In a dream, two different childhood classmates showed up, along with a man who looked very much like Lemmy Kilmister, the late lead singer of Motörhead. Also, my subconscious invented a weird, inefficient elevator. Pleased and curious, I mulled it over, researched and consulted my Higher Self. The results are explored in the following post. Wanna come with?
What if it's the stress, judgment and separation that is the illusion? Seriously, what if that isn't just woo-woo bulls**t talk?
I really enjoy learning more about what life is like for other people. It's important in the growth of my empathy and in widening the acknowledgement of and celebration of other lifestyles, cultures, points of view, etc. There are plenty of pros and cons to the internet, and one big pro is how we can use it to educate ourselves bit by bit and feel connected to people thousands of miles away. Of course, I'm preaching to the choir, here, but I love that someone in Hartford could get the sense of community they need from people in Oslo, Nice, Lisbon, Austin, Reykjavík.
I feel safe using this generalization: that we're all familiar with the word "karma". The post today is a brief contemplation of whether I want to continue believing that karma exists. Wanna join me?
I'm bringing it up because I've heard it enough times from some speakers I appreciate in the spiritual wellness realm, whether they were giving their take on how karma could result from certain actions, or defining and explaining karma in basic terms. It intrigued me when I heard something different from a shaman named Durek.
On December 26th, I had a silly hours-long symptom of ascension: It sounded rather like someone in the next room was quietly whistling, made even better by the fact that it was changing octave almost constantly, lacking rhythm and it amused me. I periodically would let it distract me just for fun. I'd be eating breakfast, working out or washing my hands and I'd pause for a moment, be quiet and listen.
As I go through a physical aspect of spiritual transformation and the entire planet adjusts to the 5D energy, obviously that means lots of interesting moments, like movement and pressure within my brain, my vision changing so that I can see the vibration of atoms, and this! My hearing has been shifting too, allowing for fun feelings and sounds no one else notices!
I have to be careful around Mom so she doesn't worry that I'm developing any health issues. The physical sensations need to be as much a secret as possible and excuses are made for my pauses or slip-ups; Usually, "migraine" or blaming my acid reflux does the trick.
In this post, I plan on going further with the topic of these ascension symptoms for a little while, then mention a dream visitation I got from a loved one. If you're interested, click!
Just to give you an indication of where I'm going with this, the original title of this post started with the word, "Appreciation". I’ve been changed by a documentary I found on YouTube. If you’ve been deeply impacted by a doc about an individual, I’d love to hear from you; I’d like to see what you learned and how you have changed your life based on it, because this is an intense, uncommon experience for me, and I’m gonna gush now about an influential young man I never knew:
Jordan Robinson.
I’m so thankful to the filmmaker behind this, Justin Robinson. As he put it, this movie was [“about a brother, by a brother”], and I can’t imagine how difficult and/or therapeutic it was to make, but without the film, there would be one less lovely testament to Jordan out in the world, which some of his loved ones might lean on to help with their grief, and selfishly, I’m glad for the movie’s existence because I got the chance to learn from it.
It was about a young man, an immigrant. I never learned what his first language was and by the time I heard him speak, he sounded American-raised (and thankfully, this was a dream, so I could get away with turning around to be his audience for what felt like minutes plural). He didn't know anybody when he moved to town, so short, so skinny, in baggy athleisure with truly icky hair choices.
You know when someone's hair is really short, but still styled in a questionable way that makes you think, 'It deserves so much better'? I know you've heard me go on and on about acceptance and patience and my pursuit of non-judgment, and everything I've said is what I'm really up to, but I have moments of choosing my old ways and...here I go, being catty, because...this hair. It involved skinny pieces of hair pointed down his forehead as if he didn't understand what "bangs" or "fringe" means. Sure, the look wasn't nearly as interesting as the live tree-as-accessory I depicted in a previous post, but here at No Matter Where You Go, There You Are, I don't try to outdo myself, I just shine light on the weird elaborate metaphors, and this guy was indeed a metaphor.
My mom's a talented artist and recently, she had a painting to drop off to Rochester Contemporary Art Center as part of an upcoming exhibition, so she kindly invited me to come along. She was all, “I could get us tickets to Andy Warhol!”, which, for each of us, is an offer that’s quite hard to resist, so I said yes (I mean, duh), and the trip introduced me to other impactful, fantastic work. Partway through my time in the Memorial Art Gallery, I started thinking about sharing notes with you on what I saw. I’m including images! Also, there were long conversations with my wonderful mom who threatened to abandon me in that city, far from home, only four times!
Did I make it
home? Click to find out!...Or check your pantry. I’m on a kick that involves late night rendezvous with a
tub of creamy peanut butter and a spoon.
- Regina Meredith Discerning, brave, so intelligent, thoughtful about her articulation during interviews , which I believe...
