Life is like going to a movie by Adya

Life is like going to a movie
What would be the point of going to a movie and reminding yourself you’re at a movie the whole time?
As soon as you remember it’s a movie, you know it’s a bad one, right?
It hasn’t been good enough to get you to suspend your disbelief.
When you go to a good movie you automatically suspend your disbelief.
You laugh when you’re supposed to laugh
You cry when you’re supposed to cry.
Nobody fell in love, nobody was killed, but we willingly go to have this experience.
At the same time something in you knows it’s not real.
If someone got hauled out and shot in front of you it would leave a lasting impression.
People go to a movie and watch hundreds of people slaughtered while they’re eating popcorn and sipping coke.
They can feel for the people being slaughtered but something inside them knows it’s not real.
Therefore it doesn’t usually leave a lasting impression.
You’re in the world but not of it.
You know it’s not real but you’re not always reminding yourself it’s not real.
That’s the razor’s edge.
If you get caught on either side, the point is totally lost.
It would be like being in a movie and saying, ‘it’s not real, it’s not real’

When you reach for awareness

You can't make enlightenment happen. There's nothing you can 'do' to achieve full consciousness. It comes of it's own accord when you remove every ego/mind/body/thought block to it.

When you reach for the highest levels of awareness what you’re asking for is that every issue you’ve ever had be brought to the surface to be healed.

Every button you’ve ever had will be pushed and pushed again until those buttons no longer exist or you give up and crawl back into your denial.

Your issues and buttons and fears are what stand between you and consciousness.

Once you reach a certain point, the only way out is in.
You're given the ability to deal with it when you're ready to take the next step, heal the next issue.

What do you fear most? That’s where you’re headed.

coincidence and grace

Went to Santa Cruz for spiritual talk on Saturday, spent the night, breakfast on the pier, cruised the downtown markets. On Sunday stopped in Oakland to visit an old friend on the way home. Got home Sunday night and had the one of the worst nights in this 3 year adventure. The next morning felt like I had swam 5 miles. Very weak and tired. Rested on Monday.

Tuesday I was going to move the RV to an RV park in the area, but was too weak. Wednesday I ran errands in Paradise and for some reason decided to get the tires rotated on the truck. I am planning on selling it anyway and seldom rotated the tires even when I kept my rigs. After they did the tire rotation at the shop, they backed it out and basically the front end fell off the thing. If I’d driven it away and especially tried to move the rv, I would sooooo have been killed. The repair is only going to be a few hundred dollars and should be done today, Friday.

Then the folks who bought the land called and said they wanted to buy the RV too! Another good reason not to move it. I’d put off calling the RV park that I’d scoped out to rent the space for a month and couldn’t figure out why I’d kept putting it off.

Then there was the 60 year old man at the tire place who started talking to me out of the blue about his daughter’s death from cancer. After a bit, he asked me if I knew what stage 4 cancer was and I told him that I did and why. After our 5 minute conversation, he was in tears and rose to hug me as I left.

The little egoic me wants to be frightened that I now don’t have land or an RV. It wants a home. Given all that’s happened, I don’t know why god wouldn’t supply me with one, but I’m open to whatever develops. Maybe there’s some other plan. As if I’m in charge, huh? Isn’t it pretty obvious that we’re not?

Spring Celebration

I awake to a cold house on a spring morning before sunrise, make coffee, do a little writing while trying to keep the neighbor kitty out of my face.
Then I walk to town.

Sleeping part of yesterday away, burned I guess from several weeks of being very responsible,
I dream healing, get-back-into-my-body dreams.

Walking to town through the long rays of spring morning light, chilly pure air,
I remember having walked this road, in this light, at this hour and this time of year and then...
I am twenty.

I know this magic, tears start, the sudden knowing.

A rusty chair in the garden, facing renewal, the sunrise.
It is magic. The nettles spring up an inch a day through weathered cedar boards.
Birdsong. Millions of years of evolution and they honor each spring with iridescent, glowing vitality.

Every growing thing celebrates, Audaciously!

Black, barren soil collects the warmth to incite crocus and daffodil to herald the four-and-a-half billionth coming of Christ or Vishnu or Matakwease or Celtic goddess or just Spring.

Faded seed packets mark early greens in my garden planted before the last frost

Snow dripping, water gathering, moving down crystal.
Branches trailing wakes in a powerful icy river, refreshing the sea.

Magic says if you honor more, you get more.

Then, Jake plunges into the river as two small ducks drift by in their search for breakfast.
I yell at him. He says looking at me puzzled,

“I know I could catch them for you, just let me at them. You’d be so proud of me. I know
you’d like to have them”

I laugh out loud. He’s so sincere.

So... you’ve been given the power, honored with it. GO CREATE!

Only humans forget what the rest of the growing things always remember.
Is it my work, to help remind? The highest form of creation for me?

I guess I am a priest, not a warrior or healer or king, and I’m afraid to take the responsibility to always remember. Always. Myself. Now.

Spring-warmed barren hearts, Arise!

Plunge hands, wrist-deep into warmed black soil. Celebrate!

Introduction

Hi all, Was diagnosed with Stage IV Head and Neck, unknown primary. Given a short time to be on the planet. One of those knock you down and now what kind of things. It's a much longer story that will play itself out over time, but I'm not into spending a lot of time doing history. Suffice it to say that after a thousand or more hours of research I realized that oncologists particularly may not be evil, but they've at least been brainwashed into believing some pretty strange shit. I didn't buy into it ultimately and have taken a very different path. Perhaps it'll kill me, perhaps I'm wrong, but I'd rather be dead than live in the hospital environment. Oh, yeah, I'm smart, like a lot of cancer people. I pretty much know what I'm talking about. I've read a ton of clinical studies and also weeded through the alts and cams where there is as much horseshit as in traditional med. I'm 52, fit, male, in a relationship, living in North California. Full time self employed at home, living on the land in a 5th wheel RV, maybe we can afford to build a house. We're going to start on it at least, but have been wiped out financially and not getting any more debt, so cash only. Step at a time.

I teach a class based on A Course in Miracles and I'm a writer, mostly for trade pubs and I do Internet Marketing.

There. I guess that's a start. We'll see where this goes.