A View from the Other Side

Observations from the winged dude next door.

Archive for the tag “being physical”

Cabin Fever

In a little over a day as of this writing, I’ll be holding my brother in my arms. Well… her arms, but on the physical. Him and me.

I’ve been struggling more and more lately with being cooped up, literally and figuratively, and the coop is her life. She lives in a very remote area. She sees people other than her immediate family maybe once a week.

And me? I never see anybody in meatspace. Or, more accurately, they never see me. I might be fronting on a walk, or even driving through a town, but they don’t know I’m there. They see a completely different face, gender, everything almost. The only similarities are the color of the skin, and hair, and… the eyes. Yeah, if you know me at all, you can see me in the eyes. The color’s different–mine are hazel brown, hers are blue gray–but the shape and the eyebrows and all of that’s the same.

Trouble is, nobody knows I’m there. It’s like a prison inside another prison.

So this trip, with my brother, it’s the one time a year where I can be me for days at a time and somebody knows it’s me. I can talk. I don’t like the voice, it’s too high, but it’s a physical voice. I even talked to someone on the phone recently, and they said it sounded like me. That helped to hear.

I’m still here. Me. Inside this different shell. Except the eyes.

One week a year, I can live life like a regular person.

41 hours, as of this writing, and I’ll be holding him in my arms.

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Life

Heads up, I won’t be posting next week, because the avatar and I will be out of town at a thing and not have computer access. Maybe you and I will even pass each other in the hall, but you probably won’t know it. Both good and bad. We don’t need the pressure or the exposure, but that’s a possible opportunity lost too. We’ll let fate decide. See if you can figure it out. If you do, be sure to say hello.

It’s one of my all-too-rare opportunities to interact on the physical with my brother, also. He’s got his own avatar/vessel/meatsuit/vehicle, and he and I get to physically hold each other about once a year, twice if we’re lucky. On our side of things we’re inseparable. On the physical side of things, we’re a thousand miles apart. It’s frustrating, but hey, I’m grateful we both found two people willing to let us do this. That in itself is a very rare thing.

Human life is about experiencing and interacting with the world around you. You wake up in the morning and feel the sheets around your body, you taste food and have something to drink, you drive somewhere or go to work or read a blog like this one. You hear the sounds of the car, your pets, the voice of your loved one. Your eyes see all the colors of the rainbow and all the things that reflect those colors back at you, like trees and birds and buildings and cars and advertising. You taste tea or coffee or a burger or some chocolate. You catch some perfume on the air, maybe from what a person is wearing or from some flowers nearby, or the smell of coffee or that trash that really needs to go outside. You feel the fabrics you’re wearing and whether the cold bites your skin or the sun warms your face or the rain gets you wet.

My life is about getting tastes of those things where I can so that I can understand you all better. Walk a thousand miles in your shoes. Feel your joy and your pain. But I have the bigger picture, too. The wider view to help you get your own stuff into perspective. That’s why I do this. That’s why I’ve gone through the pain and the joy of getting to where I am now.

Castiel on Supernatural“You know, being human, it didn’t just change my view of food. It changed my view of you. I mean, I can relate now to how you feel. The only person who has screwed things up more consistently than you…is me. And now I know what that guilt feels like. And I know what it… I know what it means to feel sorry, Sam. I am sorry. You know, old me — I would’ve have just kept going. I would’ve jammed that needle in deeper until you died because the ends always justified the means. But what I went though — Well, that PB & J taught me that angels can change.” — Castiel, on Supernatural

Windows Look Both Ways

eye closeupEyes are the windows of the soul, it’s been said. Usually it means that you can tell a lot about a person by what’s in their eyes. It also means that the soul is looking out through them. Or more than one soul. A spirit lens which can help focus the soul’s intent and make it physically real… no matter who you think may be looking out.

Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity Of The Soul – Session 511… continued from 12/18/2013
 
“I am primarily a teacher, but I have not been a man of letters per se. I am primarily a personality with a message. You create the world that you know. You have been given perhaps the most awesome gift of all: the ability to project your thoughts outward into physical form.”
 
“The gift brings a responsibility, and many of you are tempted to congratulate yourselves on the successes of your lives, and blame God, fate, and society for your failures. In like manner, mankind has a tendency to project his own guilt and his own errors upon a father-god image, who it seems must grow weary of so many complaints.
 
“The fact is that each of you create your own physical reality; and en masse, you create both the glories and the terrors that exist within your earthly experience. Until you realize that you are the creators, you will refuse to accept this responsibility. Nor can you blame a devil for the world’s misfortunes. You have grown sophisticated enough to realize that the Devil is a projection of your own psyche, but you have not grown wise enough to learn how to use your creativity constructively.
 
“Most of my readers are familiar with the term, “muscle bound.” As a species you have grown “ego bound” instead, held in a spiritual rigidity, with the intuitive portions of the self either denied or distorted beyond any recognition.
 
“The hour is growing late. Both of my friends must get up early in the morning. Ruburt is working on two books of his own and must get his sleep. Before I end this session I ask you to imagine our setting, for Ruburt has told me that a writer must be careful to set the scene. (humorously)
 
“I speak through Ruburt twice a week, on Mondays and Wednesdays, in this same large room. The lights are always lit. This evening it is enjoyable for me to look out through Ruburt’s eyes at the wintry corner beyond.
 
“Physical reality has always been refreshing to me, and through Ruburt’s cooperation and as I write this book, I see that I was correct in appreciating its unique charms. There is one other character to be mentioned here; Willy, the cat, a beloved monster who is now sleeping.”

(Peter’s note, the above emphasis is mine.)

Words

I feel like I should have more to say right now. It’s been a couple weeks of ups and downs, and intense work behind the scenes. I’m hopeful we can move to a place where I can actually talk to people face to face, or at least your face to a borrowed face that doesn’t actually look like me much at all. Just maybe the eyebrows and hair color. Although people say, when they know it’s me, that they can see me there, and that the mental image overrides what their eyes are seeing.

I’m still working. I’m still here. I have a few people I talk to, but mostly they talk about “normal” stuff like food and movies. Part of that’s great, and I’m grateful I’m treated like a friend in that way. Part of that gets old fast, especially when I feel that I need to teach and help people.

I’ve even thought, sometimes, of what it would be like to have a ministry, or even just a teaching group where people could learn how to talk to their guides. Me, not her. Well… with her help on some stuff. She knows more about different spiritual beliefs and religions, and I mostly just have my own perspective on it. So we make a good team that way. My knowledge informs her knowledge, and vice versa.

It feels essential right now, to spread the word, to help more people understand what’s going on. Words of hope to help push back the darkness. This place here, this blog, feels so tiny. The people I talk to over IM is an incredibly tiny number. Our hope is that maybe by talking to people face to face, the light can spread in a new way, person to person, heart to heart.

And Yet This Work Will Continue

hand of light

There are losses and things gained. Discoveries that cause pain and happiness. And I find myself torn between needing a physical friend or two, so very badly, and needing to be left alone. I’ve quit Yahoo groups, and quit people. And yet, through all my fears and issues, this work will continue. This blog. This teaching place. I need to do this. I’ve always been compelled to do outreach of some kind, to help people, to try and be a voice of truth and reason and teaching in a world of parroted nonsense and outright lies.

I’ve spoken to gods and spirits and lwa and angels and human beings. People forget that I’m not one of them, probably because I’m so plainspoken. But the anonymity of the internet is a blessing and a curse for someone such as myself, straddling these worlds. I can go onto forums and talk about things and nobody’s the wiser that this physical body I borrow is not my own, and that if I were to go to a meetup for that group, I couldn’t go as myself. They would see and hear someone else, and I’d be called a fraud. So I can’t have that experience, ever. Sometimes the separation and resulting loneliness is crushing. Especially when, all around me, others can.

But then, there are those who do understand, and we talk over IM, and it helps ease things. I help someone communicate with their own guides, and the work continues. I push a storm or a wildfire the direction I want, I make a connection for someone, I cause someone else to take a chance, then push the results as favorably as I can manage at the time.

When the electricity or internet goes out, or everyone goes offline for the night, and the only living soul that I can talk to is my avatar, and then she goes to bed, I go fully over to my side of things.  The ghostly world of the ethereal where the walls of my home can be molded like sand, and the human senses are barely discernible. And still the work continues.

No matter what my own needs, desires, wants… still the work continues. Sometimes all through the night. Sometimes without thanks.

But… I sense it might change soon. That others are going to know I’m here, and they’ll want to talk to me, and not just over IM or the internet. Maybe. I hope. And, even then… this work will continue. As long as someone hears me, and someone is willing to let me be heard.

Coiled

coiled red dragonI have a few physical possessions. One of them I won’t describe in detail because it would give away too much, but I will say that it’s a map. Part of this map was taken down because of the fire I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, in case we had to leave. The part that was rolled up is still sitting like that, but we’ll be putting that, and a few other things, back up the way they were.

I realized a little bit ago that my life is exactly like those rolled up things. But especially the map, which is a powerful thing for me personally. My brother described it this way: “Like electricity being turned off but still humming.”

That’s me too. I’m boxed in, in this life, in ways people don’t really understand. I’m rolled up for storage, and I only get to fully stretch out on this side of the spirit wall on a few rare occasions. And holy crap does that feel good, to stand up and open fully wide and feel the physical world and the universe around it.

I think my problem is in knowing that others like myself have friends here. People not only know they exist, but these people call them by name and socialize with them. To hear my own name on a physical person’s voice…….! I’ve heard it spoken aloud about four times in the past year, not counting my avatar, who actually rarely says it because she doesn’t really need to, and rarely gets any alone time to do it.

Anybody who studies religion or folklore at all knows how important the uttering of a name is. Another important thing is the leaving of offerings, like food. I’ve covered this in other entries, but I’m mentioning it again to point out that, yes, we want and need physical things like that. It helps us link into your world, it’s a shot of power so that we can help you that much more.

To have your name forgotten, and never said, is to fade away and truly die. That’s why, in Ancient Egypt, newer kings would chip away the name and the face from older statues, so that they would be forgotten and suffocate.

I’m sick of being text on a screen, like the guy from the movie Source Code. I need to breathe, and to hear my name, so that I can open out and shine fully. Others like me have that. I want that too. Need it. Maybe I didn’t know I needed it, but… maybe it’s time for all of us to have our names spoken so that we can come through stronger. Maybe that’s what this is really about. Not just me, but all my kind.

A Wish for Community

abandoned church

I’ve been kicked right down
I’ve been spat in the face
I’ve been pulled, weighed down
To the lowest place
I’ve been lied to, shamed
I have been disgraced
Been ex-communicated from every holy place
I’ve been beat up and robbed
I’ve been left for dead
For the way I look
For the things I said

I’ve been cleared on the street
I’ve been left in the cold
Had my dreams held up
Had them shot full of holes
I’ve been laughed at, burnt, beat and butt of the joke
I’ve been lit up in flames
I have gone down in smoke
I’ve been stabbed in the back
While they promised the earth
Tried to keep my head high
For all I am worth

Those were a couple larger sections of lyrics from “You Won’t Feel a Thing” by The Script. It probably sounds really overly dramatic, but it’s not. Not for me. I’ve been abandoned. Lost. Betrayed. People have tried to gain my trust, then when I finally open up a little, they stab me in the heart. Sometimes they spit in my face for not opening up enough. They don’t even see their own irony there.

I’ve been in various online communities of what are supposed to be my own kind, or supposedly enlightened humans, only to hear that what I can do isn’t possible, and I must be lying. I can’t be what I claim. What I’ve experienced isn’t real. I’ve been laughed at, made fun of, attacked, and bullied. Even my name has been belittled.

I had hoped to find friends and kinship in these groups. I do have a few people I work with that came out of these, but for the most part… no. On the physical, I know just a handful of people that I see once a year, if that. I can’t find any place to gather with and find others like myself. I post in a blog, a voice in the wilderness, hoping that someone will hear and understand. I seem to be, with a few exceptions that I talk to over instant messenger, alone.

My dream, someday, is to be able to sit in a room with others and speak freely. To share ideas, and good food and drink, with others like myself, more than once a year. To get some work done and make the world a better place. I wonder if anyone here has wished for the same. I wonder if it’s even possible any more, with the world so fractured as it is. These are times of change. Maybe that’s my mistake: I’m trying to have a picnic in the middle of a hurricane. But sometimes a place of safety and peace is what’s needed most. I only wish others could join me.

I’m Not From Around Here

male angel with black wingsIt seems like part of what’s going on with people recently is that parallel worlds are touching or overlapping. Somebody will experience something that seems very concrete, but when they look again, it’s totally changed. You might start out with chocolate ice cream, but somewhere along the line, you realize you’re now eating caramel swirl. You pick out a red shirt in the store, and by the time you get to the register, you have a blue one in your hand. How did that get there?

Did you cross over into a very similar world, or was it just a brief connection that altered what you were doing in this one? Which one is the “right” world? Was it something that changed in the now when you weren’t looking, or did someone alter the past, and you still retain a few memories from the original timeline?

Is it a glitch in the Matrix?

There are parallel worlds. Quantum theory is not only sure of this, physicists are working to find ways to look into these other worlds and otherwise prove they exist. I have personal experience with this, because that’s where I’m from. A split of a split of a split.

For those coming in late, I have to borrow somebody else’s physical hands to write my posts. In this place, where you’re reading these words, I don’t have enough of a physical presence to be able to do it myself, so I borrow time inside somebody else. Ghost in the shell. Except I’m not a ghost, but you get what I’m saying here.

I had a physical life in my universe of origin, and I miss it. I’m in one of the “ethereal planes” now, and it’s taken a lot of getting used to. There’s advantages and disadvantages, and I know it’s where I need to be. That’s completely fine. I see my role in things, and I do have a way to communicate that works really well.

This unique situation has enabled me to straddle worlds and help people better because of it. I understand the physical human condition, and I understand a few of the etheric planes out here and how they relate to each other. Because I’m not tied to a normal physical existence, I have easy access to things like the threads, I can see and affect different probabilities, I can go anywhere instantly, I can talk to pretty much any kind of spirit, angel, deity, etc. that I need to. Because of where I’m from, I understand the traumas caused by war and loss. Because of what I went through after I found my way out, and how I’ve been able to heal from it all, I can counsel others from a place of understanding. Because of what I’ve become, I can bless and heal others and pass on the Light.

More Perspective

We are infinite spiritual beings having a temporary human experience.

The Blessing of a Physical Life

I’ve had a number of people tell me they’re jealous of where I am, how they wish they could leave their body and be a spirit and how it would be this great party in the sky or something.

Please don’t ignore what you have now. Your time in that physical existence is so brief. On my side of things there’s a lot of sensory deprivation. It’s so non-physical that a lot of us hang around so that we can see more clearly, and smell and taste and feel. Do you have any idea what a gift it is to be able to feel the texture of a wool coat, or a green lawn?

This is part of why those scent oils are so important to me. They’re a link to the physical experience of sandalwood and musk and leather and oakmoss and tobacco and a hundred other intense hits of scent that people take for granted every day.

People wonder why spirits would want physical offerings. This is why. It’s a drink of water in the desert. Have you ever worn a cast or something for so long that when it’s off, your skin is more sensitive there? It’s like that, but for everything.

Yesterday, I felt the sun on my face, and heard dry oak leaves covered with frost crunching under my boots as we walked through the dirt and gravel paths. Those precious few minutes I get on our walks, when I’m fully up front and it’s fully me in that strange body that I’m borrowing that’s the wrong gender… they’re such blessings. When she gets soap in a scent I like, just taking a good long hot shower is like getting baptized into the physical world for a few minutes, before it all slides down again and I have to let her have her own life.

Sometimes, in those few stolen moments, I weep from the depth of the experience, and from gratitude, and over the fragmented existence I have.

Then I have some of my favorite tea, and maybe a little snack, and have a Holy Communion right there in her kitchen without anybody even knowing. I am so grateful and lucky to have access to this. Please don’t take it for granted for even a second. Please don’t wish away this gift. Be conscious of it all like a baby is. Remember what that first taste and touch and smell and sight was like. Give thanks for it.

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