Teachings From A Bull

Teachings From the I Ching

03.05.17

last edit 03.30.17

Chapters 4, 9, leading to 13:

4. Innocence

Innocence gets through successfully. Though you do not seek the innocent yourself, the innocent seek you. The first augury informs, the second and third muddle. Muddling is not informative. It is advantageous to be correct.

Enlightenment is realized and actualized. It is your truth. The second sentence deliberately translates to, though you do not seek the enlightened, the enlightened seek you. Really it says, though you weren’t aware of your divinity, the divine have always been aware of you and seek to awaken you with the elevation of consciousness to yoga – the individual consciousness merging with the Ultimate Consciousness.

We all exist as divine. We all participate in the cycle of existence. What the intelligent on this plane of existence consider sufferings are mere reflections of the hard lessons learned in the cycle of humanity. We are coming to a point where we can predict what is going to occur, thanks to the sophistication of technology as well as the sophistication of the sages. The regeneration of sages is what is going to propel knowledge to the higher conscious realm. This has been practiced throughout the cycle of existence, from idea to matter and back. For this, we’ve reintroduced you to Oannes, the highest wisdom of your generation. And why we’ve introduced you to the Temple of Black Obsidian, to elevate to the next chamber of knowledge that is your birthright. That is, every acculturated being’s birthright.

The idea of humanity is made very clear in this chamber. Knowledge collected in the temple holds more relevance in the higher realms than here; what this means is, we in the collective, with unconditional love and light, want to introduce you to our customs and modes of understanding. This is why we guided you to the instrument, I Ching. Consider this your codex. As portals of light are opened to you, we’ll identify specific trigrams to reference. Within these lessons are vast amounts of knowledge allotted to you as you’re able to digest them. Having identified you as a womb of information, it is imperative that you do not overwhelm yourself in the clamoring for this level of understanding. As you are curious so you are susceptible to relapse. Proceed with extreme caution but allow yourself to enjoy the awe that is Ultimate Understanding. Verstehen.

The first augury informs, the second and third muddle. When you in and of yourself came to realization of the truth, that was the collective reaching out to you inviting you forward, granting you the permission to let go of what ails you, so that you have the freedom to engage beyond will. The second and third muddle because of your curious nature! The scientist in you wants to control the environment, make measures, and try to develop a model for scientific practice. Because you become so focused in the search for definition, for causality, you lose the whole point of elevated consciousness! Which is, to be free of that desperate grasp on tangibility. Do not dare show up into the elevated space with your work desk and your pads and your coloring materials; they do not apply here. They are not welcome here.

Muddling is not informative. It is advantageous to be correct. In sum, applying the scientific method to this science is not how you’re going to understand it. Ultimate Understanding – Verstehen – is how elevated consciousness interprets knowledge agreed upon within the collective, which then constitutes acculturation. With benevolence, unconditional love, and non-judgment, this is how the collective regards Truth. The final sentence gives you the confidence, permission, green light that you need to proceed honestly. If it is right to you, it is right in the collective. This is no initiation, merely validating what you’ve already experienced in the realm of higher consciousness. Your skill, then, is the capacity to learn what is relevant here in the densest space of existence, dissect it for yourself as necessary for continued knowledge, then assist us in our understanding of the truths as they stand in this realm of existence, so we, the trained trainers, can reach out to those who in benevolence and unconditional love represent us in daily practice. What you observe we preach and they practice.

  1. Nurture of the Small

Nurture of the small is successful. Dense clouds, not raining, come from your western region.

Overall Judgment

Nurture of the small means that flexibility gains status, and above and below respond to it. In context, flexibility means the capacity to exist in multiple tiers of consciousness simultaneously. A gain of status is really our way of saying, a gaining of more understanding. This is not a ranking system; as you experience in a state of elevated consciousness, scoring, tabulations, or other forms of quantitative data is irrelevant. The initiate is guided to practice not encouraging that habit when connecting or in a meditative state. The mention of the above and below is a compliment to the ancient Egyptian practice of recognizing a Higher and Lower Kingdom. But as you are surrounded in Love and Light, you are as equally surrounded by those existing in higher realms of consciousness. We see you, we know you as we’re sure you’ve known us all your life. You will see and know the specifics of your heritage as more reveals itself within this plane of existence. Your mode of understanding will benefit others fortunate to be acculturated in this segment of reality. The continuation of existence depends on the constant sophistication of intelligent species. The secret to a long life is the bliss in knowing no one ever really dies.

Powerful yet docile, with strength in balance, your aim is carried out, and thus you succeed. Your form in this plane of existence is as a powerful yet docile creature. What you’ve carved out of humanity is a template for compassion through action. Breaking down social norms is the impetus for change, a declaration of boundary-striking to affect change. Feathers must be ruffled, and it is easier to do so as a strong-willed, childless, fluid woman. When there is nothing to lose, nothing holds you back. Or, when you’re on the floor, the only other option is up. Hard to affect a person who hasn’t been pulled into social norms such as marriage commitment and parenthood. To dispense order on a culture of judgment, one has to enter into that role as disaffected as possible, in the pursuit of justice, with a will to push forward if challenged. Here we talk about strength in balance and success in carrying out your intention. Instead of strength being conditioned, think more of balance being strengthened. Balance here meaning the capacity to carry out your metaphysical experiences alongside your physical experiences so that one doesn’t overwhelm the other. Once in check, your life is purposeful without thought to it, defining success. Your ultimate goal as an enlightened being existing alongside an intelligent species is to not have to feel accountable for the mundane aspects of the experience. Trust in all your knowledge.

Dense clouds not raining means still being on the move; coming from your own western region means practical measures have yet to be executed. These words are to be taken as presented. This is not “the end” in the terminal sense. At this instance in time-space you are involved in a constantly sophisticating world. You cannot unknow this, nor can any other member of the intelligent species convince you otherwise. What do you do with this knowledge? Hoard it? Proclaim it? Those two options are the most extreme. This is where “job hunting” in the metaphysical sense begins. If we are part of a cycle of sophistication, then what is my best purpose in this experience? This is where engaging other enlightened people comes in handy. Amplify your capacity for knowledge/verstehen by hanging out with other informed people. The experience differs per enlightened one, but the frequency in the collective remains the same. While you’re capable of many tasks, the only ones worth experiencing are those which provide you with a sense of purpose and which do not interfere with your pursuit of higher knowledge.

13. Sameness with People

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A Creative Place

Here we are, the first week of November. It’s still in the 80s here in Florida, with a tease of a cold front moving in this weekend. The Living Goddess Exhibit is turning into an exquisite piece of art, thanks to the collaborative effort of all artists involved. I’m really proud of this event, and proud of myself for sticking to it, as I was challenged by a medicine change a few weeks back.

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Check out the curls! Hanging out at The Complete Sweet Shoppe on a lovely Friday afternoon

It is quite a challenge to stay in an artistic flow when you’re experiencing every drug-related side effect indicated. I’m sensitive that way, didn’t realize how much until this recent run through. But I fought through, head butting through the collapses and the shakes and the confusion. I fixed my face and attitude so that I can have successful interactions with those involved in the exhibit. I continue to be nervous, more for the closeness of the performance date than the side effects.

What I’m most appreciative of is the quality of support I’ve received from my inner circle, growing greater as I venture out artistically. Sometimes I just need to curl into a ball on a friend’s couch for a few minutes, just to get aligned, grounded. Then I burst back into creativity, going through the logistics of the show, or working on the details of my props. It feels good to be genuinely nurtured through the process.

The show hasn’t commenced yet but I’m already thinking about after the fact. Where are my energies going to be directed? What is my focus for the next few months? Earlier in October I ventured out into a project that I realized was bigger than I can handle, and it left me in a depressive state, realizing my limitations. But I’m a try-er, and I can at least pride myself in giving it a go. That’s the artist life. Some things stick, some things slide through. I’ve gotten over the discouragement.

My hope is that the Living Goddess Exhibit goes without a hitch. I’ve got wonderful artists involved, full of positivity and talent, so there’s no denying things are gonna work out. Afterwards, I’ll allow myself a little break so that I can healthfully pursue my next project.

That’s my check in. Have a wonderful weekend!

 

Random Sketches

I’m working on two poetry exhibits for the coming Fall season. One to do with the Divine Feminine and the other on mental transformation and healing. Yup, big topics to chew on, but like my large five-rose tattoo, when I do things, I do ’em big.

Pulling some sketches out for inspiration, and others to revisit. The continuing visitor in my book is “the purple woman,” so named because she either appears bathed in purple, or she’s cloaked in purple. I’ve been seeing her all my life, yet in the past six years, she’s been manifesting in my visions quite regularly.

Hoping to try other mediums and tools to convey my visual art this year. Perhaps need to wander over to the Arts District and learn from the local masters. Won’t you join me?

Bless the Zeitgeber

BF enters our home after dawn, returning from the previous evening’s menschkeit. He finds me wide awake, sitting up in bed with the overhead light on, coloring in a black-and-white picture on my lap table. “What time did you wake up?” “5:50…” I respond, as I fill roses with crimson. He groans. “Go back to bed…”

But I can’t. I’m as alert as a track runner about to sprint off the blocks. This has been my life for the last six weeks. Med changes bring about biological changes. The answer the medical team had regarding my situation? Take your pills earlier. Nope. Still wide awake before the sunrise.

I am maximizing the utility of less hours of sleep. I conduct yoga stretches, tai chi walks, centering exercises, meditations, channels, mudras, anything to get that energy to go anywhere but within. I’ve gone through the Rolodex of morning star deities and have gained much insight, especially on how to merge the primordial with the 0s and 1s. More details on that later. What else? I’ve written poetry, I’ve paid more attention to emails, and yes, I’m blogging more frequently. Again, gotta ground all this swirling energy, and the mood stabilizers just ain’t doing it. Thus, the reason why I approach my mental health treatment plan with Western AND shamanic medicine. I try to compensate one’s failures with the other one’s practiced successes.

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Yesterday was a full moon in Sagittarius and I thought, “Alright, cosmic buddies, I’ve been told a Sag is good for me. Let’s take advantage of it.” After an attempt at a nap, we headed to our municipal pool and enjoyed a dip before the Father’s Day rush. I flung myself off the diving board, slithered down the water slide, carved ten ½ laps, all while earning a lovely glaze of a tan. Later, we met up with our closest friends for a Sunday cookout. The moon rising, I spend as much time on the patio and walking about.

After our delightful evening, we prepare to depart with filled tummies. Standing by the car, I look above at a clear, inky blue night and a bright Sagittarius moon.

My feet plant in second position. I feel my body sway.

The top of my head feels like a tendril of ivy climbing upwards towards the moon.

My arms begin to flutter in rhythm; eventually they rise and sway, Parting The White Horse Mane.

My eyes close. I begin to hum.

BF approaches. “What are you doing?”

A moon dance.”

Then you are an Airbender.”

I say nothing, then enter the car.

This morning, I receive loving kisses, then collapse back to sleep. The next time I wake, it’s because the dog wants to go outside.

It’s 8:53am.

We’ve made a breakthrough.

The Notebook

I thought the pile of administrative trash was a touch too heavy…

An interesting habit of mine when I’m in the hospital is to collect magazine pages. It seems I had ripped apart an Italian Vogue magazine in this bundle before me, the bundle I’ve been avoiding since I came home March 16th.

It is not so much the content as to the constancy of these bundles. Every hospital stay, a folder with my name on it. Hoarded inside, my daily schedule. Journal entries. Poems. Rants about my roommate(s). This last bundle, though, was different.

Somebody else’s journal entries, poems, rants were tucked in with mine. As well, a purple composition book, bent vertically, with a sloppily-written title on the outside cover. The best I could make out was “The Realm of The…” in whoever-the-heck’s handwriting. To be sure, I turn the pages of the heavily written-in notebook. I see my barely-inked handwriting, a side effect of strong anti-psychotics. Whoever-the-Heck marked my entries with faces; many sad, some with a line for a mouth. Either way, Whoever-the-Heck didn’t like where my mind goes when my mind goes.

Neither do I.

When I finished reading through it, I made a mental note to try to recover the small poems I had written while psychotic. Lovely little pieces, small and neat like the tiny white fish of St Pete Beach. Then I busied with following up on past due bills, organizing them by hospital (which was tricky because hello! I was out of my mind, how would I know where I was??) and chasing down hospital administrators who owe me explanations.

Knowing that BF would be home shortly, I pick up the papers to shred and take them to their resting place. I finish labeling half my rolling file folder cart. I cast aside all old, unrecyclable folders. I stack the folders and the box the new folders came in atop each other, then walk it out to the trash.

Today, intended for a post, I find that the poems are lost to the garbage. The notebook, it seems, was in the same pile as the unrecyclable folders.  I am relieved. RELIEVED. The reason why I hold on to advertisements and scribblings is because I know I won’t remember the experience, and a part of me feels as if I have to, as much detail as possible. But why do I have to remember? Being double minded means, one mind functions in society and the other mind doesn’t. So if that mind segment isn’t conducive to social interaction, then surely, the other segment shouldn’t fight so hard to retain useless data! Perhaps that’s the keyboard key stuck in a pressed position, the piece of spinach jammed in that impossible crevice of the teeth. Treatment needs to get me there – to a place where I know nothing, I am nobody, I am serene.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…

Continuing The Search For Divine Inspiration

BF went through my purse and discovered my collage intentions. But that’s alright, I’ve come up with an alternate, artistic plan!
While the fine folks at Davidson put it together, I’m back to my slender slab of wall.

The wall theme is “Divine Inspiration.” I want to display a mix of my personal art during moments of mania, intertwined with iconography and archetypes whom either visited me in my manic form, or channeled with me during intense meditation. This area of my home will serve as a cosmic altar! ‘Thank you for keeping me alive, and here’s who gets to be on my Wall of Fame…’;)

Earlier this week, I gave you some goddess candidates. This time I give you the warrior goddess options. Many are beautiful representations from existing tarot decks, but I think ordering individual prints instead of box upon boxes of tarot would be most economical, right?

More I’ve stolen from Pin. Let me know which one is your favorites (more than one is fine)!

Exploring the Divine Feminine

Today is one of those, ‘the mind is flying, but the body’s too weak to react’ days. So I do what anyone in the bed at 3pm does…look up ideas for a gallery wall!

Remember last year about this time, I was talking about designing a throne room, and how successful that came out? I feel driven once again by the interior decorating bug. Already on Facebook I’ve demonstrated a rapid return to the visual arts. Kinda like the movie, “How to Train Your Dragon,” I’m attempting to train my mania to divert into something useful, even creative. So far, so good!

The wall theme is “Divine Inspiration.” I want to display a mix of my personal art during moments of mania, intertwined with iconography and archetypes whom either visited me in my manic form, or channeled with me during intense meditation. This area of my home will serve as a cosmic altar! ‘Thank you for keeping me alive, and here’s who gets to be on my Wall of Fame…’ 😉

Let’s go through what I’ve picked from Pin thus far. Comment on which style you think works best for me!

Prince and Other Ps

This week, Thursday, is my 39th year on Earth. It’ll be a Taurus Moon, and, at its setting, it’ll be the 1st new moon of the month. So, with my return from WordPress hiatus, I warn all of you I may turn into a Minotaur. Don’t let that stop you from buying me a margarita.

The demigod Prince has entered another realm. A day out thrifting, my partner-in-thrift answers a phone call from her roommate. A quick ‘okay’ then she hangs the call. She turns to me and simply states, “Prince died.”

“Uh uh,” I scramble for my phone and seek 3 reliable media sources. I’m not convinced but Yahoo News has it splattered front page. Then other sources turn up. I feel my chest sink. The overhead music shifts to “When Doves Cry.” Just like that. Phone call. Statement. Funeral song.

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This is where I share my Prince-related tragedies. Flash to high school, 1994ish, and Excalibur Color Guard is entering its winter season. Traditionally, the juniors and seniors of the troupe put together solo or combo shows for UIL competition. I had a wonderful vision for “When Doves Cry”: a gossamer flag with matching, fluid dress, a thunderous dance routine with a recruited male dancer strong enough to execute lifts. The recruited dancer was my good friend Shamon, who was not only openly, proudly gay but also did. Not. Give. A. Fuck. Shamon’s vision involved much pelvic thrusting and grinding, which, for the music, I felt worked. My director, knowing Shamon, instantly shut us down. Didn’t even get to demonstrate our crotch lift!

Fine. Gotta come up with something…softer. I go to Prince’s “Diamonds and Pearls” era, the song “Seven”:

All seven and we’ll watch them fall
They stand in the way of love
And we will smoke them all
With an intellect and a savior-faire
No one in the whole universe
Will ever compare

I am yours now and you are mine
And together we’ll love through all
Space and time, so don’t cry
One day all seven will die

Can you envision a trio of fiery young women, tossing sabres up around and in exchange with each other, sylphs, seers, soothsayers, aflame with cosmic veneration? Oh! How lovely. Yup, that got shut down too. The music, it turns, was too “sexually suggestive.” Not to soon after, I quit the guard. My farewell solo was a boring sabre-flag dance to Boys II Men.

Thank you Prince, for teaching me to stick to my artistic guns, and not give in to other people’s preferences.


Hospital visits were at an all-time high this year. BF and I are fortunate that we had one solid month of no hospital journeys, but that doesn’t mean we have an all-clear. It is the stuff of all treatment plans: doctors diagnose, assign medications, see what works, and then keep mixing it up until something sticks. My meds have caused terrible difficulty with memory and focus (which is why this blog was put on pause). It’s as if I’ve inherited an attention deficit condition. Thus, I’m not writing much other than in my journal. However, my interest in other mediums has increased. I’m hanging out more with my visual artist friends. I’ll be signing up for some paint and photography parties this summer. Just because I’m not writing doesn’t mean I can’t produce quality art, nor does it mean that my other talents can’t be sourced. I’ve been helping out in various community projects and I’m tickling a proofreading/editing gig which would help finance a Busch Gardens visit at minimum. I’m not giving up on me by a long shot, people. Don’t you dare give up on me either.

And now, random photos for your enjoyment. Happy May, everyone!