mandyjw

Heard this in the grocery store, such an over played song on the radio from long ago, and it hit me just then like a ton of bricks. And even though the moment passed me by I still can't turn away 'Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose Got tossed along the way And letters that you never meant to send Get lost or thrown away And now we're grown up orphans That never knew their names We don't belong to no one That's a shame If you could hide beside me Maybe for a while And I won't tell no one your name And I won't tell 'em your name And scars are souvenirs you never lose The past is never far Did you lose yourself somewhere out there Did you get to be a star And don't it make you sad to know that life Is more than who we are We grew up way too fast And now there's nothing to believe And reruns all become our history A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio And I won't tell no one your name And I won't tell 'em your name I won't tell 'em your name Mmm, mmm, mmm I won't tell 'em your name, ow I think about you all the time But I don't need the same It's lonely where you are, come back down And I won't tell 'em your name

Oh God, I'm in a wildly passionate and deeply abusive relationship with myself in my own head. This explains... a lot.

If I get rid of the voice in the head WHO will sing me lullabies? Ohhhhh Rick. I yearn for you. You do actually hurt me though, you liar.

You actually care about the one thing that doesn't need you to care about it, it just is, and it is also you.

Isn't everyone attracted to what they want to integrate or free themselves of? If you were raised to believe that sex is wrong, you want to free yourself of that paradigm. Being told you shouldn't do something by people who are trying to control you only makes it more appealing. As Alan Watts says the true purpose of puritanism is to make sex more interesting. Sexual attraction is one of the most powerful ways in which people are taken over by the subconscious mind. The subconscious is One, so it only wants one thing, integration. Once you understand this, tap into the subconscious and become aware of your own desires as limited manifestations of one Desire, you see that everything is symbolic. So I wonder, why would a man use logic and thinking to manipulate his behavior, in order to bypass the woman's own logic and purposefully manipulate a woman's subconscious? Of course from a higher perspective the logical mind and subconscious are one, and both parties are mutually aware and attracting their own experiences. But still, couldn't this from a certain limited perspective be seen as a form of psychic or spiritual rape? The other effect of that is that you've cock(psyche) blocked yourself from the true satisfaction you actually desired of union with your own subconscious.

The ability to laugh at yourself is transcendence. It's seeing through the ridiculous gimmicks of survival with the eyes of Self Love. You can see through the gimmicks but if you feel bad about it you're still owning them. @Mafortu love your avatar.

@SilentTears Thank you! I have a flair for drama so I suppose that what I'm doing here is trying to write myself out of the story I unconsciously wrote myself into. Even when I'm tearing myself apart in writing I feel in that moment like I've transcended it, or if I haven't yet I know that I'm taking the right steps to do so. The entertainment and joy of the drama comes bubbling up and I can laugh at the joke that I am. In that moment I'm both appreciated and "seen through". I feel like the further I go, the more "realizations" and applications to life seem to get simpler and I feel more and more stupid for having not seen them sooner. Or else, the voice "You goddamn idiot, you should have KNOWN that" is getting louder and louder as I get closer and closer to its source. I don't know who I'll be if I get rid of the voices. The voices are the ones that define me, that tell me who I am and how I'm doing. Who am I without them? How will I have a relationship with myself? Who will remind me to stop picking my nose when I'm around other people? Is this the true fear of being lonely? Is this the true alone that feels so delicious and yet at the same time, horrific?

Part of me is wise. Part of me knows it's not. It watches. Part of me is a fucking idiot. The other part watches the idiot do stupid things, and then it... (oh wait that's the idiot again, playing the part of the wise part) tells the other part not to do that anymore and shames it. You mean I have to make one part love the other part until they are one? I don't think I'm ready for that, I need supervision. You mean they were ONE ALL ALONG?

What's a story? Is a story, "I'm annoyed and stressed out and the fucking kitchen is a mess?" Is a story fantastical happenings and happily ever after? Is a story going to ice skate on the pond you always skated on as a child remembered how lonely you always were, how you always taught yourself everything because there was no one else around and nothing else to do? Is a story skating effortlessly appreciating the feeling of non resistance and freedom as you watch the sky darken and the moon brighten above? I just want a knight in shining armor to rescue me from this storyland. How ironic. I also want a knight in shining armor to smack across the face for daring to do what only I can do. What I don't want is this... alone. Why can't you love yourself, you fucking bitch? What's wrong with you? I was sitting at the table trying not to be an asshole in my own head, and a pencil I'd never noticed in front of me said "Never Fear". The other side said "Firefighters", but I got the message for me.

It's mostly a matter of self judgement, having been raised in a culture that has very masculine (or rather goal driven) values, we may unconsciously judge ourselves or dismiss the importance of things we consider feminine. It's important to get in tune with your desires, notice what makes you happy and notice any judgmental thoughts you have around these things not being important or being silly. Anything self care related is a good place to start. For example it might seem silly to carefully decorate your room, or to pick a flower bring it in and put it in a vase. You may have trained yourself to deny the being and appreciation in simple things by asking yourself "what's the point" or feeling it's silly or a waste of time. Doing things simply for pleasure and not for any goal whatsoever is important. The funny thing is that these things aren't inherently feminine on closer inspection. It's about loving more fully loving and accepting who you are, who you chose to be. Buddha did a meditation on a single flower. Simple things are really not simple at all, there is great love in small things, it's only the mind that assumes otherwise. It is only us who feels the weight of importance or feels the shame of insignificance. It's also really important to notice how you are preventing yourself from feeling or being vulnerable. Because we often feel vulnerable as women we prevent ourselves from feeling that way, and prevent ourselves from discovering the true strength and power that is actually there beneath that. In the end, it's all really just about self love.

Efficiency is only a concern if it's assumed there's a point A and a point B. Everything is symbolic, and everything has a deep meaning or purpose, including the Amazon guy showing up, or none of it has any meaning.

My brain doesn't work the way it used to, it makes connections between things, sees funny patterns between words, colors, symbols, sees things that are too deliciously connected to be "real". At night, while I'm sleeping I can become aware of connections it's making seemingly on its own. Sometimes the connections fade away when I'm awake and think about them, other times they are made stronger. Lately at night it's been focusing on one specific spot which is the cemetery I spent so many hours in working with my parents. I became aware of how this place in particular is too interesting to be real, when it's seen in a certain light. I made that same discovery about my immediate neighborhood, and the more I perceived and explored and enjoyed the connections and meanings, the more there were. This cemetery is tiered on a hill overlooking a lake. It ends in woods and if you go through the woods you'll come to a steep drop off and a gravel pit. All the gravel has been excavated from this spot. If you go back and dig in old writings, you will discover mentions that this now gravel pit used to be an incredible natural bowl shaped structure that was a meeting place to the Native Americans. It was like a natural amphitheater of some sort and several tribes would gather there. No one is indignant about this because no one knows. My mother dug this history up and wrote a children's book about it. I'm not sure why she hasn't finished or published it. I'm going to question her about it more. The lake we swim at is directly across from this and I can see exactly where the landscape becomes unnatural and I focus on this spot a lot when I'm there. It struck me that the cemetery is now almost a sort of burial pyramid shape and how the ground is gravel, perfect for preservation. It also struck me that while a culturally significant part of the landscape was completely destroyed for money, the purpose it originally had of connection and communication, was the same exact purpose that the removal of the gravel filled, in building roads for connection and communication. Whaaaat. “The day of resurrection is determined in this manner. The first Sunday after the full moon in Aries is celebrated as Easter. Aries begins on the 21st day of March and ends approximately on the 19th day of April. The sun’s entry into Aries marks the beginning of Spring The moon in its monthly transit around the earth will form sometime between March 21st and April 25th an opposition to the sun, which opposition is called a full moon, The first Sunday after this phenomenon of the heavens occurs Is celebrated as Easter; the Friday preceding this day is observed as Good Friday. This movable date should tell the observant one to look for some interpretation other than the one commonly accepted. These days do not mark the anniversaries of the death and resurrection of an individual who lived on earth.” ― Neville Goddard

This Self Love stuff, Ooooooo.... “I AM wealthy, poor, healthy, sick, free, confined were first of all impressions or conditions felt before they became visible expressions. Your world is your consciousness objectified. Waste no time trying to change the outside; change the within or the impression; and the without or expression will take care of itself. When the truth of this statement dawns upon you, you will know that you have found the lost word or the key to every door. I AM (your consciousness) is the magical lost word which was made flesh in the likeness of that which you are conscious of being.” ― Neville Goddard “To reach a higher level of being, you must assume a higher concept of yourself.” ― Neville

WHO is giving and WHO is taking? Being on this forum sometimes feels like being in a room full of rocket scientists who can't tie their own shoes.

And whose demons would those be, really?

I was just trying to point out how we convince ourselves that the reason we don't feel love is because it's someone's fault or because we are missing something. The power is always within us. Our state is the state the world reflects back to us. Women really have an incredible opportunity to wake up to this because we've been told we've believed for so long that we are the vulnerable ones. So much so we look to the leader of an organization, someone with power or fame to validate the love we won't offer ourselves. You aren't Snow White. There's no Prince. You made up the whole story as an expression of love. The love was always there, all along.

If Leo comes out against putting on an act to seduce women, he'll be the champion for all women. Like our collective prince in shining armor. *yawn* See what you did there? You put the power right back in the man's hands. Come on now, that's not how you want this to end. That story was already written thousands of times.

If you imagine he's charming, he's charming. Maybe learning pick up skills is the same usefulness as witchcraft, as long as it gives you the confidence and positive expectation, you get the results. There's no such thing as charming another. Just Self Love.

I just did a bunch of shadow work and this symbol of horses kept coming up and the memory of my husband/ first boyfriend's first car, a mustang, which I denied was part of my attraction to him. You know the girls and horses thing? I always denied that. I also denied that I wanted anything more from the relationship than him. I realized that the horse symbol was an archetype of some sort, a desire for strength, to integrate the masculine and mostly freedom. I realized that it wasn't anything to deny OR feel guilty about. What was really funny is a few days after this I watched Leo's video he posted and at 15:11 he says, "There's something I don't want to show to you, (reveals horse head sculpture) but um the beauty of perfect awakening is that nothing needs to be hidden. Your whole life you've been hiding and keeping secrets and secret shames and things you've been embarrassed about that you didn't want to reveal to anybody. Why didn't you want to reveal these things? Because it threatens your survival." We are all acting quite selfishly, when we are not willing to see ourselves through Self Love. This requires us to go beyond all the selfish things we're denying about ourselves, and love ourselves through and regardless of choices made unconsciously for survival reasons. There's no transcendence for anyone unless you're willing to look at how you attract and create what you do in your own experience. No one is changing for you.

I had a best friend who frequently got completely lost in her own excitement and impulses and she was the complete opposite of my mother. My mother hated her even, I felt. Although, when they saw each other, my mom treated her like gold, like every one else. As I started developing a close relationship with my mom as an older teenager and young adult, I asked her why she would never let herself get excited about anything. She thought about this for a while. She told me that when she was a little kid, she went to a birthday party and they gave out party favors and she was given a little duck toy. She was SO excited that she ran around with it wildly yelling "Ducky, ducky!" and she ran straight into a metal pole and hit her head really hard. After that she learned her lesson. Excitement = dangerous stupidity. When I was very young I had a blankey, it was my comfort object. I carried it around until it was worn ragged. It was a blanket with ducks all over it.

My mother was wise enough to tell me exactly what was going on when I grew up. With the favoritism, with my Dad's workaholism, with the way he played out in our own family the patterns in which he himself was raised. She knew of the problems in our family, but believed she was powerless to change them. She did not believe she had the right to stand up to her husband or even, simply, express what she wanted. Women must be always in submission to a man's power. But always still in their hearts, knowing that men are ignorant fools, and accepting that they are at the mercy of it. It wasn't enough that she told me. A part of me "saw" and "knew" but it was still susceptible, just the same. I didn't even respect her or appreciate her until my relationship with my dad went so sour, until I had a boyfriend, and then I was forced to change the stories I was telling myself about them.

Ever single spring since before I became a teenager, my entire life was spent helping my parents caretake the cemeteries. Sophomore year in high school I started to really want some expansion in my life and nothing I did seemed to work out. The spring of that year, one day after school we were supposed to get a few hours in of raking leaves before it got dark and I was tired and unhappy and couldn't seem to make the rake move. I didn't want to be there. Later that night, I was in the bathroom and I heard my dad talking to my mom. "How did WE raise such a lazy kid?" he asked her. "I don't know." she said. This CRUSHED me. Ever since that night, I worked as hard as a possibly could. Work was such a huge ideal in my family. Work, honesty, kindness. The own health and happiness of our family always came second to whatever anyone else needed. My Dad was constantly trying to please people with how hard he worked. His company got sold out and he had logged so much illegal overtime, that he literally lost thousands of dollars overnight. All to please his boss and prove to himself how hard he worked. Eventually he got sick mysteriously, around the time I had already started working obsessively on my business. He went out on disability and started looking into spiritual materials. His ego must dissolve along with his identification with work. It was too late for me at the time. I had internalized the message of work = good.

Ever since I was really young every summer I did some local harvesting work which is now done almost all my machine or migrant workers from mexico. I absolutely loved it, even though it was back breaking and made me sore, I loved being outside all day and I loved the fact that luck and motivation were the factors that determined what you got paid. There was one big problem with this. I am small in stature for a woman and the strong, especially boys or men always got paid much more for less effort. This was just an accepted fact. There was another problem with this, my mother taught me how to work and she taught me that if you weren't thorough enough you were actually stealing from the farmer. Internalize this as a obsessive compulsive truth teller and you're at another disadvantage. My parents strongly gave the message that others must always come first. Especially if they are strangers and you owe them nothing. When I got older I started my business and I needed to get serious about money to start it so I worked for an old man who had extensive fields. I remember listening to country music at the time, at a time when all my friends were going off to college, I was staying right here, so I might as well assimilate to the culture. Depending on the part of the field you could make a lot of money with little work, or a little money with a lot of work. I got the most amazing strip I've ever seen. It only got better as I went. Eventually I topped a little hill and there was a man at the end of my strip who had already harvested the entire thing. "Opps! I had the wrong strip." was all he said. I was PISSED. But I knew I had absolutely no power whatsoever. I said nothing. Inexplicably, because he wouldn't have a way of knowing what had happened, so I thought, the field owner, who I rarely saw, carried my buckets and directed me to another amazing strip. His name was Justin. That was the last time I every did that kind of work because my business took off and I got paid a lot more for using the talents I did actually possess. A part of me misses it though.

I had a dream last night that was annoying, I was dealing with the aftermath of something horrible that had happened to me, with no emotion whatsoever, and it took a little bit and putting together another annoying thing that happened last night to understand what it meant. It dragged up this memory. I've always been afraid of men and afraid of doctors. Therefore, I have always avoided male doctors. When I was pregnant with my first kid, I went to a doctor far from here because I didn't trust the local one after hearing stories about her. When I went into labor I found that there was this random male doctor covering for my doctor's office. On the drive there, my labor sort of stopped a bit. My husband kept hitting every fucking rumble strip he could it seemed. We had to stop at a gas station. He went in to get food and left the car at the gas pump. As we came out of the store a man complained to me about how people were waiting to get to gas pumps. Instead of saying "I'm in labor", I just nodded my head and didn't say anything, as if to say without saying, "yeah, my husband is an idiot, what can you do?" When we got to the hospital, the valet, a young guy started asking me all kinds of questions about my car because he was interested in the model. Instead of saying "I'm in labor" I answered them all. By the time we got in there, I pretty much had stopped my labor because of stress and the male doctor, who obviously didn't want to spend his Saturday morning this way said I would probably be going back home. I hated him. I was in so much pain, and had driven so far that I wasn't happy to be told that what I knew was labor was not. I felt like I was wasting their time. Unimportant. Finally they left me to myself and I moved all around the room and got labor started again. The pain started to make me throw up, and it was later decided that I was in fact in labor. The doctor suggested everything he could to speed it up and I refused everything. When my son was actually born, I ended up having an intervention without my permission, that was not a good idea, and caused a lot of pain and complications after the fact. After this I sort of internalized it, thinking doctors are in charge, it's not my choice but I fantasized quite a lot about kicking him in the balls. When my daughter was born I was much more conscious at the time, everything went well, I got the doctor I wanted, didn't have to have any interventions that weren't my choice, and perfectly except for the fact that I was sick with a virus and needed some drugs to stop throwing up. The main nurse in charge of me was named Karma. I told her I loved her name and she told me her dad was a tough conservative Marine, and had thought it was a pretty name and had no idea what it meant. In my fear of being a victim, in my nonacceptance of being a mistreated or overlooked, (kind of like Eckhart Tolle's cold soup analogy, I just eat the fucking cold soup and don't say anything but internalize my nonacceptance) I made myself a victim. It tell myself this is good, I am good because I am a martyr, not a victim out of my need to be good.

A horse is a horse of course of course.