I had a draft written up of a post that I struggled with writing and chose not to finish.
It was titled "a letter to my Creator" and I didn't expect it to turn out so clunky and uninspired. There was inspiration enough to start but not to finish it.
I was hoping to articulate in a clear way what my biggest questions were and I realize that I've been asking those questions for years without finding a straight forward answer to them.
For instance, why are we here, who am I and where do we go when we die?
There are so many ways of answering each of them.
Ultimately, I don't think we can ever receive an answer that makes us go "yes! that's it!" and feel certain about because how would those answers come with evidence enough to satisfy both the logic of our minds and the intuition of our hearts?
Earlier I got irritated with my mother twice to the point where I know my reactions hurt her. I don't like it when that happens. Although I know she has a bad memory and has very little knowledge of simple things like operating a thermostat correctly (she turned it down to 7C) or says one thing and does another; it is difficult to fully accept and respect her.
I feel like such an asshole when I have this wave of irritation pass through. When she asked me earlier if I was going to make fish for myself, I said I would do it and thought nothing of it. She then comes downstairs about ten minutes later and says I can make steak if I don't feel like having fish. About ten minutes after that, she comes down asking me if I wanted her to make the fish for me.
What I feel each time she says these things is this cutting of my soul. This unspoken declaration of "I am looking after you because you are dependent and incompetent."
When she asked if she could make the fish for me, my mind goes to how unclean she is in the kitchen and sure enough, I noticed hair in the fish that she prepared. I don't trust her in the kitchen. I resent that I am in a situation where she makes decision on what I should be eating. Not only eating, but not being able to prepare it myself.
Honestly and without arrogance, I know I am a better cook than she is. It has nothing to do with skill but with attitude. Her attitude towards food is one of carelessness. Cheap ingredients, cooking things too quickly, cross-contamination of meat, improper storage, not following recipes and adapting and general carelessness.
In Reiki, we are said we can bless our food and impart good vibrations onto what we eat. This is backed by studies such as the effect of intentions and thoughts onto water as Masaru Emoto's research conclusively shows.
When a careless mind cooks, it produces low-vibratory results. When one cooks with concern for cleanliness, for quality for love and respect of what they are doing and preparing - the food reflects those intentions.
An example earlier is when I walked into the house and could smell rice pudding. My mother was surprised I knew what it was. What I saw however, was something that did not resemble rice pudding at all. It was inside of a baking dish. My mother took the ingredients of rice pudding and baked it until it was dry without any pudding consistency. There was no liquid in it.
That's not rice pudding. No cream? Milk?
It had the taste of rice pudding but...
And while I was making the fish I got irritated multiple times. The handle of the fridge was dirty with some kind of substance, the lemon juice container I pulled out also had a dirty sticky feel to it, the spatula I used this time actually was clean but the container of the oil I put into the pan not only wasn't sealed correctly but also had grease on the sides of it.
No wonder I keep flinching at touching the light switches and handles and stair handles in this place.
My mother doesn't care.
She just doesn't.
And it is HARD not to feel irritated by any of this. Sometimes my irritation bursts into quiet anger and disbelief and that is not the way I want to be.
The solution is to not live with someone like her. To be dependent on someone like her.
But I am living with her and I am dependent on her.
And she is not on my wavelength about anything.
Even deciding which homeless person on the street deserves to get money seems to be an issue between us. I mean, she is the sort that would give a clean looking young man with brand new shoes and looks to be in good health, $20 but would give $5 or nothing at all to the old fellow I saw who was leaning against a walker and looked like he was in rough shape.
Karlee and I once talked about our mothers and how identical they were to each other. They even have the same breed of cat. It seems like I'm not alone in having a mother like my own that I feel like I'm a parent of and she is a resentful child.
The dynamic between my mother and I is awful. Dissonant.
I'm the one that does my best to be thoughtful and logical and she is impulsive and not very thoughtful at all.
Every year she struggles with deciding what gifts to buy me. I have never had that problem. All I did was pay attention to her surroundings and figure out what I could get that would improve her life or make her smile. Whether its putting together framed pictures or buying a seat cushion for her car - all I really do is keep my eyes open for what she might like or need.
My mother would be the type that gives me gift certificates or cash.
I get it. She doesn't have that level of awareness about her. A few days ago she bought me pajamas and I was kind of irritated that she hasn't noticed I've been wearing five different types of pajamas around here. None of which have holes or are old. Why another pair of pajamas? Why did she buy me dozens of pairs of black socks years ago when I had two big drawers already filled with socks?
I say all this to illustrate how hard it has been for me to deepen my spiritual connection with the Creator or to get more in tune with my spirit. I don't want to be an asshole. I don't want to have to be constantly irritated by the conditions I am in and living with someone who is tuned into a completely different frequency than I am.
That saying, "love them at a distance" breaks apart once you move in with that person.
And you will struggle to love such a human being when you see habits and behaviors that contradict your own standards for what you consider to be basic and universally known.
How does someone not see that they've peed on the toilet seat?
Why do I have to describe how to enable closed captions on the TV more than three times to my mother?
Why does she have this habit of turning the thermostat down to 7C instead of 1C?
How can I express love towards her? Acceptance? I don't accept those habits.
I am having a hard time of finding love for anything much these days. Other than Princess and ...
Karlee, to be honest. Been thinking about her everyday. Wishing things were different.
I sent her a video of a momma bear climbing up a steep snowy slope on the side of a mountain with her cub. The mom made it to the top of the ridge but the baby kept sliding down as it struggled to climb. It failed three times and I was horrified at the third try where it fell a steep distance. But it kept pushing on and finally made its way up.
Here is a long version of it.
If you read the comments, it looks like the drone filming this was operated by an idiot. You'll notice as it zooms in, the mama bear swipes and scares the cub but she was swiping at the drone, causing the cub to plummet.
Anyways... I hope Karlee likes the video and that she doesn't give up on breaking free of her abusive situation.
I admire that woman so much.
But.. yeah... I am having trouble these days caring about much of anything.
It's hard living in a place like this to not disassociate. To blank out. To bury myself in my phone and blur out everything around me. From the excessive noise in the kitchen that my mother often makes and the frequent interruptions and the careless behavior... I should take a picture of some of the things around here that I have to turn a blind eye towards. I am not OCD about cleanliness but at the bare minimum people should use dish soap to wash the dishes.
That reminds me. This morning again was touching a coffee cup and feeling a dirty handle.
Hard feeling love towards my mother with all these... small irritations piling up.
Can't love her at a distance. No wonder I only saw her once a week when I had my own place and suggested we go out to eat each time rather than cook at home.
Sighs.
I really want to be a better man than this. But...
It's so easy to give up on all of this. Every day is more proof of the degradation of society.
I watched a long video earlier about the book of Enoch and it was well done. The author Gary Wayne then gives his take on the end of the world which he thinks is imminent.
Before that I listened to the Freeman.tv podcast and his guest also thinks the end is imminent. Suggesting that the only thing we can do is prepare ourselves for tough times ahead.
His advice on what to do was everything that I was doing two years ago. I had my food stocked up. Extra batteries. Paper maps. Three types of water filtration. Containers. Knives. Camping equipment. Two passports. Cash on hand. Silver. You name it.
So easy to give up on all of this.
And then I think of that little bear cub climbing up the slope.
Well...
I don't know what to say.
A part of me is conflicted. I want God in my heart and to guide me. Another part is wondering who or what God even is. Another part thinks that God is all of living consciousness linked together in a network and another part thinks that maybe God is an independent awareness that is capable of hearing prayers directed towards it.
I and the Father are one, regardless.
Not sure how to elevate my consciousness with this situation I'm in to deepen my connection.
Look at what I'm dealing with in this place.
It feels very much like a "love and then lost" situation. I loved who I was and now have lost it.
Even though who I am hasn't been lost, it's been covered over with the mud of this city and the home I live in and the lack of finances and resentment and grief over losing my independence...
Who I am isn't really lost.
It's just weighed down by bullshit that I didn't ask to experience.
Bullshit that I didn't expect to happen.
It's hard caring about anything these days. It really is. Who cares what I eat, I can't afford to buy what I want anyways. Who cares if I sleep on the floor? Who cares how lonely it is and how disconnected I feel? Who cares about being in a relationship, can't bring her over anyways. Who cares about how dirty this place is? I am not going to spend my day cleaning up after my mother who clearly doesn't care about any of what she does anyways.
Who cares about cooking. About laundry. I'm taking a shower every 3 or 4 days now instead of daily like I used to.
Who cares.
No wonder my heart is so heavy. Staring outside of the patio door to see a giant apartment complex with people who sometimes watch me smoke. Looking at the rainbow flags they have hanging off the balcony, flapping in the wind.
Who effin cares.
The moment I start caring is when the pain begins. The suffering is acknowledged and the helplessness returns to remind me of how far I've fallen.
And how far away from my dreams that I am.
Filing my bankruptcy report reminds me of what a failure I am. The guy who turned 20k into 200k on the stock market to lose it all.
I've lost everything, really.
I am at the bottom of the mountain and I don't know if I can be that baby cub climbing back to the top without a little help.
Yeshua said that we are the sons and daughters of God. He who asks shall receive. If ye have the faith of a mustard seed you can move mountains. People can do as great or greater things than he has.
Should they have faith.
Well...
As I search myself, I know that faith is still in me. There's always a chance at everything turning around.
But...
I cannot go back on the treadmill of a 9-5 job again. No way. Not in this city. Not while living with my mother.
I'd rather perish. Except... I want to make the spirits proud of me when I leave.
At the same time... Do I have to make anything proud of me? I know what my life has been like. I know how I've tried and failed and was distracted and diverted away from my true purpose.
I know that there are nefarious beings here with us. Some of them are in physical bodies. Others are hiding and watching us from behind the veil of the limited band of frequency that our senses can perceive.
I know there are greater and good beings out there.
And a true and loving God that is not the one described in the Old Testament but the God that Yeshua has believed in.
I and the Father are one.
I and the Spirit are one.
I and the Son is one.
And I am told that there is a special plan for me.
But time is running out.
The clock is ticking.
At some point something needs to change.
Getting a job won't do it. Going to school won't do it. Becoming a youtuber won't do it. Becoming an author won't do it.
There's no time right now for any of those things.
The walls are closing in on us.
I require intervention.
For myself and for the ones that I love.
In the meantime, I will continue holding faith in my heart. Repeating the list of my needs, wants and desires.
And I promise I will not spoil it this time.
I now know what we are up against.
And I'd like to help.
I'd appreciate a genuine chance.
To serve on the side of good.
And not evil.
Deliverance and renewal.
Please come.
