Saturday, June 8

Some Things Just Can't Be Written Off

Life is good. And quiet right now. It's always like this before things bubble up again and it gets even better. This is my birthday month after all.

My days are spent working through my various commitments - jobs, clients, books, dog, exercise. That's the gist of what fills up my right now coloring book. That and text messaging with family. Things bubble and I get the usual preview of things to come, inklings of passing thoughts in someone else's mind, and I shrug to myself hoping my telepathic replies reach the intended destination as my relied upon words through this blog are few and far between. That and the dream-scapade are my chosen platforms of play and communication. Expect me there and you'll find lots more info than in this little corner of the internet. I get a lot done when the body appears to sleep. And I'm assured that it is a much more vivid and lifelike delivery system than our electronic world currently offers us.

I've been off the internet more often than I'm on it - I've let go of my reliance on the world of social media to keep me posted on my friends and loved counterparts. I've replaced the time it takes to go through status updates with arts and crafts. I have glitter stuck in my finger nails as I write this and am 20,000 words deep into book #2, and have randomly started writing a love story which is about 10,000 words deep in the first week. It's an interesting process, where my metaphysical book feels like I'm bending myself in eight different directions to complete it (I feel stretched beyond description), this unnamed love story randomly presents itself to my mind in clips of scenes. I literally see the characters acting and talking in my head and then go to write about their life. It's been such a contrast in the writing process. But nonetheless, it all completely swallows me into different worlds, and I love it. 

I tune into life differently now, hovering above my life like a spaceship hovers above the earth. My ground is different and has been for what seems like months, but the whole idea of months is really childs play as time doesn't exist, nor has it ever existed. This is good. Because I'm not coming back "down".

The thing of it is, everything  I see is what's destined to be. There is no wiggling out of your own skin, that lifetime that is your whole body - you can tweak and alter and re-design, but the heart of it all is gratefully shaped by an untouchable hand, and how it has written it all out in the stars and in your cells, is what spells out the inevitable magic of who and what you really are. Who you are is an entire life-time, a streaming atmosphere of life playing out the play of materiality. So the thing to do is settle in the realization of the choiceless choice, the love in your heart that will paint itself into moments that blow your mind away over and over and over. You have flexibility in so much, but the love atmosphere that lives you, the ethereal wonder that paints you, that is just an un-erasable part of your makeup. Some thing's just can't be written off or denied, no matter what you tell yourself, because those love things are etched in a world beyond the plausible one you hold so dear. This incredible Love that writes us, is above and beyond us, the us that you take us to be.

So just enjoy all that there is to love and all that there is to be loved by. Hover along if you will or don't. We are firmly pasted on every possible stage and every possible page, and we have never been or will ever be anything that can be written off. You have never been without. Anything. Not even whatever version of me you think is missing or has disappeared. 


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