Maybe it’s Animals
If speaking with humans means me being tired and sick…
Maybe it’s better I don’t show up
April 21, 2022
Maybe it’s best for everyone (else) that I don’t participate in the live call or the group discussion.
Maybe it’s better when I don’t say what I have to say which is generally nothing at all to do with what everyone else is going through, and makes me out to be some kind of freakish know-it-already spooner cuddling up to the light while everyone else in the room is spreading out to find space. Anyway, that’s how it feels sometimes. Generally before the show.
Once I’m at the event, I don’t have any narratives going on. I just have what’s going on, going on. But I’m not at the show right now, am I? I’m here, at my desk, with the cats, downloading the group coaching call I missed at 2 AM and wondering about tomorrow’s 2 AM Deep Dive Zoom.
I’m wondering if it’s better for everyone else on the call if I just watch the replay rather than participate and if my wondering has anything to offer. If it has anything to say to me. A message, perhaps.
Just now, a man up Melinda Court starts yelling and swearing. It’s not unusual. Our street is peppered with violent outbursts. Violent angry screaming at wives and girlfriends and babies and dogs. It’s not unusual. It reminds me that anger has been on my mind lately. A theme running through my veins.
It came up with the last Divine Navigation Mastery group coaching call. Another replay. Something about sinus congestion being related to anger. Then, when I looked up more of my ‘conditions’ I found more anger. A little depression, deceit and rejection of the self, but mostly anger.
I was watching Vikings Valhalla, watching my ancestors getting slaughtered and corrupted in Jesus’ name, and that anger came back to me. I realised just how much my rejection and scepticism of biblical Christianity has to do with its onslaught against my bloodline. A bloodline I do not really associate with until it reaches as far back as the Druids, the Vikings, the Mongols, and Slavic “black-gypsies” or Roma.
Considering bloodlines are not the biggest influence on my heritage, it’s any wonder I’m only conjured by the strongest emotional-energetic and mystical of all. Plus they are the loudest. Probably b/c of the pain and devotion expressed in their being. An expression very loudly, an awareness, in anger, right now, for me.
Analysis won’t help. The only way through seeking to understand is by way of allowing. I must let the emotional state awash and overtake my now process. That may sound like a choice. The truth is closer to a shift between ignorance and alertness. Until I become conscious that anger is taking over, it continues to show up, in all manner of places; symbolically.
Symbolically, it turns up “internally” a la endo-consciously by way of absorbing-expansion-production related qualia and exo-consciously by way of releasing-relaxing-production related phenomena, as well as “externally” a la anthro-perceptually by way of allo*-coming-variation related events and endo*-psychic-impetus related artefacts and eco-perceptually by way of vision-speaking-communication related visitations.
This is to say it shows up in movies I’m asked to watch, book pages I’m told to read, and on web search results I’m instructed to visit. In dreamscapes, and visions. In oracle card readings and group coaching calls. As the presage of a storm, and the affection of a full moon. It shows up in more and more places as if asking to be invited in so it may do its work, so it may take up its rightful place and be fully at home with me at its centre.
At which point it begins to build sandcastles, that seem as real as any other construct, with mountains and nooks and places to hide, and proceeds to create a convincing reality within its fantasy. All the while, I am drawn into this reality, not always aware of what I am doing; at times, completely forlorn and absorbed in its drama, until near the very end when the sun comes out.
I can’t think of another way to describe it, other than metaphorically. The gloomy mountain and wicked storm are actually how it appears to me, in the moment. I don’t have stories running for the emotions I feel. There’s no human drama playing out. I actually see and feel the cold, wet, mountainside stone and harsh, howling, winds of descent into darkness as anger travels through me.
Anger is the message, in a way. It travels through me as this physical phenomenon and, having been through this space, I have its message. Rather than being a light at the end of a tunnel, my enlightenment is in the dark. There’s no dark night of the soul that reveals a better life. I am instigated to know this anger, specifically, not as a story or as a means to an end but instead as a valuable voice with intentional truths and important wisdoms to share. Most of which cannot be explained as sentiments of human cultural knowings. Indeed, they only make sense symbolically, in the alchemical imagination. And that’s another reason I wonder if it’s better that I don’t show up tomorrow to the Deep Dive Zoom.
All I have to say will end symbolically, in language that does not compute in the circle of those seeking to ameliorate their pain and transmute their knowing into peacefully integrated consciousness while I’m out here, on the edge, wondering how to welcome in the dark stormy night for its own sake, for its true beauty, as its willing subject. Sigh.
