Light the Fear

You Don't Give Birth Because the Baby is Beautiful

You give birth because you are pregnant.

One of my best friends said that to me today, and it made us both laugh. But it's true.

Whether you are bearing a child, an idea or a piece of art, it gestates within you. Yet for those offspring that are not visceral, the uncertain gestation period troubles their mothers, who are often pregnant with many such spawn.

For example, I've been pregnant with this damn novel for over a decade now, and sadly, I don't get to give birth all at once like with a human baby.  No, this baby trickles out over days, weeks, months and even years.  

This is no way to bring life into being, and I know it.  

But I realize now, I've only been wanting my cute and adorable kids.  I've only wanted my smart and sexy children.  But my first novel? Well, she's still only half borne out, and who knows if others will love her as much as I do?

In the meantime, I keep helping others deliver their babies, or I conceive and birth other children of my own, somehow around her remains.  Either way, I leave this baby unattended for large swaths of time, only to come back and get the rest of her out of me.  

"She could be beautiful," I remind myself.

"Or ugly," my devil's advocate opines.

I run, and I scream.  I gnash my teeth, and I blame others, or the failing world.

"I'm done! Who cares?"

"It doesn't matter anyway...."

In fact, it doesn't matter, but what doesn't matter is it doesn't matter if the baby isn't beautiful.  It doesn't matter if no one likes her, and she lives a short life.  I cannot leave her half-birth undone lest I drag the miscarriage of her dream forward to darken every other conception I'm blessed with.  

Besides, if I don't give her the life she so deserves, what kind of parent am I? For clearly now, I am full-term with this novel. 

You don't give birth because the baby is beautiful, you give birth because you are pregnant.

What's My Identity?

Is it true that "you are what you do?" And if so, who am I?

I write, therefore I am a writer. I dream big dreams, so I am a dreamer. But no one is paying me for either, so I can't stop there (yet).

I think a lot these days, so am I a thought? a thinking machine?  

Yes. Clearly one of my outputs is thought, but it's not the thoughts alone that matter.  They can, even deeply, create impact within one life, but they must be organized and expressed to be shared. To become fungible and multiply their impact.

Or do they?

What about the energy I emit simply by being? by thinking?  What if I consciously focus it?

Like a sun, we each beam a personal solar wind into our immediate environment and into the energy networks interconnected with us.  It is both real and recordable, e.g. aura photography or electro-magnetic sensing, as well as consciously and unconsciously emitted whether we are awake or asleep. 

But what happens to the energy you emit if you harness the knowledge of these facts about your own being and its relation to the universe around you to strengthen your beliefs and activate focused visualizations of free will for specific purposes?

We're only now beginning to understand the mechanism of deliberate creation, and yet anyone lucky or disciplined enough to launch and sustain such a causal loop will tell you the most important things are showing up and not bad mouthing your own dreams. 

You must spend your time in meditation, or otherwise focusing your resonance towards a specific purpose, and you must let your vision live so strongly that your intention and your expectation merge.  

We all use these laws of nature every day to accomplish our personal lives. It's how the universe works. Yet how often do we spend time focused on our collective well-being? 

What if your identity was the value of your intentions to the ecosystem?  What if that's part of the next natural evolution of those laws of nature?

Humans are over three-quarters made up of water, and water is one of the unique elements on our planet, storing and transmitting not only physical information about where it has been, but also responding to, and perhaps storing the memory of its energetic history too.  Water is the medium for expression, retention and application of both personal and ecosystem memory,  as well as the means for all life to exist.  

Wouldn't it make elegant design sense then, that water will play a pivotal role in our ecosystem's next big evolution?

Maybe I'm a water baby.  

A believer in believing.

For belief's sake.

The Matter & Energy of Thought

As a Blended Being of energy and matter, our thoughts manifest in both biological and electrical representations, coursing through our beings and saturating us in their soup.  

The soup may change, day to day, depending on our health and circumstances, and yet it is always the most influential factor in our daily experience of love or fear.

But which has more power?  the biology of thought, i.e. the chemical and electrical recordation of it in our brain bodies? or the energy of thought, i.e. the signatures and fields helping to focus and maintain our current emotional attitude and temperament?

If thoughts are responsible for our daily experience, moment by moment, then as such, they are the most powerful thing in the entire universe.  Thoughts dictate our lives. Perhaps literally.

So if the mind operates as the glue layer between the physical self (our body) and the energy self (our sense of self), then it holds the power to self-correct both the physical self (chemical or electrical problems with the brain body) and the energy self (attitude or temperament problems with the *model* of self).

The chemical emotions and body conditions we experience are a result of our growth up to this point in our life, while the energy, attitude and vibrational conditions we experience are based on our flow up to this point in our journey.

So a chemical or electrical treatment can definitely change your growth and flow, and yet after the circuits or molecular processing are passed by the body, it is the changes in thought patterns, beliefs and values that have the most lasting impact on actual behavior. 

The energy of thought is therefore the most influential. Intention rules.

Anyone, anywhere, under any condition can access this power, and with one thought, be changed forever. Both in body (matter), and in mind (energy).

Me, My Model and I**

I perused Stephen Hawking's recent book and first publication in a decade on the origins of the universe and the likelihood of a coherent theory of everything emerging from modern physics.  

It's a fascinating read for anyone interested in quantum physics and the relationship of mind to matter.

Yes, Dr. Hawking thinks there is an appropriate theory of everything, and he throws his weight behind M-Theory. But he also notes that our own mind's provide a limited mechanism for testing and understanding these theories because, by definition, we must always test the universe using our brains which operate, by definition, by making a model of the stimulus we perceive. 

He says, "there is no model-independent test of reality," and this model-dependent realism has some startling conclusions, including that the laws of nature by which local space is made stable may also be the cause of global instability at the universal level.

"Bodies such as stars or black wholes cannot just appear out of nothing. But a whole universe can." (p. 180)

Hawking is saying that universe creation is an energy neutral function, i.e. the negative energy of gravity balances the energy needed to create a big bang and the resulting matter and motion of the space-time universe contains once created.

To me, and to Hawking I think, this means that universes are common and somehow co-exist, overlap or more importantly, somehow fuse to create the reality that we experience.  

But how?

What about thought?  In my own theories here, I posit structures such as morphic fields and personal and collective thought "atmospheres," but in M-theory terms, I guess my "thought atmosphere" is actually an information-storage and retrieval "pocket" within the membrane.

The Egg Model of the Universe conforms to M-theory's basic principle that everything can be described as a two dimensional "membrane" vibrating in eleven dimensional space.

The two dimensions of the membrane are Energy and Matter, while the eleven dimensions of experiential space are relatable to Flow, Grow and the intersection points between each dimension of the Membrane (each plane in the Egg model) and it's collective counterpart on each side of the vibration.

Thus, an integrated model of the mentally-created universe begins to emerge, and it's an exciting time to be studying and writing about it.  

What do you think?

**"I" may actually be a focused resonance hologram created from the bounded set of infinitely varied universes co-existing in overlapping frequencies, and whose intersection friction (and reflection) is the source of super-gravity (and everything else) in our observable universe.

 

 

Daylight Rising

By the end of 1999, I knew I was a great attorney, but I also knew I hated it. So I quit.

I had lost a good friend to the excesses of that lifestyle and seen myself safely through it all, but only barely.  Working with lawyers was shitty, and they were shitty and the economics of the world were shitty and the game is rigged. 

And I don’t mean slightly rigged, or inadvertently unfair, but I mean totally and completely willfully rigged by the monied class to benefit them at everyone else's expense.  I guess that’s now truly obvious after Wall Street’s blatant raping of the Fed in the last few years, but in the late 90’s a lot of people were chasing greed, especially in Seattle, home to Microsoft, Amazon and a gazillion other start-ups. 

Being a poor kid, an idealistic kid, a part of me thought it would be different when I got there, but it wasn't.  You either joined, and were thereby corrupted by your own greedy compromises, or you didn't join and were kicked out.  

It made me disillusioned with the world and with God.  I railed at the universe, and I demanded answers or I was going to kill myself. Literally.

Sitting in the sun one afternoon, broke and abandoned by my first boyfriend, I picked up the guitar he had bought me, the one I couldn’t touch since he had left for fear of bludgeoning it into a thousand pieces, and I began to play. Not "chords" or "notes," but sounds and beats, like a caveman finding an odd-shaped piece of wood strung with odd strings that resonated various frequencies of emotion. 

I played and I sang in a made up language as tears streamed down my face. 

Answers came.  Answers to everything.  Answers to any questions I wanted, and even to many I had not known I had.  It was as if the universe peeled back it's curtain to casually show me its inner workings.

"It's not so complicated," the sun told me, and I realized I only ever wanted to put an end to my self because of what other's said or did to me.  I was shocked and overwhelmed, unable to doubt it because it was so clearly exactly what I had demanded, and so clearly changed everything.  

I opened myself then, and I let the universe in. And in accordance with our deal, I took suicide off the table. Forever. 

For it had always been there before, and you have no idea how hard it is to enjoy even a simple meal at that table, when the self-esteem centerpiece includes a self-destruct button.  It sounds obvious now, but it was one of those “you don’t know what you don’t know” moments that changed me forever.  

Deciding to stay here, to stick it out, and most of all, to settle that long-raging debate in my own favor helped me relax into my life more than I thought possible, more than I thought I needed.  It was the first time I truly took responsibility for who I was and who I wanted to be, instead of letting the outside world and other people box me into their corner, their vision.

I saw into the universe in a way that I am so grateful for each and every day.  It transformed me in an instant, and every time I go back to the memory, whether to share it or simply when I think of that day and that sun beam, it helps me again.

Prove It

Have you ever backed yourself into a corner, made promises you didn't keep and generally put things off until the last moment when you see your dreams dying on the vine before you?

I have, and I am.

This whole year has been a tortuous and expensive lesson in circular reasoning, and yet in the end, none of that matters.  The world moves on, with or without you.

Crunch time is here, and only these written words will tell if I respond or I fold.

Yet I write today with the intention of proving to myself that I can keep my word, proving that I can finish what I start and that I can believe in my own art (and my own Self) to see it through to completion.  

Good or bad, it is time to be done, and I commit today to write every day until it IS done.

The world is full of average artists, and in this unfair and unjust world, it may seem like there is no reason to add myself to their ranks. But then there is the most important reason of all: YOU.

I don't know who you are, and I've been struggling with knowing who I am in your eyes. But none of it really matters; so much noise signifying nothing.  Grief, like ambition or faith is relatively fleeting in the broadest of contexts, and reach as I might, I will never prove you exist more than I believe it today.

In the end, there is only the blinking cursor, the moving hands of the clock, the yellowing leaves falling from the trees and the shortening light of each day.  Yet my heartbeat's silent companionship is hopeful.

For I must prove to myself now that I am who I have always felt that I could be, and I must do it, not for myself as I've been struggling to find the confidence to do, nor for my family and friends, nor for any abstract lost souls out there who might find comfort in my story. 

I must do this for you.  For you, and for me.

Game on.