Typing is the easiest form of getting it down for me. And I need to get it down, easily. No strength to write manually. No energy to use a pen on paper. Pressing keyboard buttons, I can manage. And even still, it's a bit hard at the moment. My aura is shrunken today. Gosh that sounds silly. But there are massive solar flares today. Biggest in five years, says NASA. I think I can feel them. Gosh that sounds strange. But I've been meditating on my solar plexus/third chakra all week and it's extra sensitive. It's yellow, and it's solar, and it can detect the sun's extra-long waves, reaching all the way to... me. And deeper still into the Earth and through its core and out the other side and on into space, and I don't know where else, and I know I sound insane, but there, I got it down.
Just a thought.
Day started with a difficult rising from the bed (morning dreams held me captive), a reluctant trudge to yoga class, a barely-huffed-and-puffed-through class, an afternoon-long nap, and more laziness and moodiness in the evening. And sure, I brought it on myself. And I ain't even complaining of it now, just marking it so that I can remember the unproductive stupor for future reference. The numbness and heaviness in my bones, and buzz in my nerves and the fizz in my aura... it must be the solar storm right? What's it telling me?
I want to be back to my daily-meditating self striving for higher consciousness. I am still there, even if I let go at times. Maybe when I pray so hard and hold mudras and meditate to the ocean (beautiful beach day back on Monday), it's expected that a day or two of lows come along... Polarity. Balance. Light and darkness. Shadow self. Shadow world.
I know the goal is equanimity and consistency. But I welcome all polarities of spiritual experience.
The flare officially reaches us in five hours. It's a full moon in four. Argued a bit with parents today and I shed tears. I question my motives and actions everyday but I also practice gratitude and positive affirmation... and visualization for a beautiful future. What really does it hold in store? Yes we are to create it. But what is it that we are going to create? Really. Honestly. In which directions are we headed? "World War III" ? Enlightenment and ascension? What the heck? So many ideas and projections. What are mine?
Beauty, love, peace.
Even if I can't maintain it within my self and family at times? Yes. Even still. That's the world I strive for. How? I'm too lazy. There's too much in me I just don't know what to do with, how to use, how to transform into... what? What is it I need to do? What am I not seeing?
"The Third Eye," oil on canvas, by Yelena Chemerisov, my mother. Please visit her site! www.verarey.com
Epic booming whisper nightly dawns on me and mine.
Earth floats on, around and round, again, and ever reaching.
Somehow territory loses grip
the shadows lie
the crescent dips,
I'm missing something
but here I am.
I know the way and
I stand ready.
Suddenly everything fell away. Splintered away rapidly, actually without a measurement of speed, but with a sense of vastness and all-inclusive suddenness. I mean, ALL inclusive. The modern world's conveniences, appliances, stigmas, sheltering sweltering beliefs and lies and dreams, all of it, suddenly, fell away. Away from this particular self which sat stoic and frozen, though breathing, upon my nightly bed before slumbering into dreamland, before keeping eyelids closed for so many hours, here I sat, and deep in meditation, all of it all fell away. And the moment was simple, and life was simple, just for the moment. It was not the past. It was not a point in time. Nor was it a location in space, nor in any dimension. It was more than a feeling, less than an action, sort of like an awareness, but more than that word... More, and less, simultaneously, suddenly, and all-ness, and everything-ness. And nothing.
I suppose it sort of did feel like "the past." Before there were computers and machines and guns and wars. (Or were there always wars goddamn-it?)
Nevertheless, there was a beautiful delicious nothingness. Just a sense of human flesh, human spirit, human mind. Heart pulsating so divinely, so simply. We didn't even yet know what we looked like anatomically, inside. Perhaps we were made simply of light, and perhaps we did not even cast a shadow.
But again, it wasn't really the past. It wasn't really before anything. Just a moment. Stretched to feel like timelessness. Stretched, highlighted and gathered into one point. But not one. And not a point.
It's like Don Miguel Ruiz says, we don't know what we are. We just know that here we are, and we are something. And we call it human, we have many words for it. But what it really is, we do not really know. What is it to know anyway?
"Our world is in crisis because of the absence of consciousness. And so to whatever degree any one of us, can bring back a small piece of the picture and contribute it to the building of the new paradigm, then we participate in the redemption of the human spirit, and that after all is what it's really all about."
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Alex Chemer Photography (my father)
Vera Rey Fine Art