My back and memories in and as playing a role/persona.
My knees and the becoming of my self as ego/energy go.
I know that this man is part of my personification here as what I demon-strate. I become the role of the world that is my environment. I become the “retired couple” that is so prevalent here where I live. I become the lover, the partner in an accepted stage of life known as the “golden years”. That which I feared I had lost forever with the death of my husband. I remember crying that I had lost this, that it would never exist with the man I had married. Oh, the bittersweet feel of this, and the idea that this has returned, that I am “in love” with this man, that it is all an illusion from which I must walk because it is not what I am. I am not the role of the wife/partner/couple member/caretaker of a man as the woman of the couple/lover/ the sweet feeling of caring for someone, the wanting of them to be happy, the wanting of them to be whole, the wanting of them to be fluid and productive, the wanting of them to be healthy, the wanting of them to be themselves, the wanting of them to love me, the wanting of them to desire me sexually, the wanting of a “true love” where they love me even in an aged state, where the “flow” between the two of us is one of gentle pleasure as equals.
The temptation for this is really fucking strong. Yet I do not trust this feeling, this imagery of what the outcome will be in the “loving” that appears to exist here between the two of us. How can one trust the projection of such a possibility? How can I trust that this man will be this with me, how can I trust that I will not become restless in the playing of this role? I have no desire to play the part as the fulfiller of this imagery, I have been there and done this and I was tired everyday around four in the afternoon. The playing of a role was consuming in the allowance of my self to fill in the details through acts of coloring in the spaces with what is accepted as how one looks, how one acts, what one is supposed to believe in the movement and act of caring for the people in one’s circles of activity, how one presents oneself in sympathy and compassion, how one’s house should look, how one’s food should be prepared, what cultural events are popular, what clubs one should belong to, what charitable functions one should participate in to make one feel like “good” is being done for the world from the little bubble one is safe and warm in. Meanwhile, the atrocities that are in the world continue. The expression of my self as equality, as life, as oneness is lost in the movement of role playing, in the movement of selective existence, accepted by those of us that are safe from abuse in our part of the world that reaps what is taken from others to support such a life, where we are allowed some profit but the real profit supports the manipulators and “constructors” of this system of inequality.
I am torn between beliefs here, I am uncertain as to whether this is the best choice. Will standing up through voicing what exists by any means possible, and stopping my self from moving as a dictated role of society be the change to stop how the world exists, will this stop that restlessness I know will rear its little head should I choose to become the role.
Already in writing this out i feel the change with in from the elimination of the desire to be this role, to follow this “love that leads me to believe in a kind of “golden age” at the end of my life with a man”.
Always , the righteousness then follows and becomes the generator of another desire to save the world, to ascend to another role, that of the “great humanitarian”, to believe that I am really doing something for the world. I can feel the moral fire within my chest, the intense sense of blazing a trail towards “rightness”. The great blinder. Recklessness.
two choices: reckless in restlessness or reckless in righteousness.
But there is breath. I can breath. I can slow done within my breath and release the morals and the roles and the images that lead me towards all that I know. I am so used to following that I do not know how to lead as myself as equality. I have no idea what this action is. And this idea that I have found that appears to make sense to me, is something I have no sense of.
The looking of the “sense” of this is separation from here/self because it is all I know how to do. I have only known looking for something , I don’t know how to be, to just be, to just be here. The simplicity, the seeming simplicity is what I turn from in an effort to create a “thing” to hold onto. A complication? Am I so used to carrying the weight of the MCS, like being used to carrying a back pack, that the absence of this stuns and numbs and throws one off balance?
Funny that it is my back that is that of constriction, perhaps is is out of balance from the emptying of weight. Perhaps, it is the weight that still exists. It is both.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that I love as my self as equality.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to be confused by what is happening to me.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting the energetic construct of love, of love for a man, for the feeling that I have found true love, found a person/man to exist in equality with.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not trust what is here in men, not to trust men’s capacity to become themself.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear WILLY’S DRIVING.
( I am writing this as I drive to Boston for Christmas)
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear .
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear directing towards oneness in equality.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that I can direct another person into equality.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that my existence determines my finding of my self as oneness in equality.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel that my existence will define my ability to release all energetic constructs.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that I cannot stand as my self should I remain in my present situation.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear that I am making a mistake in following desteni.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that I am making a mistake, that the people around me will attack and destroy my process because I fear I am not strong enough to not be swayed by energetic constructs.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that I must change my environment to follow process.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not realize that breath is here and cannot be taken away. I am here as self and no one can take this from me, not my parents, not society.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear my ability to remain in breath, here.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to become fear instead of remaining in breath, here, as all as one as equal.
I forgive myself for not realizing that I can remain in breath, here, as I realize that I am what is before me, I am the anger, the rejection, the dismay, the hate, the fear. I breath through all resistance, I accept resistance and I walk as breath here.
I wrote this post yesterday.
This morning I woke up and had another period of desire, when I suddenly “felt” that submissive thing that’s been with me.
Submission. Sex is submission to GOD.
Submission is allowing something else to decide, to direct, to control.
Submission is believing in the need for direction.
Submission is allowing a “life vest” to support.
Submission is believing oneself to be tired, to need rest
Submission is wanting someone else to stand in and be responsible, which means the starting point of the action is not from life/equality.
Sub-mission. doing something for another, in-stead of being oneself as all as one as equal, in principle here, in-stead of moving as what is best for all.