Posts Tagged ‘notself’

Radio Silence

November 8, 2008

Radio S i l e n c e
So, I have been going through some major, MAJOR reorientation of my own self-ness. I feel as though these breakthroughs are very specific, and are about some deep set programming that I have been wrassling with. I have something I have not really dealt with or acknowledged surface, just about a few days ago.

When I first came across Design, and I discovered I was a projector, so many aspects of my life made sense, especially around conditioning from others.
I realized…

*Why I was always exhausted by others (powered by the sacral of another)

*Why I felt swayed by others (conditioning from all my open centers)

*Why I always felt Like I had to do it myself, or alone ( super slaved to the desire to be recognized)

*Why I felt shut out alot (offering advice when it was not requested/invited)

*Why I could not feel my own ‘reason d’etre’ (open center conditioning spackle from others eclipsing my actual definition)

…and that’s just for starters!

After I began to work with my Strategy, a certain part of me died. Until discovering Design, I thought I was living such a vibrant life, and after being told I needed to ‘wait to be asked/invited’ I felt secretly horrible. A certain part of me was stunted or subdued. The ‘go getter’ and the- to use the language of Design, ‘the conditioned manifestor’ part of me had been slain. but that felt like no victory. There was a part of me that felt deadened or some of my fire had been snuffed out. It was a quiet agony of disappointment, and what felt like a terrible misfortune. Like a burn that never really healed, which when brushed or stubbed, reminded me of what happened.

I had to wait, for the other. no more initiating.
I have been grappling with this for three years, and I have no peace with it. Until now.

A part of my soul felt sullen, I felt as though the things I used to do were now ‘off limits’ or incorrect. Oh how wrong i was! oh, how wrong

Design is a tuning, a refinement of how we make decisions in our lives, and how we can become so much closer to ourselves as beauty, its almost staggering. But, so many of our habits and patterns are so deeply ingrained that we don’t even realize how much these inlaid concepts affect us.
Inlaid is the analogy I used b/c it is similar to the inlay on let;’s say a wood cabinet. The wood of a cabinet is so perfect and beautiful in and of itself, yet someone chooses to add to the wood’s intrinsic beauty what they think is beauty. to see the wood in its natural state, unfettered, untouched, is what Design seeks. in the case of humans, as a species, inlay is not so good.

Why do I know I am wrong? How can I tell that this ‘silly’ waiting process is effective?
The ‘go getter’ is slain. and this is good, b/c I now seek myself, rather than fixing those around me. I inhabit my own body, and my own internal clarity. I know what is open in me and, after a significant amount of scraping off what people have ‘spackled’ into my open centers over the years, I can FINALLY feel my own internal compass, and its powerful navigational skills.

The sullen feeling of not being able to do my own thing has been transformed into what I call ‘buffing’ for projectors. I am working on myself, not initiating into the world, but what I do now, is for myself. It is not to please, invoke, tease, problem solve, cajole or attract, but simply for me.

How did this come about? A Slam. A poetry Slam.
My first one actually…

Not an empty seat in the house, all focused on six poets. The stage awash in mediocre lighting, and poorly tuned monitors. Backstory. Poetry seeped into my heart in high school through Robert Frost and Yeats, and took full residence in my soul in college. I gratefully blame Ted Walker, an English poet for tuning me into Phillip Larkin and through a survey class, the passion of the rhyme. I’m sure he would fully accept that blame, and I still need to send him a postcard and thank him. As of recent I only occasionally scrawl something and hide it in a notebook or a folder in my computer, alas…

the crowd was in great anticipation of being washed with rhymes and stories, yet I could easily feel their restraint and scrutiny. it was a slam after all and acuity is raised. Each poet significant. each piece crashed through my mind like a freight train. Yet the crowd held back.
they held themselves back. I could feel it.
for the love of the rhyme, and all that is profane, why?!
WHY?

I no longer question, I observe and chew slowly, spit when needed and then swallow gently.
There is no ‘way’ in poetry, especially slam. may be some framework, but not enough to warrant the lack of reaction i was getting from the room. (when it comes to crowds, I am a lightning rod now, and its a challenge to ‘head out’ for the evening sometimes!) The Poets were hurtling their words at us and I was open armed like a city kid on hot pavement in front of a hydrant in late July. Then I could feel the lock, the binding, the hasp falling away. The lock of an idea of who I thought i was capable of being dropped, and rattled on the auditorium floor. I took a deep breath, and my shoulders rolled back.
My freedom is my own, and to whatever degree I embody it, is up to me. wow. fuckit, Its all mine. ALL mine.

My old manifestor self that pushed, arranged, and conspired is now dead. there is no grief.
no blame.
Just my own self making my own way through a way that asks me to simply find my own energy for my own life for my OWN reasons, for MYSELF. All that clearing and cleaning over the past four years, and i had a classic ‘ah ha!’ moment.
They’ll see me, and if its cool and ok, then they’ll ask me to come out and play.

My own game is afoot. Whew!

This killer monkey is gettin’ D a n g e r o u s!

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Desolate

June 20, 2008

I’m hooked on ‘LOST’ the TV series. Its a fabulous look at people under stress, and how they behave, or not. and its a very lucid look into the NOTSelf world of conditioning and the power of outer authority. In the show, everyone has secrets in one form or another that often dictate their current actions. In Design, we call that conditioning. really deep conditioning, and outer authority. but that’s another story.

22:03 Its a warm summer evening here. finally summer seems to be settling in. I walked down to the video store for my latest fix of LOST. I’ve had an interesting day and now steeped in melancholy, I am just wandering around the neighborhood looking for a little pressure to guide me. its a brilliant night, warm and pregnant with evening jaunts, or adventure by streetlamp, but no one has called and I am trying to not feel hope.

13:52. After a swim and a tuna melt(with jarlsberg!) lunch with one of my favorite people, she had a guest drop by who is a personal/success coach. She was dropping off some texts for a course they were involved in, and some how the conversation turned to Design. Almost an hour later, I had her fascinated and authentically interested, albeit I warned her that Design doesn’t like psychology very much. We found common ground in the vision that both coaching and Design earnestly strive for people to be free, tho from very different angles. I really enjoyed the stimulating talk and was very glad to exercise my Design muscles with another newbie, and she, having ONLY the channel of the Archetype(57-34) as her definition, listened very carefully…enthralled.

22:14 with the latest episodes in pocket, I stroll out into the thick air, looking for a little pressure, some public juice to fill this projector up. I walk past 3 restaurants and 2 bars, scanning for something interesting, perhaps some energy that has a little flare to it. All I see are clutches of tired people, sitting slightly uncomfortably on couches and chairs, holding drinks they are supposed to be drinking, trying desperately to look interested in something. really trying. I shake my head slowly, for I can feel them more than I can see them. call it my ‘spidey sense’, scanning a room like a ship’s sonar.
nuthin’. nada. nil. zilch. bored.

14:43 I look into her eyes, assuring her that I will have a look at her son’s chart. I will see if (with my little bit of experience), I can give her some tips on how to work with her four-yr-old triple split definition emotional generator. I see her eyes, and I perceive that she is in there somewhere, but I can easily see the coating of the ‘world’ upon her, and the mind, her scrutinizing, the discerning filters. I’ve seen her chart, so I have a sense of what is inside, the beauty that Michelangelo sees inside a block of marble. She’s juggling alot( and doesn’t have head or root definition…oooo the pressure!) so i am patient. And she’s interested in Design, some string sung inside. and from her sacral eeking its first message to me, I believe there is fun to be had. She’ll just have to reframe her experience a bit, and slough off some notions and try the experiment of living her Design.

It’s really tough to take on something as incredible as Design. its a whole other way of being. Its a psychic windex the likes of which i have never seen. My melancholy bubbles up from being alone tonight with my experience, my clarity and living my Design. Alone. for the moment.

that’s the NOTSelf world for you.

Grumpy Projector Day

January 22, 2008

waking up
…not to mention the fact that the transit field is emotionally defined, well, if you know what that means then ’nuff said. let’s just leave it at that.

Today I am grumpy. The work I am doing on/to/with myself is getting close and its getting a little bit rough. I am spelunking deeper into my own design and into my own power, and its a bea-otch. one of my teachers says that when you are close to transformation and clarity on another level, you get uncomfortable inside yourself, the pants don’t fit anymore. . . so, keep pushing thru. Well, I was pissed all morning, grumpy and distracted, and then i just thrust my will back into my grumpy mind and pursued my day with a vehemence and brashness that startled my parasite/NotSelf. After all I have self projected authority.

See, I had this ‘great idea’ to get the whole dating thing going again, and maybe to play the field a bit to take a break from my toils at my work and my studies of design. Got the kaibosh on that from my HDS teacher. Work on my glow, she says, that is all. the projector glow, its about recognition for projectors, and I can only be recognized correctly if I got my inner shine on and my glow going, my expertise. Its not about broadcasting it, or showing it off, its simply hanging out inside of it, expectationless. I’m a projector after all, and initiating relationships is by its nature incorrect for my life energy. So, no experimentation with cheqing out others, which through most dating techniques I would hafta initiate. Save a little jing there sport.

So that’s a ‘No’ on the relational explorations. Maybe even a bout with celibacy might get me even more riled up, and even clearer? yeah, that and a bite stick to walk around with chewing on instead of my own arm.

As I struggle with the revealing of my own self through the perspective of Design I get a little touchy at times. As of now, in my grumpiness, my roomie has a similar design to me, but she is emotionally defined. I have been able to discern her emotions from mine, and just a few minutes ago, she came down and asked me an assumptive question, and i quickly responded with a clear answer, albeit I could feel it was motivated by her emotional system, I felt it surge against my aura, yet I kept myself clear, and tied to my own mast.

I’m feeling emotionally defined by the transits, and then interacting with her, and now I hafta clear it all out as best I can… truth is simple and easy. the confrontation comes when the truth is reinterpreted.

Emotionality doesn’t have to be long and drawn out and processing and all that drama stuff. Frankly, it rarely drags on, or dwells or festers. the wave can rise into hope in an instant, and crack at the blink of an eye. Being emotional can be something as quick as a ‘no’ that is positioned correctly to illicit a particular response, or to poke a ‘living room bear’. no consistent criteria, just that it goes up and down, constantly moving. experiential.

So, I am wresting control from my NotSelf, my mind and my intellect and slowly guiding myself into my own will and authority. As my Toltec teacher puts it, I am at war with my parasite/NotSelf. feels like it more often than not, and especially today! My will is grappling or better yet, scrapping with my mind, and I am wriggling around in the delicious pain of transformation and the dedication to the greatest journey ever. the journey to myself.

wow, now I have written all this stuff as a purgative and its not any better. urrrrrrrrgh.