I had never heard that there is a feminine aspect of God in the Judaic/Christian Bible until I was reading an issue of Parabola magazine in a bookstore the other day. I have a sneaking suspicion that those Catholic patriarchal dogma-enforcers are behind this suppression of the feminine aspects of the Christian and Jewish perception of God.
I really don't think that something that created the universe has an XY chromosome or male reproductive organs so I feel like the whole representation of God as being an entity with completely "male" characteristics is absurd and a patriarchal cultural invention.
http://www.adishakti.org/_/shekinah_is_the_cosmic_womb.htm
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
Neuroscience, Mental Illness, and Spirit Possession
How does an anti-psychotic cause increased blood flow [(perfusion) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perfusion] to the left temporal lobe of the brain in a patient with mental illness? By the way, his family thought he was possessed by an evil spirit. I also do not understand how the diagrams in this article show increased perfusion to the left temporal lobe. http://www.jmedicalcasereports.com/content/3/1/9325
Then there is this bizarre story about a church in Pensacola where the supposed Holy Spirit was physically felt and physically acted upon people in the church. People are quick to explain away these phenomenon but what is really going on? In situations like this it seems like more than the power of suggestion or a concentration of energy. I have been to charismatic churches and I have felt wobbly and peaceful and I have been knocked over by the "Holy Spirit". And it would last for a while afterward. At a drum circle I felt and saw a similar energy but the light that I saw and felt seemed broken up into splinters rather than a consistent glow like my supposed experience with the Holy Spirit. Admittedly, this article is very biased from a specific perspective but it still relates an interesting occurrence. http://www.deceptioninthechurch.com/FBCPENSA.HTM
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trance
Monday, August 12, 2013
Song of Songs
Haha! (Pronounced with the inflection that one would use to say, "Aha!") Writing songs! So many genres, such limited audience for multigenred artists. It doesn't matter, though. I am writing this music to communicate with my creator. It's been such a long time! I've never written a song like this before where I hear melody loops in my head that go together and figure them out on a keyboard and put them all together like a beautiful call and response between myself and God. Whoa. What have I been doing all these years (hypothetical)? It is somewhat reminiscent of Swans with the intense organ drone but that was not intentional it just came out that way. Hooyah! I am really overjoyed!!!!!!!!!! Thanks and praise be to God, He/She/It has put a new song in my heart.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Psychotic Episodes and Pet Store Dreams
I've had 4 psychotic episodes. They were really amazing but I really don't want to ever have one again. A much better trip than any drug I've been on and they certainly have lasted a lot longer than any drug. I guess I will choose to be grateful for those experiences but they were also very scary at times (though the last one was mostly positive but there was still a lot of scary stuff mixed in there).
I have recurring dreams about working at pet stores. I have worked at two pet stores but I don't think I have dreamed about those two specific pet stores at which I actually worked. There are two "dream pet stores" that I find myself returning to and working at in my dreams sometimes. One is at a mall. I have never worked at a pet store at a mall. One is in a basement. I have never worked at a pet store in a basement. At both of them I am on drugs and not performing well. I think my drug usage is usually worse at the basement pet store. There are usually problems with the fish in my dreams. And the birds, but it's been more problems with fish lately. Last night I had a dream where I accidentally put an angel-type fish in with some oscar-type (meat-eating) fish. The oscars ate the angel fish. I was very sad about it. Other fish were dying in the dream, too. Once I had a dream that there were walls of water that the fish were in and the water was not in any type of tank or container. That was a weird one. I usually have trouble feeding the animals in the dreams or I forget to feed them or I make some kind of mistake with their care.
Addendum 8/3/13: I did not realize I had mentioned the pet store dreams in my last post. Apparently they must be important to me. :-)
I have recurring dreams about working at pet stores. I have worked at two pet stores but I don't think I have dreamed about those two specific pet stores at which I actually worked. There are two "dream pet stores" that I find myself returning to and working at in my dreams sometimes. One is at a mall. I have never worked at a pet store at a mall. One is in a basement. I have never worked at a pet store in a basement. At both of them I am on drugs and not performing well. I think my drug usage is usually worse at the basement pet store. There are usually problems with the fish in my dreams. And the birds, but it's been more problems with fish lately. Last night I had a dream where I accidentally put an angel-type fish in with some oscar-type (meat-eating) fish. The oscars ate the angel fish. I was very sad about it. Other fish were dying in the dream, too. Once I had a dream that there were walls of water that the fish were in and the water was not in any type of tank or container. That was a weird one. I usually have trouble feeding the animals in the dreams or I forget to feed them or I make some kind of mistake with their care.
Addendum 8/3/13: I did not realize I had mentioned the pet store dreams in my last post. Apparently they must be important to me. :-)
Monday, September 10, 2012
Mirrored Rumble Fish
*Spoiler Alert*
I just watched the film, Rumble Fish, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, with lots of famous people in it, including Mickey Rourke when he was younger and looked a lot different. It was kind of goofy in a way. There was a lot of unexpected music during segway cityscape scenes, which I liked. At first it had kind of a West Side Story or Grease vibe, what with all the talk of rumbles and people acting "cool". I wasn't sure if I really liked the movie much or not until it got to the part where the father (Dennis Hopper) was talking to Rusty James (Matt Dillon) about the "acute perception" of his older brother, the Motorcycle Boy (Mickey Rourke). Here's the passage:
Father: Every now and then, a person comes along, has a different
view of the world than does the usual person. It doesnt make them crazy. I mean... an acute perception,
man... that doesn't, that doesn't make you crazy.
Rusty James: Could you talk normal?
Father: However sometimes... it can drive you crazy, acute perception.
Rusty James: I wish you'd talk normal cause I don't understand half the garbage you're saying. You know?
You know what I mean?
Father: No, your mother... is not crazy. And neither, contrary to popular belief, is your brother crazy. He's
merely miscast in a play. He was born in the wrong era, on the wrong side of the river... with the ability to
be able to do anything that he wants
to do and findin' nothin' that he wants to do. I mean nothing.
I just watched the film, Rumble Fish, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, with lots of famous people in it, including Mickey Rourke when he was younger and looked a lot different. It was kind of goofy in a way. There was a lot of unexpected music during segway cityscape scenes, which I liked. At first it had kind of a West Side Story or Grease vibe, what with all the talk of rumbles and people acting "cool". I wasn't sure if I really liked the movie much or not until it got to the part where the father (Dennis Hopper) was talking to Rusty James (Matt Dillon) about the "acute perception" of his older brother, the Motorcycle Boy (Mickey Rourke). Here's the passage:
Father: Every now and then, a person comes along, has a different
view of the world than does the usual person. It doesnt make them crazy. I mean... an acute perception,
man... that doesn't, that doesn't make you crazy.
Rusty James: Could you talk normal?
Father: However sometimes... it can drive you crazy, acute perception.
Rusty James: I wish you'd talk normal cause I don't understand half the garbage you're saying. You know?
You know what I mean?
Father: No, your mother... is not crazy. And neither, contrary to popular belief, is your brother crazy. He's
merely miscast in a play. He was born in the wrong era, on the wrong side of the river... with the ability to
be able to do anything that he wants
to do and findin' nothin' that he wants to do. I mean nothing.
At that point the film became very moving to me, and then the Motorcycle Boy lets the animals out of their cages at the pet store and takes the fighting fish toward the river. I thought, "if I ever do one important thing; I would like it to be something like that: letting animals out of their cages." (symbolically or literally)
I have anxious dreams a lot about working in pet stores or owning a lot of animals in cages. (I have worked at two pet stores and have grown up around lots of animals.) In the dreams I have usually forgotten to feed them or to clean their cages or there is something wrong with them due to the fact that they are in cages and dependent on me for sustenance.
When I had a psychotic episode a few months ago, I went to a couple of pet stores and it was very traumatizing. I don't even want to go into it now, I might add more to this post later.
Anyway, I found the movie riveting from the point of the scene I quoted to the end.
(And I think the enigma that is Mickey Rourke is pretty interesting and beautiful and sad, as well.)
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
A Poem I Wrote the Other Day (Not Really Finished)
Cars turned to cages
Jammed up at the funnel's neck
Knee-jerk bird flip
Jaws flap
Caw caw claw, you son-of-a-bitch,
I'll show you what for!
From the garden's womb
emerged two humans.
I've lost most of my bear-hair, but not my bear-appetite for blood.
Little gods, each with our own religions, religious or not,
decreeing this is this and that is that;
all others are false idols.
I think if we'd smile and talk to each other in the grocery store, the world would be a better place.
Sitting up here in this ivory tower, I really can't figure out a thing.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Some people have one traumatic event or circumstance that happened in their life that can explain their anger. I think I've been angry for most of my life but can't pinpoint one specific reason. There are a lot of "small" things about my childhood for which I suppose I could be angry. Like parents with inconsistent emotions sending confusing messages but surely every parent sends confusing and inconsistent messages to their children. Maybe some kids just take it harder than others. But then again, most people are angry. Just look at traffic, facebook, or internet message boards. For years I didn't even know I was angry. A therapist told me I was angry about 6 or 7 years ago and it came as a total shock. "I'm not angry; I'm anxious!" I said. Now when I look back, I see that I've been angry most of my life, masking it behind anorexia, drug use, extreme passivity, and "low self-esteem" (another term for the more angry-sounding term, "self-hatred").
Added later (12/5): I think I'm mostly angry because I am not true to myself.
Added later (12/5): I think I'm mostly angry because I am not true to myself.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
William Blake Auguries of Innocence
William Blake - Auguries of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage. A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons Shudders hell thro' all its regions. A dog starv'd at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state. A horse misused upon the road Calls to heaven for human blood. Each outcry of the hunted hare A fibre from the brain does tear. A skylark wounded in the wing, A cherubim does cease to sing. The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight Does the rising sun affright. Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from hell a human soul. The wild deer, wand'ring here and there, Keeps the human soul from care. The lamb misus'd breeds public strife, And yet forgives the butcher's knife. The bat that flits at close of eve Has left the brain that won't believe. The owl that calls upon the night Speaks the unbeliever's fright. He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be belov'd by men. He who the ox to wrath has mov'd Shall never be by woman lov'd. The wanton boy that kills the fly Shall feel the spider's enmity. He who torments the chafer's sprite Weaves a bower in endless night. The caterpillar on the leaf Repeats to thee thy mother's grief. Kill not the moth nor butterfly, For the last judgement draweth nigh. He who shall train the horse to war Shall never pass the polar bar. The beggar's dog and widow's cat, Feed them and thou wilt grow fat. The gnat that sings his summer's song Poison gets from slander's tongue. The poison of the snake and newt Is the sweat of envy's foot. The poison of the honey bee Is the artist's jealousy. The prince's robes and beggar's rags Are toadstools on the miser's bags. A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for joy and woe; And when this we rightly know, Thro' the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine. The babe is more than swaddling bands; Every farmer understands. Every tear from every eye Becomes a babe in eternity; This is caught by females bright, And return'd to its own delight. The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar, Are waves that beat on heaven's shore. The babe that weeps the rod beneath Writes revenge in realms of death. The beggar's rags, fluttering in air, Does to rags the heavens tear. The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun, Palsied strikes the summer's sun. The poor man's farthing is worth more Than all the gold on Afric's shore. One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands Shall buy and sell the miser's lands; Or, if protected from on high, Does that whole nation sell and buy. He who mocks the infant's faith Shall be mock'd in age and death. He who shall teach the child to doubt The rotting grave shall ne'er get out. He who respects the infant's faith Triumphs over hell and death. The child's toys and the old man's reasons Are the fruits of the two seasons. The questioner, who sits so sly, Shall never know how to reply. He who replies to words of doubt Doth put the light of knowledge out. The strongest poison ever known Came from Caesar's laurel crown. Nought can deform the human race Like to the armour's iron brace. When gold and gems adorn the plow, To peaceful arts shall envy bow. A riddle, or the cricket's cry, Is to doubt a fit reply. The emmet's inch and eagle's mile Make lame philosophy to smile. He who doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you please. If the sun and moon should doubt, They'd immediately go out. To be in a passion you good may do, But no good if a passion is in you. The whore and gambler, by the state Licensed, build that nation's fate. The harlot's cry from street to street Shall weave old England's winding-sheet. The winner's shout, the loser's curse, Dance before dead England's hearse. Every night and every morn Some to misery are born, Every morn and every night Some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night. We are led to believe a lie When we see not thro' the eye, Which was born in a night to perish in a night, When the soul slept in beams of light. God appears, and God is light, To those poor souls who dwell in night; But does a human form display To those who dwell in realms of day.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Space?
I'm starting to recognize that there's not much space for me here. Or rather, there's no space to call my room to make art or record music or meditate or be alone. So I go on power walks. I try to clean a little but am rather overwhelmed by other people's stuff. I'm even overwhelmed by own stuff. Days when I don't know what to do and get overwhelmed I've stopped and asked God to specifically direct my next task and those are some of the best days I've had so I'm going to do that today because today seems to be one of those days.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Reason Enough
Such a beautiful song. I love how nursery rhymes are used to paint a picture of the human condition as well as offer a solution. One of my favorites.
Andreas Vollenweider and Eliza Gilkyson - Reason Enough (All the King's Men)
All the king's men stand still in a thunder stormDiamonds of rain on the skin of the battle worn
Eyes touching eyes in the sight of their long range guns
The bough that breaks the cradle falls
Could this be reason enough
The beast that down to Eden crawls
Reason enough
Starting into the depths of the darkest dream
Hurling your stones in the eye of the war machine
Howling like wolves to the moon for the sons of our daughters
The bough that breaks the cradle falls
Could this be reason enough
The beast that down to Eden crawls
Reason enough
Little drops of the water
Little grains of sand
Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land
The bough that breaks the cradle falls
Could this be reason enough
The beast that down to Eden crawls
This could be reason enough
Hush little baby, dry your eyes
Claro que si, reason enough
Stars will fall for love to rise
Reason enough
Ladybug, ladybug fly away
Your house is on fire your children are gone
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again
She went to the cupboard
The cupboard was bare
Eight little indians never heard of heaven
One went to sleep and then there were seven
Ashes, ashes we all fall down
Hark, hark the dogs do bark
Beggars are coming to town
And if the great man cut down the great tree
What a splish-splash that would be
Monday, February 13, 2012
Getting better!
I finally have a little over six months clean now. I'll have seven on the 20th. Praise God. Recovery is possible. I tried for two and half years to get clean and this is the most clean time I've had since I was 19.
New Ani diFranco album
http://www.righteousbabe.com/ani/whichsideareyouon/songs.asp
Sounds better than some of those albums she's come out with and thus continues my love/hate relationship with Ani diFranco's published music until one day I understand everything. :-)
Sounds better than some of those albums she's come out with and thus continues my love/hate relationship with Ani diFranco's published music until one day I understand everything. :-)
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
He who loves his life shall lose it...
Things are getting better the more that I deny self and try to focus on God and others. I'm still not very good at it, though.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
"An Unclean Spirit Returns"
(Disclaimer: During an episode of struggling with drug addiction.)
When an unclean spirit goes out of a man, he goes through dry places, seeking rest, and finds none. Then he says, 'I will return to my house from which I came.' And when he comes, he finds it empty, swept, and put in order. Then he goes and takes with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse than the first. So shall it be with this wicked generation." Matthew 12:43
This is what's happening to you; that is why you're dealing with pot all right because the devil or forces of darkness are trying harder to keep you away from God and to keep you from becoming who God intended you to be. Remember what these things have done to you. Remember how they have sabotaged your intelligence and your ability to enjoy life. Remember how God took you from the brink of hell and is building you back up again. Go to the next meeting that you can possibly go to and try to go to church tomorrow if you can.
When an unclean spirit goes out of a man, he goes through dry places, seeking rest, and finds none. Then he says, 'I will return to my house from which I came.' And when he comes, he finds it empty, swept, and put in order. Then he goes and takes with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse than the first. So shall it be with this wicked generation." Matthew 12:43
This is what's happening to you; that is why you're dealing with pot all right because the devil or forces of darkness are trying harder to keep you away from God and to keep you from becoming who God intended you to be. Remember what these things have done to you. Remember how they have sabotaged your intelligence and your ability to enjoy life. Remember how God took you from the brink of hell and is building you back up again. Go to the next meeting that you can possibly go to and try to go to church tomorrow if you can.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Animal
I think the more that a person resists his/her primal urges when they are inappropriate, the more God-like a person becomes in that the person becomes less selfish. I think the more a person gives in to those urges, the more animal-like he/she becomes, scrambling for what he/she can get to satisfy his/her cravings and urges.
I recently realized that during the second half (the downer half) of my drug usage career, I was learning something about people that I was not aware that I was learning. I was learning that when left unchecked, unchecked either by their own conscience or by religious codes of conduct, people become like animals in that they mainly do whatever appeals to their primal urges at the time such as taking something that they want, fighting, or having sex. Like I knew a girl who stole some of her friend's money then later said about it, "I couldn't help it; I was on Xanax!" Or when someone says, "I didn't mean to [insert morally reprehensible act here]....I was drunk. "I'm not saying that everyone does this, but I think it happens a lot. ESPECIALLY when someone "blacks out". I think when a person blacks out he/she goes into "animal mode" where his/her God-consciousness is totally shut off. I conjecture that this is also why a person doesn't remember his/her actions during a "black out", because their human/God consciousness is not present to store the memory.
I recently realized that during the second half (the downer half) of my drug usage career, I was learning something about people that I was not aware that I was learning. I was learning that when left unchecked, unchecked either by their own conscience or by religious codes of conduct, people become like animals in that they mainly do whatever appeals to their primal urges at the time such as taking something that they want, fighting, or having sex. Like I knew a girl who stole some of her friend's money then later said about it, "I couldn't help it; I was on Xanax!" Or when someone says, "I didn't mean to [insert morally reprehensible act here]....I was drunk. "I'm not saying that everyone does this, but I think it happens a lot. ESPECIALLY when someone "blacks out". I think when a person blacks out he/she goes into "animal mode" where his/her God-consciousness is totally shut off. I conjecture that this is also why a person doesn't remember his/her actions during a "black out", because their human/God consciousness is not present to store the memory.
Exciting Sobriety
Sober life is much more exciting than a life dulled by drugs (even the "minor" ones). Sober life can be frustrating at times but it's definitely not boring. I feel the life force of the universe flowing through me when I am sober, that's why I was so afraid when I first got clean.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Crazy Dream
I had a crazy dream last night. I was reading a satirical book that I was also acting out in real life as I read it. It was mainly about people not being what they seem on a personal level and on a political level. At the climax of the book different characters began to appear to be family members of other characters. I had sex with some fat guy and was saying cruel things to him that turned out to be the exact things that his mother had said to him. So he thought I was really his mother. I had been talking to some older conservative guy on the phone who said things to me that I suddenly recalled that my father had said to me (I can't remember what they were) and as a result I thought he was my father. Then the older guy said, as a character in the book, "The only way that a person can really know what a politician believes and stands for is if a person is there with him in Parliament while he is voting on an issue and sees which button he pushes." And this statement also revealed that no one was who he/she seemed and no one could tell who they were unless they were with them when they "pushed the button to vote on an issue".
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Stupid Pot
Pot makes me stupid. I sure has heck didn't become intelligent before by smoking pot. I traded being an intellectual for being stoned. And being stoned is not even that fun after the novelty wears off. And it makes me feel CRAZY! It makes me not right in the head! Why would you want to do that to yourself? Don't do it. You don't want to do it, so why do you do it? Why dost thou kick against the pricks?
I did it as an escape from reality and because of the release of dopamine. But the place to which I was escaping was basically Wacky Land where my perception made things seem to make sense that do not really make sense in the real world. Living that way for a long time is very confusing because eventually not much makes sense except for primal urges. This progressively reduced me to an animal-like way of functioning where I mostly acted on primal urges and whatever I thought would feel good at the time.
I did it as an escape from reality and because of the release of dopamine. But the place to which I was escaping was basically Wacky Land where my perception made things seem to make sense that do not really make sense in the real world. Living that way for a long time is very confusing because eventually not much makes sense except for primal urges. This progressively reduced me to an animal-like way of functioning where I mostly acted on primal urges and whatever I thought would feel good at the time.
Being a pothead greatly contributed to feelings of stupidity, fear, and loss of identity. Kind of like a vacation into being retarded and slightly schizophrenic for about 5 years.
Pot --
This is what happened to me on it. When I first experienced the appealing sensation of the drug I became awed at what seemed to be the presence of God and the light and beauty of experience and living in the moment that it afforded, especially when listening to music and viewing art, making art, and writing. Everything became intensely beautiful. I thought that it made my brain "right", that I was able to connect with nature as I wanted to; and that on it I was experiencing the world the way that I "should" be experiencing it. But really it's not the "right" way to experience things, it's just a different way of experiencing. It makes much more sense that the faculties that I was born with and have developed over the years while sober are the "right" way of experiencing things. The hard part is, that in real life, everything is not always shiny and golden and beautiful. Real life can be difficult and tiring sometimes.
It's a fact that marijuana makes my thoughts not as clear. There are definitely different neuronal connections going on in the brain. It seems like something like neuronal scrambling happens.
The intense experience of beauty while stoned released dopamine to create an orgasm-like effect. Because everything became beautiful, when I was taking an art class, I thought an exercise that I had done for design class was really amazing when it was not. I was much more sloppy with my work because everything was beautiful, even sloppy art homework.
I am much more aware of energy when I am stoned. Everyone's body language is super-intensified.
Every subtle movement that the other person makes contains either a no or a yes wherein I can sense fear or love, fear being no and love being yes. This intense perception of fear and love from others (on an almost psychic level) makes me feel afraid, then I start to think that the other people who are stoned can sense this fear in me (which they probably can), so I feel even more afraid.
But then the brain changes gears; shifts to a different idea.
It's harder to pay attention, easier to get distracted. I did not notice this for the first few months. When I started to notice this, I started to second-guess myself, which created insecurity. This began to create fear as well. I was smoking all the time. Not constantly, but several times a day when possible. I didn't do it every day until I got with a certain guy. When I started to notice that it was making me mentally "slow", I started to develop fear of other people. Fear that they would notice that my brain wasn't working very quickly, or that it was working differently than a normal person's, on a kind of level of insanity. Smoking pot is not a sane experience. If I wish to be sane I should not smoke it.
It feels very spiritual, but that can be achieved on a more peaceful level through prayer and meditation. There is a sense of the closeness of God but there is a fakeness to the God feeling sometimes. I tried meditating on it one time because I was feeling really nuts and I sensed, where my body is usually filled with light upon the completion of meditation, that there were little black prickly things at the edges of my body that the light could not disperse because of the influence of the pot. Perhaps it is a false sense of God.
Feeling stupid sucked the confidence out of me. I used to be confident, now I am not. Smoking it again will only decrease confidence more and not smoking it ever will only increase confidence.
"God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." Therefore, I feel that God does not want me to smoke pot because it causes a lot of fear and God does not want me to be afraid.
This is what happened to me on it. When I first experienced the appealing sensation of the drug I became awed at what seemed to be the presence of God and the light and beauty of experience and living in the moment that it afforded, especially when listening to music and viewing art, making art, and writing. Everything became intensely beautiful. I thought that it made my brain "right", that I was able to connect with nature as I wanted to; and that on it I was experiencing the world the way that I "should" be experiencing it. But really it's not the "right" way to experience things, it's just a different way of experiencing. It makes much more sense that the faculties that I was born with and have developed over the years while sober are the "right" way of experiencing things. The hard part is, that in real life, everything is not always shiny and golden and beautiful. Real life can be difficult and tiring sometimes.
It's a fact that marijuana makes my thoughts not as clear. There are definitely different neuronal connections going on in the brain. It seems like something like neuronal scrambling happens.
The intense experience of beauty while stoned released dopamine to create an orgasm-like effect. Because everything became beautiful, when I was taking an art class, I thought an exercise that I had done for design class was really amazing when it was not. I was much more sloppy with my work because everything was beautiful, even sloppy art homework.
I am much more aware of energy when I am stoned. Everyone's body language is super-intensified.
Every subtle movement that the other person makes contains either a no or a yes wherein I can sense fear or love, fear being no and love being yes. This intense perception of fear and love from others (on an almost psychic level) makes me feel afraid, then I start to think that the other people who are stoned can sense this fear in me (which they probably can), so I feel even more afraid.
But then the brain changes gears; shifts to a different idea.
It's harder to pay attention, easier to get distracted. I did not notice this for the first few months. When I started to notice this, I started to second-guess myself, which created insecurity. This began to create fear as well. I was smoking all the time. Not constantly, but several times a day when possible. I didn't do it every day until I got with a certain guy. When I started to notice that it was making me mentally "slow", I started to develop fear of other people. Fear that they would notice that my brain wasn't working very quickly, or that it was working differently than a normal person's, on a kind of level of insanity. Smoking pot is not a sane experience. If I wish to be sane I should not smoke it.
It feels very spiritual, but that can be achieved on a more peaceful level through prayer and meditation. There is a sense of the closeness of God but there is a fakeness to the God feeling sometimes. I tried meditating on it one time because I was feeling really nuts and I sensed, where my body is usually filled with light upon the completion of meditation, that there were little black prickly things at the edges of my body that the light could not disperse because of the influence of the pot. Perhaps it is a false sense of God.
Feeling stupid sucked the confidence out of me. I used to be confident, now I am not. Smoking it again will only decrease confidence more and not smoking it ever will only increase confidence.
"God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." Therefore, I feel that God does not want me to smoke pot because it causes a lot of fear and God does not want me to be afraid.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
A Moderate Success
Today was better. I did Tae Bo as soon as I woke up and worked up a moderate sweat, then went outside with Miles, fed him lunch, and put him down for his nap. Then I finally had a chance to wash off that moderate sweat in the shower. I found a moderately interesting local band on the net and checked out another local band on the net that I had heard about. Painted after that. Have decided to paint what I am calling "Process Paintings" for a while. More about the flow of the process than in the past: painting so that the process feels like an artform; graceful, like a dance, with very little stress involved. A little mindful of the product in that what I put on the canvas is pleasing to me at the time in relation to what is already on the canvas. And I don't get stressed out if I can't find the "right brush" or if something bumps against the canvas and smudges the paint or if someone interrupts me and I have to leave off at a point that I hadn't planned because those things are part of the organic flow of the creation of the painting. It was nice. Later Miles wanted to have another Easter egg hunt. This time he hid them and found them. He was better at finding them this way. :-)
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