darkemeralds: A round magical sigil of mysterious meaning, in bright colors with black outlines. A pen nib is suggested by the intersection of the cryptic forms. (Default)
I've been wanting to say authentic things here: deeper, truer things, stuff that makes me uneasy to share (not because it's necessarily bad or dangerous, but because I have a highly-controlled personality and my people place a premium on self-containment and shame-avoidance).

So I'm sort of working up to talking about my long trek through the desert of reductionist materialism into a tentative anatheism, or about transformative experiences that have left no mark on my skin, my address, or my income, and therefore may not look real to other people (and may sound loony).

I want to talk about these things, but I still worry about being cast out of what few communities I can claim connection to, for being something (it could be anything--unacceptable, ill-informed, backward, too far-out, not articulate enough, stupid, outdated, wrong, and, most recently, too old).

So for today I'll leave this as a placeholder, and move briefly on to more mundane things.

Like, OMG was Backstrom as awful as I thought it was? It was, right? Cliché, offensive, derivative, how-the-fuck-did-this-get-greenlit, pretending-to-be-Portland-can't-save-it bad. Right? But maybe the 12 unbearable minutes I gave it weren't enough. Does it deserve another chance?
darkemeralds: Photo of an angelic-looking cloud with words "I HAVE SENT YOU NOTHING BUT ANGELS" (angel)
After a ridiculous two weeks at work (during which a single bad posting in the financial system resulted in...well, many hours of overtime and phone calls to Germany and hair-on-fire crisis mode, and generally a collapsing universe), I finally escaped late yesterday for four days off.

I planned to be happy and positive and all living-room-painty. But when I went to bed, I found my thoughts straying to the negative. I felt outside myself, alienated. Stress does that. It's awful. I woke up this morning in a tenuous frame of mind, rested but not chipper. Where, I wondered, are my happy, positive thoughts?

So I got dressed and made coffee and started my laundry, and pretty soon there was a knock on my door. A nice group of Jehovah's Witnesses were standing there--a man, a woman, some little children--holding out a leaflet.

Funny how things come along. )
darkemeralds: A falcon taking flight from a falconer's arm (Flight)
The second of Neale Donald Walsch's Three Secrets To Ending the Struggle and Making Your Life Work is that there's really nothing wrong, nor has there ever been.

Needless to say, I've got some problems with this one. )
darkemeralds: (Now)
I've been experimenting with the first of Neale Donald Walsch's three "Secrets to Ending the Struggle and Making Your Life Work," the one that says:
  • Your growth process is complete
  • You were already fully evolved when you got here
  • You don't need to become who you are, you just need to be who you are...
...and so forth.

For an uptight perfectionist like me, the obvious place to start was to put self-improvement on hold for a bit; to resist the temptation to fix just one more problem, read one more self-help blog, try one more method.

Trickier than it sounds. )
darkemeralds: An old book whose spine reads Signsls and Cyphers, with the text DarkEmeralds (Signs)
Unusual things:

I saw a rabbit hopping across my yard yesterday through a group of robins and woodpeckers.

The driver who erroneously delivered my new pre-amp and microphone cable to a neighbor came back after his shift in his own car and brought the package to me.

The delivery company was unable to reach me by phone, even though my phone was working fine.

My brother emailed me to say he'd witnessed a meteor strike last night in Santa Barbara.

On my shopping errands today, I heard a the cry of a seagull, just like at the beach.

I was turning in to the Trader Joe's parking lot behind a car with plates that said JOY BRD.

I sliced off a chunk of my right index fingernail with my newly-sharpened chef's knife while chopping scallions this afternoon.

I inadvertently silenced my laptop by plugging in the new pre-amp. So I spent the whole day offline, and instead listened to Lev Grossman's The Magician King and got lots of things done.
darkemeralds: (DarkEm Lady In Door)
I astonished myself yesterday by listening to an interview with Neale Donald Walsch, author of the Conversations With God books of a decade or so ago.

I never read the books because I'm not much for God, and have spent a good portion of my adult life on the agnostic-to-atheist spectrum, with a recent sojourn in the spare, dry country of Absolute Determinism sans even the smallest parasol of spirituality. But it's harsh and depressing there, and I've been flirting with the ineffable again lately because dammit, it just feels better.*

So anyway. In the interview, Walsch discusses "three secrets to ending the struggle and making your life work," and it was so refreshing that I was able to do some hand-waving around the God stuff and just absorb it. I took lots of notes.

Secret Number One: Your growth process is complete. )

I propose to test the efficacy of this theory over the next few days and report back. I got off to a good start, feeling peaceful and joyous and full of grace, but then the whole wide world started annoying the crap out of me--a phenomenon I've often noticed when my inner defenses are feeling wobbly, so it's probably a good sign, since the inner defenses need to come down.

I'm beginning to see that I need far more stripping-away than I need adding-onto. The accretion of decades' worth of false beliefs, negative images, and general crust will require some serious spiritual exfoliation before the real me shows through. Hopefully there will be no need for a volcano.


*"Why are you so happy all the time?" someone reportedly asked the Dalai Lama, who reportedly answered, "Because it feels better."

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darkemeralds: A round magical sigil of mysterious meaning, in bright colors with black outlines. A pen nib is suggested by the intersection of the cryptic forms. (Default)
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