Should I Stay or Should I Go ( another bout of ascension sickness)

It always starts off seemingly innocuous enough. Sore throat, aching limbs with a knife kind of brain fogginess which renders me unable to communicate as effectively as I would wish. Each time is a little different however, sometimes there is a bombardment of synchronicities ( songs, memories and realisations), sometimes an increase in paranormal activity, frequent vibrational changes both internal and external to myself and inevitably a change of perspective.
My usual human perception changes, my reality becomes a flux of energies, all interconnected and seamless as the outside world dances before me. I am no longer ( nor ever was) a separate entity walking the planet, I am now in this very moment, all that ever was and will ever be, as I am part of the whole, undifferentiated and eternal.
My sense of self falls away, my previous egoic values which I held dear to my corporeal heart whither before the infinite ocean of existential potential.
So here my human self stands ( metaphorically speaking), on the dizzying precipice of embracing oneness, of falling into the brightly lit abyss of ego annihilation.
The sacrifice of my perceived selfhood for perennial Nirvana.

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The Journey…..

“The act of consciousness is central; otherwise we are overrun by the complexes. The hero in each of us is required to answer the call of individuation. We must turn away from the cacaphony of the outerworld to hear the inner voice. When we can dare to live its promptings, then we achieve personhood. We may become strangers to those who thought they knew us, but at least we are no longer strangers to ourselves”.

James Hollis, The Middle Passage: From Misery to Meaning in Midlife (Studies in Jungian Psychology by Jungian Analysts, 59

Our own unique individuation process leads us, if followed, along a spiritual path. This may well differ for individuals but this is necessary.
Ultimately we need to trust in ourselves and that if we truly follow our heart’s compass then we can become whom we are meant to be.
There will be struggles of course, times when we may feel lost and alone, filled with self doubt and confusion. This too is part of the process. The spiritual seekers of old have well documented the challenges that one faces, but there is no growth without pain. As individuals we frequently underestimate our strength and tenacity which can lead us to turn to distraction from the cause or even complete abandonment of our path.

However it is my experience that unless we continue then our life will remain less than fulfilled. The hero in us calls for us to stand alone if necessary and separate oneself from all that does not resonate with our souls. Only then can we stand strong in our knowledge and belief that our lives are authentic and our actions just.
For myself, my friends, colleagues and family more often than not believe me to be quirky and perhaps a little crazy and therefore humour me.
But as I have ‘grown’, I have found that I am no longer dependent on any one thing or person to help define me. Through the individuation process one becomes an actualised and independent entity who is a true rendition of one’s inner self. You become invulnerable to life’s rigors and the childish chatter of the ego.

With this comes a creative and playful aspect to living. A pure enjoyment of life, uncomplicated and unburdened of fear or doubt, we celebrate every moment with an open heart and joyous gratitude.

To The Warriors…..

A toast offered to those silent warriors in this world ( you know who you are) whose every action is a considered one.
Those bodhisattva like individuals who seemingly exist for the sole purpose for the furtherment of other souls.
For they see the bigger picture.
The impermanence of life and yet the interconnectedness of all of existence, both seen and unseen.
The ones who :
– walk carefully upon the Earth with the intention of not harming the the smallest of creatures
– unbeknownst to others send love and blessings to those in need
– interact with the wounded with eyes and actions of empathic love
– secretly rejoice in the riches that life bestows on them in the form Nature in all her guises
– will eternally until their dying breath act and voice their truth in the name compassion.

Though many days may end with their armour dented and their hearts heavy from the service of love, will again rise to resume the fight again. For they are driven by a force outside of themselves which cannot be denied. It seems to be the reason for their existence and to deny it would go contrary to Nature and spirit.
So I offer a toast to those of you who fight and suffer in silence, to your benevolent soul and your eternal resolve.

Sunday Sentience

I love Sundays. When I was younger I quite disliked them, what with shops, cafe’s, pubs etc either closed or shutting early. I would feel bored and confined to more mundane activities.
But not now. Sundays make it easier to step out of the hustle and bustle of the working week, away from the overwhelming array of social stimuli and having to remain seemingly stoic in the face of the many challenges that modern life can present us with.
Sitting on my porch on this still and frosty morning my mind naturally settles into a relaxed, reflective, lucid state. The pale, watery winter sunlight permeates the remaining foliage of the trees at the bottom of the garden, illuminating the crystalline drops of molten snow dangling precariously from the twigs and branches. A quarrel of small house sparrows fly into a nearby hedge seemingly bickering loudly. Two grey squirrels chase each other over the snow mottled grass, running and jumping in a fervent game of tag.
A couple of night black rooks stare down from a nearby rooftop as if surveying their territory. By their proximity to each other and the purely natural ease of their togetherness, their monogamy is undoubted.
I shiver outwardly as an icy breeze picks up and sears my face announcing the imminent arrival of distant clouds, heavy and grey with precipitation.
As I sit here watching Nature at play, I become aware of a wry but gentle smile upon my face.
I reflect on my current thoughts:
– whatever life presents us with, it is but the smallest ripple when compared to the enormity of existence, time and space.
– strange but paradoxically comforting is that my brief sojourn of life as a human on this planet is finite and at its end I return to my source, complete again.
– life itself is nothing more concrete than a constant dance of ephemeral gossamer illusions.
– that at the quantum level, I have never been or ever will be separate from the complex and exquisitely manifested world around me.

Yes, life is good, as long as I don’t take it personally ❤️❤️.

With Impunity?

I believe that Man has largely yet to understand that in whatever activity he cannot ever act with impunity. For whatsoever he does to himself, he does to others. And what he does to others, he likewise does to himself. For at the lowest quantum strata we are and never have been separate from each other, or indeed from any one thing perceived. Be it the grass underfoot, the air that we breathe or the mountains and forests with all the wildlife therein that adorn our planet.
To realise this in one’s very heart can free us from our personal drama. Whatsoever then befalls us in life will never again be seen as either as good or bad, for it would never again be personal. It would be seen simply as part of the great unfolding of life of which all and everyone are inextricably linked.

pjwatkiss.

Motes in the Wind

Is it really only me?

Am I the only one who stops to stand and stare.

Sitting outside the cafe in the chill Autumn air, I watch the city life hum around me.

It’s almost as if no-one else is conscious, the pavements and roads teem with purposeful human activity. Again I find myself on the outside looking in.

So many people, so many stories. All apparently oblivious to each other as each individual seeks to fulfill their own worldly goals.

The suited businessman walking briskly whilst negotiating with a colleague on his mobile phone. Locked in to his work as a small cog is into a machine.

The young male adolescent in the hoodie on the street corner. His almost translucent skin, drawn eyes and scrawny frame hold testament to a life given to avoiding traumatic memories. A life of numbing his still raw hurt by the use of anything that even slightly dampens his pain.

The tired, drawn looking waitress busying herself with the neverending flow of serving and cleaning. Working her life away twelve hours a day to provide a still meagre material existence.

The thirty something female feigning lasciviousnesss outside a half seen doorway. She tries to catch the eye of any passing male willing to exchange money for sharing a fleeting moment of physical intimacy. Her eyes once warm and sensitive now as hard as her heart had become through years of being a passive recipient of what life had to offer.
I feel a heaviness in my heart as I watch these individuals go about their day. It is said that we are all on our own path, myself included. Certainly, I sincerely hope that everyone finds their peace but it is difficult to imagine when people live their lives in such a way.

There can be no judgement of them as I feel we all are, in some way, a product of our genetic predilections and our personal history. Like seeds cast to the wind, we grow where we find ourselves. Some souls will flourish amongst familial unconditional love and attention and some will starve.

The less fortunate may be subject to the opposite. Low self esteem and feelings of worthlessness can infiltrate ones being when raised in an emotional desert.

This often carries on into adult life, shaping personalities and whole lifetimes.
My sadness comes from knowing that this could have easily been so different.

Every human soul is valuable, everyone has a spiritual spark inside of them no matter how overlaid with pain and anguish.

I have to resign myself to only being able to do my small part amidst this world. I simply hope that whatsoever my actions in my day to day existence go a little way towards making the world a better place for others.

Love of an Empath

Sitting outside on my porch gazing at the small pinpricks of starlight piercing the clear black velvet of the night sky.. The chill evening breeze gently brushes against my skin, light chirruping of birdsong reaches my ears and the cool, musty aroma of the evening air infiltrates my sense of smell. The pure, sensual beauty of the moment triggers bittersweet memories of similar feelings previously experienced in my life. Of when we first met.

Our eyes subtly, ever so delicately touched. With that brief, miniscule action my heart and spirit were given flight. My body and soul became aflame with a deep incandescent love for you.
Your very presence lightened my heart and quenched my previously unrequited thirst for emotional and intellectual intimacy.

All of my senses became excruciatingly heightened as if to ensure that I did not miss any aspect of your divine presence.
I bathed in your gaze and through your eyes I was drawn into your very soul. Any self control I had, withered away as I responded to your every word and gesture.
To others it may have appeared to be an intimate friendship but together we were as one, intrinsically in synchrony in our interactions.

The content and context of our verbal and non verbal responses were immaterial, they simply served the purpose of allowing us to subtly and sensually mingle our individual energies. Consummating our union with every word, touch and exchange of eye contact.

Our sharing of similar appreciations of beauty, humour and the intricate complexities of life itself.
We interacted in a joyous, almost childlike manner. No ego’s, pretences or barrier’s between us, you and I were lost to the world of mortals. We were in our private heaven.
Any sense of time was lost as this was beyond physicality, this was the realm of the eternal soul. There was neither any beginning or end, only that moment for eternity.

We met many times after that, each meeting always exquisite in its depth and liberating in its intensity. But extraneous circumstances moved us apart and our time together diminished until ‘we’ are now just a shared memory.
Now it is unlikely I will ever know if what we had was meant to last and be something more enduring.
I look upon those times in the not so distant past with warmth and appreciation for those so special moments.
Perhaps this is how it is meant to be.
After all some of the most beautiful and wondrous things in life are transient.
Transient, possibly because those unique set of circumstances that lead to the blooming and eventual blossoming of that particular numinous experience could not be sustained.
Like the peak of a storm.
Like an Autumn sunset.