Acting Truths

What does it mean to get what I want?

These are my notes and reflections on "Understanding Trauma", session 1 of Returning to Wholeness: A Guide to Understanding and Integrating Trauma, a 12-Lesson online course with Gabor Mate.

Desire inventory is a practice where one starts a timer for a certain amount of time (10 minutes for example). Once the timer is started one writes one's desires one at a time. I prefer to write it in this format "I desire [INSERT] because I want to feel [INSERT]. One keeps on going until the timer goes off at the end. Optionally one can write at the end "Dear God I wish to have these desires met or desire what I get if they will be for my higher good".

Part 5 of a series where I read the book  "An Immanent Metaphysics" written by Forrest Landry and share with you my thoughts and reflections as I read and link it to whatever else I'm reading, thinking, or experiencing in my life at that moment. In a way, I'm taking you along on with me on my learning journey of the text.

Part 4 of a series where I read the book  "An Immanent Metaphysics" written by Forrest Landry and share with you my thoughts and reflections as I read and link it to whatever else I'm reading, thinking, or experiencing in my life at that moment. In a way, I'm taking you along on with me on my learning journey of the text.

Reading an entry from my desires journal dated 2 January 2016.

ľm grateful for the immanent

perceiver perceiving the perceived as is

ungarnished by story, meaning, purpose

innate & cognate

precedes cognitive & conative

pain is not suffering

when the steak makes me salivate

not the sizzle of hot media's bling bling

native beauty of the felt sense

fuzzy rich unyielding

pleasure when it clicks

inside deep

mysterious

always new

ha! a-ha! hahaha

laughter the child of surprise

a sudden turn

the ground spins beneath my feet

I hold on

optimal grip on what is real

realtime processing

affordances of my unwelt

smell of freshly toasted

spelt bread

over which newly churned butter melts

before the neurogenesis of photons

inside the mind's eye

l chop wood

for our drumming circle's bonfire

after glow of awakening

I chop vanities

to throw in the funeral pyre

chasing tail

purity of touch

me not

for I have not shed

the idols of simulacrum

lycra of inactive wear

and tear, tear under my tongue

it goes & she goes

to feel the lump in my throat

unease, discomfort

simply listen with no

explanation to glisten

no priest to Christen

the simplicity of sensing

not making sense

from the embodied richness

whence this Luciferic

mischief seeks recompense.

I'm grateful for the unfolding

realities happen in the rightness

of their times

layers of becoming slowly exposed

at each revealing

striptease of being

truth is to uncover

recover

what's beneath surfaces

bubbling of what lies underneath

surfacing of hidden skeletal

details patterns of forms

she holds my tiny hand

as the other trace spirals

in the sand

sound of waves

announcing the receding tide

the moon pulls from the other side

absence of her reflected light

reveals flickering of long-lived stars

the arresting red hues of fungi

borne of mycelia running unseen

unwitnessed in their tending

the soil of possibilities

trampled by busybodies

bumping like predictable billiard balls

steam trains on the track

stations create a common time

bound by Bundy Clocks

tick tick tock tick tick tock

life in sync with optimising chron jobs

in misty clouds of silica guarded by guns

dot one's tongue

escape the logic

dig for the magic

reduction of absurdities

reconnect with the chaos

of turning

as we enter the age of air

unstable breezes from the hot desert lands

prophecies intercede on one's behalf

dry souls are best

suited for the culling

jihad for M'uad Dib

to see futures is a curse for living in the now

blind one's eyes

there's no escape from the tragedy of fate

the more I exercise freedoms

the more destined I am supposedly

listen to the secrets whispered under the rose

as I lick poison on fingertips jabbed

with blood a most special kind of juice

for fools, civil society has no use

to walk the unmapped paths

the bliss of choice in uncertainty

evolution borne of mistakes

in replicating what has been

unfaithful copying

creates danger, creates possibilities

creative destruction destructive creation

this body is not me

yet it materiality remains a mystery

matter is truly dark

dust the original sin of rebelling.

I'm grateful for touch

I'm grateful for double binds

intractable, unsolvable, irreducible

the poverty of context deprecates

slip knot of Athens' pesky gnat

nibbles at the adjacent possible

dialogue is prologue

to knowing

who am I

who you are us two

us them, the bigger we

no one's special

each one ordinary

yet all take part in

super complex realities

worlds of magic

in the dreaming

soaked

in our bones

living the thing is believing

see for yourself know for yourself

creation's experiment

fully stacked, with a spiral movement

subluxation releases, relaxes

the integral embrace the dismal

futomomo restraint of higher-order love

archaic revival of the modern

flick the switch of postmodern critique

to go beyond is the Cathar's bond

give my solemn word

descent of sharp fiery sword

systems learning to live within

systems of systems of systems

in paradox

no other way to be but heterodox

feel the base

the drumbeat

heartbeat

rhythmic swings

seasons a time for everything

not to do is a doing

doing is a seeing

seeing is to change things

the warmth of hands

as I cry my heart out

frustrated masculine agency

nurtured by feminine generosity

flight of dragons

a coven of the reborn.