Speaking Plainly

I don't always speak plainly, don't always reveal what I really feel. Change what comes out, alter it, play with it, work on it, so that it isn't the pure thing, the original spirit. Thinking the letter is as important, when it can so easily become all that matters. The word says everything, but the voice and the body language say so much more. I'm tired of this dimension. Tired of only communicating with the fingers. I know why I do, and choose to do, but in the space it gives me to speak, also stops me from speaking. There is only so far I can go with word, even though it can be pretty fucking far. And yet, I never do anything to change that. There are some who could be spoken to. Some who could be talked to aside. The idea of PM rarely exists for me unless someone sends me something. I never know what is appropriate other than what is said, and as most gets said in public, that's where I prefer to be. Trouble is, most only open up in private, some have contacted me this way. None, except one, still continues.
\nI sometimes imagine what I forget - all the conversations that go on behind closed doors. For me, none of that exists. But the effects of them effect me without knowing how. Somehow, even though many conversations have taken place behind the scenes, many times I feel they would have sparked of more were others to know them. Of course, they wouldn't be happening at all outside of this private moment, but still.
\nThe idea of friends seems alien to me. Some have chosen to become friends, asked to become friends, just declared they were. But what that means has no real meaning, and I simply accept and move on.
\nSo while what I say goes through phases here. More me, less me, more advice, less advice, more listening, less listening, more feeling less feeling, more words, less words, it's all me, yet not all me.
\nI spend much time in my head. When all else fails, it is always there to go to. I don't believe all that goes on there, and certainly don't put into practice some of it. It is a melting pot of ideas and observations, coupled with a smattering of beleiefs, much of which have no purpose.
\nThe world itself is an awesome place. No matter how much one sees and experiences, every time something occurs it is new. So, by not repeating much of what has been, even the mundane can have something in it. Out of the most unlikely moments something real can emerge. Those unique set of circumstances, no matter how similar they seemed a moment ago, now produce a feeling that only this exists. Of course we know this is true, but to really feel it profoundly, changes everything.
\nI recently went through something like that. For a time, nothing existed outside that moment. Hours went by with that being all that was. The space, the people, the energy, the feelings, the actions, all typical and mundane in their individual parts, but as a whole, created a reality that when it was over, required me to come back to what was there before as if finding it all again. My old life. The me that was before was still there because the life was still there, but the me that had just been, was a me unlike the me I usually am. A very different me that had an effect on those around me in a way I wasn't expecting. Just as they had an effect on me in much the same way. Each of them differently, some easier than others, some much harder, until eventually, I had had enough, or so I thought. Couldn't accept it a moment longer, even though there was much to accept, much that could have been, that only now I see. What had been so present, in the moment and accepted, became resisted and could no longer be. That feeling, that reaction, ended that experience which in turn has led to writing this.
\nWhy do I bring it up? Good question. I forget how real life can be outside my head. There's only so much imagining anyone can do. At some point one has to stop imagining and experience it, and then experience it better. The forum experience can be a wonderful, rewarding, fun, connecting, time. But just as towards the end of my recent experience, many of the players who had been so instrumental in making it what it was were no longer there, so the experience no longer mattered.
\nFamily comes and goes - it always has for me. Not blood family, although they have too, but those who become like family. For me, they are my family while I spend time with them because on one level we all are, but we walk our own path. We give of ourselves as we go, in whatever way we can, but at the end of the day, we can only ever step in one spot at one time. I choose to spend much time here. I have much time to do so. But in doing so, and feeling rewarded, I have no reason to do anything else. I follow my passion, my excitement, and if this feels like that, nothing else is needed. But when that isn't felt, something else is needed, and it seems like something else IS needed. Life outside of my head.
The world has become a small village technologically, but a hard and tiresome one to traverse irl, what with all the fear the war on terror has produced. The fear creates all the things people do, and if you could go backwards on its timeline, you would see that everything stems from it. So without it, what it produces doesn't exist, and if that doesn't exist, nothing should stop anyone from being in it.
\nI am not afraid of being in it, only resistant to being a certain person in it. A person affected by the intentions and desires of others is not me. It has been, can be, but isn't me. While I like to do for those who need, if I can do what I can do, some of it avoids having to do certain things that I don't prefer. I live alone around those I live around. It helps having them, and they make my life easier, but it's not truly alone, nor truly in the world. Sometimes I think I must be completely in, and sometimes I think I must be completely out, but I know I can be neither. I must be in and out, in when i'm out and out when i'm in. All life is the same. Inside outside, same. It is what it is, from moment to moment. What kind of moment do I want it to be?
\nTo swing the other way. To let go of what has been in every way. To do it another way and see what that life feels like. To let go of everything that was, so that who was doing it can change into someone else. It is time to metamorphise. It is time for the Dr. to regenerate. I must reinvent. Release. Clear away the old so that I am not pulled back into what feels like old, but move forward into what feels like awakening, joy, expansion and love.
\nNot easy to love when you know how to. Not easy for that love to be seen as love. Too easy for love to become not love, and when that happens, you know it's time to go. It has been time for me to go for some time.

 

Perhaps speaking plainly is never plain enough. I can only say it as it comes out. Don't get it - no problem. Rewrite it - I don't think so. Cannot rewrite what exists only say it another way.
 
To come and burn one has always been something real for me. It would not just be one though, could not be. For to do so changes everything. literally. I cannot say how much things are already changing, have changed, have yet to change. I am always here. Living life amongst those who can't see. What is it like to be seen by those capable of doing so? What is it to be seen and accepted for who we are, regardless of what that is? To feel the sun and be free under it, so that whatever needs to be there needs to be there because it needs to be.
 
I know this feeling. Have felt it before. Have been accepted by those who had no reason to. Best acceptance in so many ways. Was I up to the task? Was I able to sustain the one who appeared under such circumstances? For quite some time, until the old ways, the old vibrations, tendencies, started making their way back in. Don't forget about us! You cannot walk into the light while pockets of darkness lurk within. I have all the space to do the right thing, live the right way, and do so. But I also live far from doing so, as there is much that is not done.
 
Like DD says, I choose it, want it, even though I wonder how I can keep doing so? Choosing pain, accepting it, running towards it not away, all form part of this journey. Not that I'm opposed to its opposite. That still appears from time to time. To know the highest love one needs to know the deepest pain. Two sides of the same coin. There is something about the pain that is almost desirable. It dissolves away the falsehood. Makes things real. Keeps the old from rising up as if it is new.
 
Perhaps I don't know how to speak plainly to you. Not really. Too many things said get in the way anyway. The less you need to interpret, the more it seems as if it makes sense, the less it actually does. Some can't even read it, yet even though they've decided it isn't for them, still feel to say so rather than already be doing something else. Nothing wrong with that. All responses are real. But the difference between those who see and those who don't is vast. I cannot make you see, for in doing so you will surely not. I can only reveal me, and you must do the rest. So you see what you see, take from it what you will, just as we always do from something poetic, some lyric. It means what it means, but only to the one who sees it.

 

It is easy to fill up time with things that seem relevant. Do what has become familiar. Day after day. But to let go of it completely, whether it works or not, just because in doing so everything changes, and the Universe, which has been waiting to provide but had to step back while I did its job, can do what it so wants to do.
 
Move into a new dimension consciously, ready for what it is, whatever it is. Having faith that it must be that way, yet not needing faith because it would just be so. Letting go of the mind structure that has been 'me', letting go of the label that defines me as me. I am not of this life, yet defined by it. So it matters what life I live so as to be defined better. But should it be an escape. Should it need to be. Then it might not be anything like that. For to let go of the known, the familiar, not because i am ready, just because I can no longer be here, may not be the thing. It will be some thing, but once done, there is no going back. There is never anything called 'back' but an idea of it. Everything is forward it always has been. What is my forward? The time to move into it seems at hand. Yet here I sit. Typing these things as they appear. revealing what is currently being felt. waiting yet not waiting.
 
The mirror's reflection cannot change before I do.

 

There is a need to accept things as they are, even though I can change them. There is a feeling that in changing them I have not accepted them, and indeed, at the end of my recent experience, I was unable to accept them any longer. I had a choice, didn't even have to be there, but knew that if I did, if I allowed it to be, it would move me forward, open things up. I did not play the game well - not as well as I might. For it was a game to me. What they cared about, what matters to them, matters not to me. What was important to them was way down the bottom of my list. So I did what I could being seen as someone else. Became that someone because the reality demanded it of me. Stillness, presence, awareness, all there, but only I could see them in me. They saw something, but I can't concern myself with that view.
 
Nothing plain about him - too mysterious was he. He's a bit strange that one, but he's alright though let him be. All there for there own reasons. Some had no choice. I had choice but no choice, for the game I play demanded it. They thought it in my interest, and in many ways it was, but only if I was there as me, and not some version, albeit a better one. Once that me had settled - a fews days that did take. The other aspects returned to take their place within this moment. Looking for permission to be revealed. I gave them none. No space to appear lest they change things back to what was. Lest they create a life that loses what had been found. So the silence remained, for the most part. Hours could go by with not a word, when a word was what they wanted, perhaps more than one.
 
To listen to their sounds, but not reveal myself to them, when all of my being cried out to do so, yet enjoyed the space not doing so brought. A noble silence was it? Perhaps. But in accepting this was how I must be, because the game seemed to demand it, made it into something of the mind, something egotistical, something that is was not yet appeared to be. Something I felt I wanted it to be.
 
Be the person you wish to be, not the person you think you are. I am not being real even when I think I am. The problem is the thinking not the being. But the being is fragile, it has only just been born. It lives inside its own protective suit and has little experience outside it amongst those who don't need one.

 

 
I find it interesting that you find it interesting. I find myself wondering if any of those ponderings resulted in understandings?