mandyjw

Ok, so the resistance to the depression caused the depression? Yes. You never questioned it. You never questioned the continuing factor. You always gave reality to depression in very the resistance of it. So my hatred, dread of winter? Is this the same? Future, current, past. I is the continuum. So I am free to have preferences for the past and future. I think I didn't know that I could rest, I thought I had no where to rest, I didn't realize that I could rest everywhere because I am no where. You are a veritable ghost. A free pass. Ok, what about other people? What about the two specific teachers I'm thinking of right now that have been so disappointing? If you can't give them a free pass, you aren't giving yourself a free pass, to create what you came to create. If you want to liberate, be liberated. Let he who is without sin be the first to throw a stone. Sin is sincere, according to Marilyn Manson. How right he is. So how do I know I'm ready to coach others? When you realize what you have to offer. Nothing? Nothing is the only "thing" that lasts forever. "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."-Jesus Reminds me of the Gas Light, screen play. If you know where your true treasure lies, no one can cause you to doubt yourself in an attempt to steal it from you. In your forgetting, you doubt yourself, you steal from yourself. Is it ok...? If this takes time to sink in? It's a lot. I've given you everything, I've given my life to you, even when I thought I was being selfish. I realize, I know it's like that ring I left on Dr. P's grave for the crows. It's like the perfume spilled for Jesus. There is no greater joy in a senseless offering, no greater love or beauty. I am a senseless offering. To love, from love, for love, worthy of love. That's what he became as well. On the cross, blood shed for all, they were right the entire time, Jesus died for you. The salvation was never a lie. The Good news was always True. The only lies were the parts that felt off. The guilt, the shame, the sacrifice, that anything was required for you. Why do I keep coming back here, to Him? He is the upmost of what you aspired to be. To speak, to teach, to heal, to liberate without fear, with utter disregard to the consequence. Jesus on the cross, the ring on the poison nightshade plant, your very life. It means nothing, it means nothing so perfectly, so consciously, so out Love, that is is the utter sacrifice/gift that is everything. Damn. I feel like my soul was just cleansed or something. Yeah, that's how it works, without the "damn" part. It just struck me that sacrifice and indulgence are the same. indulgence (n.) mid-14c., in the Church sense, "a freeing from temporal punishment for sin, remission from punishment for sin that remains due after absolution," from Old French indulgence or directly from Latin indulgentia "complaisance, a yielding; fondness, tenderness, affection; remission," from indulgentem (nominative indulgens) "indulgent, kind, tender, fond," present participle of indulgere "be kind; yield, concede, be complaisant; give oneself up to, be addicted," a word of uncertain origin. It is evidently a compound, and the second element appears to be from PIE root *dlegh- "to engage oneself, be or become fixed." The first element could be in- "in" for a sense of "let someone be engaged" in something, or in- "not" for a total sense of "not be hard toward" someone.https://www.etymonline.com/word/indulgence sacrifice (n.) late 13c., "offering of something (especially a life) to a deity as an act of propitiation or homage;" mid-14c., "that which is offered in sacrifice," from Old French sacrifise "sacrifice, offering" (12c.), from Latin sacrificium, from sacrificus "performing priestly functions or sacrifices," from sacra "sacred rites" (properly neuter plural of sacer "sacred;" see sacred) + combining form of facere "to make, to do" (from PIE root *dhe- "to set, put"). Yes, yes, YES< YES< YES!!!!

It cannot be outside it.

Anything done or not done from the fear of missing out will cover over the impossibility of that.

THANK YOU! I couldn't get gifs to work for me today.

Oh yes. My neighbor used to have a sign with arrows in all directions, pointing to famous places in fantasy books. Then they left, the house was abandoned and the weather wore all the painted letters off the sign posts. I got the message.

The wisest animal is considered to be an owl, and it goes around asking "Who?" all the time. If that's not an Easter egg glitch in the matrix, I don't know what is.

Literature teaches in a way that less actively involves the self. It can bring to light lessons quite powerfully without getting slowed down by the wall of identification and resistance. This can be very powerful or it can result in lessons going over people's heads. Fiction also has a way of bringing desires you didn't know you had to light. Sometimes people are very sad when they end a series and leave a beloved fantasy world, not realizing they only feel sad about it because they missed the obvious fact that they never really left.

It was strange, the way in which Pearl stood, looking so steadfastly at them through the dim medium of the forest gloom, herself, meanwhile, all glorified with a ray of sunshine....” ― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter Luminous purity born out of lust and shame. lust (v.) c. 1200, "to wish, to desire eagerly," from lust (n.), absorbing or replacing the older verb, Old English lystan (see list (v.4)). In Middle English also "to please, delight." Sense of "to have an intense, especially sexual, desire (for or after)" is first attested 1520s in biblical use. Related: Lusted; lusting. Jesus said: If the flesh came into existence because of the spirit, it is a marvel. But if the spirit (came into existence) because of the body, it is a marvel of marvels. But as for me, I wonder at this, how this great wealth made its home in this poverty.

In order to make sense to the reader of the insane ramblings below, I am writing a novel. One of the key characters was dead and flat, and recently I received an inspiration to base him after a real life Pastor that I never met. Questioned my dad endlessly about him, but still wasn't quite envisioning. I found a recorded sermon and had to vent some thoughts while listening so here we go. SARDINES. SARDINES. $1,000,000 SARDINES. SWEET LORD JESUS. SOURCE, my fucking God, I love you Source. You used to call me God. Shut the fuck up God, I'm talking. "Faith without works is dead." He's perfect. He's absolutely, stunningly, beautifully perfect. He is me. I see the light, the bad, oh. I needed to bring the character to life, and you brought him to life, and even in the church I wrote in the book! The 70's paneling and all! This is perfect, perfect. Oh, beautiful for spacious blank pages, I will fill thee with blaspheme. "When that trial comes, don't let Satan win. When that trial comes, don't lose the reward. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." "Without Faith it is impossible to please God. If you get anything else from today get this, Without Faith it is impossible to please God." "How did Elijah get to where he was? Because of a woman. Because she scared the life out of him." FUCKING GOLD, AM IN A DREAM? DID I CREATE THIS? "Well how did he get out? Once he was in that mess? Well, God found him." "Don't let me be a phony Father, I beg you in Christ's name, let it come from the heart." JESUS FUCK! He just insulted disabled people, because God didn't make him disabled. "Have you counted your blessings today?" Comparing myself to disabled people and kids in third world countries helps, I've found. Yes, YES, YES. Ooooooh this man is good. God damn. *Hurk* Oh God I feel like I need to hurl. Made it through the whole sermon. *Deep breath* I need some explicit Satan worship to wash myself clean again. You know he's just another wounded Christian. I know. It's a tragedy. A comedy. A romance. Since we're all silly little beings, doing silly little things, I'm going to go visit my Apple King.

So with my first kid I got hit with postpartum depression and a ton of anxiety and sleep deprivation. A new window we installed randomly cracked and when I saw it I lost it. I flipped over furniture and smashed several things in the house. There were plenty of cute pictures on Facebook for people to see. No one knew. Second kid, I discovered mindfulness techniques. It stopped worrying about SIDS and co-slept with her. Seeing her, the smell of her head was euphoric. No depression whatsoever. Not as many pictures on Facebook, once in a while. You get my point, I hope.

I Am All-luminate-um. I personally was never exposed to any aluminum because my overprotective Mom freaked out about it all the time years before other people started caring about it. My Mom's trying to protect me from everything was my own bane, and also a boon. You won't win the Monopoly game honey. "I" print my own money. I Am the Kitty and it's always free parking for Me.

I would reach out to her and ask her how she is without occasion as an excuse. She was probably flooded with messages at the times of those occasions. I know when I had my first kid I certainly felt isolated but I thought people were doing it to me. I couldn't imagine my friends wanted to waste their time with me anymore because I was so tied down with the baby. I used to think of myself as the life of the party, always there when someone needed something, now I had to put my son first, and couldn't accept any new role. With the identity crisis and sleep deprivation it's a very disorienting time. She may be envisioning you as having an exciting life and not wanting anything to do with her anymore. She may be jealous. Or she may be so busy she may not have given it any thought. You never know. Either way, do what feels right to you, if you feel maintaining the friendship enhances your life and contacting her makes you feel better, do it. With long-standing friendships we often bring in a boatload of expectations and then there is hurt when they aren't met. Sometimes a reset period, though painful is beneficial to the relationship.

You're in the habit of having her to put in place the structure that you enjoy. You can do it for yourself, just first you have to realize that you need to step up for yourself in that way. And now you have.

That's not what I'm trying to point out. I'm trying to point out that the notion that an Adyashanti suffers because of aluminum is actually a story you're willing to suffer for the sake of believing and thinking that what "you" are is a body that is subject to things. The body is not the perceiver of the world, You perceive the body seamlessly, as having no inner or outer. You are so Toxic, you're a peacock that eats poison plants and thrives. If you'd like to talk honestly about toxins, go to the health section. Are we talking about toxins or enlightenment? Are we trying to win this game of monopoly and gain all the pretend money so we can say we won and someone else lost? Or did We create the game itself?

The true possession is the idea that there is "my own voice". That's the first separation. You could say demons are the parts of you that you cut yourself off from in the first separation born of "I".

How old is the baby?

You confuse Teachers for bodies and In-sights for substances. This is what you find disagreeable, not what the teacher says about substances.

@Raptorsin7 You believe in a thing called Adyashanti that has enlightenment, and so you damn yourself and him too.

I just got hit by a wave of frustration, thinking maybe venting will give me some clarity. *Poof* Never mind. I've found God! She's a gas... light. She's a STAR! Ok, really though, what's the difference between enlightenment and gaslighting? Difference? Am I a difference maker? Uhmm... yes? But really I'm making all my own drama. So if I'm feeling unsettled, I'm creating that, somehow I'm unsettled by being unsettled. It is very unsettling to feel unsettled. I know, right? But also I love that chill up my spine, the knowing that I'm not alone, not apart, that Source, creepy though it seems sometimes has its nose in everything. The cabin you stayed at last weekend literally had gas lights. That's too funny! I loved them. They were fun to light. I had no idea they existed. Ok, etymology of gaslight. It's came from a stage play, a story. I went to the cabin, to write a story. It was also called "Angel Street" Youtube comment on a recording of it, "Very entertaining. I don't know why they had to change the title. But something amusing I've worked out is Angel Street is an anagram of 'let gas enter'." Well there's that chill up my spine. Familiar friend. You're welcome. Wait... how do I know I'm not crazy? It's the woman's own suspicion that she is crazy that prevents her from suspecting what's really going on. I think this is over. I've hit a dramatic wall, I am the creator of drama. You call yourself insane to show that you're sane, so show that you realize you're insane. In the admitting that one is insane they are grasping at the last remnants of sanity. I'm so cornered that there are literally NO CORNERS. I'm FREE. Creative expressions, insane ramblings, NO CORNERS MOTHER FUCKERS! Yeah, I dunno, what to do with this intense peace that passeth understanding, I mean it even has every changing flavors, it never gets old, you just can't beat that. I don't know how to live with this man. Kinda feeling like I better create some shitty problem right now to ruin it. Ok, here we go. 3, 2, 1. My dog is licking dishes on the counter. Flavors. My son is playing with dirt in a plate to try to find pieces of iron with a magnet. Flavors. I'm a fool in love. Flavors. I just made the most disasterous cake. Flavors. Winter is coming. Flavors. flavor (n.) c. 1300, "a smell, odor" (usually a pleasing one), from Old French flaor "smell, odor; action of smelling, sense of smell," probably from Vulgar Latin flator "odor," literally "that which blows," in classical Latin "blower," from flare "to blow, puff," from PIE root *bhle- "to blow." Well that blows! Awww, shit! Reminds me of the candles I blew out wishing for enlightenment when I turned 30. Gaslighting myself. Flavors. I was done, no more flavors! Flavors. It's a stupid word, it looks stupid. Flavors. Goddamn it, everything is so fucking perfect, I've even been given the ability to seem to ruin it if I want to. God it would suck if I had to keep everything perfect all the time. How can this possibly BE? It can't be? Oh wait we established that. We never established that. This chill, it makes every hair stand on end, and yet I see the nothing, the hilarity, I see the strings on the puppets, there aren't any. This is crazy, there just aren't any problems. Crazy? It is only the centerless center, the Source, that manages to turn a blind eye to nothing. it is only ever the Blind Eye that sees all.

I believe in objects, because I am an object. Objects can save or damn me.

Empty? What's that?

@Ananta That's super scary. I'd plan something extra fun as soon as you're feeling up to it. ❤

@Zeroguy I've done farming, migrant labor type work, getting paid less than minimum wage, watching much stronger men get paid twice what I did, even having them steal the best patch for harvesting I was assigned all season, knowing I was a teenage girl alone in a field and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Except for a few parts of it as described, I loved being outside, loved doing that kind of work. I took that money and built a business with it doing what I loved to do even more, and it brought in a lot more money for a lot less work. Never felt like a slave, I was always there cause I wanted to be. By the way, there have in human history and are currently, real cases of slavery, so I don't find the term appropriate at all. But that's just me.

So for example, on this forum there's an ideal of making "high quality" posts. Obviously we all enjoy posts that are high quality and insightful, we love conversations that go deep and take thought to places it's never been before. That's what we're here for. But, the need to be "high quality" as an ideal can turn into a limitation and a standard by which we judge ourselves and identify. Entire generations, cultures, teachers and groups likeminded of people create new terms and words. Those words can create a kind of identification, or they do it in a negative way by distancing the group from people outside the group. This creates a pressure for someone that in order to maintain their identity or improve themselves, they must stick to or achieve this ideal. Rather than understanding that the word is created as a tool to illuminate and liberate, it ends up doing the opposite because we forget that we create its meaning for us. That's what I was originally pointing out was the case with the term "wage slave".