On turning left...

I drove eighteen wheelers for two years all over the lower 48. I found, to my supreme irritation, that I had a terrible tendency to turn left just short of my drops. I did this even when the GPS insisted that I don't, that I keep to the course and trust the all seeing eye. I rarely did, even knowing my tendency to make each drop more difficult through trying to backtrack after the premature turn. I have since adopted this model for my life theme. I always freak out and turn left just short of what I want. I usually come back to it, but it often takes a tremendous amount of effort to find my way back to the path. I don't understand it. I feel like I have missed out on soooo much by doing the over and over again. I find myself in such a pickle right now. Why didn't I just keep going????

And...

I freaked out.
Turns out the ambivalence was really shock.
I hurt pretty bad and I feel like a total dirt bag.
I broke something and it will never be the same.
Damn regrets.
I always turn left too soon.
AAAArrrrgggghhhhh.

Sometimes over is really over.

The unexpected presence of ambivalence in conjunction with an arbitrary decision to end an intense relationship is an indicator of emotional detachment. This time is different. This time is the real deal. No sadness, no anger, no longing, no desire for clarity or closure...simply a shrug and a nod and a wave goodbye as the curtain closes. Shock? Maybe. More a protective emotional mechanism akin to learned helplessness. It has happened many times before and now, at the edge of the final farewell, there is nothing left in reserve to apply toward a proper wake. It is dead and buried and I am without any significant feeling regarding its death. I'll probably freak out tomorrow.

Cosmic Theory du jour...

I try to live every day, and approach every major decision as if viewed from my deathbed and I ask "will I regret NOT doing this??" That translates to some crazy choices and some completely incomprehensible detours in the road, but I need to have that passion and general feeling of "aliveness" that comes with the scent of new, unlimited possibility. I can live with bad decisions, but not wasted opportunity or experiences. That explains soooo much, if ya know me.

See, I think we are only here to experience, not to have or be, just pure, temporal, transient, passionate experience. Sad to think of wasting the opportunity to really feel and live doing something unsatisfying or even soul killing. I can't imagine the awful regret that must grip some people at the end of life, when they realize they have allowed fear and the opinions of others to rob them of vital experience... I won't live that way. Time is damn short here. I would rather walk into a meat grinder than sit and waste a possibility.

Life in the fire.

"From the moment we crawl from the viscera of the womb we are fated to die, destined to return to dust and bone. No alternative. No choice of outcome. Do we cower in anticipation of arbitrary end or embrace fire and unlimited, transient life? That is the only choice. Live in defiance and acceptance of our dying, or live in fear of it. When the end comes I will kiss it full on the mouth and I will say, well lived, me"

Rich Oliver

Peace as an affirmation

I am at peace with decisions I have recently made. Peace in the Chaos. The dust appears to be settling now and I am gaining some clarity and strength of resolve. This is right. This is perfect. I trust the universe to let the pieces fall together now. I will move in faith. I will place my trust in the wisdom of God.

Sometimes it don't look like ya thought it would.

Fortunately, the cosmos is often a better judge of what is truly good for us than our own narrow concepts or archetypal criteria could ever be. God just knows. It's wise to trust that knowledge. I've never asked a sock for it's insight or preferences when selecting a mate for it. I wear what matches. We are God's socks. (Or some kind of paired accessory).

Owning Archetypal Anarchy.. just kidding :)

I was speaking about the interdependant dance of male / female forces couched in a diatribe on general lawlessness and civil disobedience. Yep. That's what I was saying. No terroristism here, unless magnetic animal attraction and general feelings of woosy-love-sickness count as an assault on Amerikan values. Peace, not bombs. Love ya govner.

Owning Archetypal Anarchy

Situationally speaking, now is not a super time to be an anarchist, at least not in cyberspace. Chest thumping and soap box standing is generally frowned upon in this political climate, the cards indicate a trend toward increased scrutiny and regulation of all electronic media in relation to opinion pieces voicing dissent… it’s looking like blogging may carry terroristic implications, especially if in opposition to emerging fascist paradigms. I may be committing a crime here and there. I am acknowledging the consensual, deliberate, focused nature of this offense here and now. I am stepping up to the plate. I am sealing the message with my freedom and, if the situation eventually demands it, my life. I am refusing to play anymore. I don’t wanna. If dissent and active opposition to increasing matrices of control represents an act of domestic terrorism then I am a terrorist. I am a pirate. I am a criminal heinous and vile. I am prepared for the consequences of my future civil disobedience. I mean it. I have little to lose through acting, much to lose (my soul and self respect) if I choose to stand and remain still. It’s time to get getting. Many of these rants have been veiled attacks on prevailing structure and order. I have been couching my absolute disenfranchisement in symbolic syntax rather than being forthright and direct. I think the time has come to be more concise, more clear and infinitely more direct and active in voicing my warnings.

Sometimes subtlety breeds confusion.
Sometimes misdirection leads to diffusion of energy and intention.
Time to focus up….

Impetuousness as a calling

Intuition whispers. Mind formulates. Heart and will implement. To flow seamlessly and synaptically from impetus to reaction is integral to manifestation of fractal creator-impulse birthing into material reality. It is magic. It is alchemy. From undefined fourth dimensional whim to concrete third dimensional, physical manifestation instantaneously…the neuron-like firing of cosmic intention drives forward fractal evolution and facilitates constant, real-time experiential input to and from the individual cell to the collective mind and, ultimately, the creator itself. We are all one superorganism within the intimate body of God.

Be the synapse.

Set it off...piss on the rubble.

He was standing at the rock
Gathering the flock
And getting there with no directions
And underneath the arch
It turned into a march
And there he found the spark to
Set this fucker off

Suddenly a shot
Ripped into his heart
He lay in need of some attention
And there he played his card
Going into shock
The last thing that he said was
Set this fucker off

Jesus at the back door
Everything is all right
All we need is some direction
Everytime the wind blows
Everything you dont know
Turns into a revelation
And it all adds up inside your head
Time is wasting

-Audioslave-

Reptilian Center

I've been wandering too far from my center, strolling too far from the seat of my power. I forgot. I spaced out. I entered something too lofty and ideal for my intrinsic energy to fully integrate. In doing so, I lost my connection to source. I became lost, fractured, unstable and altogether ineffective. I am here for a specific reason and have been assigned a specific range of frequency best suited to my role. I need to regain center. Power, in my case, springs from the lower chakras, the depths, the visceral darkness of suppressed human instinct and behavior. Papa Krok. Reptilian essence. Instinct. Animal instinct. I'm moving back into myself and regaining my essential vision and potency. I feel much better.

Burnin down the house

Negative destruction of dysfunctional structure is essential to overall macro-organic health and often alleviates, through the release of pent up tension, a degree of pressure antagonistic to healthy function. If a relationship is to be salvaged, sometimes it must be demolished to its foundation and rebuilt with care and focus. Sometimes it needs to be left as a heap of rubble and abandoned. Time will tell.