Awake in the Dream

"Only the shaman knows that Culture is a Game. Everyone else takes it seriously. That's how he can do his magic." ~ Terence McKenna “ To be totally free one needs to be totally aware, because our bondage is rooted in our unconsciousness; it does not come from the outside." — Osho, Freedom Lately, when I tap into the matrix (by opening my phone and reading the news or peeking at Twitter) I am reminded of the game that we are all so conditioned to. That we consider normal. It goes something like this: We are given a narrative and then we spiral into a state of reaction to said narrative. We are told that our situation is inevitable and our salvation lies outside of ourselves. We give our power away and we continue to weave the spell of separation by repeating the mantras sold to us. And yet, even in this state of hijacked consciousness and reaction, humanity’s creativity still shines through. Look at memes! Tik Tok! And so much more. To consider that we are archit...

Let go of the identity you so dearly cling to What use is it in the year of our undoing? Let go of the narratives of separation Did you write them? Does it matter? Do they serve you? Pull a thread from the Matrix (the tapestry of illusion you call reality) Watch it unravel in the fire of Truth Fear is a choice and it will be harvested  Used as thread  Weaving and weaving the dream spell of “This is the way it has always been, and the way it shall always be. Your only choice is red or blue. ‘They’ are the enemy. Fight amongst yourselves.  Your salvation lies outside of yourself. Consume. Sleep. Repeat.” Wake Up Shake this spell from your Divine Self  Unplug from groupthink  See the deception and Come back into  Your Heart Choose Love Over and over and over Choose Love You are a creator You are here to create  The New Earth Not by trying to convince people of anything  (that is your ego) But by Embodiment Your frequency speaks  Louder than word...

 I drove myself to the forest. I took the scenic route along the old Highway headed east and let the cityscape fade behind me. Too much time inside has me feeling like I can’t breathe. If I can’t connect with the Earth in a tangible way a kind of neurosis sets in. My soul cries out and my body follows. I came to the age of lasting memory in the realm of ancient giants. Evergreens, cedar, Douglas fir, hemlocks all towered above the alders in that forest home called Waterwood. Damp earth and moss beneath my bare feet. Babbling creek outside our yurt window. The sounds of the forest absorbed in the dense undergrowth of the Oregon wild. I am forever grateful for that sacred land. To spend my early years in those woods imprinted something deep within me. A feral forest child still dwells inside. In these times of masks and sanitizer, to be in the dirt, breathing fresh air at the foot of a waterfall felt akin to being in a cathedral. A holy place. Where I could just be human. Not politic...

 One week free from social media and I have settled into a winter cocoon. I miss sharing pictures and quotes from my current favorite teachers, channels, authors or long dead sages. I miss the interaction and the attention. I don’t miss the hours that are lost down rabbit holes and my ego’s clinging to who saw what and how many likes I have. I wake up and read Rumi, I take pictures of our new tree and enjoy the organization of our “school room” before the chaos of boyhood lays waste to my tidy order. While my inner critic notices how rusty my long form writing is and how sloppy my punctuation, I realize this blog is just a series of first drafts, a place to form my thoughts outside the form of short posts and opinions on social media, catering to a 15 second attention span. Towards the end of my time on Instagram, I became increasingly frustrated by the algorithm bubble. “Opinion porn” as Mitch Horowitz calls much of what we consume, in his article titled “Reject Comfort Media.” “ ...