Waiting on the edge
How foolish I must look
Mind full of mistakes
Driven by worry
Let it go
You are only here now
Nothing exists
Forget everything
Remember the light
Just jump

November 15th 2020 6:45am Sunday

Everyday shit, finally getting back into a groove of having at least some time to type out all this shit. Hey maybe what this all means is that for the next five, ten, twenty years you are going to be a mediocre writer but then boom you get the deal of a lifetime to write about ecstatic experiences. Photo, video, and written word about experiences is something I would love to do. I wrote yesterday about what the fuck would I do if I knew the cage was unlocked, the bars were broken, what would I do? I would try my best to get everyone on the bandwagon of self love, liberty, free critical thought, and sovereignty. That is what I feel is the realest, that is the deepest most important cause. Also as I have said to Colis a bunch of times on the phone, I would coach people on how to get to the place where they want to go, whether it be physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, I want to aspire to be more of a polymath, except fuck all the academic shit. I want to be a spiritualized mastermind that takes all aspects of this funky cage we are in and transcends barriers and bondage. I guess because it is right on the tip of my finger I should comment about actual occurrences in my world. I keep going over to the skatepark and feeling better and better. Except now I really do need to get some proper footwear because last night I mashed my right toe into the ground and it damn near pulled the whole front part of the sole off. I went around the park towards he launch into the circle and bitched out doing a barspin like five time. The last time I mashed my toes into the ground, it was cold enough the pain resonated and had me start getting worrying about it actually being damaged. I should have just thrown the fucking bars, thats the moral of this story, not only would you have the glory of doing the trick you probably wouldn’t have busted your toe the way you did. It’s fucking bonkers to me that this wrist thing convinced me to get out of riding for over a decade now. Currently it is still achey from the impacts of last night. I did do a 180 off a bar height ledge I was hopping up. I hopped up a lot of things, it felt good to do some physical activity. But yea the point is throw the fucking bars because you are gonna mash your toe if you don’t so you might as well go for the glory rather than bitch out and end up fucking yourself more than you would have. Other than that I guess I can get back to complaining about other things. Oh I guess I forgot to complain about being sore or whatever but that’s kind of expected, actually not even as sore as I thought I’d be. Sleep was weird af last night though. One of those sleeps that felt like I closed my eyes and then the alarm went off, out cold, but light slumber or something. Also the feels around lingering dreams I can’t recall. Not smoking is great and all but the dream thing is something so new and different. It feels like where I am today is exactly where I was last year around this time. I had stopped smoking, drinking, cigs, all that, except now I write on the computer in the mornings. I read too. This past year I was sober for more time than I had been in the past five years or so. And you wonder why progress seems slow. I want to complain that it’s taking too long. The biggest complaint I guess is a distrust in my ability to have control around others. I was tested big time last night when a skater dude wanted to ride my bike and he asked if I could hold his cig. I was moments from puffing on it, I didn’t even consider corona shit until right now, but yea I abstained. There were two girls there skating and rollerblading. I felt an itch to strike up some kind of conversation with them, but I was too judgey at the fact that they were drinking and smoking cigs. Dang I just realized how much of a judgmental projection you were putting upon them. Just because you are insecure about substances doesn’t mean you have to be rude to people who would benefit from your interaction. Also they were wearing masks at first which is another this that I have made some uber judgmental decisions about interacting with people who wear masks outside, but that a whole nother story. I just want to get clear that really no matter what anyone anytime can benefit from your interactions. You put so much projected manipulative judgmental bullshit upon yourself and the world about the value and worth of interactions and how when you do all the made up math in your head about relating with others your limiting belief systems make up a whole story that whether of not you actually feel any kind of intuitive pull or not you should choose to shy away because that is the behavior that has kept you safe. Dang that’s hard, and deep, and something you are only able to see in these moments of clarity when you’re sober and haven’t been ingesting a bunch of processed crap. I was having the thoughts yesterday about how great I feel due to the fact that I have barely had anything processed, especially anything real bad. That just made me think of a dream? I don’t know if I heard it in waking life or dreamt this up but it had something to do with a girl either not having enough money or the ability to get Burger King. I love how this program will capitalize Burger King automatically but won’t capitalize trump our fucking president, wow, biased much? Did I hear it at the skatepark or was it a dream? Story of my life. 1029

November 9th 2020 6:59am Monday

Just finished up yesterdays page and I got to a moment trying to synthesize all the stuff I have in my head about life, purpose, and well being. I watched a YouTube video that compiles all of Russ’s best lines on pessimism from true detective. I never really analyzed the one line he has about seeing the acceptance in the victims faces. He talks about the game of time, how it’s a flat circle. How it’s all a dream from inside a locked box. Something very telling about this experience can be seen on the faces of the murder victims. Up until the moments of death they were living in sheer terror, and he concludes that he can tell that when that final moment occurs their expression changes to a willing acceptance, an almost childlike wonder of who and what you are, how you played the game, and what the point is. All of the tension seems to ball up and disappear in a moment. He comments that realizing it was all something other than what you perceived it to be. All the fretting, all the holding on to the tension of who you are being, what your going what your doing, why your doing anything, and how it all looks to yourself, others, and the gods, Apparently in those final moments of waking life the expression on the faces portrays a vision of what I can explain as unconditional love. Imagine your whole life never experiencing real unconditional love, then in the most horrific turn of events you are kidnapped and tortured up until the moments your life leaves your body and in those very last moments you are presented with what is and always has been there. Nothing like anything you have ever felt or experienced. In contrast to the grotesque nature of the worst kinds of humans it seemed like the kindest gift anyone could receive. Like millions of warm hugs from loved ones all undoubtably assuring you that everything will be alright. Later in the evening yesterday I watched a live video Chevrin from cymbiotika did about his blood cleaning stuff. He talked about the power of blood and how it carries information throughout the body. Then he went on to say even though he is here talking, doing things he is not his blood, or even his body. Behind all is what is behind all. I am trying to make the correlation between the true detective view of the veil that there is something behind all of this. Whatever that thing is creates an inviting and pleasurable expression on the faces of those who meet “it” in their final moments. It’s now 5:32am on 11/10 and I want to elaborate more on all of this but I realize the time and energy needed to research what I am trying to convey would be cumbersome because you know this is a real hefty subject that philosophers have been pondering for millennia so it would be wise to just settle with what you think you know. Which is that we are possibly finite, possibly eternal beings, maybe entities, even just photons and particles collapsing all part of some crystal consciousness field, or maybe. not I really don’t know. But as human being we are experiencing time, so maybe time is just a prerequisite for something else? Maybe what Paul Chek says about this plane of existence being a playground for souls. So much of what I heard rings true, I feel it, I experience it, but I can never be sure if it is simply suggestion or the authentic truth of consciousness. It would be nice to surrender to the idea that reality is just an illusion, nothing is real, and you are here to play. You want to relate “play” to something fun, but the kind of play seems to be more geared at simply just participating or expecting to immediately get some kind of pleasure. Play in this case means know the rules and play the game as it is meant to be played. Maybe the light and resonance of crystal consciousness is all everything. I just had a fleeting moment of letting go and my ego was like nope me me me. Wow that was cool, I can see why this will end up taking time, energy, and practice. Thats the point I’m trying to make is that even if my idea of myself as an individual may not necessarily be so. As in it doesn’t seem to ring true that there is even an I, or me. The best words to describe what the collective might be a cluster, or a swirl of consciousness that has been afforded to all human being life forms just like all other lifeforms. So like behind it all we are all one, all soul guided by spirit. I would like to believe we are all divine, but that doesn’t make you special, because again, we are ALL divine, so there is no separation in divinity, every living being is connected by this net of divinity. Yet we feel separate and we are upset and shitty about it. We are divine being stuck in a shit story is what I’ve been trying to say. The game is simple but difficult, the one rule is to remember you are not your shit story. Separating from the shit story is the journey, truth is found if sought after. Who knows if maybe the separation occurs on a primal level as a survival mechanism. Maybe god really did break themselves into an infinitesimal amount of pieces and scattered it everywhere in order to play a game to forget. Either way, all I think I know is love is the way to go.960

October 23rd 2020 Friday 5:13am

What good is it if you ain’t foolin’ in it? It can be anything, surely you have caught on by now. The flavors range from bright to dull. Why not prepare to create the inevitability now rather than disregard your heart in hopes someone else’s might comes along. Prepare. Wow, that’s a bold statement, without context it could all be so simple babe. Meaningless at best. Pretend for a moment that you are ready. You have it all set up and it still flops, then what? Blame the pre or the pare, the up or the down, the in or the out, who’s first, who’s last? Regardless, the result stays constant. Let us go in and on a journey, bring everything you don’t need and let’s see what’s really important. Check in from time to time will ya? It gets lonely here and the frustrations are mounting when there is no time to relax. Tends to be the way she goes. Take a second to breath and let it all blow before you plow right ahead into the cold lifeless void. Light can neither go any faster nor slower, it is simply constant. Consider that maybe, just maybe you are on the right track. All you need is a little symphony. Some drums, bangs, and a blue corvette. Sprinkle in some fun, sun, hugs, drugs and bugs. Let’s see where it goes from there. The important thing is to seek what makes you feel free. Free from restrictions of conditional love, free from the worry that anyone is watching, free from the endless excuses plaguing the collective. So far the plan was to drink until the pains over, but what worse the pain or your mortgage payment. This life is a gentle soul who’s been kicked around and thrown out too many times. They want to pretend like they’re hard now and learned the lessons, but truth is stranger than fiction. Give it up, the whole operations went the pot, everyone know you’re a phony yet you keep on calling out like you were something else. Be easy, it’s ok, let’s just put it down for a moment and realize the alarm has been going off for so long you forgot what it sounded like without it. You can try to cry out to the sky because you’re lonely and scared, no ones responding, no one is there. That’s perfect and complete, let it all in as you watch it all go. Reflect back for reference, surely important things have happened but that doesn’t mean you aren’t able to put it aside for bigger better endeavors. It’s all yours now, take it, take what you want, be brave but tactful. Money, that’s useless here, give it up. Simply charge it to the game, whatever left on it, fly like an eagle, let the spirits carry you away to the lonesome river who’s name is unknown. Unbeknownst for most is the phase has shifted full on. It’s your time to shine, that doesn’t mean you ain’t already as bright as you always are. Wrap your head around this maybe, again, maybe this is all part of the patterns that persuade purpose. Perpetually perceiving people positively. Finding foolish fallacies faking fully formed foam for road blocks in a forest race. Where you are now is strangely not where you were, and where you are going may not necessarily be molded by any of it. Take a moment, please, reevaluate what, where, who, how. What is important? What is true? Where is the fun? Where is joy felt most? Who is in control? Who are your people? How much longer will you pretend? My intent is to express the deep dark depressing lack pressing up against the side of me. It too shall pass, it is a hurdle not a cage. Contemplate the validity of such things briefly, make a decision, move on. Create the composure that transcends barriers. Get your nerves right. Fight the urge of incontinence. Protect yo neck, get yourself out, reach back, help someone else out. Spark up the conversation, ignite intuition, be in it, contribute. Not for the glory, but for the sake of the purpose. The real power of an individuals words. Tempting fate for too long may lead to regret. Withholding the truth only makes you a liar. Taking more that you need leaves everyone else at a lack. Decide which side is right for you while skating the line to see what it might be like in another pair of shoes. Believe that chances are given, taken, and created by being in tension. Frequently frequencies fall back into lines. Balance is brutal, the higher the highs, the lower the lows. Keep it on an even keel, not too much, not too little, but just enough to be in it to win it as often as possible. See where it goes from there.817

October 22nd 2020 Thursday 5:55am

Got that angel number today. Maybe it means something. Maybe it is time to present my ideas to a larger audience. More that the ideas, the way in which I explain the things is what really matters and what I am generally fearful of. I act as if I have to take a writing class or be validated by some authority first before I can post something showing vulnerability that would actually be critiqued. Isn’t that kind of what I want though? Some kind of crowd sourced editor. Posting over two months worth of content is really great, the commitment to the practice is admirable. Yet there is still a sense of not doing enough, even less detrimental a sense that I can do more, and if I can then I should. Should, could, would, will I really though? Or am I going to continue only writing to myself from altering perspectives that always become meta over analyzations of writing patterns about over analyzations of behaviors. It’s readable enough, I guess. The absolute lack of pride in any area that may be considered artistic is based upon more shit story. I had a thought this morning about seventh grade art class. I barely remember the circumstances except I thought the teacher was mean and I never got a really meaningful piece of art back. I also didn’t make it a big deal to get it back either. That was a defining year in my childhood. I strayed away from artistic endeavors and began to ride bmx bikes more often. Not only did my world shift, the whole world changed that year. I always marked that year as a turning point, I abandoned art, started riding bikes, and gave up on school work. I never really thought about how the twin towers falling could have affected me through the collective since personally it seemingly didn’t alter my ways of being directly. It really wasn’t until 2008 or so when I saw loose change and the seeds of skepticism were planted. Seeds that have gown into a full blown belief system based in making sense of nonsense, and making nonsense of sense. Regardless of all the wacky presumptions about conspiracies that year was a turning point not only for me but for everyone. I want to pinpoint some exact instance where the shift occurred, but it probably wasn’t just one thing. Fuck, I just wrote and erased several sentences and I want to proceed so I figured I would write about the process I am seemingly having trouble with. I feel like I would do better at bullet pointing the reasons why seventh grade was so meaningful. Also I don’t want to make it seem like one thing was more important than the other. So there was 911, riding bikes more often, the art class, general social anxiety due to not really fitting in to any sports or academics in school, and a specific moment when I got a C on an English paper and my dad was not thrilled about which seemed to be when I stopped caring about schoolwork, writing, and general confidence in my abilities. All kinds of shit seems to stem from that moment. I feel like I was crying out for the things I needed and wanted, but I was scolded for not already having them or figuring it out on my own. That is where so much of my story stems from, some meaning wrapped up in wanting and needing things, not getting the things, even at times being scolded for wanting and needed and then the result is me shutting down, freezing, with holding, and becoming spiteful about the whole situation. I want to cry about it, I want to feel bad for myself, I want to wreck my life and destroy everything to get back at those that I feel have been wronged by, but in the end it’s just me, alone with my misery and sorrow still wondering what the fuck happened and how the fuck do I nurture, love, and care for that hurt inner child that just wants to feel like they matter. It feels hopeless, but that doesn’t mean its true. Just because you have a shit story that you tend to believe and act in accordance with doesn’t negate all the other awesome things you have accomplished. Focusing in on one hard time that seemed to define you when faced with certain obstacles can seem hopeless, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of generating love for yourself ongoingly in spite of the apparent bad times. You are so good at withholding in spite of how you felt you were wronged, maybe that energy can get shifted to withholding the belief that who and how you were has to define who and how you are being now. Withholding how much you let the stories define you out of love and compassion rather than holding on to a dead frozen moment that for sure ain’t necessarily so. 835

October 21st 2020 Wednesday 5:33am

I all of a sudden feel really agitated. Woke up feeling physically great, mentally a bit scattered but good. Now that I am taking a moment to navigate my thoughts there is nothing but anger and regret present. I could go into all the same shit stories and reasons why I am this way and how some part of me is using it to keep itself safe and be stuck in survival mode, but fuck that shit, I have already done that a thousand times. Cycling around the bullshit is not doing me any good to lessen it. Let go. You already forgot, or more so you were convinced otherwise by the shit story. I was at work the other day away from myself in a shit story and I felt like I knew it consciously and I kept trying to take bigger deeper breaths but it was as if part of me made it feel uncomfortable to breath because it knew that it’s reign of control was in jeopardy. That thing, “it” I’ll name it for reference is only concerned with consuming external stimuli. “It” runs off the shit story internal dialogue to keep you, the object in a made up story, safe and pacified. Yesterday was real heavy with the “not enough” “people don’t like or want me” dialogue. I know it isn’t true, but you take it so personally. Even if it were to be true somehow, ya know that no one you interact with “likes” you, then why are you beating yourself up over not getting some false sense of approval? If no one was to like you then why would it even matter what they thought of you? Why would it matter what you thought of them? It’s all just such programmed bullshit that stems from abandonment and self worth issues that clearly will either always be here. I either have to figure out how to navigate around them or feel them out completely until it becomes boring. One side, the “it” side has a convincing argument about “oh woe is me, nobody likes me, so I shouldn’t do anything too expressive that could lead to feeling vulnerable, that might give up to much of myself, to make sure that doesn’t happen I will cater to all the stuff I assume that they would want to keep myself in their good graces so I can be liked and wanted by someone.” “Please don’t leave me, I am so alone.” See how you even have to be overly nice about it, please? What the fuck is that, like if someone is going to leave you including a pathetic please probably isn’t going to change their mind. Their? Who the fuck are they? This is a questionable narrative, the idea that there is someone else. The interactions we have with others do define us in many ways yes, but when we are acting out shit stories the other person could be anyone that we either assume is some way or project how we imagine them, so in the end you really don’t know them. When in the shit story you treat everyone as your closest connections, in my case, my parents. When in the shit you are coming from a place where you believe you have to do something or have something to get approval. I would even simply acknowledging existence, but it is twisted in the sense that it has to be some kind of validation that I am worthwhile. Someone could acknowledge my existence and believe that I am invalid and not worthwhile, so there has to be some kind of approval attached to it. Why the fuck does this all have to mean so much and be so fucking serious. You know you are great regardless of anyone else’s perceptions, but the trauma is so deeply rooted in most of my experience that the evidence is everywhere for why I feel I have to continue being the same way about it. I am so triggered by my parents and I play into the fantasies so hard when I am around them. Inadequate, worthless, forgettable, are all things that come to mind because of minute incidents that happened a very long time ago. Expectations are also part of the apparent disdain since I have fleeting hopes that things will somehow be different and they will act in a way that make me feel more valid. But since I am in such shit about it, I end up getting more evidence to why I am unworthy. Which in turn becomes a cycle of abused becomes abuser because since I perceive my existence as being invalid or worthless I in turn treat others that way, especially my parents. It is such spiteful behavior. Purposefully withholding any praise or even just acknowledgment of existence because I feel as if you have purposefully hurt me, so I am going to do the same in return. What a fucked up trip.831

October 19th 2020 Monday 5:23am

It occurs that I over think the feelings and under feel the thoughts. If that makes any sense. More often than not I am speaking from my mind. It is a trap I can’t quite decide if I was thrown into or created along the way to survive. Either way it seems to be a strong pattern of behavior. I currently feel dull, but excited. The thinking side is trying to stifle the excitement because it generally perceives everything as some kind of danger or threat and I have to hold back on my expressions because it means danger is imminent. The fucked up thing is that the perceived danger is generally a simple worry about not looking good, or looking bad. I feel annoyed that I have come back to the analyzation of intrinsic behavior mechanisms and patterns. This story is boring and it never seems to have much going on except the analyzation itself. If there was a plan to exercise another mode of being then maybe there might be some progress in the seemingly over reflective self analyzing patterns. It is such a symptom of the not enough, lack, scarcity mindset. Holding yourself back for whatever meaning you made up instead of being more lavish with your approbations of yourself and others. From this moment forward I intend to stray away from the play of conflict within my mind. I want to be truthful, joyous, playful, and a little weird. So here goes nothing, what a phrase, imagine a guy saying that, and then nothing happens, tah dah, he exclaims. I said here goes nothing and nothing happened, I would have said here goes something if I was about to do a thing. I do the same thing every morning. I forget most of the ideas I have when I’m away. What if you were to write the story of how you lived the rest of your life. I wanted to start writing from now, but let’s save the backstory and simple jump in. I feel resistance immediately, thoughts about explaining what I’m doing and why. Get over yourself, it ain’t that serious, it ain’t even necessarily so, so just go for it. Ok Spencer is traveling to Costa Rica for a wellness retreat he is hosting a workshop at and also assisting in facilitation. This trip is part of an international journey doing workshops on movement, breath, and trauma release. The workshops are intense. The preparation alone is done by fasting, breath work, sleep deprivation, and hot/cold therapies amongst other physical actives and mental preparation. The purpose of the preparation is to release tension which can in turn begin to reset the nervous system by fatiguing the body to an extent that allows it to revert back to basic patterns. Many of the higher thinking centers of the brain and nervous system are responsible for the imbalances, attachments, and holding patterns that humans tend to become locked into. The intensive involves movement to guide muscles toward how to move optimally. This is achieved through vibration of sound waves, both external, and internally resonated. Both harmonizing vocal emotions with resonant frequencies that correspond with energy centers throughout the body, and realigning structures passively through tuning instruments such as drums, bowls, and synthesized waves. In order to assist the elimination of tension, vibrations are brought upon within the body through muscle fatigue from eccentric movements, exercise, and cold therapies. The idea is to first put the body in a state where tensions are loosened up, so to then direct the movements and patterns in a more optimal and efficient behavior. There are multiple levels to the experience. There are several people facilitating. At least three coaches are needed, sometimes more. The first facilitates the preparation phase which involves creating fatigue within the body. Participants are to water fasting for at least 36 hours before getting into movement, deep meditation, cold therapy, sleep deprivations, and ontological dialogue exercises amongst other. The key is to be in a parasympathetic, rest and digest mode more often than not while still interacting with challenges that create fatigue and aid release. The preparation is he most difficult part because everyone is different and people will react to the protocols differently. The most important part is breathing, a lot of time and emphasis is spent on breathing techniques that bring participants into rhythmic breathing cycles. The next phase is a deeper intensive of rebirthing/holotropic breath work sessions, art and movement therapy, hot and cold exposure, and tissue restructurization guided by biomechanical protocols that is facilitated to allow participants to guide their bodies by unlearning frozen or held tissue tension patterns. This is achieved by reincorporating primal patterns like crawling, pushing, pulling, squatting, lunging, twisting, bending, walking, and running. The minimum time for all of this to be achieved is three days. The whole thing will be a week long, and the preparation for participants starts at least two weeks prior with activity and diet protocols. The final phase is a reintegration from the intensive world back into the chaotic western world that we are preparing ourselves for by putting ourselves through this experience. The last bit is all about how to bring yourself back to yourself in times of stress and while being challenged without reverting back to holding, attaching, and freezing the stress within the body. Affirmative gratitude, manifesting abundance, creating measurable objectives, replacing detrimental dialogues, being embodied amongst other things are all incorporated to have participants leave being able to be the cause in the world. It is one hell of a ride. 930

October 18th 2020 5:33am Sunday

This house makes a lot of house noises, the heater, the fridge, the neighbors, the kitchen lights, the road outside. Even in moments of what seems like silence, something is always buzzing, clicking, swirling, creaking, clanging. I have gotten as used to it as I can. So it goes. Sometimes I sit here for minutes watching the steam wisp up from the foam on the surface of the coffee. Most of the time I feel like I have nothing good to say, specifically about myself. Nothing but a mind full of judgement and regret. And as fast as the thoughts come in about what I am lacking, the thoughts analyzing the behavior and justifying it flow through to ease the apparent suffering I tend to cause myself. Then thats it, I’m off to the races. The coffee kicks in and I begin to move through the words at a steadier pace. Until I am stopped again by the thoughts that I might want to be writing about something specific, important, progressive. If I haven’t established a point to why I do this then why is there constantly a feeling that I am wasting the time spent in front of this screen clicking away on the keys. Is it only to please a goal of hitting a certain amount of words? There is something more, a fleeting hope, an expectation really, that this practice is leading me towards getting better. Except without establishing an objective for when better is, and how to get there, then when and how the fuck would I know? Everyday I wrestle with this dichotomy. The goal is to hit seven fifty, thats it. Anything else is an unfounded expectation. The expectations make it seem like somethings missing. The thoughts and feelings attached to the expectations are like the steam from the coffee. They wisp up within you, showing themselves for a moment, then they fade away. It’s as if there is already words on this page and all I am doing is filling in the blanks. If the only reason to do this is to get to a certain word count why not just write the same word over and over again? Why not just disregard anything meaningful? Why not make absolute nonsense out of these symbols? The word count isn’t the only goal then, inside of the the agreement is a deeper meaning that the words that add up to the count must at least be comprehensible. Also it seems that beyond being able to be comprehended as words and sentences that make some kind of sense, the meaning behind the content is also wrapped up in the hidden expectations of this practice. I probably wouldn’t bother doing this at all if the stuff I wrote was barely comprehensible and totally meaningless. So really there are deeper expectations that you are not addressing. I want to try and write something meaningless and incomprehensible. Maggot potato burst flying pelican grenade plot formulation happiness. How about that? Why not try to write a whole page of nonsensical combinations of meaningless words. Fuck, now I’m caught up on meaning because of how subjective it is for each individual and how anyone could interpret anything as something different than another. What a long strange trip this continues to be. Long enough for me to have lost sight of where I have been. Never knowing where I am going. The trip will require strength and courage. I know I have what it takes. Yet getting there hasn’t happened yet, and I see no end in sight. Maybe it’s time for a rest. Take some moments to cleanse yourself of experience. All it is, is a shit story, you choose to make it real, you choose to keep it going. Do the numbers mean I’m really on track? What track? Something measurable? A place with a beginning and an end? Being physical is such a drag, but I’m sure we’ll miss it when it’s gone. I am in it to win it. I’m here for it. Let us keep moving onward, outward, inward, and upward. Make any meaning you want, because at this point I am in a race to hit the count. Nothing more but a bunch of words, slightly comprehensible, totally meaningless. Until you read them and create your own interpretations. Every time I find myself here at the end, I feel no fear. I finished the coffee, I don’t want to be late. I got it all together so I can get better at falling apart. Maybe I’m simply looking for something physical as if it isn’t already there. 771

October 16th 2020 Friday 5:23am

After weeks of doing this thing it feels like it’s always Friday, or Monday or what have you. The silly thoughts of tiredness and loneliness are swirling around my brains giving me a sense that today somehow already has a low vibe to it. Then again every day can’t be a high vibe. You state that as if it is true. Every day has the possibility of being any fucking vibe it might be. I pulled the five of cups this morning, disappointment. I have historically pulled this card very often. My interpretation is that my emotions seem to be in a constant state of disappointment. I so easily forget what I know. The past two days I have been back at work and I forgot all the things I wanted to focus on. I got myself caught up in the pool of emotions that working with a bunch of people tends to be. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just something I need to actively be conscious of the states of awareness that I am in more often. The more evolved version of me would prepare for the bombardment of energy and intention. Then throughout the time spent have a trick to remind myself that when I find myself in a shit story I always have an opportunity to come back to myself. I know how it feels to be with myself and away, and even as well as I handle things I was definitely away from myself for the past two days. The fleeting moments of actual relatable interactions are what bring me back. Outside of that it feels as if I am constantly ruminating, simply too attached to judgement and expectation. Hmm. Thats a shit story. The coffee just kicked in. Today I am giving zero fuck about what the fuck I type intu this mother fucker, fuck you, fuck this, I am not feeling all inspired to say anything motivating or dive into some kind of deeper analysis of narratives, even though that is what inevitably happens. It’s hard man, it’s hard when you are in the shit story so attached to the expectation. In retrospect it is so easy to see, yet in moments as they pass it all just seems so much more serious. It feels clingy, like as if my thoughts and actions are super duper fucking important and everyones watching and judging. I’m sorry to break it to ya champ but the everyone you speak of is just you, which means no one actually care or notices because they are all too caught up in their own shit to pay any mind to your suffering. I’ve said before I want a fucking tattoo on my wrist to remind me to breath and drink water. Something to get me back into myself ongoingly. Set reminder on your phone, wear a bracelet, enroll someone else in your striving for conscious embodiment and keep each other on track, anything. That would be step one, step two is actually being in a moment where you are reminded to get back to yourself and disregarding the attachment to expectation motivations and coming back home. What would be that trigger? I want to pretend that some assortment of meaningful words, a mantra so to say, would be enough to snap me back into myself, but I really don’t know because I haven’t been there yet. Words like breath, aspire, expand come to mind. Mantras like, expand in love, aspire higher, breath intu life sound all fine and dandy but nothing is really ringing in my heart like yes. Believe intu love, I like that weirdness. The point would be to remember to breath I guess, hopefully that works right? I just tried it and it kind of worked. I paused for a few minutes feeling tired and dull and I did exactly what I am writing about and took some big conscious breaths and then here I am again. The part that was somewhat unexpected was the resistance. I’m not acknowledging that some part of me wants to keep that tired dull bullshit going. It seems that the moments away from myself are when the detrimental behavior patterns creep in and spout off about all the reasons why you should be attachments to expectations. You allow yourself a few moments of dull tired dialogue and thats become evidence enough that something is wrong, then because something is wrong you attach to an expectation that things shouldn’t be this way. If and when you let this pattern get too loud you begin to forget quickly who and what you are. Meaning you attach to the story rather than what you know is true. You become the dull tired attachment rather than simply acknowledging that things come and go. Let go. That is a good reminder because that is what it feels like. It feels like something has crawled into my chest and was like hey could I bother you to hold this for a moment? and I’m like sure thing, seems pretty reasonable to hold something for a little bit, then everything keeps on moving and I am then holding a fucking feeling as if I’m a shelf where you can just place things and walk away. I like that analogy, I’m not a fucking shelf bruh, you don’t have to hold anything, and if you feel like you are holding things then simply just remembering that you can let that shit go and empty the motherfucker is a good practice. Let it go. 925

October 14th 2020 5:22am Wednesday

Courage is overcoming your fears. I pulled the seven of wands today, courage. The card represents acknowledging your fears and having the courage to face them. It gets me thinking about what I fear the most. I have recently shifted my mindset towards defining things as worry rather than fear because most things I tend to feel anxiety about aren’t actual fears. Anxiety about looking bad, being accepted, changing behavior that goes against the script which has a possibility of leaving the current behaviors useless are all worries that easily get confused with fear. Fear is that deep dark shit that you distract yourself with the worries so you don’t even have to go there. Fear is being totally exposed to actual danger. Generally as long as you aren’t dealing with a violent psychotic person there is no danger in conversation. However I am sure that there are conversations that have a consequence of leading to physical danger. There is definitely a fine line, but I like to think generally people don’t want to get hurt or hurt others so I am going to stray away from investigating the psychotic outliers that I have no doubt exist. Most of the time the worry is caused by an attachment to some kind of “looking good, to avoid looking bad” behavior or pattern. I feel like I am flip flopping hard between theory and actual expression of what it’s like. Also I don’t really know where I am going with this so bear with me as I attempt to uncover something through the act of this writing practice. The meta thing that comes to mind is the worry I have about actually expressing real shit through these words. Probably part of the reason I tend to over analyze and theorize rather than say it how it really is for me. I worry constantly about the general idea of “looking good,” whether it be how I look, how I sound, what I say, how I express myself, all that and more, and I know it’s totally ordinary, it’s part of the human condition, nearly everyone is plagued with some version of existential worry about who and what they are. I worry that my sentences run on and are too long, and I will be judged as someone who doesn’t know how to write properly. I worry that someone will read this and think it is bullshit nonsense. Thats the thing about all of this that is so ridiculous and possibly the way you can tell the difference between worry and fear is that worries have more to do with comparison to others or an ideal than they have to do with danger. Maybe? I feel like I wanted to focus more on fear than worry but the more I write and think about it I don’t even know what the hell fear is for me. Fear is defined as an unpleasant emotion brought upon by the threat of danger or pain. Fuck this is so subjective because everyone experiences “pain” differently. The subtle nuance between worry and fear can be totally different from one person to another. See I did it again went from personal shit into theory. I seemingly have a decent tolerance for pain, which might explain why I feel like there aren’t many things I am actually fearful of. What am I fearful of? One seemingly obvious thing is loved ones passing either too early, in suffering, or without expressing how I truly feel. That’s the thing that keeps ringing in my ear is regret from not expressing how I truly feel. Fearing that moment when it’s too late and you missed out on the opportunity that has been glaring you in the face for so long but you chose to worry about other distractions or the consequences rather than taking the action that you know needed to be taken. Seems like a pretty legitimate fear, it is right on the borderline but when all the worry adds up won’t it inevitable lead to fear? This has brought up all kinds of feels, it really makes me think about what is truly important. The thing that seems to be most important is expressing what is true to me. I feel trapped in myself right now, I feel trapped in my shit stories, I feel trapped in the ways of being that have kept me safe up until this point. I feel uneasy because this has brought up the finiteness of the time I have been granted to do what I feel called to do. I’m angry about it; worried, sad, and anxious. I want to call out, sleep in, run away, avoid, neglect, and burn all the bridges and just leave everything behind. This must be what fear is.799