Spheres and Cuboid Thought Forms from the Right Use of Will

4 weeks since my last substack

One day at a time, an other month has flown by.
Home education, settling into new routines, new learning curves.
Recorded a lot of videos for youtube, while the weather was less windy, out and about, walking the Shadow dog, as a way of multi-tasking time-management, to still get the ideas out-there, to try to maintain a sense of continuity, consistancy in the sense of “building community” online.

1 of the youtube videos has over 600 views, 31 thumbs-up and 13 comments, despite being a 90 minute long monologue about my experiences with “The UnSeen Role of Denial” from the Right Use of Will Series by Ceanne deRohan.

But it’s also about my journey head-long out of the human-world into the psyche, reaching some prophetic sense of rhyme when this human time-line has run its course to the pre’sent conclusion of con’fusions, di’solving ID entities’ seeming separations that make up this living jig-saw puzzle in the biggest pictures of how it all began.

I don’t know how that video {reletively} reached so many, while I don’t tend to share and promote.
It’s a weird mix of being totally open and yet the paradox of being shyly reserved.
The image of walking a tight-rope, high above the audience, nervous anxiety as to why make an exhibition of my self, while holding an extremely long pole of opposing juxtapositions, in some serious display of balancing act, with the danger of falling and the fear of failing, of cringing, crashing and crushing the crowd in the “community”.

It’s a weird prop-position, to stand out from the crowd, to raise a flag, and to pin one’s sail to the mast, to risk a journey through the stormy seas of human fragility.

That sense-of-Self, that we call the Ego, can be inflated, and can be deflated, like breathing, the heart expands and expells, in and out. In spires & ex spires.

Hyper inflated ego can be easily popped by a pin-prick, like a rubber balloon, too full of hot air and tied in a knot at the neck, or float so high above that like Icarus, to burn-out in the upper atmosphere, or get blown way off-course by winds of chance and circumstances, no longer tethered to the Earth, to home and humility, to the sense-of-Self that nurtures soul growth.

The E-go = energy going out, and all directions outwards are away from the center.
Yet we have to leave home in order to return. We Prodigal Child have got to see the World in order to expand our horizons. The seed’s got to push through the soil of solid earth in order to break-through to the air and see the sun, moon stars, to feel the frost as well as the warmth when the Winter gives way to Spring and Summer months, before the inevitable Autumn Falls back under ground, as flowering fruits fall, to rot in compost, to sustain the seeds of next years potentials. The wheel of life R evolving.

The word evolve has the word love spelled backwards inside, just like evil is live spelled in reverse.

Creation is also reaCtion.
Copulation creates Population.

I don’t know when I first started seeing these patterns in language, but I guess it was about 3 decades ago when I realised that not everyone else was seeing these things.
I didn’t set out with an intention of being weird or wired-differently.
I started out shy and introverted, quite scared of standing-out, of being noticed or attracting attention. At school at age 15, i got 7 A’s, 2 B’s and a C in the exams, and that made me stand out as an intellect, and therefore branded me as a studious do-gooder, whereas in reality, I didn’t study at all but I listened, and I could understand things easily.

In reality, I learned to played pool in pubs, and we had a pool table at home. I liked the competative nature of the game, the mix of strategy and skill. Something about the geometry of spheres rolling on the flat plane, the collisions of contained chaos, and the predictability of the social order, reflected in the room.
I liked to study the opponent to see the strengths and weaknesses of their character displayed through their way of playing the game. I liked to read the room of observers and their inter-play-participation of taking-sides and making side-bets about the out-comes. I was precosious and preferred the company of older people. I liked to learn from example, through experience, in live-action situations.

My father seemed to be good at everything he did, whether positive or negative, creative or destructive, my dad was effective, expressive, respected and not ignored.
By 15, I had learned all he could teach me about playing pool, and I could easily beat anyone about 4 times out of 5.
By 15, I could go to a pub, put my coin on the table, wait my turn to play, and like a shark in shrimp’s clothing, I could usually get folk to gamble a £ per game. By the end of a night, I’d have beaten the best players, made a good few £’s and gained a whole lot of social confidence in my ability to shed my adolescent’s shrimp attire.
By the summer of 15&3/4’s I began to rove further and further afield, hitchiking 200 miles to Galway - City of Tribes, playing pool, hustling wagers, funding my freedom to explore the grown-ups swirls and student-scenes of the college and university age-groups.

So, with hindsight, I can see how that began the awareness of leading a double life:
as the youngest kids whose brothers and sister would carry stories home about any trouble I’d get in, who had a family reputation to uphold;
but also as an independant entrepreneur, who didn’t have to answer to anyone and could get myself out of any troubled situations by simply ducking out the door and disappearing.

One part who‘d been brought up to shut-up and listen,
an other part had a natural ability with the gift of the gab.

There’s a change of state that happens to humans every 7 years.

We’re like a series of catapiller to butterfly transformations, build-ups to break-downs, 4 seasons of 7 years leads to the “Saturn return”.

I’m past 49 years old now, beyond the 7x7 while a 2nd Saturn return threads a tapestry upon the loom, the boundaries of an other bubble will burst, and an elder Self will emerge from the cocoon, matured whiskey seasoned in the cask of flesh-flavoured Spirit-duality.

The MinD is composed of so many layers, like those 7 year phases, like the separate rooms contained in the one mansion, like the rainbow, a seeming spectrum, and like the seemingly 7 seas are truly only one ocean.
One won’ders: how many verses in a poem, how many poems in a book, how many books in a series - how many uni’verse’s in a multi’verse - how many verse’ions of One Self in the dreams of past and future.

It’s 6.30 in the morning, 2 days later, and I’m up early, to finish this writing, add the videos and get it posted before the kids wake up for more home schooling classes.

I’ll round off this writing here, with no great conclusion to the lines that circum-vent the peri-meter of the circles of life times’s spiralling through the memory-holes of the Whole.

Here’s the link to that video, and the few hours more that I recorded over this past month.
I’ll put another post soon, that collates the bits that I wrote on the Meta FaceBook - tendrils of these same rudimentary roots, and a poem, a rare thing for me these days, to stick to stanzas, on the theme of awakening to find the whole world healed, from the congealed dreams of broken parts of broken hearts.

from 3 weeks ago ...
”Dream8ng soul self com8ng down to Earth, to in-vigor-8 the avatar-body Self to awaken from night mare in New Dawn - a change of state to integrate - no longer dual-eyes - seeing whole rather than in-divided indivi-duality ...

No longer past-based traumatised regurgitation of conflicted feelings about positioned beliefs....

Each one is imaging our own versions of how that looks, and harm on I sing resonance to either heal or not-heal, in what remains of this life - Time”

Thanks for reading. Good Day to You <3

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