechanics of doing) conjure sensations that open up perceptual acuity. See what anchorage of feelings. Gravitate to what is primal. Don't block out. If you cannot anchor, then drift. Be with...
There is no 'why you are,' and you don't really want to know 'who you are'--lol.
"..Crying over a loss changes nothing. It continues to add to the internal pressure. Doing the work alleviates the pressure and introduces a new arrangement.." (Nagual Menagerie)
Well Nagual, the tears of my pining fill up the bathtub. There's that.
Objectivity and work does wonders. Yet, heat and pressure enabled a new arrangement too, as in how a most precious diamond was formed.
I don't savor life without my LOVER. Nothing else matters. Though COLD, the unknown is become exquisite. The unknown is doable. I desire it.
You had a question in there somewhere.
"What is of value to a king who has everything?"
A): LOVE and unconcerned attachment to his lollypop.
I wish to thank you, serloco. Your gracious welcome is appreciated. Thank you for your amusing cryptic reply Nagual Menagerie. Having fun? Practicing up on your suicide assistance skills, are you? Good work.
Later.
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Sadly, suicide has been making its rounds, Amy. The philosophy of the golden circle cites differences of approach to concerns. Most people start with what, then answer the how, and finally answer why. Instead, the golden circle begins with why, then answers how, and finally designs the what.
Starting with why can make a difference for ourselves.
I'm sorry you're unwell. This state appears contageous. As above, so below. As below, so above. Why are we here? To love one another. How do we love one another? By supporting the truth in others. What can we do to support truth? Listen.
I hear you, Amy.
People often leave us because they are dying inside. They are often trying to find a way to save themselves. An act reflective of them, not you. It's kind of you to love another in such totality.
I hear you too, Menagerie. It's clear you've met death many times to have formed such a concise protocol for these situations. It's kind of you to love even after dying.
It's kind of you both to love.
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"Amy, you had an adventure and now it's over. It's over." Nagual Menagerie
Nagual, It isn't over until the fat lady sings.
PixieDust "It's kind of you both to love."
(..and just as 'unkind and hurtful' when choosing to be stone cold ruthless)
"Rolling In The Deep"
There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch, it's bringing me out the dark
Finally I can see you crystal clear
[Clean version:] Go 'head and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare
[Explicit version:] Go 'head and sell me out and I'll lay your **** bare
See how I leave with every piece of you
Don't underestimate the things that I will do
There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch
And it's bringing me out the dark
The scars of your love remind me of us
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
I can't help feeling
We could have had it all
It is unkind as well
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
And you played it, to the beat
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
Baby, I have no story to be told
But I've heard one on you
And I'm gonna make your head burn
Think of me in the depths of your despair
Make a home down there
As mine sure won't be shared
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
The scars of your love remind me of us
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
I can't help feeling
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
And you played it, to the beat
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside of your hand
But you played it, with a beating
Throw your soul through every open door (woah)
Count your blessings to find what you look for (woah)
Turn my sorrow into treasured gold (woah)
You'll pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow (woah)
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
We could have had it all
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
It all, it all, it all
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
And you played it to the beat
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
But you played it
You played it
You played it
You played it to the beat.
The fat lady sang. NOW, it's over. It's over.
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"So stay right here, you lucky people,
let go and be happy in the natural state.
Let your complicated life and everyday confusion alone
and out of quietude, doing nothing, watch the nature of mind.
This piece of advice is from the bottom of my heart:
fully engage in contemplation and understanding is born;
cherish nonattachment and delusion dissolves;
and forming no agenda at all reality dawns.
Whatever occurs, whatever it may be, that itself is the key,
and without stopping it or nourishing it, in an even flow,
freely resting, surrendering to ultimate contemplation,
in naked pristine purity we reach consummation."
Longchenpa (1308-1364)
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"Smash the eggs, kill the witches
We ain't food for bratty bitches!" - children's rhyme, from the post-vampyre era.
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"Delight is a secret. And the secret is this: to grow quiet and listen; to stop thinking, stop moving, almost to stop breathing; to create inner stillness in which, like mice in a deserted house, capacities and awarenesses too wayward and too fugitive for everyday use may delicately emerge.
Oh, welcome them home! For these are the long lost children of the human mind. Give them close and loving attention, for they are weakened by centuries of neglect. In return they will open your eyes to a new world within the known world, they will take your hand, as children do, and bring you where life is always nascent, day always dawning".
Alan McGlashan
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