modmyth

Coming Out: Confessionals

787 posts in this topic

@Sombra  I'm really curious about what you were like when you were younger! But in general, I tend to be really curious about people's backstories.

A good example of the fallibility of memory is if you journal or record certain experiences, particularly right after having them, and then revisit that record sometime later (especially significant amounts of time later. The difference in how you remember the actual event can be very significant, and not just the change in interpretation over time. Also, when something is important to you, there's this tendency to keep revisiting it and compounding it in memory. I think some people have a tendency to do this more than others, to get more obsessive about the past. 

I'm one of those people who prefers not to revisit or live in the past at all, whenever possible.  (Although I've spent large segments of my lifetime working against my own grain and at times introspecting more than I really care to.. It's good to know when to stop thinking and when to just be and do.) I think it distracts me from being fully in the present. I've had people tell me, yea, that's unhealthy (definitely an avoidance mechanism, which it can definitely turn into), but the opposite perspective is that this is a sort of "enlightened ideal". It really depends on what your intrinsic motivations are, especially the ones that might be subconscious or hidden (again with this importance of being honest and open with yourself, even if not to anyone else, but with the former... the latter tends to follow naturally IMO).

One of the benefits is that you stop doing what you described above, that tendency to rationalize, compartmentalize, and reframe perpetually... often in a way that really isn't to our own benefit or health. I have had this thought since I was... in my late teens(?)... that this is a huge part of how people age themselves emotionally and mentally, especially from watching people in my family closely, both my parents and some of my other relatives. The tendency to obsess about the same shit or to hold grudges, and watching how that transforms people over years, to the point there is the tendency to become old and sound like a broken record.

I told my dad when I was that age, I'm never going to become like that when I'm older. He said, pretty much everyone becomes like that, old and worn down, tired and jaded. I said, not me. I'll wipe everything out first. I guess I'll see how that goes, heh.

Anyway, to answer your Rumi quote with another Rumi quote, on what you do after you're broken open (and my own intensely manic tendencies):

"Dance, when you're broken open.
Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you're perfectly free."

 

 

Edited by modmyth
Thematically related song in spirit. Just realized I'm more like my father's son, than my actual brother is, in a strange way...

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34 minutes ago, modmyth said:

good example of the fallibility of memory is if you journal or record certain experiences, particularly right after having them, and then revisit that record sometime later (especially significant amounts of time later. The difference in how you remember the actual event can be very significant

Right, so true. I notice how this plays out in my own life/memory. I also notice that if I say "I remember this" I will often get clearity on the situation, however if I say something like "I don't remember this too well" all of a sudden it will become fuzzy and I have a harder times pulling on information. 

Growing up I had such great memory that people hated unlocking their phones or typing in passwords in front of me lol. I would remember it and like a month or week later I would ask if that was their password to see their reactions. Or I would just log into their things, yet I only did that with my sis. Just to tease and man would I get reactions.  Hahah. Silly me.

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1 AM REFLECTIONS// EVERYDAYS// This is kind of frivolous:

*So I live near a park where there are a lot of tall trees, two ponds, a lot of ducks and Canada geese. There are also a lot of squirrels, if not largely because visitors feed them constantly. Most of them get a bit thiccer than you normally see outside of that 1km squared, and are very friendly in the way that animals tend to be when a stranger is feeding them: their eyes light up and they look at you like you're a giant human-shaped food dispenser.

I started feeding them, and also went out of my way to name them:

Chonky
Chonkster
Mr. Chonks
Senor Chonkles
Noam Chonksky
...

This is mildly reminiscent of the time I ran around UVIC like a deranged Snow White playing with all of the rabbits (because inside I'm 10 apparently) when I wasn't doing that academic conference/ networking thing. I was that one weird superserious undergrad that was presenting because my paper got accepted with the grad student work. Actually, I wrote a paper specifically for that conference. I really wanted to write about the minority groups in China from an anecdotal perspective, I guess. Cultural underrepresentation. Also, I got to put on my historian's hat. I have no formal training in history making, I just love history/ historiography and have a lifelong preoccupation with reading it and asking too many questions about why things happened in the way it did.

“What it's like being attractive”/ attention/ “this is a bit weird”:

*I always feel more revitalized after the winter has passed, and it starts being sunny. It's not been rainy spring here, it gets up to about 15C during the day, so it's been time to expose skin for vitamin D... It's the odd and sudden reminder of my own physicality. Like entering the Twilight Zone. I didn't grow up with a focus on my physical appearance, puberty finished pretty late for me (late teens?) so I still find a certain kind of attention strange and surreal. Was taught to deemphasize it strongly as well, growing up. As in, hi, I am a walking-brain-in-a-vat-shaped-like-a-human? Anyway, after spending the winter mainly living in jeans, leg warmers, and sweatshirts, and denim jackets, IDGAS I'm wearing a minidress. Not a micromini dress; a normal length one. I have been waiting for this for months to not freeze my ass off.

I don't know. I'm not self conscious anymore about being watched for the most part, particularly in the sense of absorbing and responding to people's judgments and energy as an empath. (In general, this is the cure for a whole host of empath/ psychic sensitive issues related to people: DGAF, but it doesn't solve environmental sensitivity.) Anyway... yep. This is a body. I have one. I have one. You all have one. I lift weights, watch what I eat and supplement, and take care of my skin, I'm not ugly. I'm old enough where it's not an accident that I can maintain these blessed proportions, haha. My mind is on other stuff lately, TBH.

A random girl told me that my hair was really pretty. A dude catcalled me out of his truck, but it was just like a HEY. Like he was legitimately trying to start a conversation with me as he was passing by? And when I gave him a look, it was more like confused than offended, I think...

giphy.gif

...he gave me a SORRY look, and then drove away. A whole lineup of people waiting to pick up their booze (corona virus social distancing edition) just staring at me watching me walk down the street.

sorryfordisturb.jpg

Later, I wondered if that girl was flirting with me or just scoping me out. This is one area where I feel like socially I'm completely clueless. I have just never figured it out. I honestly can't tell the difference between a woman being nice to me and flirting with me unless it's super blunt ("you're hot!"), or I have happened to be with a guy who was absolutely insisting, yea, modmyth, that girl was most definitely flirting with you. So now you put the idea in my head since I don't know either way. xD

In general, you know you are attractive when random women start staring at you and scrutinizing you, and it's not mainly or just because of what you are wearing (as in, wearing really revealing clothing, or getting attention mainly for the ways in which your clothing choices do not blend in). Or when people in general just stare at you noticeably longer than they would otherwise to a stranger. I mean men, women, people who wouldn't necessarily be attracted to you physically, the elderly, children... scoping you out. In the way that someone would stare at something shiny. To the point that it would be considered socially inappropriate to otherwise continue staring.

In general though, the rule is... people decide these things for you, until you decide you're too old or too stubborn to play along anymore.

 

Edited by modmyth

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“Society itself is a collective hallucination”// an economy of believers

“Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation, by children being taught mathematical concepts... A graphic representation of data abstracted from banks of every computer in the human system. Unthinkable complexity. Lines of light ranged in the nonspace of the mind, clusters and constellations of data. Like city lights, receding...”

[From William Gibson, the man who foretold the internet (1984, Neuromancer).]

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12 hours ago, modmyth said:

This is mildly reminiscent of the time I ran around UVIC like a deranged Snow White playing with all of the rabbits (because inside I'm 10 apparently) when I wasn't doing that academic conference/ networking thing. I was that one weird superserious undergrad that was presenting because my paper got accepted with the grad student work. Actually, I wrote a paper specifically for that conference. I really wanted to write about the minority groups in China from an anecdotal perspective, I guess. Cultural underrepresentation. Also, I got to put on my historian's hat. I have no formal training in history making, I just love history/ historiography and have a lifelong preoccupation with reading it and asking too many questions about why things happened in the way it did.

“What it's like being attractive”/ attention/ “this is a bit weird”:

*I always feel more revitalized after the winter has passed, and it starts being sunny. It's not been rainy spring here, it gets up to about 15C during the day, so it's been time to expose skin for vitamin D... It's the odd and sudden reminder of my own physicality. Like entering the Twilight Zone. I didn't grow up with a focus on my physical appearance, puberty finished pretty late for me (late teens?) so I still find a certain kind of attention strange and surreal. Was taught to deemphasize it strongly as well, growing up. As in, hi, I am a walking-brain-in-a-vat-shaped-like-a-human? Anyway, after spending the winter mainly living in jeans, leg warmers, and sweatshirts, and denim jackets, IDGAS I'm wearing a minidress. Not a micromini dress; a normal length one. I have been waiting for this for months to not freeze my ass off.

I don't know. I'm not self conscious anymore about being watched for the most part, particularly in the sense of absorbing and responding to people's judgments and energy as an empath. (In general, this is the cure for a whole host of empath/ psychic sensitive issues related to people: DGAF, but it doesn't solve environmental sensitivity.) Anyway... yep. This is a body. I have one. I have one. You all have one. I lift weights, watch what I eat and supplement, and take care of my skin, I'm not ugly. I'm old enough where it's not an accident that I can maintain these blessed proportions, haha. My mind is on other stuff lately, TBH.

A random girl told me that my hair was really pretty. A dude catcalled me out of his truck, but it was just like a HEY. Like he was legitimately trying to start a conversation with me as he was passing by? And when I gave him a look, it was more like confused than offended, I think...

giphy.gif

...he gave me a SORRY look, and then drove away. A whole lineup of people waiting to pick up their booze (corona virus social distancing edition) just staring at me watching me walk down the street.

sorryfordisturb.jpg

Later, I wondered if that girl was flirting with me or just scoping me out. This is one area where I feel like socially I'm completely clueless. I have just never figured it out. I honestly can't tell the difference between a woman being nice to me and flirting with me unless it's super blunt ("you're hot!"), or I have happened to be with a guy who was absolutely insisting, yea, modmyth, that girl was most definitely flirting with you. So now you put the idea in my head since I don't know either way. xD

In general, you know you are attractive when random women start staring at you and scrutinizing you, and it's not mainly or just because of what you are wearing (as in, wearing really revealing clothing, or getting attention mainly for the ways in which your clothing choices do not blend in). Or when people in general just stare at you noticeably longer than they would otherwise to a stranger. I mean men, women, people who wouldn't necessarily be attracted to you physically, the elderly, children... scoping you out. In the way that someone would stare at something shiny. To the point that it would be considered socially inappropriate to otherwise continue staring.

This was all so interesting to read, I love hearing people's perspectives on matters which I have also experienced. I've been with girls who complain about how they are constantly stared at. Honestly, I've always thought myself to be fairly attractive and I never got stares, however I've gotten older men to randomly tell me I'm attractive, which felt odd at best. And girls will be touchy.... while writing this I realized I do get stares just not like how you describe. How can I forget information like that! Anyways, I find it funny how you can't distinguish between compliments and flirting when you are with girls, lmao. 

Oh man, environmental energy can be a bitch. I've noticed that training ones intuition helps a lot with this. It can kinda feel if you should go places or not. I know sometimes it's just socially more pushy to go places, especially when your with family. Good luck! 

Edited by SilentTears

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@SilentTears I feel like I've never had any issue with the menfolk, of course that's a matter of perception too. It's not just, oh, men are not that discrete about broadcasting their interest, whether they apparently want to be or not (they are not, generally).  Maybe it's just that I'm more attuned to it so it's on my radar.

I've had female friends who had crushed for me on years, apparently. Unless someone we mutually knew was to tell me that they felt that way, I honestly would have no idea at all. :D

I have heard from guys that women have no self-restraint/ filters when it comes to being groppy with guys, even when it's not appreciated either. Sigh. "Creep" should apply equally to both genders, even if we tend to be far less threatening physically. Just respect people, ok?

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UGLY-ASS TRENDS OF THE 00s: Right, so I grew up in the late 90s and early 00s. There were MANY regrettable clothing choices at this time period, a great number of them probably forgotten at this point for those who did not live through this sartorially questionable era.

Probably the mother of all questionable trends: the purposely "accidentally" exposed thong (complete with low rise jeans that just barely cover your crotch).

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Ultralow rise jeans in general. Make sure the fact that you wax is totally obvious.

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Purposely visible bra straps underneath spagetti strap tank tops, often in a different colour. (I used to get in a lot of trouble with my mom about this one, she thought it looked trampy/ tacky.)

shopping-2016-03-spaghetti-straps-zooey-

In general, just putting too much sparkly shit on denim.

Everything about this outfit, including her hair, the decorative belt. It's not terrible (compared to everything else); I just don't like it. Refusing to put your belts in your jeans, just generally.

shopping-2016-03-useless-belts-michelle-

Also, everything about this:

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UGG boots with miniskirts (and the girls who would get fun of for wearing this combo in the winter. At least your feet are extremely warm?) Also, that ruffle miniskirt is very early 00s.

d223713c9a7a2b8f77788473c7016122--ugg-sh

Juicy Couture velour tracksuits.

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Bandana tank tops. Also that frayed hem as a waistband is very early 00s as well.

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I guess it should be obvious, but exposed stomach in general. I'm indifferent to it. It's context dependent.

Also very very 00s with the tube top and boho skirt. Boho dresses, peasant tops, etc., as well.

hbz-2000s-moments-2001-gettyimages-74701

Frosted eyeshadow, frosted lipgloss, frosted everything.

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For those who were into the Hot Topic look:

hbz-2000s-moments-2003-gettyimages-53962

TRENDS I DIDN'T HATE:

The graphic tank tops + baggy pants combo. Studded belts.

4461398a4fa70862d0b3df746b7c6da0--nought

These chokers came back a couple years ago, but I didn't want to wear it because I don't want to feel 10-11.

15a4c512-4551-4fed-8838-725ab096e402-shu

Midi denim skirts:

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I have heard in retrospect that fishnets were a thing, but I had never seen that look EVER. However, this layered hosiery look is pretty nice.

hbz-2000s-moments-2002-gettyimages-10500

Edited by modmyth
What really stands out to me: we were TERRIBLE with colour coordination. For at least a whole decade.

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“COMMITMENT”: The day I officially got back together with my exboyfriend, I celebrated by buying a homeless man a bunch of whatever he wanted from 7/11.

1) that we would share in faith and life purpose, which practically speaking is at least the next 20-30 years of my life.

So he takes up my tendency to meditate, practice energy work, and we are just generally going in the same direction. He takes part in the force of my belief and my conviction. There is a focus now on mutual energy work that we do together (including the sexual component). He has natural energetic attunements and affinities, but then so has everyone that I've dated and been interested in (?)

****just generally, I am stopping a trend that I started in my late teens with him, which is to segregate those that I have a strong energy transparency and affinity with, with those that there is less of an overlap. When I was about 18-19, I also stopped being connected to psychic space on purpose. Pretty sure I made myself relatively impossible to find because I didn't want to be found. I was just so damn tired of being myself, and I did disconnect with him, on purpose.

2) With my life's work, he's my first sounding board, the person I share what I'm going to be doing with first. He helps me with a bunch of practical stuff already anyway. He wishes to support me in whatever way that he can, so I have agreed to give him a much more involved role, now that ideally, I am much more focused. He was always happy to play the supportive role.

2) My promise was to help him in whatever ways that I can, with an open heart, in ways that require emotional support, personal and psychospiritual development, anything really. There's a number of things which I have promised to help him with, and I will. His own personal projects. (It's taken me years to figure out how to push in a positive and supportive way, like when to push and when to step the hell back. As a general rule, be respectful to people's core personalities and priorities.)

3) Absolute Honesty/ Openness: We have a certain agreement when it comes to sexual openness, like technically neither of us are restricted in that way. We are continually making a choice to be completely open with each other about our sexual proclivities, and in all other ways, as much as we can possibly manage. We have this convo: he has said that he has known me for so long that while he still has this tendency to get really jealous, it doesn't mean what it used to at all because we have known each other and practice communication long enough (including when it was very difficult and I in particularly perpetually suffered from the desire to walk away).

Anyway, I tend to be the force of sexual corruption. I have been trying to drag him into questionable shit for YEARS.

"To the Victor Belong the Spoils??..." Here's to Version 2 of us being much better than Version 1, now that we're not so young and fucking dumb. :D Version 1 had its strong points, and somehow we managed to sustain interest in our relationship, and outlive many of our mutual acquaintances' relationships and a wedding (it last 3-4 years, I think). We lasted practically a decade, haha (18-28, give or take). Do you know I was considered a model monogamist at one point, because we were young and still were mutually into each other for a number of years? It's pretty fucking ridiculous. I went against my own grain heavily. And after I started to feel confined by it, I think at some point I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of having an attention span beyond novelty, plus things that I have mentioned in a previous post. Sigh.

In general, I am grateful to him, for continuing to be a pillar of strength once again (and well, I'm not fighting it now). Because everything that I need to do, I definitely can't do it alone (say I can manage, but it's horribly inefficient in terms of energy/ time at this point?). Anyway, this degree of mutual dependency is not only for "in person", but probably in psychic space still too.

***He was my actual best friend first.

Edited by modmyth
I feel like there's probably something I'm missing here but I don't recall...

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Wish to thank you. Thanks for your honesty and for inspiration to shed all of my bullshit and supressions.

Breath of fresh air amongst all spiritual puritans and wannabes. 

Love you. 

Reading your journals is better then any book I've read in my entire life so far. 

Edited by zeroISinfinity

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Some Stuff About Him// A Boy// My Teenaged Self:

*"Smarty Pants":  What I remember reading at the time we started talking: a bunch of articles on non-Aristolean formal logic, which I shared with him. (I think these were scholarly articles? I don't even remember where I found them exactly? I also don't think I ever asked him what he thought about them. Anyway, I had done a good amount of reading in philosophy around that age before I graduated high school. I read Nietzsche when I was 13 for fun, etc.) Also, I was reading Godel Escher Bach (Douglas Hofstadter// won the Pulitzer prize in 1979 for nonfiction), which had been on my radar for at least a year or two at that point.

Standard Highschool Reading (in Canada): We exchanged reads, I read 1984 and he read Brave New World. He told me that he had a copy of Gravity's Rainbow that he didn't get more than 100 pages through (definitely NOT highschool reading). Some years later, I read through it pretty quickly. That book has about a 10-90 questionable sex to non-sex ratio. I remember expecting something far less poetic and more something that read like a WWII manual on rocketry.

I remember him being very openly cynical, but very fixated on me and very attentive early on. We talked a lot and constantly. Yea... I had a lot to say and to share.

*MUSIC CHOICE: I was into Tool and he was into NIN, which I was not into on principle, as The Downward Spiral fell into a certain category of putting you into a slit-your-wrists mood that I really didn't care for at a time. I was very much already prone to depression and a certain kind of lethargy where I don't want to get out of bed and do anything at all, and I preferred straight-up rage or something more upbeat with music (with a number of exceptions though, I didn't exactly avoid melancholia either). I didn't listen to Portishead much at that time for the same reason, but I was extremely into Massive Attack. I was that friend that hoisted music onto most of my other friends, but I also had a couple of friends who listened more prolifically than me, and so they were hoisting more music onto me than I was receiving it. With my exes, I was mostly the one hoisting music onto them,

*"gifted child shit": We exchanged stories about our shitty childhoods really soon after we started talking; I was extremely open about my past at the time. His home became fractured early on, before puberty. He got slapped with the ADHD label really early (7-8?), and then was consequently IQ tested, scoring between 160-170. Before he was old enough to have any concept of this meaning anything. His mom bragged about it after to her acquaintances, and he absolutely hated it. Hated school. He took Ritalin for a while for ADHD, because the 90s/ 00s is when this drug started to be prescribed to kids for it, and according to him it stunted his growth an inch or two, but it did calm him down a bit. He also didn't learn much of anything in school in the early years. Some teachers thought he was cheating in math because he would finish it so quickly. Another English teacher said he had a writing gift, and he felt like he was perpetually disappointing her personally. For grade 12, the only thing he studied and put much effort was the provincials, which he got like a 90-95 on so that he could just barely pass English 12 (apparently calculating the necessary score to pass beforehand) because he was failing from not handing shit in. Because... he mostly wasn't there.

*Music: He told me that one of his music teachers said that he had a good voice, but that was like... associated with 'stuff that his mom did'. (along with listening to Pink Floyd, doing questionable arm workouts, etc.) His mom was a lounge singer, would sing and play piano where she worked, and at weddings. Apparently she was quite good. I never heard her. He regrets not having learned piano and other musical skills from her.

*"troubled": he has a lot of stories about how he beat up kids that started shit at school. Faces getting slammed into the pavement and what not. Anger issues and a home that just didn't feel safe at all. A story about how his stepbrother pulled a knife on him, so he tied him up to a chair. And another story about how he threatened his stepfather with a golf club... and then after that point, how he refused to live with him mom even though she legally had custody of him. He, for whatever reason, doesn't have much fear for his physical safety in physical altercations. I've always felt very safe and protected around him in that way.

*Athleticism: He was really athletic and played baseball in a league for years, and various other sports. (I on the other hand, as I have mentioned somewhere in here, was extremely athletically challenged). Pacific Islander/ Hawaiian genetics. I learned from reading Guns, Germs, and Steel that almost all Polynesian people now are the ancestors of people who have survived extensive boat travel, so generally, they're very hardy and also.. prone to conserving body mass. He's always been effortlessly been able to build muscles, and every Polynesian guy seems to be built like a truck. ... aren't they also, the entire Kiwi rugby team?

*I grew up in the kind of house where everything looked fine and good from the outside. Proper. Educated. Yea, I didn't date people with that kind of background. They just didn't interest me.

*games we had played before we met each other: Final Fantasy, Warcraft iii (before there was LoL, there was just DoTA, which was a multiplayer version of this game. Fond memories of some people who would not STFU while I was trying to study in the uni library playing DoTA), Starcraft, the old GTAs, a bunch of other games. Honestly, I can't remember most of them right now.

We both played SMAC (Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri), and I gave him some shit for playing the game but not following the absolutely brilliant storywriting for that game more closely. Brilliant premise: brilliantly executed. It was my favourite game of all time, at that time. (They never made a SMAC 2, but instead kept making Civilizations. Civilization 3, 4, 5, etc.. Yea, I know it's a formula that works, but seriously... stop. Make something new.)

*A series of random memories: the amount of times we had sex or did sexual acts in public, including getting caught by security on campus... it was never ever planned. What was I thinking? (Literally nothing, it was purely driven by impulse.)

*playing old SNES games in an empty suite, when he moved to be near me, while I was still living with my parents during uni. Chrono Trigger, which was a game he had a great sentimental attachment to since childhood. Over the years, I've played a number of games for that reason.

*early memories: Watching Pan's Labrinyth with him before he moved, him taking care of me when I got sick with a flu that knocked me out for at least half a week, me taking care of him when he got a massive, rage-induced cut on the side of his fist from pounding it against a very fragile glass door. Rewatching multiple seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation, because we both grew up watching that. (the 90ssssss).

His extreme patience and care with me and my trauma, in general. It wore off after years.

The amount of time we spent in book stores, in general.

 

Currently Listening: Johann Johannson – Arrival (for the motion picture)

 

Edited by modmyth
Typosss, this is what I get for typing this up at 2 in the morning.

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TWO SONGS// TWIN PAIRINGS: When I was listening to the Arrival soundtrack yesterday, I was connecting both of these together in both sound and overall feel, although structurally speaking, the first one is a melange(?) of folk music traditions and the second is... I'm not exactly sure how to categorize the electronic droning tones. I loved that soundtrack; it was incredibly effective having it blasted on the theatre surround system to establish mood. Inescapability.

Yea, this is definitely my favorite thing I've heard in while. Absolutely unreal.

 

I love the eerie sound of both of these tracks.

BULGARIAN FOLK MUSIC?: Is this the actual direct inspiration behind Host of the Seraphim (Dead Can Dance)? I don't mean this song in particular, but Bulgarian folk music.

I first heard this song when I was 16.

***I'm pretty close, actually. Apparently the direct inspiration was a group that became famous in the mid 80s(?), "Le Mystère Des Voix Bulgares", who were directly featured on 3 songs on this album.

So that bagpiping in "The Sensual World" is a Bulgarian folk sound. Interesting.

giphy.gif

***Also, apparently the Tuvans (Mongolian throat singers) and the Bulgarians share a cultural root in Central Asia/ somewhere in the vicinity of Turkey.

Edited by modmyth
I get very curious about specific details, sometimes.

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MANUAL OVERRIDE:

*A Continous Reminder: For whatever reason now, I have to choose to consciously and deliberately open myself to the collective (un)consciousness, for the ways in which it doesn't come to me naturally and spontaneously anymore, when I have this tendency to resist my own openness and porousness. And when I do, I feel whatever is left of humanity's fear, unconsciousness, this sort of segregation between the unconsciousness and what is rejected about us personally and collectively. It is with me all the time now, in everything that I do. I can no longer cease to be aware of it no matter what I do. All at once, all simultaneously. I put my eyes into it now, my fingers, my will. I am seeing through. I am inhabiting your experiencing, being and experiencing you as you. It seems almost effortless now, there is no strain. It comes naturally in "normal consciousness" for me.

***On Universal Language: I find myself speaking the collective (un)consciousness in what I would call nonconceptual language (which is: none of the 5 senses, and thing that can be visualized or conceptualized as the psychic version of the 5 senses either. It's just a flow of energy or intention. Some people just call this magick. Sure, whatever. It's complex and integrated systematically enough so that it should be called a language. Say though, I have a very expansive understanding of what "language" means?) 

Every day, it is where I should go next and what I should be doing next (which I am already aware of at this point), rather than holding onto my individual perspective as I have known it in a habitual way. I already know this, but holding on comes habitually. It causes me pain at the psychoemotional and physical level. And when something causes psychoemotional pain, usually it causes physical pain. If I leave it, it will probably cause health issues sooner rather than later. I am too sensitive now.

While I see and feel myself seeing and feeling through people, being in multiple places at once (while perhaps only being conscious at that moment of a handful simultaneously). I am in world leaders, as they are now, seeing through their eyes, I am in the destitute. I am in the pavement and all the space we think of devoid and as nonentities. In all the spaces thought of as absent of soul, power, and consciousness. The subconscious, which is quite literally everything that we've ever rejected because of our lack of openness and "judgment". (again, the latter is not intrinsically an issue; as I have said, judgment in its purified and conscious form is discernment proper, it is what makes us creators, and "like the gods" (or at least, theoretically capable of it.)) I am feeling the ways that I am in past and former lovers and friends, to whatever degree they happen to be open. For when they shortly will be. If you didn't hear me properly before, surely you will now.

In the future, the air and the ground itself will be charged with the force of spirit and absolute love, so as to be completely unrecognizable to anything as we have previously known it. We will have a new earth. We will be fused properly to the spirit and body of this planet (and all things and phenomena). I don't necessarily mean in the pagan, mother Earth, sentimental sense, as we've known it to be. Not in the Earth is a chaotic, semi-intelligent force, natural philosophy sort of way. We are utterly at the mercy of this planet in both a psychoemotional sense as well as a physical sense, in a way that we are barely conscious at all. I will probably explain a bit more about this very soon, perhaps in the next post.

***Universal Language 2: If you speak the language of this planet proper, this gives you access to powers like 'weather control'.  I prefer to frame this as "language" or communication, rather than "control" because really it's the wrong way of framing it for multiple reasons. (***will probably add something here later.)

And in a way, this is not different at all from when I was 4 going on 5, and felt the absolute intensity and perfection of particle awareness. There is the one and the all at the level of light, atoms, and waves simultaneously, and the categorizations of myself as being a separate, vs. my environment and all the space in between, the air, the furniture, the illuminated desk lamp. Everything that ever was, everything I am, the whole universe, past-present-future, existing in this room all at once.

There are all these different versions of Rumi's "Say I am You", existing simultaneously. Multiple universes and realities. That moment and this moment existing simultaneously. The past and this now, and the future as it has already been millennia. What if I told you, that I have died many times in this lifetime (but clearly, not physically) in order to become like this, as I was? In my past life before this one, I physically died for a related reason? Something that was started consciously over a millennia ago, and started with the dreams of civilization as we know it? When there was so much possibility and empty space, that what could happen was in a sense, already known, but the details were question marks? Do you know what came before civilization and written history and we know it?...

I am really partial to this version of Song to Siren. I'm still very obsessed with the songs I posted from "Fly, Fly my Sadness", the whole album. It's been a while since I've been able to feel truly moved by music, especially. It was a big deal when I was a teenager. You hear with the heart first, not the "mind"; and I haven't been open in many ways.

Edited by modmyth
Note to self: There are probably multiple typos in this.

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A DEAL// Perpetual Rebirthing (a continuation of yesterday): For every moment when I get embroiled in “my life”, my own restlessness, propensity for blaming something or someone or another, in subtle and overt ways, about the past of the future. I simply open myself up now, quite literally. From the heart to the crown. I feel the light and consciousness pour through. What is the end and beginning of this and that, and where should I draw the borders in the future? (There's nothing to worry or think about right now.)

Particularly again as I grapple with this issue will anything I put out actually matter? What was the point of mostly anything in my life as it's been? (Even as I can feel something there which is not rooted in my own temporal self interest. Better to face it directly as opposed to deflecting now.)

I am dissolving myself.

I don't want to have the pretense of living life for myself now. I'm tired of it. When I was 14-15, I was tired of it. Now, I'm still tired of it. I am moved profoundly to joy and tears in some moments now, and still so, so tired of it. There is no human cause for living, no first cause, nothing to hold onto. (A voice asks me, but not so loudly now, how dare I have assumed this pretense anyway, after everything that has ever happened to me?)

I'm losing my memory willfully, the imprints and the grooves of it, and writing new memories over the memories over what never was, and then erasing those memories too. There are scars and wounds that have never healed, that perhaps now can be erased, so I no longer keep drawing my sensors to those structural 'imperfections' and getting distracted by them. 'Humanness'.

This is a new challenge to humanness. I have the oddest realization, of a perpetually recurring deja vu no matter what the scene. There is this sense of the return of the great things in small tiny places, the everywhere, the commonness. A couple nights ago, I was watching water trickling from a hose in front of a 7/11. The pattern was mesmerizing, the shine of the oil and texture of filth, like watching the river Euphrates form from a satellite view. This is Every Moment. Right here. Everything feels strangely cinematic. The essence of poetry. Mirror shards of the majesty of reality only appearing to unveil itself for the ways in which we fail to be struck by everything that truly is all at once. I used to have many moments like this, as common as dirt, or as common as having an immune system and breathing sensitivities when you are a “sensitive” person.

All of those “Stalkerish” moments, in the heart of our decay, as it unveils itself to us. To "us" as individual psyches, to "us" as a culture...

Do we not realize we are in the richness that is mundane reality all the time? And also, in the ways that is also terrible, but fantastically so? Sometimes it just hits me all at once. The worst and most terrifying moments of my life too, in shock and awe, are one and same as the ecstatic. Just face it.

Edited by modmyth
Losing the pretense of creating things for "myself" in a conceptual sense primarily, or for others (also in a conceptual sense). Borders and boundaries. Things that divide, seperate, and remove me from the immediacy of direct unfiltered experience.

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DROWN THYSELF:

It's really simple.

In a compassionate and calm way, I am drowning everything from the heart up. Heart-throat-mind-crown is opened entirely by choice, in the simple way one would make a decision to go for a walk or have a meal. No more of this violently breaking myself open stuff. Everything else comes afterward. Of course, after that point, I already know there is nothing to worry about, because there is nothing to hold onto.

And all these things to let go of:
*My attachment to isolation and being misunderstood (also, being confrontational or defining myself as "against"), this belief that no one understands me and can't understand me when I'm deliberately being obtuse. This simultaneous, conflicting desire to be understood and not understood at the same time.
*This attachment to this particular body, and the condition of it. This tiredness that I turn away from perpetually, and the overlay of activity ontop of it. The obligation to be alive, and the tendency turning away from it. (Noting the ways in which is pretty much impossible to control this tendency in every single detail with the conscious mind.)
*This attachment to doing my life's work, or not. It comes either way. Why the need to get my panties in a knot? I already know it's a waste of time.
*Having received enough love in my life as I've known it, or not. Romance, or not. Having been done right by, or not.
*The past. The future.
*My perception of myself, how others are seeing me, how I believe others are seeing me, etc.
*My attachment to not taking myself too seriously (or conversely, taking myself too seriously).
*My push-pull relationship with the idea of 'perfection' (in art, in intellectual work, I have this tendency to play it off.)
*To be believed in, or not.

In this immersed state, I start hearing and feeling more interesting things, but nothing too surprising. Echoes. Again, as if one is taking a walk. It should be the new normal, like the base acceptable energy level, and everything else, these remnants of my mind as I keep boxing it in, has got to stop now. There is nothing to do but to make the choice to stop and to instantaneously align with it in all ways, from moment to moment.

Stay open. Stay open.

Don't play anymore.

Somehow I've become more attached to my humanness more than my own sense of divinity, in a way, that I hold it more precious. Strange coming from someone who also has at times kept thinking about throwing my humanity away, in intervals. Literally, to die.
Divinity is intrinsic to all. (It is so abundant that it transcends the concept of abundance.) Humanness is something special. Our stories are special....
This chance for "choice" as we understand it, that ultimately we hand back one way or another.

Edited by modmyth
I can't continue my work like this. I'm not that eager to become a public figure in any sense of the word, or to out myself properly and to stop playing games. But it's not for me as I've known myself, so into the 'bucket' my head goes.

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PLANETARY VISIONS: I have at some point, planned to talk about my visions more.

"GAIA": Once, your nature changed. The air thinned out, your spirit became less hospitable and open. So all the dinosaurs died. The climate, temperature, and composition of the air changed. A certain slate was wiped clean, and now, here we are. I had interesting visions about this when I was a teenager, when my physical vision also started getting very intense with multiple overlaying realities ontop of physical reality. Sometimes it would be something that I hallucinated into physical reality, sometimes mainly in my mind's eye but “seen” over top, sometimes more purely in my mind's eye. I've experienced many different gradations of this.

1) What appeared to be a feathered Trex. Some notable features: the feathers were not uniform everywhere (this is usually the case with existing birds anyway), and the feathers I saw looked kind of stiff and rubbery (like if we poked it, probably it would be pretty sharp, although maybe it was softer than it appeared) and arranged in the pattern of the texture of a porcupine quill, in the sense that the feathery parts were coming out from multiple directions in a very orderly way. Multicoloured. For lack of a better reference, this is not too far off is colour schema, just picture every colour being a bit duller and more earth-toned, and mainly being earthen red/ brown-greenish dominant.

(I don't have any conspiracy theories here or a special connection to make, I just lack a better reference.)

800px-Quetzalcoatl.svg.png

I had never seen feathers like that before. At first, I didn't even know what exactly I was looking at, but it was SO incredibly specific on a visual level, like watching 3d IMAX from multiple perspectives simultaneously, or something. And this happened, 17 years ago maybe? This was before I had heard the theory of trexes and dinosaurs being feathered in general, and at  the time I was like...K? How specific. I have no idea what to do with any of this.

I felt like I was inside the mind/ consciousness of this being (it would be a bit more accurate to say that I was fused to it as the outside observer). Like it knew it was going to die, and I felt the immediacy and intensity of it. This animal would be considered very intelligent according to our, standards, I think. Which I find interesting, since aren't all dinosaurs thought of as being quite dumb? There is something sort of like critical processing and awareness there, and acute selfawareness. Could it design the schema for engineering an ancient bridge? No, probably not.

Also was on the other side of the perspective, which is the 'will of planet earth'. The will which was to wipe the slate clean. (Oh, so this is what it means to be a planet, and to want something specific to happen.)

Cause of death? Suffocation. (Probably by volcanic ash or smoke, I think.) ((RIP that dino. For a number of years I would think of that vision and cry.)

Animals can feel this will with an instinct which we very may have lost touch with. You know when animals can predict an earthquake or tell something is seriously off well before we can sense it? And I don't mean hours or a day before it's going to happen. I mean possibly weeks.

sn-quills.jpg?itok=HwmnwNIN

(Porcupine quill closeup, for reference:)

I used to have multiple day visions of the distant past during the past, which is when I see a completely different reality overlayed on top of normal reality. Also some other details: I have an acute memory of the ways in which the air and environment felt different to present day. It is... suffocating to be honest. That level of hyperoxgenation. There is, in fact, a subtle character to the air around it, or spirit to the air and the land in a certain era. (This is an extension of the spirit or will of the planet at large, so it is in very large time frames according to our standard.)

Sometimes my feet being on the ground is enough to trigger a sort of psychic flashback (“my body is a diving rod” is pretty literal as metaphor, as most of my metaphors are in my experience. It's in the same vein as psychometry proper. I have practiced this sense deliberately on occasion.) So on multiple occasions, I have kept seeing prehistoric era animals, which have mainly been mammals for some reason. Like once, I saw these giant creatures, honestly had no idea what it was or if it's been tracked by scientists (I always took everything with a grain of salt though, in terms of assuming the physical reality of it). Anyway, it looked kind of like a giant sloth-bear-wolf thing? It was a whole family of them. I was walking through the woods near my house, and I saw a prehistoric memory of them, I think... (the ground remembers)

And I used to have dreams about giant centipede-like creatures maybe because I've been terrified of centipedes since I was a little girl.

61.jpg

Smiling is not what I'd be doing in this picture. NOPE.

giphy.gif

Edited by modmyth
I'm not sure how to scale that animal's intelligence, but let's just say that intelligence wise it's a lot closer to us than anthrocentrists might care to consider.

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That huge centipede gives me a bad case of the shivers,,,

I remember really being into Daniel Pinchbeck's book The Return of the Quetzalcoatl about 12 years ago. Of course nearly all the details have vanished from my mind except that "Quetzalcoatl" meant feathered serpent. Seems possibly relevant to your visions so I thought I'd throw the mention of it out here.

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Quetzalcoatl

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1814.2012

?‍♂️

 


"To have a free mind is to be a universal heretic." - A.H. Almaas

"We have to bless the living crap out of everyone." - Matt Kahn

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@Zigzag Idiot Centipedes are the worst. Also, apparently that creature was herbivorous like millipedes, but still. NOPE.  (Also thanks, I will check out those links. :x)

giphy.gif

giphy.gif

For anyone else who is curious about dinosaurs. When I was younger, this was definitely not available research.

My boyfriend and I have been making jokes about velociraptors looking and sounding like a giant chicken for ages, as soon as we both heard that hypothesis that dinosaurs probably had feathers. Neither of us grew up with this. Anyway, he knew about this vision too pretty shortly after I had it. It really destroys that intimidation factor. *SQUAWK*

Apparently a dinosaur tail was found recently (2016):  https://www.nationalgeographic.com/news/2016/12/feathered-dinosaur-tail-amber-theropod-myanmar-burma-cretaceous/

WOW LOOK AT THIS THING. HOLY SHIT. First two pictures are pretty close to what I saw, but with the second microscopic zoom on the link above, it was more dense and a bit less flat looking (although these don't look exactly flat either.)

161208121636-dinosaur-amber-2-full-169.j

01_dinosaur_tail.jpg

E13B4F15-F36F-4085-BD1D-1A7755A777D3.jpg

Modern era concept art: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/news/2016/04/160405-dinosaurs-feathers-birds-museum-new-york-science/

On t-rex intelligence: https://www.sciencefocus.com/nature/inside-the-mind-of-a-dinosaur-2/

Are you fucking serious? I googled this shit back in the day and this definitely was NOT on the internet.

Edited by modmyth
I feel like I just rediscovered the internet. When was the last time I was this excited about paleontology?

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THE VIOLENT ENLIGHTENMENT// PARALLEL EMERGENCE: (Note: I wrote this mid-2016, one sleepless night. This is about one of the more violent and abrasive ways of "waking up" and a certain manifestation of Absolute Love, about the narratological elements of stories we tell ourselves, about the preoccupation with the image of appearing enlightened (which is just a more absolute version of "having your shit together finally". Just call it what it is.) And this preoccupation with IMAGE over TRUTH. Truth as an orientation comes from deep down, this willingness to face anything directly, or to bring oneself to this point whatever the means. (This is foremost, a moral and psychoemotional orientation.) It's also about feeling profoundly ill with premonition. Well, this was prophetic. What's significantly more painful than dying and feeling ill is knowing WAY too much about it and what's going to happen.)

1) Spirit Says:

Place a marker in this soil. From any point that I walk, towards any point that I arrive, every spot is moving poetry. Spoken with the expansive awareness of a consciousness spiraling downward, inward, it is also reaching upward, towards a spot that is nowhere and everywhere. I am the spark in the darkness, with no recognition of death and brokenness, to whom forgetting leads to greater remembering, and to whom forgetting means forgetting what's been erased. The haziness of the first memories of being birthed as a conscious being is becoming something real, primal and full of possibilities, filled with the awareness of paths not yet created, thoughts unbudded, questions bubbling beneath the surface of an awareness not yet articulated.

 

2) The Student of Enlightenment:

When I hear people speak of enlightenment, it is in a language of progress and movement, as well as a stripping down. They speak of a dropping veil, or of light that consumes and expands everything in and without, to the scale that these questions dissolve. "What is enlightenment? What is reality? What is emptiness?", and a variety of other well-meaning questions that are broken paths that lead nowhere, because they were structurally broken. The weight of intention in those questions asked was never enough to cross that ocean. Or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say that the weight was too much, and one by one, the ferrying journeyman released these perceptions overboard, until he was confronted by the things that seemed impossible to drop, because they seemed to be a part of the very fabric of reality he was in, now rendered immutable and irretractable. Now there's nothing left on the boat. Eventually, he sits in this empty boat, realizing that there's no place to actually reach by boat, that he simply needed to get off land, while realizing that there's nothing left to throw over now but himself. But once you jump overboard, either by deliberate choice or forced by external circumstances, the survival instinct is likely to kick in. You can swim until you exhaust yourself psychologically and physically, or you can surrender now. You can let your body sink and see what comes up, which you suspect will be absolutely nothing at all, because you will be dead.

It is said that there are people who have certain experiences, and we call them enlightened. And when they are asked if they are enlightened, they say, "sure", "ok" or "yes" with an unsaid "but" that trails off into silence. Or else, the absence of a direct response is taken as a definite affirmation. You notice how they sit there in peace, somewhere far away from whenever you are, or wherever you can reach, with a peace and untouchability that seems utterly unrelatable. If you've been dragging around a map and a pencil to write down the set of coordinates to mark down the location, this person tells you to throw those things away. You won't be needing them, because it's impossible to take them where you want to be. And you want to believe because you want to stop suffering, so you form hopeful ideas of what it's like to be them. But at the same time, another part of you wonders if they're a fiction, or a fraudulant playactor. Every person has a map and every person has a story. You become convinced that he simply has a different map.

 

3) Human Emergence:

I rarely hear them speak of the sleepness nights, the biting nails (while forgetting that your mouth is on your fingertips again), of wanting to rip at your skin, claw at your eyes, and tear at your hair to stop the thoughts that don't slow down until the dawn emerges. It comes staggering towards you like bullets, while you, simple human and flesh, have no chance to evade them, no matter the amount of blame you heap on yourself. And while this is happening, somehow, for some reason, taking a shovel and heaping the weight of the whole world's blame on top of yourself seems like an excellent idea, an idea with a purpose, something deserving, something worthy. It feels safer in this.

I've never heard anyone talk about how the process of spiritual embodiment could feel more like being an ill-fated member in the Alien franchise rather than a Zen experience, calm and conscious, where pain and struggle are manageably contained, even if it is extremely challenging sometimes, and even if it's a new place that is, at times, alarmingly unfamiliar. That it's not the sort of relaxation, wholeness and resolution that causes you to seek out spirituality in the first place, or the sort of place you go to forget and unwind from your troubles after a long day of dealing with bullshit, your own grievances and the stuff other people take out on you. No one tells you, "hey, go sit in a room by yourself for a long, possibly indeterminate amount of time, and try to lose your mind. If it makes you feel better or safer or more part of the community, you can sit still in a room with other people while you all lose your minds,. That's if you're successful. Make sure you not only lose the mind you currently have, but make sure you lose all of your minds, past, present, future. They advertise instead, "find inner peace", the Buddha, your before to his after. Why don't they show him on fire instead? His face breaking into a contorted expression because he has bitten off more of himself than he can comfortably handle? We're not in the age of selling ideas with the smell of burning human flesh anymore. This is not a journey of martyrdom anyway. If you go too deep into your suffering to the point that your story falls apart and becomes too jagged and raw to be palatable, you run the risk that it might not be beautiful and coherent enough anymore, not from where you're standing, not right now. But maybe later, unless you can find the suitable packaging. Wrap up that suffering, at least try to make it look broody and mysterious. Yea, that means right now, it's not good enough. You're not good enough. You tell yourself, never keep your mouth shut, or up make some sort of placeholder story, if you don't want to confront people with something they probably don't want to see. Think on your feet. You know the adrenaline feeling of life or death in situations that pose no discernible physical risk. You remember what happened when you first starting lying to survive, or when you first started lying for fun, for curiosity, to see what would happen.

Most well-loved stories have an Ourobouros quality to it; it's circular, the protagonist ends up where they started but changed. They're returned to that spot, with the original presence and coherence, but with something more. More presence. More coherence. Its circularity is a quality that causes its beauty and coherence, a resonance that rings out to us. Knowing this, how I can present people with my smashed up Ourobouros, something that so obviously used to be coherent and beautiful when I could just hold back my hand? Sometimes I forget what I'm holding, being so immersed in the pain, my hand tenses together in self-protectiveness, and the Ourobouros shards cut into my hand. And then in private, making sure no one is watching, I remove the bloody shards. This is for the best, isn't it? That I cut myself instead of you? Then I wonder if in private, you see that I've held back my hand, my willingness to give and share, and think, "wow, what a cold-hearted bitch".

I used to promise people a newer Ourobouros, a bright idea and story for the future, something even brighter, rounder and shinier than before, believing that this is what people wanted from me, that this is what I should be good for, that being accepted for my story was for the good of both of us Then I realized, there's no integrity in this. I can't promise the future, even if this is what is wanted of me. I have no jurisdiction over it, as if it's a thing I can claim to own, that it's right to claim it, or as if the future is actually a thing that even exists beyond our concept of it in our own minds. I've chosen to give away my map, and I'm not sure what the future holds, nor do I see the point in possessively claiming it only to have my heart broken later because I insisted on having my expectations fulfilled. This is the story I feel no one wants to hear.... and that's ok.

 

4) Alien Emergence:

It is true though that if you walk into the fire willingly, it's far less painful than being dragged in by your heels. There's something here that's not calm, not conscious, not meant to be negotiated with, not meant for your presence to have arrived there in calculated steps. Being dragged in by your heels, the violence and judgement of it, and feeling out of control, does not make your transformation any less valid or real.

Back to the Alien story: a nascent Alien presence forces its way down your fucking throat, and in those moments, you can't breathe. Your body consciousness overrides your mind, knowing this only as the fight for life and death. You're gasping for breath, and then suddenly, it's over. You feel fine. The adrenaline of being broken into and violated fades. You want to forget; you're ready to go back to your normal life of routine, canteen meals over steel monotony, progress and movement, research and work, and conversations with your shipmates about how this day has been a comfortable or uncomfortable variation of every other day you've experienced up to this point. Meanwhile, this thing takes root in your heart, attaching itself to whatever sparks in can find floating through that otherwise infertile space. You've barely been conscious of this hollow cavity most days, not aware that it's empty, or of the possibility of fertility and feeling there, other than brief moments of warmth and electricity that pass through like lightening through warm air, whether to leave you elated or hurt, only to leave you detached, living a life that is happening to you, as if the awareness of your body and presence was not the centre of this motion picture, but is something happening to you, where "you" happen to be the placeholder that feels displaced. And then most days, you try to get away from the trains, of experiences, people, emotions, and thoughts, whizzing past you, leaving your ears ringing and our bodies disorientated and teetering towards the tracks. It's too close to the edge. It's too dangerous. Stand back, stand down, or die.

After a certain amount of time, the alien presence which you've happily erased from your memory bursts through your sternum. It's simple biology. But of course, you didn't know that, there was no way for you to know. You're on the frontier of human experience. And if this is not a frontier, well then no one has written about this sort of travel. And if they have, it hasn't come into your hands, otherwise you'd be holding that guidebook, complete with maps and detailed descriptions of what to do in case of every possible emergency that could possibly come up. There have been chronicles of space travel, journeys to seemingly barren worlds, descriptions of traveling from point A to B without confronting a new sort of biological threat. Oh. I suppose there were those stories about aliens, but people mainly died in those stories, reacting with varying degrees of pragmatism under psychological pressure and panic. Nothing that really tells you how to survive being you, yourself, nothing but beautiful platitudes. So how were you to know? Did you even have a chance?

You seem to be alive as you watch this happening, in horror, thrashing around, blood smeared everywhere. An indescribable, emerging pain, unlike any sort of pain you've ever known. You are flesh turning itself inside out against the force of momentum plus gravity. Then some indiscernible moments later, (generally everyone loses track of linear time in these moments of pain and shock and bewilderment), it stops. You are a detached camera angle, observing your dead body, the splattering, the hollow chest without a wall, the trail of blood. You realize you are the observer, and not just the consciousness of the body. Staring at your broken body in the aftermath of conflict, you retrospectively find yourself wondering about the relative energy inefficiency of shattering through the sternum instead of exiting directly below it and other questions that meander into hypothesis that trail off into nowhere, muting themselves. When the questions and the thoughts have finally exhausted themselves, coming to an obligatory peace, you realize this is it. This is reality. This is the "right now".

Edited by modmyth
Holy typos in this original version.

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