Monday, January 11, 2016

Acceptance...of what you BE,
the Everest of Self Discovery

January 11, 2016

By American Kabuki

What follows is a journey to acceptance. A journey that is not easy, Everest is probably easier. Everest just requires perseverance and prior physical training. Everest doesn't require you to question everything you believe about who you are.

I haven't share many private thoughts for a good while on this blog.  Its probably similar to your journey so perhaps my struggles with it, can aid you in your journey.  Or not... you may not even understand a word of what follows.  Some won't. I get that. At least not yet.

Your journey will not be the same as mine, but I am willing to bet some part of this may help.  You are me, and I am you, in a different form, a different experience of life, a different genetic make up, a different set of emotional chemistry that makes you uniquely U.  We all come from Creator Source and indeed have our form from the energy and love of Source. For some, even that is a difficult thing to swallow, especially those that saw Source/God/Allah as a being on a cloud, a father with a white beard, you name the stereotype cliche, rather than the entire field of consciousness and awareness that all form and energy spring via love.

We are manifestations of Source within Source, unique expressions within the ONE. That itself is not an easy understanding to come to apprehend.  Perhaps I am speaking only to those who have come to this head knowledge of this fact of WHAT IS.  If you haven't arrived at this point, what follows, won't make sense.  Or with an open mind, maybe later, its a jig saw puzzle piece that helps completes are helps complete a larger picture.

The rub is experiencing what you know academically as factualized experience.


This dream is particular to me, and the upbringing I had.  It was a very emotionally packed dream.

I found myself as an employee of a bank, US Bank to be exact. Never worked for them in real life, and never had a bad experience with that bank.  This is not to impute anything about that bank in particular. For I have had no particularly bad experience with them.

The name, US Bank, nearest I can tell is a metaphor for the entire banking systems in the US. Dreams speak in the language of symbols, which are highly condensed data streams.  I am not going to go into Jungian dream analysis, although some of that has value,  the archetypes, in particular dreams. Many experts exist in that area, and to some its almost a religion. In the end nobody can tell you want a dream means except yourself.  And sometimes those who are good at interpreting dreams are not above using their skills to inject their agendas or their handlers to manipulate you. Listen to what is inside.

What we call the US Government, we now know is a banking enterprise, the entire country has been in banker receivership since 1871. In its current form it exists to exert control, create perpetual debt, and extract the compound interest from you via the IRS. And that's fairly well known for a number of years now. The American Republic ended just a few years into George Washington's presidency as he but everything back under the Virginia Company.  Took a bit longer to solidify that in actuality, via  the War between the States (the US Civil War), various acts of Congress and the Courts  and the later move to create the Federal Reserve System. But that's kind of off the subject of this article.

I found myself working in the dream, presumably as a computer programmer, which I did for decades in systems and applications integrations roles in banks, airlines and railroads.  It was the typical "cubical farm" maze of desks, where faceless minions stake out their turf churning out computer code behind LCD screens fully absorbed in art of transforming logic and binary bits into something useful and creative.   Some of the most creative beings I have ever known were computer programmers and they are usually either artists, musicians or poets on the side, with the occasional math wiz thrown in for the tougher algorithms.  Being able dream up what has never been done before is the greatest gift a programmer can have.

It seemed I had worked at this place a long time. had a cubicle towards the front of the main isle way. I had a semi important job, but still a cog in the machine as it were, like many people in American life.  I left for lunch and when I came back, my desk was gone, my computer was gone, my work was gone. What the fuck?  Like a scene out of Office Space when Milton gets relegated to the basement, but I didn't even get the basement, I got nothing.

Not only that, where my cubicle once was, was now a coffee and smoothie bar complete with blenders and a glass case artfully displaying tropical fruits of many varieties and this annoyingly cheerful "barista" chirping away to customers sitting on round bar stools sipping straws of smoothies from where my work space was... what the fuck?  "WHERE'S MY CUBICAL?" I screamed! If  you have known any computer programmer there is one thing you do not touch, and that's his prized computer.  You can dent his car, and well that's an insurance repair issue, but the computer gets personal.  And never put your fingerprints on the screen.

Thought at first it was a joke by my cube mates.

I had a real job in St Paul,  a group of us got the power screw driver and put a spare cubical panel into the entrance of a colleagues cubicle while he was off on a vacation at an Improv Comedy Camp. When he returned from that joyful adventure, he found his access to his computer had vanished.  He took the prank in the humor and we all had a great laugh.

But the scene is the dream was serious and no joke. And it was cold, fast and calculated. It was like I was written completely out of the scene. It was my place, my cubical sanctuary of quiet, my creative point and center... which was now screaming blenders of mashed bananas and mangos and strawberries.

Everyone looked at me like I have gone mad for being upset at this instant change of fortune and place.  This was "corporate progress" that came down from above via from some nameless big five consulting agency as to a key corporate productivity and morale boost.  Pure fluff stuff...without really paying anyone more money.  Someone got a paid a lot big money to dream this employee productivity move up, and my job and place removed to do it.

I found myself, as if I had never existed in this bank. And I was screaming road rage angry.  I stomp out into the parking lot I get into my black high end Mercedes with the full intention of ramming it at high speed through the front entrance of the bank damn the consequences to me as the driver or anyone in my way.

Strangely My high end Mercedes transformed into a white golf cart, with a British right hand steering wheel.

Suddenly, sitting next me, is a woman, who is my girlfriend in this new scene. The French born actress Eva Green.  The relationship is close, she's holding my left hand while my right hand is backing up the golf cart.  I look at her, and feel only complete love for this woman, such a beauty and it seems I have known her a long time, yet it feels funny because I don't recall her being my girlfriend but it FEELS as if this is normal.  Whatever rage that burned so strongly in me is gone, for the sake of the love I feel for this woman. I could never harm this being by whatever actions I had in that prior moment of rage and I abandon my rage.  Rage simply cannot exist in this new frequency of complete love.

A preacher man I knew in my youth suddenly appears in front of my golf cart.  Vernon Hargrove, a minister from the Worldwide Church of God who was instrumental in my parents decade long diversion into that particular sect of American Protestant Christianity, and through whom began my deep programming  as a youth with certain restrictive set of beliefs about God/Source and what is and can be possible within the human form. Stressed over and over through the faith was obedience to the established hierarchy, to the national government (to the extent that didn't violate church beliefs) and self loathing belief in the inherent sinfulness and evil found in the human heart (all false). We were taught not to trust our hearts because of its inherent evil Jeremiah 17:9 .  Never was greater lie told than the denial of the very seat of connection of the body to  Creator Source.

Vernon's a handsome black haired white man, in the Cary Grant sense. Long and lanky man from Mississippi.  Soft spoken Southern Gentleman if there ever was one of the old school variety. A "good man" by any traditional American yard stick. Always there for the widows, those who are sick or in need of comfort.  Given his life to his belief in every sense of the word. Not a hypocrite by any means.  But he looks gaunt, tired and very weary.

I move the cart, which is suddenly transported from the parking lot of US Bank (of unknown location), to the parking lot of Fry's Electronics in San Marcos California.

I start chatting to Vernon who recognizes me,  I can tell he can't decide to congratulate me on my new girl friend, its not the woman i was formerly married to that he last saw me with.  He doesn't know whether to privately judge and pray for my repentance from, in his mind, sinful extramarital relationship..., or congratulate me a budding romance which is his mind can only lead to marriage within the church.  His range of love is conditional upon my compliance to his parameters of belief.  I get that, and only project love to the man. I understand his predicament.

He pours his heart out to me, about the decades of sectarian strife and politics that has raged within his faith.  I feel only compassion for the man as I experienced some of this pain in the 1990s, the grief of a collapsing religious belief, and the irony of those preaching against the "devil" becoming very much the "devil" in their actions over word fights of dogma.

I tell him, "what others do you are not responsible for, you are only responsible for how you respond to it".  Preaching to myself in a way, since I was just a few moments prior contemplating mayhem and revenge in the dream.  As I say this he calms, is transformed into a new being, a handsome being, but he now has an eye patch, like one eye is gouged out. His vision lacks depth perception.  He is NOT whole. Comforted, but not whole.  Which is the outcome of any platitude.

It dawns on me, that I just told him he's a victim and his only recourse is a zen like compliance with what has happened. I just told him he did not create what he experienced. Yet I do not believe that either.  I told him he was not Source creating it all. After all why would anyone create such emotional pain in their lives?  "Why me Lord?"  Both phrases really imply not being a creator. Not being Source. Not being the very thing that irritates the snot out of you. Mind you nothing abnormal getting angry. Not saying that at all. Emotion is healthy if felt, expressed and let go. Holding onto some hot emotions like anger, jealousy, rage, can land you in the hospital.  It did me.

Co-creator. Very popular word in the last 20 years,  Its an allusion word, skirts the issues of conflicting the sky-god images of the Abrahamic religions and the resulting religious arguments rooted in separations consciousness. Implying, maybe, just maybe,  there's possibly some tiny bit of creation occurring locally, if you meditate HARD ENOUGH.  But mind you nothing that affects "the divine plan" as interpreted by whatever self appointed interpreters of that will come along written by who knows whom in "heaven" where ever that is supposed to be (they never seem to give a GPS coordinate). Co-create is a weasel word.  So is "divine" which means "god-ish" something less than, an allusion that stops short of being explicit.  You be CREATOR. Fullstop.
What springs to mind is rain drops in a pond, each sending out their own ripples in the pond and those ripples colliding and producing these seemingly random and often unwanted events in our live make us shout "what the fuck next?"  We feel we are drop experiencing the ripples but not the ocean they fall into rise from.

And then there's the assholes who always show up at the precisely wrong moment (some might argue the right moment - but it NEVER feels that way), who are not operating from compassion, which is love in action, who say, if religiously inclined "you must have sinned and displeased God", or if they have more a clue, the absolute truth... "you created this!" (substitute your new age movement equivalent where needed) but radiate the energy of disdain and disapproval  and judgement that is completely energetically inconsistent with the message being delivered.  How you feel to another shouts while your words mumble.  Sometimes a simple hug is called for, not your big mean mouth. 

The hard question to ask is "Why did I create this, and why is this in my face at this moment?"  And since all are Source, who is there to get mad at but yourself? Who is there to judge but Source Judging Source?  Source only sees love, not illusion of separation. Source only sees love.

Suddenly, perhaps for the first time in this dream, I saw in stark contrast the inherent belief conflict that has been raging in me for the last 18 months.  When a man moves between two different energies its because he's trying to hold to conflicting beliefs that cannot be reconciled.  And me, of all people, a survivor of the ICU ward and near death experiencers where I experienced complete pure unconditional love from Source. I still remember what that felt like, have no excuse at all.

I AM the banker, customer, worker, and eery bribed politician. I am the man in a bank somewhere that got shafted in his job and contemplates revenge.  I am the woman who fired him without cause or due process and without compassion.  I am the consultant with the cockamamy plan. I am the chirpy prancing annoying barrista who loves to chat.  I am the preacher judging another's morality and place and future with God. I am the man in the golf cart on the golf course. I am the woman in love with the man and the man love with her. I am the man with no woman at all wishing he had one. I am the transformed man with the eye patch and no depth of vision. I AM IT ALL!!!! 

And oh what a frightening and exhilarating thing that is to behold! Frightening because of the responsibility. Frightening because there's NOBODY TO BLAME! Who you gonna find? Judge Anna?  Blame transfers responsibility and creates a culprit.

I cannot tell you how to arrive at this. The path is as unique as the labyrinth on your thumb print. And many have tried and failed to tell me!  Much to their and my frustration! LOL!!! You know what a tell is, its a twitch of truth in a poker bluff. You can't tell anyone anything but your body tells ALL! You can only be love, show love, do love.  Or NOT. Cherish and experience the uniqueness that is them absent attachment to outcome or judgement in pure love.

I can no longer say "I am not responsible for what I experience, just only responsible for how I respond to it".  And congratulate myself and being a great little Buddha.  Nor can I deny my ability to change everything I see happening!!! And that is exhilarating!!!


When I am attached to this form, I see myself as separate from all other forms and non-forms who do whatever they will do, to prompt my remembrance of being SOURCE. Sometimes painfully so if I ignore the message long enough.

I am really good at ignoring painful. I can be stoic and steadfast in that.  I will bitch about small stuff and bear the big stuff in silence. That in itself landed me in the hospital in the first place for a hard reboot of this inbodyment.  The mind might be able to do it but the body felt the toll.   I don't recommend myself as an example in that regard.

I am not yet to the point I can show the same love that source feels for each being, that I felt first hand in my near death experience.  But all get that same love from Source!   There are beings on this planet who abuse mankind that i don't like very much at all.  I believe I do love them, but I am not yet at the stage where I can show them the same love that was shown me when I died in the hospital.

I see the gap, I know the gap.  I remain a work in progress.  I can start with the ones that present themselves to me each moment and broaden it each time.  How about you?


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