MM MECC ANICA

Prologue

If you read the last Ctrl + Alt + Delete (1) it is more akin to me frying a clutch on one of my motorcycles. Something that highlights what needs to change in your driving, but nothing machine ending, and a simple fix. You end up with a new clutch and learned what to do differently.

What I’m about to go into may not be for all readers and is closer to running a machine non stop at redline into the ever thickening air, throwing bearings, rods and pistons out of the oil pan… if the oil pan was the piston and rods were the oil pan and you forgot to put oil in any of it. Were there bearings in it to being with?

It’s rebuildable, but you don’t know how or why any of it happened until you take it apart, spend a lot of time thinking and accept that it wont be simple to repair.

You’ve been warned.

End Prologue

Experience

A familiar face, a familiar place, a familiar feeling of excitement, fear, anxiety and adventure. Conversation comforts, reconnects and eases me into the next steps of what is to come.

We share a sip and enter a state of presence as paper slowly dissolves in my mouth.

My soul buddy enters pain. I worry about them. They are processing something physical that has been troubling them. I’m connected to their pain and worry, I’m pulled to them as they processes the experience in the silence of their mind.

I have a bit more paper and get comfortable in what will become my pillowy prison of thought. Realilties set in, the physical world begins morphing, I cover my eyes with a blindfold trying to settle into experience, abruptly taking off the eye covers in an attempt to grasp reality, constantly fighting the perspective shifts and their hold on my mind and body. I worry about my partner, I feel like I’ve already been through years of experience, observing, watching, seeing all of the aspects of the room and my thoughts in a million different ways, only tickling the surface of what I am starting to experience, but my mind fights to stay in the present. They come into the room to comfort me, I feel a release of love knowing I don’t have to carry the concern about their pain anymore.

I’m still too caught in the here and now. I have a bit more paper and keep talking to my guide in an attempt to stay in control of my prescious reality as the medicine tries to pull me further from it. We shut down my system with something different.

I’m gone.

Much like the prologue analogy above, if my first journey was sitting in the passenger seat in the vehicle of my own mind as we drove through consciousness, this was going for a ride along to a place where there was no passenger seat, no steering wheel, no car, no world, no people, but an ever changing infinite and eternal creation of my own imagination. My thinking brain turns on, trying to make sense of it and into an eternity of loops I go. Everything feels like I’ve been here, there, everywhere, already before, years ago, yesterday and tomorrow, a parallel feeling of childhood, elderliness, home and lost.

I look at my hand as it takes on the light and shadows through the window and ages through birth to death and decomposition, over and over again. Worlds engulf my hand constantly evolving, dying, and evolving again. I’m old, I’m young, I die, I’m born, I age again. Not always as human, not always describable.

Confusion begins; the time between my first journey 9 months ago, every point of reading, watching, talking, learning, experiencing, finding meaning and discovery since then become one moment of time, one moment of path to get me exactly where I am. It feels like this moment has all happened before and doesn’t feel real at the same time. Every person and thing that has helped me along my path becomes an aspect of creation in multiple realities. Were/are the people real, the experiences, the art, the movies, the music? Did I imagine and create them all? Did someone else create them all? Which plane of reality have I been in, which plane of reality do I actually exist in? Do I exist in physical form, or is that just another reality? I dizzily watch as the options all play out in seconds and lifetimes. They are their own things and they aren’t their own things, they are my things, my perspectives, my processing and conveyance of reality and they aren’t; concurrently.

I try to process something in the medium I currently have a grasp on and get sucked into the dizzying cycle of watching the perspective unfold into utter fucking chaos. A nausea of being emminates. Nothing is real. It’s all created and imagined. Nothing and everything is real. It’s all familiar and not. New and old. Real and imaginary. Is there a difference in any of those contradictions? Can they both be true at the same time?

What am I creating, what is being created for me, what is part of a higher form of consciousness I’ve been reading, experiencing and trying to get to?

I come to, needing water and in front of a bowl throwing up from the spinning chaos of my mind. I look up, there is me/myguide/myself/creator, smirking back at me…it’s you. You are doing this. How can I be? How can this be me? Do you get it yet?

My mind smiles, thinking I figured it out, then try to make sense of an aspect of what I just experienced, I try and hold onto that thought. The thought morphs images, words, sounds and feelings in one; they are all figments of my creation and imagination. Everything feels familiar and homey at the same time that it feels new, strange and disorienting. I return to nauseous and dizzy. Am I nauseous or did I create nauseous in this reality. Nauseous is not a real thing. The spit in the bowl, the feeling in the brain and chest. They aren’t real. You created them in your mind. I look at my feet, they aren’t your feet, they are the feet of some other creature, something so familiar, and so strange at the same time.

I remember a person and my conversion with them prior to this experience, and dwell on the feeling that at this moment I don’t think I’m ever coming back from where I am. What would their thoughts be about me now? Am I just a blob smelling of puke curled up in a corner drooling for the rest of eternity? Am I fried? Did I go too far? Overwhelming despair. I see myself from out of body as a sketchbook 90s kid who played with too many drugs in their teenage years not able to make anything of themselves. Is this concept of degenerate kid slumped in the corner on a beanbag chair with a mind now mush actually me? Where did I see this feeling when I was young that is so burned into my mind of what I always fear being? Where did it come from, did I create it? Did I actually experience it or is it another figment of my imagination, that is so familiar and fresh at the same time. I can’t put my finger on where I’ve seen it before so it has to be my creating. So I am it, a fucking degenerate loser. Did I already know I was going to end up here? Is that why it feels familiar? Have I always been here trapped in this pretend other reality? I can’t escape from it, I can’t see coming back from this.

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

The person who’s opinion I’m dwelling on turns into a creature of folly, a caricature of the reality I thought they were in, and I watch them morph and fade into what I thought that reality was/is and I rise to another state of consciousness, seeing that the plane I was worried about is all part of a higher plane of existence and that it’s meaning was only what I made of it. They don’t exist, and that’s ok, because that reality was just a figment of my imagination.

What???

Fuck!!!

Fuck???

I try to logic out how this state is, how music, sights, sounds, words, touch, my body are still real and watch every aspect lose meaning, melt into something else and spiral into languages, visuals and symbols that aren’t in my database of knowledge. I try to grasp words to describe what’s going on just to see them drip viscously through the fingers and folds of my mind. The degradation of my hylomorphism continues, every grain of something I try to grasp enters into a new cycle of you don’t know shit, but you created it, it’s all a figment of your creation, it’s not yours…the dizziness spirals and spirals and spirals.

I grab a bowl and throw up, I look up at my guide and it’s me, my guide, my partner, we are all one…again. There is no individual, no self, no separateness. My brain smirks, concluding that all of these realities I’ve been flying through, they are mine to mold and create, and I can make of them what I want, just think your way out of them…but what about…into the spiral I go again, more lifetimes of grasping what these facets of life mean…

I fight to comprehend another aspect. More lost about was is, what if, what about.

…Confusion.

Sickness.

Life.

Death.

Bowl.

Realization.

Smile.

Think again…

I go back in to the spiral, watching lifetimes of worlds and myself play out in my mind as I try to make sense of it all. The lifetimes, some masculine, some feminine, some both, some neither, some as shapes, some as sound, some as *&@#*$(&90s* and &0sf0%s#@a$.

Every time, I end up in the same place. I’m the creator and destroyer, I’m where I need to be and where I shouldn’t be, but can’t accept any of it. Nauseation and a constricting jaw continues as I try and find truth or the culprit. It’s a sickness, a pain, something inside of me manifesting. I try and throw up, I’m back at the bowl, and the realization, the smile. It’s all me, but it can’t be. I don’t know what real is anymore. I have no grasp on reality.

I come back to some state physical state of consciousness, my guide advises I let go of control and fully experience, go crazy, get lost, it’s ok!

I can’t.

More medicine is needed. I dissolve more paper and get some added assistance to shut off the mind. Tonguing the papers soggying edges trying to use it as a way to connect to reality and time to no avail. It takes hold.

FUCKKKKKKKKKK

I’m back in, but a little more brain subdued this time; colors, music, reality all begin to take on a beautiful symphony of interplaying mediums and concepts. There is no difference between words, music, color, touch, taste, matter and sound. I become them all, I become a poem of all consciousness and senses for lifetimes and then a vibrant iridescent turquoise and purple explodes from a thousand plants and birds turning my surroundings into celestial space and time. I’m in the cosmos for eternity and the feeling of all feelings.

I connect with something I’ve wronged or that has wrong me. I still don’t remember who, what, which, or how, but we interact and resolve the issue and an opening and blossoming begins happening; aspects of my personality begin clawing out from below me through my chest and back. A beautiful woman in a vibrant red ornately detailed dress beaming with caring, motherhood, vibrance, free expression, seductiveness and passion alongside a course, dirty, scruffy, rude, angry, ravaging and violent male, try to simultaneously rape and love themselves through the veil of my subconscious. The ravaging, the anger, the violence, the caring, the grace, and the beauty, all pressure against my back. They wanted out, they wanted to create, destruct, be ragged, be beautiful, be themselves.

I fight them back, the urge to scream and sing and ravage rises up, I can feel them manifesting as the cause of the nausea in the center of my chest and the tightness I’ve been carrying in my jaw and back.

I can’t release them. I’m scared. What the fuck are these things? Are they me? What does it mean if they are me? What if I let them out? Who will I be?

I take a deep breath and let them settle into the background and wake up in an eternal cosmos of space and time along side the greatness of a few spiritual beings. I’m at the table of one consciousness and its mechanisms of discovery, love, nothing and everything, I’m here, but it’s not mine to have. I have to give in to these aspects of me and give up everything to stay in this place and I’m scared shitless of letting go. I can’t let the concept of me and my soul partner and my current life be more than the reality I know it as; even though I know we are one and part of each other already. We discovered very recently that we are one, but I’m not able to surrender to the fact that the reality I came from may have never existed or will exist again, though I’ve felt we exist together in all realities.

Into the spiral again. I learn all the same lessons countless more times. Back at the bowl, again, I smirk, and realize I’m already there, I’m the creator of all of my beauty, pain, torture, love and tornado of thought.

Violence and anger keep trying to kick down a wooden door of consciousness as splinters fly across my consciousness, beauty opposes it with grace and love and caring; I can’t release them. I can’t release them. They are keeping each other at bay, never allowed to express themselves individually and always at odds.

They slip away, another loop.

I come back to the table, the same oneness and its celestial beings comfort me in the consciousness of all space and all time. I know I have the ticket to what everyone in the world I’ve been in wants in my hand, if those everyone(s) are real and not a figment of my creation, but I can’t turn it in for access. I can’t let go. I want out, fearing this is another trap, another spiral I’ll never get out of. I slip away from the place so many, in my current reality, search for. I’m so fucking afraid of letting the beings deep inside of me out.

Why? You’ve got it, it’s yours to have. Give in. No. Give in. No.

The cycle continues, me/myguide/myself/creator greats me again, same water glass, same bowl and then a room of creation that’s more comfortable for me to digest, more rooted in the reality I keep holding onto. I have an option to take something and go deeper, I can’t, I’m on the verge of a full breakdown. I’ve always complained to have never known my limit and I finally found it. My mind, body and self all say at the same time… I can’t handle any more, I can’t do more, I can’t keep adventuring. I’m done.

I’m sad. I’m lost. I had it and I gave it away. What the fuck were you thinking? I was too afraid to be me, to afraid to be something deeper. My jaw is still tight, I still feel nauseous. I didn’t release me(s). They are still in there.

I still can’t make sense of reality. The hallucinations and distorted visualizations take a back seat as I try and think about any concept of my reality without letting myself get flushed down the next spiral of alternative realities. I’ve seen that they are all real and not real. I’m lost, I’m confused, I’m a dude who doesn’t know what dude he is, or what reality I’m in, what reality is my reality, what reality is realities reality, what is part of my imagination and creation, or is it all created for me and I’m back in the fucking passenger seat of something? What fucking game is this? I know it’s a game, I play it, I’ve been playing it, working my ass off and surrendering to it a the same time. Am I losing or winning?

Fuck.

Did I just have a seat at the enlightment table and couldn’t let go because I was too trapped in my own fear of being me? I was there, I felt it in every part of my mind and body. I knew my life and partner were already one with me, but I couldn’t give up and release my perspective of them and me to be what I am and what they are fully, if they are at all.

FUCK.

I wasn’t able to let me out.

The reality I grasp so tightly slowly creeps back, I cry, I laugh, I joke, I cry again with my partner who has since appeared. This reality is amazing, I’m on a winning path in this one, but could it be more, can I be more in it? Can I be in more than one reality at the same time? Will I ever get a seat at the table again? Did I give up too soon?

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Normality of where I think I came from sets back in, but the loop of multiple consciousnesses scratch at the corners of my mind at every experience and thought. I feel lifetimes older and wiser, but what am I going to do with it?

End Experience

Reflection

Sitting here typing this out, rereading it, and dipping my toes back into the cyclone of 2 days ago is a bit like describing a direct hit of an artillery shell to the midsection as a boo-boo. My words just can’t paint the vastness of what I experienced, but it’s my best, and that’s ok.

So, what do I take away as I pick at these thoughts like a cold sore in the back of my mouth?

– You can’t think your way out of everything. You have to feel your way through it too.

– I’m more than the me I know.

– I’m more than the me I’m ready to be.

– It’s ok to be this me.

– It’s ok to be that me.

– It’s ok to not be ready.

– Keep working, you’ve already changed your life for the better.

– You are your best friend and worst enemy. Choose wisely.

– Reality is what you make of it. Change your prospective for the better.

– The masculine and feminine figures are symbols of expressions I’m holding back that create a more complete me. A full manifestation of self balance, Ying and Yang, male and female, (insert one of the many eastern deities here) that are both and neither.

– Pretending/ignoring any of the feelings or emotions in the manifestation that is me in this reality only increases the chaos of my being and I need to learn to give them all a seat at the table. Decrease your internal entropy dude.

– Oh and this whole thing was a gentle reminder that…you learned a lot of this on your last journey… and before that… remember how familiar it all felt?

– Go deeper. Express. Live.