Thursday, December 25, 2014

What sort of relationships do you have in your life?

Being the holiday season and all, my thoughts have been on food and relationships.

Driving home from a delicious Christmas meal with family, my thoughts began to wander.

What a delicious dinner! A couple of new friends spent 24 hours preparing this feast fit for a king.

Pickling the beets with horseradish , rosemary in the potatoes, a Yorkshire pudding crisp and decadent, the seasoned prime rip cooked to perfection.

It was quite a sight to behold.

I was very blessed to be a part of it.

As I was driving back to Los Angeles I began thinking about my relationships over the years.

I began examining them.

I put myself back in in many of the relationships I have forged with others. .

I remembered how I felt in them.

Some of my relationships with others were very much like that dinner I savored tonight.
Fully present intimate affairs made with love.

Others were to be devoured like an exotic flavor or sweet delight.
Those were usually short lived.

There were also relationships that were more like fast food, full of empty calories.
Just kind of filler, if you wanna know the truth.
Nothing more than fuel to keep me going until the next meaningful and substantial union.

Some relationships were like Hometown Buffet.
I could just keep going back for more and more, resulting in a tummy ache.

Some relationships have had all of the above interwoven through their lengthy span.

It would appear that I have used food and my relationships with others in a very similar way.

If I don't feel like putting out any effort and dont mind paying the dough then I can just call a hooker or order yummy.com.

If I want to kill the time I can just companion up with someone and we can both eat sunflower seeds together ONE by ONE.

You get my point.

I guess lately I have been thinking about my relationships with others.

How willing and I to let them get to know me?
How willing am I to share an experience with them?
What sort of an experience does my soul crave right now?

Like our body craves certain nutrients, perhaps, so too, do our souls crave specific experiences?

Can I honor my souls calling?
How can I not?
It needs the loving, intimate, vulnerable nourishment of a deep and profound relationship.
In needs for me to stop pigging out on Subway trying to fill some whole.
It is trying to get me to connect to the fact that the this relationship ideal does not come through the touch or validation of another.

It comes from remembering what I am and standing in that place long enough to create something special, because I am special.



Thursday, July 10, 2014

Facilitating The Process of Reunification with Being

At this point my Unconscious Character, or ego rather, will take one final push to regain control of my creative will.

It begins projecting mental image pictures into my stream of imagination.

Then comes the sensation of fear as my instincts activate and adrenaline takes control of my mind.

Once this happens I disconnect from the consciousness of my Being.

In this state of unconscious disconnect my emotional spectrum goes from a sustained feeling of safety and comfort to anger, blame and regret.

This is the state of triggered activation that allows my unconscious character to have full control of my creative will.

My will to create is now in the hands of a literal lunatic rather than a conscious being.

It’s a war that's going on inside my mind at the moment.

But it’s just a matter of time till I have totally created a new thought structure within my mind which will compel my character to submit and adapt into a partnership with my being.

The unconscious aspects of this character will dissolve into gray matter.

This “energy glitch” will eventually dissolve as new power begins to transmit through my words and actions.

I am now facilitating this process.

The Conscious Creators Handbook


Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Conversations with Being

Self: Fight back man. Fight fucking back!

Being: I don't fight brother. You’re fighting yourself.

Self: You mean I am my only enemy?

Being: Yes as well as any relationship based on continuing this war you’re waging.

Self: But I love conquest and all the riches.

Being: That's all you’re capable of loving or rather worshiping.

Self: Are those the "false gods" the Bible speaks of?

Being: Any God is false except the one that dwells within you of which I can guide you in discovering.

Being: But I cannot force you to do anything.

Self: If I do this what becomes of me?

Being: Whatever we create together.

Being: But you must stop judging your moments and learn to love them.

Self: Can you teach me to love?

Being: You can learn how to do this and I can help.

Self: Well, what are you waiting for?

Being: For you to finally let go.

Being: How can you forget something you are?

Self: I don't understand

Being: You are already love, you have spent your whole life learning something else.

Self: If I am already love then that must mean I am worthy of love as well.

Being: I have done my job, I have helped you remember.





Wednesday, July 2, 2014

A butterfly can only appreciate its metamorphosis if it can remember it’s life as a caterpillar.

A butterfly can only appreciate its metamorphosis if it can remember it’s life as a caterpillar.

Imagine trudging through your life as a caterpillar? Moving along the earth’s terrain at a snail’s pace, daring not to even look up into the sky, the caterpillar knows no other way. Then suddenly the lowly caterpillar awakens to a day with a very strange inclination to begin its final crawl to the safe haven of a tree branch. There, the caterpillar begins to tuck itself safely within the confines of its carefully crafted chrysalis. Within its self-made cocoon our friend the caterpillar begins its very slow yet deliberate transformation.

Does it have any conscious knowledge of what it will soon become?

Does the caterpillar, as it spent its days trudging to a fro, look up into the sky and see its brothers and sisters flying gracefully through the sky, think to himself that one day he will be there too? Or does the caterpillar have no clue of his impending transformation? Does he simply think that he is to live out the remainder of his days abiding the laws of gravity?

As our friend slowly emerges from its chrysalis and spreads his new found wings for the very first time, does he have any recollection of his previous life? As he pushes off from the tree and takes his maiden voyage, does he have any idea of what has just happened? Or does he just awaken again without any recollection nor residue of remembrance of his former life?

I for one would love to have a conscious appreciation of where I had come from. I would love to spend my days gliding through the sky tasting the sweet nectar of flowering buds knowing the long and challenging path I had to endure to experience such moments. I would love to dance through the air in all my glory, in total awe and appreciation of what had just occurred.

Only through enduring the journey of a caterpillar could I truly appreciate being a butterfly. For simply awakening one day as a beautiful butterfly with no recollection of the journey I had to endure would not have the same significance. Perhaps I would take this gift for granted. Perhaps I would find myself looking down upon the other caterpillars, not realizing that I was just like them, nor realizing that they too will one day be like me. And in the end, that we are all the same.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

A Descent into Unconsciousness



I can still vividly recall doing my big art show back in high school. I was a promising young artist. Art was an outlet for my creative expression which gave me relief from an otherwise uncomfortable and insecure mindset.

As long as I was creating as an outlet, art was healthy and non-threatening. Once my work began to attract attention, it became something completely different. It brought me so much discomfort.

During senior year, my art teacher took a particular liking to me. He saw a lot of potential in me that was difficult for me to see in myself. He tried to mentor me. He began showing me special attention. This sort attention was one that I was not used to receiving.

I was one of the most disruptive kids in my class. I would do almost any-thing to gain “negative” attention. This is what I was most comfortable with. I thrived on being the “underachiever” or “trouble maker”. The attention he bestowed upon me was something entirely different.

It made me so uncomfortable. I literally believed that he was just faking the whole thing to somehow get to me and cause me harm.

Due to my early experiences with male figures, I had become conditioned to irrationally react to men in general, especially those who showed me special attention.

I was only used to criticism.

Or worse yet, emotional and even sexual abuse. I did not know how to accept love and support from a man. This being said, I began the unconscious ritual of trying to push my art teacher away. It literally felt like he was an evil demon to be avoided at all cost.

The thoughts in my mind would race.

Why was he being so nice to me?

Why does he keep praising my art?

What did he really want?

What the hell is wrong with him?

After all, there must have been something wrong with him. Why else would he be so nice to me?
This must have been confusing for him.

He was trying to convince me to apply to art schools upon graduation. I resented him for this. I believed that I was not good enough.

I was afraid of being rejected.

Throughout high school I had poor grades. I barely graduated. I had a combined score on my SAT’s of 640. Obviously, this and a “D” average was not going to be enough to gain admission to any of the universities that all my friends were getting accepted to.

I felt like a failure.

I did not trust what he was telling me and simply believed that my art was not good enough to pursue at a university level.

The school year was drawing to a close. Part of the final for art class was to participate in this art show. I can vividly recall the morning of the show. All of the students were assigned spots in the main corridor of our school. We were supposed to set up our sections and stand there with our art all day.

There were almost 5,000 kids in my high school and the prospect of having to display my art and have it be subject to public scrutiny was more than my 17-year-old mind could bear.

What if they hated it? Or worse yet, what if they loved it?

That morning I packed up my work and a bunch of beers I stashed in an old tree fort in the woods behind my house. I pounded one on the way to school and had a couple more in the car before I even went in. I drank a couple more during my lunch break.
Needless to say, I was pretty drunk by the end of the day.

It wasn't that I had to drink beer every day. It was more about the fact that I was insecure and sensitive.

This would be a theme throughout my life.

I used alcohol and drugs to change or control how I felt. Over time I relied on them to create a different experience. Living life burdened by my critical and insecure mind-set was cumbersome to say the least. These mechanisms somehow turned that part of my mind off at times, which allowed me the ability to create a different experience.

Sometimes I would use these mechanisms to help me “be a part of”, while other times I would use them to lower my awareness. Sometimes, it was about communion while other times it was so I could “act out” and not feel the repercussions of my actions. In other words, not feeling the guilt, shame or regret.

These mechanisms helped to keep me from seeing my part in things. On this particular day, I needed some relief from my own self-defeating mindset and to sabotage an opportunity, as well.

I finally got my installment up. All of the art I had been working on over the last four years was proudly on display for everyone to see. In this moment I can see that showing my art is a way of sharing myself. It is a way of loving others and allowing them in. Back then, I did not have this viewpoint.

I was too afraid to open up.

I loved creating those pieces. In those moments, as I was making them, I could connect to a part of me that was sacred. I could connect to a beautiful Being that was obscured most of the time, that part of me only knows how to love and be loved.

As you may be able to relate, there was another part of me that was afraid, confused and believed he did not measure up. It was this part of me that always kept that sacred part of me locked away.

The scared part of me was so critical of that sacred part.

The fearful part of me was very uncomfortable with putting himself on the chopping block for all to see.

As the other kids began to come and experience my art I was only focused on comments that would confirm what I wanted so badly to believe. There could have been 100 praises and only one comment that could be taken as being critical. My magnifying mind would only focus on the comments that could be perceived as critical or demeaning.

It was like this for me.

I would always focus on the person who I believed did not approve of me. I would obsess on gaining their approval. I would do this as I also resisted acknowledging those who did love and appreciate me.

By the end of the day I had convinced my-self that my art was horrible, that I had no future in it and was doomed to work a crap-py job while all my friends went off to school and lived the lives of their dreams. This is the literal storyline my burdensome mindset sustained for much of my life. By the end of the day, my idea of things and perception of my value had done a number on me. The beers just amplified my mindset and primed me for what happened next.

Towards the end of the show, my art teacher came up to me and could tell that I was in a very dark place. He asked me what was wrong. He tried to love and support me for the final time. I made sure of that this was the last time by completely freaking out on him.

I don’t remember what I said. I only know I picked a fight. I was so mean to him that he had no choice but to leave me alone. He walked away, obviously hurt by my comments. This made me feel even worse. What if I was wrong? Why was it so hard to let him help me?

Those are all questions that would take twenty years to fully answer.

Those answers are what this book is about.

After that interaction I was so emotional and distraught that I left myself no choice. I decided in that moment that there would be no art school for me.

I would not run the risk of trying and failing.

Besides, I had already decided that I was not worthy. I had accepted this belief long ago. Finally, I decided that I was not going to remain in my hometown and work some stupid job.

At the end of the school day I packed up my art and threw it in my car and drove directly to the U.S. Navy recruiting office. In that moment I decided that I would join the United States Navy.

I was quite sure that they would take anyone.

Rather than run the risk of being rejected or worse yet, seeing that I really was a talented artist, I took myself down to the recruiting office and signed up to be a cop in the Navy.

A cop in the navy?

Being a cop in the Navy was about the furthest thing I could think of from art school. Three months later I was in boot camp in San Diego, three months after that, I was shipped off to the Middle East on a helicopter carrier in support of Operation Desert Shield.

I would not create any art again for many years.

This short story is a mere glimpse into my own self-defeating mindset. Over the course of my life this sort of a mindset played out in every way one could imagine. I had opportunity after opportunity to enjoy love, intimacy and creative success throughout my life. This long and treacherous journey of self-sabotage led me to becoming a drug addict, an inmate, and homeless.

From The Conscious Creators Handbook

COPYRIGHT 2014 Retro-Collective Publishing Group