(Dear Man,)
In me, is a hovering of blossoming insights, though some of them, poisonous and leaking.
In my mind, it makes more sense in whirling notions, though words slow so, only to make sense of but a mere percent of it.
I wish to write it down on paper, and organize it as simple tasks; outlines, drafts, for podcasts and informative video posts. Just as quickly as it had come, it was lost, and flashes of only more empathic weight; back again in the flesh to wait, for inspiration to brush,
And brush over me, as it waxes and wanes.
My heart has grown sad all in the same day it knew moments on air, of profound peace. I think perhaps it's just the processing in me.
So much comes into my consciousness like reconciliations and ideas vast. Like memories, and visions, and impressions, ever passing- An Antenea; the aerial kind.
I will pick up where I resume, ever still in an ever changing middle...draft.
Like the draft in veils.
I feel the death and haunt in my bones and chest, like breathing in a sinister age.
It is an age I was born into. An age now, I know all too well.
Around me, things are burning. I'm talking with my spiritual eyes too. We are sucking up and eating complacent empty luxury for the cost of lives, and freedom bought, and brothers murdered at our Money-hand. I have been trapped here since I got here. I knew it too. But not everybody else did. It really is like "waking up out of the matrix"; and some people are just born to sniff out it's falsehood like a mere mirage.
I am an eager girl, and yet more stifled by "the everyday normal" than my peers seem to be, or at least than they are willing to admit. Not to say, I almost have never seen a time where someone won't admit to it; being stifled by what today's 2015 "Norm" is, around the world.
Sometimes, at the end of the day, the only thing I know how to do...is go back to the drawing board; start again, carrying over what one wishes to, from the previous operations, to the next.
I have since I can remember, done this many a time, and each time, gaining insight, yet still paying the cost of my decisions. There is indeed a "karma" on our decisions; not a "Judging" superstitious energy, just a consequential, inevitable, energy reaction. As I pass "through the gates" of my choices, and my choices anew, I learn just a little bit more about a world I thought I knew.
It is true, I believe, that greater intelligence may very well be, a gateway into insanity, especially in the world we have all been born into. Today, we have to assimilate more information than ever, just to keep up with everyday tasks, real news, hidden agendas, cititzen duties of knowledge, being "well educated", running our own business', and the etc. There is so much information and energy input and output to assimilate daily, without the proper knowledge context to sustain peace, health and solutions in a rapidly expanding information-war era.
I have married the insanity that is genius in today's modern world. As I write my inner most thoughts to address before a judging audience, and as I confess of the depths I have plunged into... I would like to think that I am but ONE person, writing on behalf of the many who feel outcasted and misunderstood, for caring, or even just being different. You see, in today's modern society, Psycopathy and complacency are being bred and programmed into our everyday culture. Fear mongering, mainstream media, Hollywood industry, television and video programs, are teaching us more and more to identify and glamorize the "bad guy"; the sociopath, the Psycopath, the "vampires", and to make them the "hero's" of our Hollywood narratives.
So empathy, concern, patriotic citizenry, and "Big Brother Watch" are practices purposely kept repressed until to play on empathy is the goal of the establishment, as in the case with the SANDY HOOK shootings and the UCC Oregon shooting just this month. What was the first thing out of secondary witness testimonies? Leading statements on needs for gun control out of what sounded like stammering rehearsed crisis actors. Notice the first three letters of the word control: CON. But our government would never stage a hoax, drill or false flag, right?! Yeah...
It is a darker morning, on the third day I take to finish this. The light is in and out behind white clouds, turning something grey all around, for any given many moments at a time. I hear crickets out' my window, and the water of my mother showering. Cars pass on the street now and again, and I am tempered here, with Genki beside me.
Work is soon.
And these thoughts, they are mine-
They will not go away, nor would I want them to.
I can tell, in myself, as I stir a little bit more today...where the angst is in my body, my gut. I let everything sit, and rest, as I have for many, many days now.
I have become a different person.
The archetype in me lives; she is many many shifts and faces...some of them more depressing and dark than others.
Nonetheless, what I have become is an evolution that can never go back; a version of myself, almost a doppelgänger.
I search now daily, as perhaps I always did, out' my eyes and through a lens that views a world completely separate from me. There is life all around me every where I go. There is also static, and invading frequencies. I look out, as I always have, assimilating ever still with just as much unknown to me, than ever before. In a world where you are supposed to grow up, I have easily become only more lost, enveloping myself so, to the empathic weight of what is sad and atrocious around me.
And that which has also been done to me.
As for what I have done to others, I make my peace everyday. As so, do I make my peace with what is happening in the world. Perhaps even, this will be my greatest feat as man. Perhaps still, who's to say? I have lived such a life, I can't begin to imagine which feat I could hang my name most upon. Was it my Love?
My perseverance?
The feat of staying alive. Around. To still attempt to live?
Perhaps in my motherhood to a small animal, or in his training of me?
Or in being the friend to some that I know they needed?
And while I would like to say that none of that matters...I don't believe that it is so. I believe in fact, it all matters. Very deeply. Most impactfully, it matters. Like "the butterfly effect" rippling AS history, and as the conscious decisions and actions we have made and become throughout our lives. It matters very much, for it must; it is man's evolution. His Story. His purpose. Without this, would we then have lived in vain? Without our comprehension of it all?
I have looked out, and analyzed my whole life. I can not say, that I like what it has made me. But maybe I do. What is destainable is the weight it has put in my bones, and the ache in my chest from running a maze in an illusion with sleeping people all around like zombies, to the stench of death and burn. Unlike them, I process the death of the living. I feel the tarred flesh. I die, without dying, only to do it again, as my brethren around me suffer, to no avail. As so do I. As so I have. And as so, it does continue. The slight change in me now-a-days, is the warrior within that burns like a Protective Lioness to her cubs.
The cause is my cub. The people. My loved ones. And our liberty from tyranny and murder. Without her, I might have nothing. Because everything else just hurts. But it is in her, within me, that forges the fire of anger to win victories after all. It is a Loving, angry, and wrathful fire, but one that burns with a heart for justice.
If perhaps I have changed, it is that I have become more willing to lay down my life for the cause. What more, could one ask for of a life of torture anyhow?
Torcher is screaming out in pain your whole life, and nobody running to you, and no end in sight. Torcher is remaining invisible while feeling everything imaginable. Torcher is not being loved, or loved "right".
So what more could I ask of this life, but to give cause to that which matters most? And "the light" can not win until the "darkness" is exposed and understood for everything it does and creates in this world; for as long as it is here, I die, I find. It takes me, in bits.
I am indeed, unraveling. But at least I am grasping at the world as I go, and screaming out my last messages, until perhaps they catch. No...my work is not done just yet. And I have fled from this, and begged God to release me...but...it is not so, and it is not time.
So my life has become a surrendering. A grasping. A waiting.
Anything good within me left, I do not trust to remain. But, like an elder to a girl, I grasp my own hand, and guide us on a hike to find water.
In this case...the water is the hope that remains. For life. For new life. For love. And for Peace.
I can not save the world.
I do not know if it is worth it to die trying, or if it must be so.
Peace would be my dream. Something I have almost never known, not really. It is a dream. But it would be my dream.
And if the world can not have it before I go, I wonder, if I could just a bit. You see...my life has been the sacrifice; The whole of it. So when I ask, "can't a girl be done?", it comes out of thinking "I must have served my time"! "When does it end?"
And it hasn't.
So I surrender. Wake up each day. And wait. And do. Lost, or Alive.
Hand in hand, with fate...waiting. Waiting.
And nowadays, pretty blind. I believe we as man have reached the stage I was born to see my whole life. Now that I am here, I am lost. And found. Ready, and not. The step outta' bed and the breath in my thinking are contracts with God, that I am here to remain in purpose, even if I do not understand what it is exactly.
Whatever it is, it drives me, in compulsions, in endless analysis..and in the insanity it takes for discovery.
I may be a lost cause. But choosing hope and magic and miracles are the only way I can prove that to be a false notion. I have no reason to believe that I can be anything more than I am...except of course that hope could be the only way through.
Writer. Idealist. Lover.
Artist. Healer. Thing.
Lost. Caged. Pain as insanity. Genius as difference. Cop-out excusing away anything greater.
Greater action left by our own illnesses within, and at home. I am man, trying, and merely losing hope. Documenting the journey. Looking for peace. For a miracle. For a way.
It is a long evolution and yet none at all from the girl I was as a child. We are the same warrior. The same archetype. The same disdain, love, and melancholy. She is a spark.
And somewhere still...so am I.
Knowing this, is different still..than making the way; than walking the path. It becomes many things between then and now; things we'd never heard of, and couldn't have imagined. And you get lost, you do. You can.
Now that I have traveled the lands and back, darkness sits in my soul from what I have seen. The inner landscapes were the worst Hell to dislodge anything good left to keep from the madness.
So the madness overtakes you.
And gives you new eyes. The "Eyes of Death"; a blessing... And a curse..if you are anything like me.
Reborn.
Again.
Always.
Still.
Again.
What remains and comes again, is this Warrior. She is almost, Not me.
I...
Am some other love, some long-haired version of peace. Ready to pass. But we are bound. And so I stay. And so I fight.
Destiny bound to this other form, as me.
She is ravenous. And Done. With all states of things. Destructive...but purposeful. My light bound her.
Just the same,
She binds me.
