Meeting Two (Nov 24th). Dancing While Blindfolded.
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Hi there, kids! Hi, Conky! What’s today’s Secret Word?
Bonk Bonk. Good morning, Pee Wee. Today’s Secret Word is . . . bink boink print print bloop . . . “Awareness.”
Ooh! Ha-ha. Did you hear that, kids? Whenever someone says the Secret Word, scream real loud! Ha-ha! Let’s try it.
Awareness!
AHHHHHHHHHH!
Awareness!
AHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH!
Ha-ha!
----------
So, I remembered to run on PST today, but apparently that’s still too punctual. It was a bad traffic day, a bad allergy day, a bad rain day, a bad being-on-time day, really. Again I had time to kill with awkward small talk, but at least I didn’t have to produce quite as much of it. The woman who was leading today’s meditation whom I will call “Amidala” was there for set up-- as was, unfortunately, Father Bring-Down. I really just don’t get the guy at all. Even if he lacks the energetic awareness--
Awareness! AHHHHHHHH!
--to have the smallest inkling of an idea that I was the one who shut him down last week, he should have at least acknowledged the hate-vibes and snidey glances. Nothing but shy smiles and nods, as though he was glad to see me arriving at another church picnic with brownies in hand. But I don’t think that’s true, really, that he doesn’t have the energetic skills to be so totally in the dark; I think he knows full well what he’s doing but he’s just convinced that what he does can only be interpreted as a positive, so it simply doesn’t enter his mind not to do it. And anyone who doesn’t want it must be in desperate need of the light and the goodness, so they should have it anyway, and they’ll thank him in the end. Yes, kids, that’s right. Christings are exactly like Brussels sprouts.
I’m likely putting words in his mouth. Having never had any actual verbal conversations with him, it’s not all as clear as it could be. I mean, aside from an exchange when I said, “I’m sorry, but I’m sure I’ve forgotten everyone’s name,” and he answered, “Don’t worry about it, we switch them around every week anyway,” well aside from that I don’t even know what his real, “non-channeling” voice sounds like. (His channeling voice wavers in and out of different accents, but most of the time it’s an assumed raggedy Australian or something. Guessing he’s going for British so it sounds more “mystic” *Snork*).
Amidala’s game plan was not, I’m sorry to say, as awesome and together as Little Lizard’s was last week. Her theme, as she tried to explain it, wafted this way and that across the un-mowed grassy landscape of the unprepared and focus-challenged. (As an aside, she tells us she’s a retired teacher. I hope she was just off balance today, because otherwise I have to throw “snow-clones” and comment on the Arkansan public school system and understanding now why all them kids cain’t read good). But it was supposed to be about opening one’s intuitive and psychic awareness-
Awareness! AHHHHHH! Ha-ha.
--specifically through what she called, “elemental intuition.” Having never specifically heard this combination of phrasing before I had to assume conclusive meaning, because she never actually explained it, but I’ll get to that in a moment.
The circle began by a marathon grounding and centering session; Amidala played a CD of some Hindu sitar and chanting, and we were expected to be finding our centers throughout the length of it. I don’t know specifically how long this was, but on most of the CDs I know, such om-shanka-shanka-ravishankas usually last anywhere from 6 to 11 minuets. Now, depending on the circumstances, grounding and centering for me can take from a second to shy of thirty seconds. Not showing off, just pointing out that this is not my first rodeo. I had a lot of time to kick back and watch everyone else. I find it interesting just how many people itemize their thoughts when they ground, like a grocery list, and actually partially manifest them before they send them off-as in to the point that I can sense them before they blow them away. I guess they don’t know the bathtub stopper technique. I mean, sometimes I have to get specific like that with random OCD-style thoughts stuck on a looped feedback, but not with everything and certainly not every time. Most of the time it’s just random fluff that’s on the surface and then good to go. It seems counterintuitive to me to actively sit there and think of every possible thing that I might think of during the circle and release it all one by one. I’m not criticizing there, just commenting.
So after that she played a tape of herself reading from a book. She said she was nervous and didn’t want to make any mistakes, so she thought this was better. Because, you know, public speaking just comes up so infrequently for teachers. And somehow I found the echo or the background noise of the tape distracting, or maybe I was just being a flake for other reasons, but I admit that everything she said on the tape just went in one ear and out the other. From the thoughts that didn’t wipe their feet as they went through, I was able to piece together from those bits of mud that she was explaining more about elemental intuition, how certain people are innately connected to the elements of the earth and henceforth get drawn to spiritualism, healing, and magick. To me she just described every person who simply has energy awareness-
Awareness! AHHHHHH!
--and didn’t differentiate how this specific type of intuition was different or distinct from the greater scheme of metaphysical work. If it was even supposed to be different. Like I said, I spazzed out and don’t remember. I do that with books on tape, too. If I don’t see the person talking I think my mind interprets it as an invitation to go on a short holiday.
And then there was more sitar music. Now, I love Indian music, so I’m not complaining, but playing three pre-recorded things a meditation does not make. Just felt the need to emphasize that point. Actually I think she did do some live talking after the book recording, but I really just forgot all of it. Most of it was me, not paying attention, but my general impression of it was that it was really generic stuff about sanctifying the self and visualizing white lights and such, all these things that cause Hippies to exude energy in copious amounts.
So again comes the part where I remind the audience that, as Mike Myers would say, I am really only the Diet Coke of evil. But really, there was no direction. Only sitar music. Hippies kept opening their eyes and glancing around expectedly, unsure if they were missing a nonexistent point. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so . . . I made sand castles.
I called all sorts of fun things to the circle--things I believe exist in some form outside of myself such as some of my totems and different Hindu gods, as well as things I just kind of invented on the fly that I thought might be amusing or interesting to watch as inspired by the music. As my grandma would have put it, I had me a grand old time.
Now, here comes the paradox, because the thought arises that no one asked me to do that, so how does that makes me different from Dr. Bring-Down last week? Well, it’s not a paradox, it’s just a pair of ducks (quack quack) and it was loads different. First of all, I called energy just into the circle, into the space, and was in no way pushing it into anyone. Secondly, I had full control of everything I manifested-I knew it was going to behave itself because I made it behave itself. And obviously none of it was in possession of me at any time making me speak in tongues and flap around wildly like a crazy.
So, the song ends and the CD player is stopped and I ground all my toys back into the earth and I crack open my eyes. And then-sad things. The pot-bellied adorable gay guy who had been sitting next to me, “Sanders,” had gotten up out of his seat to go draw on the white board what he was seeing in his visions, and the older lady to my right, “Chevrons,” still had her eyes closed in deep concentration as though trying not to loose hold of something really, really important. Apparently they had never been exposed to much actual magick before. What the hell did I do to my poor Hippies? God I’m an ass.
So they started discussion on their heavy, magical, emotional, uplifting, significant experiences. Most all of them had been in a trance-enough state of mind to experience my energetic manifestations on some level, because the things they talked about matched what I had created. Cobras, reds and oranges, mandalas, elephants, dancers, strings, Ganesha, dragons, vast skies with rainbows, the tunnel to the lower world where many of my totems lives. If I had to apply vocabulary to what happened, it seemed like a handful of them were able to shamanic journey through what I had manifested and a couple got beyond it to someplace else of their own creation. But others were just kind of aware of-
Awareness! AHHHHHH!
Damn you, Peewee. That wasn’t even the word. Others were just kind of seeing and experiencing what I put out there in a more generalized way.
So when asked to share what my experiences were (in a hushed and awed voice by Chevrons) all I could do was say that I don’t like to talk in groups, because what was I going to say?
The arrogant side of me wants to say that I helped them have an enjoyable spiritual experience because the one leading the group dropped the ball, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The always-guilty part of me that I swear was Jewish in a past life just feels awful, that these people subtle-sensed my random energy crayon drawings and instead believed they were dancing with gods.
As soon as I had the opportunity I just left, not talking to anyone.
Hi there, kids! Hi, Conky! What’s today’s Secret Word?
Bonk Bonk. Good morning, Pee Wee. Today’s Secret Word is . . . bink boink print print bloop . . . “Awareness.”
Ooh! Ha-ha. Did you hear that, kids? Whenever someone says the Secret Word, scream real loud! Ha-ha! Let’s try it.
Awareness!
AHHHHHHHHHH!
Awareness!
AHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH!
Ha-ha!
----------
So, I remembered to run on PST today, but apparently that’s still too punctual. It was a bad traffic day, a bad allergy day, a bad rain day, a bad being-on-time day, really. Again I had time to kill with awkward small talk, but at least I didn’t have to produce quite as much of it. The woman who was leading today’s meditation whom I will call “Amidala” was there for set up-- as was, unfortunately, Father Bring-Down. I really just don’t get the guy at all. Even if he lacks the energetic awareness--
Awareness! AHHHHHHHH!
--to have the smallest inkling of an idea that I was the one who shut him down last week, he should have at least acknowledged the hate-vibes and snidey glances. Nothing but shy smiles and nods, as though he was glad to see me arriving at another church picnic with brownies in hand. But I don’t think that’s true, really, that he doesn’t have the energetic skills to be so totally in the dark; I think he knows full well what he’s doing but he’s just convinced that what he does can only be interpreted as a positive, so it simply doesn’t enter his mind not to do it. And anyone who doesn’t want it must be in desperate need of the light and the goodness, so they should have it anyway, and they’ll thank him in the end. Yes, kids, that’s right. Christings are exactly like Brussels sprouts.
I’m likely putting words in his mouth. Having never had any actual verbal conversations with him, it’s not all as clear as it could be. I mean, aside from an exchange when I said, “I’m sorry, but I’m sure I’ve forgotten everyone’s name,” and he answered, “Don’t worry about it, we switch them around every week anyway,” well aside from that I don’t even know what his real, “non-channeling” voice sounds like. (His channeling voice wavers in and out of different accents, but most of the time it’s an assumed raggedy Australian or something. Guessing he’s going for British so it sounds more “mystic” *Snork*).
Amidala’s game plan was not, I’m sorry to say, as awesome and together as Little Lizard’s was last week. Her theme, as she tried to explain it, wafted this way and that across the un-mowed grassy landscape of the unprepared and focus-challenged. (As an aside, she tells us she’s a retired teacher. I hope she was just off balance today, because otherwise I have to throw “snow-clones” and comment on the Arkansan public school system and understanding now why all them kids cain’t read good). But it was supposed to be about opening one’s intuitive and psychic awareness-
Awareness! AHHHHHH! Ha-ha.
--specifically through what she called, “elemental intuition.” Having never specifically heard this combination of phrasing before I had to assume conclusive meaning, because she never actually explained it, but I’ll get to that in a moment.
The circle began by a marathon grounding and centering session; Amidala played a CD of some Hindu sitar and chanting, and we were expected to be finding our centers throughout the length of it. I don’t know specifically how long this was, but on most of the CDs I know, such om-shanka-shanka-ravishankas usually last anywhere from 6 to 11 minuets. Now, depending on the circumstances, grounding and centering for me can take from a second to shy of thirty seconds. Not showing off, just pointing out that this is not my first rodeo. I had a lot of time to kick back and watch everyone else. I find it interesting just how many people itemize their thoughts when they ground, like a grocery list, and actually partially manifest them before they send them off-as in to the point that I can sense them before they blow them away. I guess they don’t know the bathtub stopper technique. I mean, sometimes I have to get specific like that with random OCD-style thoughts stuck on a looped feedback, but not with everything and certainly not every time. Most of the time it’s just random fluff that’s on the surface and then good to go. It seems counterintuitive to me to actively sit there and think of every possible thing that I might think of during the circle and release it all one by one. I’m not criticizing there, just commenting.
So after that she played a tape of herself reading from a book. She said she was nervous and didn’t want to make any mistakes, so she thought this was better. Because, you know, public speaking just comes up so infrequently for teachers. And somehow I found the echo or the background noise of the tape distracting, or maybe I was just being a flake for other reasons, but I admit that everything she said on the tape just went in one ear and out the other. From the thoughts that didn’t wipe their feet as they went through, I was able to piece together from those bits of mud that she was explaining more about elemental intuition, how certain people are innately connected to the elements of the earth and henceforth get drawn to spiritualism, healing, and magick. To me she just described every person who simply has energy awareness-
Awareness! AHHHHHH!
--and didn’t differentiate how this specific type of intuition was different or distinct from the greater scheme of metaphysical work. If it was even supposed to be different. Like I said, I spazzed out and don’t remember. I do that with books on tape, too. If I don’t see the person talking I think my mind interprets it as an invitation to go on a short holiday.
And then there was more sitar music. Now, I love Indian music, so I’m not complaining, but playing three pre-recorded things a meditation does not make. Just felt the need to emphasize that point. Actually I think she did do some live talking after the book recording, but I really just forgot all of it. Most of it was me, not paying attention, but my general impression of it was that it was really generic stuff about sanctifying the self and visualizing white lights and such, all these things that cause Hippies to exude energy in copious amounts.
So again comes the part where I remind the audience that, as Mike Myers would say, I am really only the Diet Coke of evil. But really, there was no direction. Only sitar music. Hippies kept opening their eyes and glancing around expectedly, unsure if they were missing a nonexistent point. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so . . . I made sand castles.
I called all sorts of fun things to the circle--things I believe exist in some form outside of myself such as some of my totems and different Hindu gods, as well as things I just kind of invented on the fly that I thought might be amusing or interesting to watch as inspired by the music. As my grandma would have put it, I had me a grand old time.
Now, here comes the paradox, because the thought arises that no one asked me to do that, so how does that makes me different from Dr. Bring-Down last week? Well, it’s not a paradox, it’s just a pair of ducks (quack quack) and it was loads different. First of all, I called energy just into the circle, into the space, and was in no way pushing it into anyone. Secondly, I had full control of everything I manifested-I knew it was going to behave itself because I made it behave itself. And obviously none of it was in possession of me at any time making me speak in tongues and flap around wildly like a crazy.
So, the song ends and the CD player is stopped and I ground all my toys back into the earth and I crack open my eyes. And then-sad things. The pot-bellied adorable gay guy who had been sitting next to me, “Sanders,” had gotten up out of his seat to go draw on the white board what he was seeing in his visions, and the older lady to my right, “Chevrons,” still had her eyes closed in deep concentration as though trying not to loose hold of something really, really important. Apparently they had never been exposed to much actual magick before. What the hell did I do to my poor Hippies? God I’m an ass.
So they started discussion on their heavy, magical, emotional, uplifting, significant experiences. Most all of them had been in a trance-enough state of mind to experience my energetic manifestations on some level, because the things they talked about matched what I had created. Cobras, reds and oranges, mandalas, elephants, dancers, strings, Ganesha, dragons, vast skies with rainbows, the tunnel to the lower world where many of my totems lives. If I had to apply vocabulary to what happened, it seemed like a handful of them were able to shamanic journey through what I had manifested and a couple got beyond it to someplace else of their own creation. But others were just kind of aware of-
Awareness! AHHHHHH!
Damn you, Peewee. That wasn’t even the word. Others were just kind of seeing and experiencing what I put out there in a more generalized way.
So when asked to share what my experiences were (in a hushed and awed voice by Chevrons) all I could do was say that I don’t like to talk in groups, because what was I going to say?
The arrogant side of me wants to say that I helped them have an enjoyable spiritual experience because the one leading the group dropped the ball, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The always-guilty part of me that I swear was Jewish in a past life just feels awful, that these people subtle-sensed my random energy crayon drawings and instead believed they were dancing with gods.
As soon as I had the opportunity I just left, not talking to anyone.