It's All Write

[mandyjw]

On 7/30/2021 at 7:52 AM, mandyjw said:

Wrote this in another thread, been contemplating this since I posted it yesterday.

Lucy thinks she is in love with Schrodinger and that he won't look at her unless she shouts or if she annoys him, but in reality she wants his creative focus and inspiration. Pianist envy. Peanuts envy. 

The other side of this is that Schrodinger really is a fucking jerk narcissist too wrapped up in his own work and passions, but he won't miss Lucy and see the connection he is missing that she wishes to awaken him to until she finds her own inner pianist. 

I don't know if I'm being fair here, but this thread triggered me. Osho often does. Osho and Sheila were the perfect Schrodinger/Lucy situation. 

Assertion, bravery and confidence is not masculine. When separated from feeling they cause all kinds of issues in the world, violence. But if you're led by Source, rather than man and man's traditions and expectations, you're gonna stand up and say things that other people don't dare say. It is both total submission and total domination.  

Parks said, "When that white driver stepped back toward us, when he waved his hand and ordered us up and out of our seats, I felt a determination cover my body like a quilt on a winter night." -https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosa_Parks

Only Source knows how to stay. 

[mandyjw]

Ohhhh.... it's love. Not the thought of love, not an idea or ideal of love, it's love. Actual love. Loving.

 

The feeling the experience, love. I've said too much. All out of love. I am forever, eternally too much. Never, ever not enough. 

 

[mandyjw]

@lxlichael Both fascinating and boring combined.

 

 

[mandyjw]

Calvin discovers the joys of spiritual bypassing. 

https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1991/01/29

This sounds like straight up Source though, although the vocal expression might be somewhat unnecessary, I can TOTALLY relate. 

https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1991/01/30

https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1991/01/31

https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1992/03/18

Most woke comic strip ever. 

Calvin discovers spiritual ego. (keep scrolling, storyline) https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1992/03/19

Calvin discovers astrology. (keep scrolling, storyline) https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1992/04/13

Calvin discovers the "difference" between nondual synchronicity and Apophenia, BOY that's a subject. (scroll over once) https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1992/07/06

 

 

[mandyjw]

Humbling, grumbling, humbling, humble cakes for breakfast. 

I momentarily forgot how much I love random fuckery. Thought I was gonna go make something meaningful. 

Humbled again. 

I don't think any of us is making any sense to anyone. The celebration of that is so beautiful, and... strange. I think I'm still trying to make some meaning here. 

Everyone is already enlightened. I just haven't been appreciating what's already here. I- I-I.

Starting to see this whole no other thing in a brighter light. My close friend got her house broken into a couple days ago, they lost a lot, more than I've ever heard of anyone losing in a burglary before. She laughed as she told me how her habits had made it the easiest burglary ever. Her attitude constantly stuns me. She does things I don't agree with or think are smart, but she just naturally almost always has this beautiful attitude to everything that happens. Sometimes I can look at anyone this way and just astounded behold how fucking beautiful they are in some way. 

Do they have a clue? NO. They have no fucking clue. It makes it all the more beautiful, in fact the beauty is inherent in that.

It reminds me of this song. I always wanted to be that girl, but wanting to be that girl is impossible because I could not know that I don't know that I'm beautiful. From a face value (hahah, no pun intended) this song is shallow as fuck. And yet... Now I realize, I wrote this song. 

 

[mandyjw]

Last night I dreamed that I was in a waiting room waiting for an appointment that never came, and my dad was there waiting for an appointment and he was in care of a little toddler who reeked of pee and a newborn as a favor to some random people. Eventually the parents of the toddler came and took her, but he passed the newborn to me and then no one came for it and no one would help or take any responsibility. I was so mad. I knew she'd been abandoned and knew I'd have to raise her. I yelled at people, but no one cared.

I sat to mediate and my daughter came down, reeking of pee, she had peed in her bed last night. I had to stop mediating and put her in the tub, but when I went back and sat for the last four minutes I felt a deeper more connected peace than before I was disturbed. 

I feel very bothered, and don't want to use the word "traumatized" by motherhood. And it's such an inappropriate subject to talk about. For the past few years I've been so wanting to just avoid the whole subject, put on the smiling face and focus on other subjects. No one cares. No one wants to talk about that. I don't know anyone else with kids and the people I know are too distracted by the kids to have a real conversation about what's going on. I went through the pandemic like this, "sure I can take on the extra thing, sure this is fine." In reality, I'm so sick and fucking tired of not being able to focus for a few hours straight, of never getting good rest when I need it in the day, and feeling guilt when I do get the chance because I inconvenienced someone else, so I better fucking make it good or worthwhile when I do (another layer of stress). 

But I know. I'll always be a mother. The kids will grow up, and I'll always have commitments. I've always been an intensely, naturally committed person, why the fear of them now? Why the complete disgust in them? 

"I've always been..." 

I feel that this is about to lift. I've scheduled my first retreat. Both my kids will be going to school full time in a few weeks. 

Am I afraid someone will hand me another symbolic baby? Maybe not the human kind? 

I don't want to commit to writing. I don't want to commit to teaching. I want to love. 

 

commit (v.)

late 14c., "to give in charge, entrust," from Latin committere "to unite, connect, combine; to bring together," from com "with, together" (see com-) + mittere "to release, let go; send, throw" (see mission).

The evolution of the modern range of meanings in English is not entirely clear. Sense of "to perpetrate (a crime), do, perform (especially something reprehensible)" was ancient in Latin; in English it is attested from mid-15c. Meaning "consign (someone) to custody (of prison, a mental institution, etc.) by official warrant" is from early 15c.

From 1530s as "trust (oneself) completely to;" from 1770 as "put or bring into danger by an irrevocable preliminary act." The intransitive use (in place of commit oneself) first recorded 1982, probably influenced by existentialism use (1948) of commitment to translate Sartre's engagement "emotional and moral engagement."  https://www.etymonline.com/word/commit

Edited August 7, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

Oh.... my Dad always so desperately cared what others thought of him, that he'd always take on anything, work himself to death to please. He would work for free, enlist us to help, anything. Both my parents had this sort of feminine neurosis that we needed to please and care for everyone. They'd get calls in the night to bring this random old guy from town who was estranged from his family to the hospital and they'd take him. After he died, they'd still buy flowers for his grave. Dad would fix anything for anyone who needed it, for little to nothing. I never had a father or male role model in this way. I had the most wonderful, kind, good, honest, loving, emotionally available parents, I feel so lucky, I'd never go back and choose anyone else, but... we're all on our own in some way. 

And he handed the baby off to me. 

[mandyjw]

I spent a long time trying to find a particular grave and didn't until the next day after I'd given up. I'm standing by it, but I fell in love with the oak tree. I ended up finding a geocache in it. The best thing about cemeteries are the trees. 

I sent my friend these pictures and she pointed out the creepy shadow in this photo and said she couldn't look at it, but figured I knew it was there because I sent a closeup. I only sent the closeup because there were mushrooms growing in the tree. 

Source is so innocent, it's evil spelled backwards. 

 

[AtheisticNonduality]

@mandyjw Wow, somebody else who likes walking around wooded cemeteries?

[mandyjw]

@AtheisticNonduality Oh yes.  

 

Last night's angsty non-sensical journal entry. I could just delete it but... meh. I must be true to the angst. 

 

I don't want to be it. 

A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him. -Ezra Pound

The Rapunzel rock. 

What are you doing?

I'm not God, I don't have a plan. 

I think I want to diffuse this. THIS PASSION. I think I want it gone. I think I want to, ya know. 

Not really.

diffuse (v.)

1520s (transitive), "to pour out and spread, cause to flow and spread;" 1650s (intransitive), "spread abroad, scatter in all directions;" from Latin diffusus, past participle of diffundere "to pour out or away," from dis- "apart, in every direction" (see dis-) + fundere "to pour" (from nasalized form of PIE root *gheu- "to pour").

So the big bang never happened. So nothing is diffused. Or confused. Or refused. Or used. Or abused. 

You're still looking within the story. The character can't write herself out of what she doesn't want to be in. Only the author writes. Write the story. I've given you action. I've given you no action. They aren't separate. What more do you want? 

I think I want to not want, but this is impossible. I want to want. Are you telling me... I STILL DON'T GET LAW OF ATTRACTION?

"No one" gets law of attraction.

I am passionately, madly, deeply in love, with no one at all. This can't go anywhere. 

 

[mandyjw]

angst (n.)

1944, from a specialized use in psychology of German Angst "neurotic fear, anxiety, guilt, remorse," from Old High German angust, from Proto-Germanic *angustu-(source also of Old Frisian ongost, Old High German angust, Middle Dutch ancst "fear," also Old English enge, Old Saxon engi, Gothic aggwus "narrow"), from PIE *anghosti-, suffixed form of root *angh- "tight, painfully constricted, painful." Compare anger.

I seem to have mistook angst and longing for love. The joke's on me. It is that too. 

If only I could take life seriously for 12 hours. I think the world might end. 

When did it begin? 

"I" am deeply, authentically passionate and also totally ridiculous. Like an 80's song. 

I'm the only one here rick rolling myself. 

Solipsism.

Oh fuck off.

But you just said you were never gonna give me up?

ARGGHHHH!!!!

 

 

[mandyjw]

OH!!!! Oh. Oh. So you're saying... everyone within them has the same potential to... 

You are programed to awaken. You are beyond the programming and the awakening and the person. How else could it be? 

Do you want to live amongst already awakened people or to awaken them? 

Both.

How else could it be? I Am the master of having my cake and eating it too. 

I can have my cake and eat it too. 

On 8/6/2021 at 11:40 AM, mandyjw said:

She does things I don't agree with or think are smart, but she just naturally almost always has this beautiful attitude to everything that happens. Sometimes I can look at anyone this way and just astounded behold how fucking beautiful they are in some way. 

Do they have a clue? NO. They have no fucking clue. It makes it all the more beautiful, in fact the beauty is inherent in that.

I want to drop the angst. What do I want instead?

This is no instead. Just stead. Stay with the current. The current of the river is exactly now, currently. 

[mandyjw]

Shit. This angst thing keeps happening.  I need to focus. Work. Clean the house. Can't eat, can't sleep in love. This isn't love. 

I can't stop thinking how ridiculous this all is. I'd like to be something respectful, something responsible and so I am ridiculous and irresponsible because all I see if absence of those things in regard to myself. I could drop the absence. I could drop the self. Either way would work. If there were an I who could. 

Last night I drove out the where the dilapidated house with no door used to be and there was a for sale sign, (it's under contract I guess) so I walked out there, disregarding the no trespassing signs. I don't know if I'll get to go back. It's just the most gorgeous piece of property I've ever seen. I've put so much in the vortex regarding this property, but not much in the way of wanting to own it. I got there at sunset. Fuck. Me. Let's just bathe in desire, desire that comes from nowhere, goes no where and has no where to resolve, no source. THERE'S NO FUCKING SOURCE ABRAHAM. I took a white rose with me, and an apple. So fucking romantic, I put the rose on my pillow. The apple was not good. 

What am I even doing? What am I even doing? 

This love is everywhere, and it feels like a denial. Like frustration. Why do I keep insisting on the use of the word love? Is this wisdom, or is it pure delusion? 

I want one thing. I want love to feel like love, I want to feel love. Everything else, BE DAMNED. Ha, I can have my wisdom cake and delusionarily eat it too. 

Whew, let's let some light in here. It's dusty and dirty but I love nothing more than staring at dust motes. 

 

The abandoned house has no door. 

In truth, there's no house here anymore.

Pink and white roses and a quarter moon.

Mold, rot, decay and ruin. 

Peeling paint on green stairs and caved in floor. 

I feel something calling me to my very core. 

Blackened out windows, green pyramid roof

A question arises, which is the truth? 

Do I from without this empty house see?

Or are those black windows eyes that peer amid me?

From what direction comes the light?

That only grows brighter, as it turns to night?

 

 

Well that's some creepy shit. I never liked poetry.

Why you gotta shit on everything? 

It's what I do. I'm just a porcupine squatting in an abandoned house. What other perspective did you think the poem was written from?

 

Oh fuck you August. My favorite month. You stir my heart strings like nothing else. You're like the pinnacle of ecstasy and also the beginning of death. Harvest. 

So get this, my dad actually has an antique scythe.  Not because it's cool and he likes creepy stuff but because you know, farming. 

 

 

 

 

 

[mandyjw]

This is exactly what it's like to live here, it's like discovering these magic, infinitely fascinating places and history amidst what looks like poverty, neglect and isolation. 

I know I'm borrowing this from some greater truth, projecting it out. But damn. Damn. I've never loved a place like I've loved this place. I never knew you could love a place, like I've loved this place. It loves me back. 

 

You threw the baby bird out the nest.

I am my own mother.

Next time I'll be reborn a hamster and eat my own young.  

You should write a poem about that.

Oh fuck off.

I'm glad that the fighting with myself is externalized now. Progress. Feels kinda like something missing thought. Maybe it's because, that's the way I like it. 

Empty. Pure. Subtle. Soft. 

Like a white rose. 

I am the magician who conjers something out of nothing. How in the fuck do you spell conger? congjer. I am so fucked. Google won't even help me. Googles just like, WTF? Some magician I am. 

It's all write.

Oh fuck off. 

 

 

[mandyjw]

I could have been pretty. Boob job, probably a nose job. A lot more attention to my hair. nah.

I could have been smart. College, a little more application. nah.

I could have been respectable. A little less impulsiveness and emotional acting out. nah.

I could have been enlightened. A little less thinking. nah. 

I could have been a good mother. A little less screen time, a lot more reading to my kids. nah.

 

An I for an I. It's only a worthy trade if you don't get anything out of it. 

 

 

Edited August 10, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

Hooo! That was a bunch of BS. ⬆ I'm putting my talent to use picking up legos and folding laundry. 3 2 1

Yup.

Scarlett

“Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

"I don't give a RAT'S ASS about you." 

LEGOS LEGOS

The name 'LEGO' is an abbreviation of the two Danish words “leg godt”, meaning “play well”.

Well why do they hurt so bad to step on you bunch of highly intelligent, innovative, creative, assholes ? 

Le go let go.

 

[mandyjw]

HAHAHA! It's a new page. My arrow is irrelevant. Alright. Le go. 

[mandyjw]

As I picked up the legos, my daughter kicked her older brother out of the chair and he got hurt and then she was so mad she started kicking the legos and smashed me in the mouth and my tooth went into my lip. Fucking legos. 

Alright, that didn't seem so difficult. 

conjure (v.)

late 13c., "command on oath;" c. 1300, "summon by a sacred name, invoke by incantation or magic," from Old French conjurer "invoke, conjure" (12c.) and directly from Latin coniurare "to swear together; conspire," from assimilated form of com "with, together" (see con-) + iurare "to swear," from ius (genitive iuris) "law, an oath" (see jurist).

The magical sense is from the notion of "constraining by spell" a demon to do one's bidding. Related: Conjured; conjuring. Phrase conjure up "cause to appear in the mind" (as if by magic) attested from 1580s.

Oh...

Just write.

Write the fucking book.

If you can manifest an antique scythe for your own entertainment and write a poem, you can write a novel. 

I'm afraid it will be bad.

I'm sure it will be covered in porcupine shit. What did you say about this place? Your Tara, Scarlett? It's a fucking dump made of pure gold. You're like someone who doesn't want to eat a candy bar they've just been handed because you're thinking about what the wrapper will taste like. Don't judge a book by it's cover. Frankly my dear, you're the cover. 

 

 

Edited August 10, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

I feel slightly less weird now for having Gone with the Wind totally fuck me up. 

I keep forgetting to eat. I feel so much better though. Can't eat, can't sleep, creating. Ah...

I'm the AUTHOR, I'm the light behind the author. Not Scarlett. 

Ooooohhhh...  

Uhhhhhh....

Well this is going downhill fast. 

I wrote two pages. Like man, I dunno. This has been pretty exhausting. 

You spent half the morning dramatizing over it and picking up legos. So drop it. This is my magic. You asked, you've asked new questions and I'll fill in the empty space.

Ha, that sounds dirty. 

Hey, this is ALL what she said. And frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. 

 

[mandyjw]

le go go, she broke her f-ing foot to be able to write that book. I'd like to key in to the universe's desire a little easier than that. 

Colateral damage. 

col·lat·er·al

/kəˈladərəl,kəˈlatrəl/

Learn to pronounce

noun 1.something pledged as security for repayment of a loan, to be forfeited in the event of a default.

Oh what the fuck, you can have it. You can have my cloak too, Jesus said. Mother fuckers. He didn't add that part, I did. 

 

"I’ll think of it all tomorrow, at Tara. I can stand it then. Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get him back. After all, tomorrow is another day.

These words, Scarlett’s personal motto, conclude Gone with the Wind. Scarlett repeats some variation of this line several times over the course of the novel when hardships plague her. She knows that she often acts immorally and that she faces absurdly difficult circumstances, and to avoid feelings of guilt and helplessness she simply avoids reflecting on her life. Scarlett knows that eventually she should mull over her plight, but she always puts it off until another, different day, which never truly comes. But this refusal to reflect is crucial to Scarlett’s survival. Her attitude contrasts directly with Ashley’s obsession with the past and his inability to let go of nostalgia and adapt to new times. Scarlett’s determination to believe that “tomorrow is another day” indicates her fundamental optimism about the future."  https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/gonewith/quotes/page/5/

Oh, Ashley. 

Edited August 10, 2021 by mandyjw