Oh, my God, I think I must be right about you. I woke up this morning wanting to write to Clif High, Jsnip4, and Bix Weir, but you'll do exquisitely if I am right about you being one of the "old farts" as Clif so laughingly puts us. Bix talks about the "good guys" and Jsnip4 embraces his psychic mother and his acceptance of her. Good people all, and if you haven't touched base with them yet they are available on You Tube. Clif seems to think that Steemit has structured itself as a popularity contest and has chosen to avoid it but here you and I are on Steemit, though you seem to have been more amenable to venturing forth than I have, though I have been prompted to do so.
I have been led to believe, very quietly, that there are a bunch of us "old farts" who probably early on in our lives became aware of an "energy" available to us, imbued with endless insights and tantalizing conformations that complemented our DNA, strengthened it, refined it and in general converted us into a group of "sane" people who now blanket the earth, in this turbulent time as a foundation that will move the very universe into a more quiet and peer to peer successful existence. A "joy" for me. A ringing of my Hindu bells.
As an analogy I think of us as having a new computer program installed into our brain, into our DNA which came slowly and evenly as we accepted each directive until the conversion is almost complete. The energy being downloaded into us also had to wait for the advantages it needed to keep changing toward its apogee (funny word here but I am going to accept it) and then share with us its new dimension. Sort of like continually ironing out the bugs in a computer program as new dynamics allowed it to be possible.
So here we are.
My assignment is to write stories about pieces of my transformation, the genuine masters there to help facilitate from toddler age on and share them. The memories that flooded me kept me pacing the house for hours not being able to find even a place to sit down. I was observing me in a visceral way and with it came a fundamental understanding and acceptance of what I faced in my box of "karmic" puzzle pieces, but share them? I could write them down, sure, have already started that embraced by the new and updated me that is almost complete. I say almost because I have no idea of the dimensions this energy encompasses or whether it will ever reach a state of harmonic stasis and settle into itself.
But still, share them? And then, there you are sharing what your guts and your sanity prompt you to share. But in my defense, I have faced two executioners and have always been prompted to turn away rather than risk being oh so righteously right and my subsequent demise. Which as you know could come with something as simply as a label like "mentally unstable" genuine fruitcake etc. Thanks anyway, but I'll be the dragon lady, smiling all the way to the figurative bank.
So, have I got you right?
It takes more than this - a joke that can be interpreted both ways - to define me. Based on my early painting decades ago, there were those that ventured the opinion that I am possessed by the devil. In reality, all I wanted to do is scare the neighbors. Guess I succeeded. Now I am more into confusing the neighbors.
Totally agree, same for me in terms of the defining stratagem. Connecting by scaring people? Scaring people for....? For me "possessed by the devil" are words evoking nothing in me or for me. In contrast, passion for the deviltry inside of me raises my eyebrows and sets my mind "to a going", a phrase one of my friends uses kind of akin to priming the pump. My son once summed me up in 3rd or 4th grade given the assignment to write a mother's day card, (Assignment: Say something nice about your mother and what it means to you) "Mom's smile is a curve that makes me go straight." If you would prefer I will bow out of responding to your work, or curtsy out considering my gender, but either way I will continue to follow your work just because.
As ever, M
Oh, my God, I think I must be right about you. I woke up this morning wanting to write to Clif High, Jsnip4, and Bix Weir, but you'll do exquisitely if I am right about you being one of the "old farts" as Clif so laughingly puts us. Bix talks about the "good guys" and Jsnip4 embraces his psychic mother and his acceptance of her. Good people all, and if you haven't touched base with them yet they are available on You Tube. Clif seems to think that Steemit has structured itself as a popularity contest and has chosen to avoid it but here you and I are on Steemit, though you seem to have been more amenable to venturing forth than I have, though I have been prompted to do so.
I have been led to believe, very quietly, that there are a bunch of us "old farts" who probably early on in our lives became aware of an "energy" available to us, imbued with endless insights and tantalizing conformations that complemented our DNA, strengthened it, refined it and in general converted us into a group of "sane" people who now blanket the earth, in this turbulent time as a foundation that will move the very universe into a more quiet and peer to peer successful existence. A "joy" for me. A ringing of my Hindu bells.
As an analogy I think of us as having a new computer program installed into our brain, into our DNA which came slowly and evenly as we accepted each directive until the conversion is almost complete. The energy being downloaded into us also had to wait for the advantages it needed to keep changing toward its apogee (funny word here but I am going to accept it) and then share with us its new dimension. Sort of like continually ironing out the bugs in a computer program as new dynamics allowed it to be possible.
So here we are.
My assignment is to write stories about pieces of my transformation, the genuine masters there to help facilitate from toddler age on and share them. The memories that flooded me kept me pacing the house for hours not being able to find even a place to sit down. I was observing me in a visceral way and with it came a fundamental understanding and acceptance of what I faced in my box of "karmic" puzzle pieces, but share them? I could write them down, sure, have already started that embraced by the new and updated me that is almost complete. I say almost because I have no idea of the dimensions this energy encompasses or whether it will ever reach a state of harmonic stasis and settle into itself.
But still, share them? And then, there you are sharing what your guts and your sanity prompt you to share. But in my defense, I have faced two executioners and have always been prompted to turn away rather than risk being oh so righteously right and my subsequent demise. Which as you know could come with something as simply as a label like "mentally unstable" genuine fruitcake etc. Thanks anyway, but I'll be the dragon lady, smiling all the way to the figurative bank.
So, have I got you right?
It takes more than this - a joke that can be interpreted both ways - to define me. Based on my early painting decades ago, there were those that ventured the opinion that I am possessed by the devil. In reality, all I wanted to do is scare the neighbors. Guess I succeeded. Now I am more into confusing the neighbors.
Totally agree, same for me in terms of the defining stratagem. Connecting by scaring people? Scaring people for....? For me "possessed by the devil" are words evoking nothing in me or for me. In contrast, passion for the deviltry inside of me raises my eyebrows and sets my mind "to a going", a phrase one of my friends uses kind of akin to priming the pump. My son once summed me up in 3rd or 4th grade given the assignment to write a mother's day card, (Assignment: Say something nice about your mother and what it means to you) "Mom's smile is a curve that makes me go straight." If you would prefer I will bow out of responding to your work, or curtsy out considering my gender, but either way I will continue to follow your work just because.
As ever, M
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