Wanted to blog normally for a bit. Not much planning, much less editing.
Just some good old journaling for the eyes of the interwebs.
Mortal life has been surreal lately.
I screamed at it in my twitter, but last july 10ish (2018 for you future folk), my theater teachers asked me if I wanted to join as an applicant to the company. A side note. I’ve watched theater since highschool (that’s 6+ years for you), I’ve admired PETA deeply for ages (they wrote their own plays, in the local language and tackled really sticky issues, sometimes they come off as redundant as ..always, humanitarian. but god did I have respect). And little old me.
Who always thought I could never be an artist.
Was invited to become an artist teacher. A trainee. They haven’t accepted applicants since 2011 (that’s seven years ago). It’s a HUGE opportunity. And upto now I sometimes feel like an imposter. I’m not a performing arts graduate. I have a lot of angst with being called an artist, I’ve only cried and accepted it to myself recently, and here it is slamming at me like a truck.
They asked for a performing arts resume.
What the hell is that. also. I never thought I would write one for myself.
This was me coming out of a season that was SUPER tiring. I was alternating between dance committments, work “hell” and -theater- this new ass genre, that I had zero formal experience in.
ALL MY PLANS SEEM TO HAVE GONE DOWN THE DRAIN.
I couldn’t teach salsa cause holy hell.
They would let me write plays. They would lecture on play analysis. They would let me fulfill my childhood aesthetic of having an apprenticeship in an arts library. CHILDREN’S PLAYS. asiatic dance performance. acting workshops with the best of the best. LIGHTING DESIGN FOR THEATER. Things I dreamed of in the dead of the night as an archi undergrad all coming true.
It’s so surreal. Some days, when I rehearsed for dance freestyle, I pretended I was auditioning for PETA, and low and behold I lowkey just did that. The universe was listening.
And to put the icing on the cake. They have theather for development as a line of specialty and they do psycho social processing for people with trauma and hit with disaster. The healer-nut shaman in me was off the rails. I was screaming at my bestfriend through chat. I WAS SO SURPRISED. AND TIRED. I didn’t have rest yet from all the performances and I was running around trying to get documents to apply for this new job out of nowhere.
It’s been, what. 3 weeks now ? And I’ve settled enough that I could talk about it. That it’s settling in as a new norm for me and I could pick up my old tasks smoothly again. Do some magick on the side, try to make room for salsa on my weekends again.
It’s weird how.
How life gets better. like it honestly does.
I remember probably a year ago wishing my family was just … nicer ? Or was more expressive in their loving. I realized I wanted in the few times I had a few heated arguments with her mother and both of our incapacities to communicate and empathize with each other’s situation. I worked on my side. AND I MEAN WORKED ON IT. I talked to her more. Phrased stuff in language she understood. Sent her stupid and damn good dance videos in family viber group where i sent an obtuse amount of minion stickers for my dad …
and you know what.
It got better (?) We watched movies and talked more during dinner. We had more idle banter that was actually funny and engaging. We did errands together and there was a normalcy to that just devastated my internal domestic wife that just screamed to heavens YES. YES EXACTLY, JUST DUMB SIMPLE SHIT. THAT MEANT WONDERS. my mom leaving a thoughtful gift when I have a bad day. My dad giving me advice.
It got better.
It got so much better. And my brother has less shitty girlfriends and his mood has improved by jillions. Yall be proud of this guy he’s learning to be single and at peace.
Oh, new lesson. Remember how at one point I was clingy and sad about a crush that didn’t like me back. And I wondered if this was what love meant that you’d be happy for a person even if it meant you weren’t in it. and boy. what foolishness. Hear me out, I was running on the fumes of a grander cultural norm that forced me to see that meaningful relationships between a dude and a gal had to be romantic AF. ALSO. I believe love allows people to just be themselves. Like their real, selves.
We live in a world where other people tell us how to lead our lives so often. Where we peddle life styles like religions or identities, that we put on to pretend to please each other. To like each other. ‘Cause deep down we just want to be accepted. It’s so fucked up.
How many times did we want to just be accepted for being ourselves? Just you, the real you. for liking the niche shit that we like, for being wrong sometimes ? for pursuing our passions, our gut feels, the patience to flower and become who we are ? to hold each other and nurture each other in that way? I’d like to think I want to love that way.
And I realized I loved him. As Fact. But also, I was inventing a version of him in my head that I preferred and I was bitching to myself every time he fell short. Every time he wasn’t demonstrative, every time he didn’t reply in the way that would have shot me into 9 heavens. But it’s okay ???? YEA??? Because that wasn’t him. I realized. I realized I wasn’t giving him space to be himself. And in some god awesome wonderful way, I liked this real him better than the candy version in my head.
I’ve had this metaphorical glass shatter multiple times in my life. The shiny version of a person that you had in your head throttled down to reality.
I idealized my brother like a god when I was so much younger. Then I discovered he was selfish. He was a teenager. And only after then did he become a real friend. I was also frustrated with how my mother was, having idealized conceptions of what mothering should be.
But how unfair I was. To be blind to the mother I had, and I counted the things I admired about her, and I finally wittled down my expectations, to finally meet her where she was and work my way up to her growing at her own pace.
The same for my crush/best friend. Disastrously, but finally.
No more stupid expectations of grand gestures or sweet nothings. Just him, my best friend I chat to everyday, and who knows almost all aspects of my life and who I know would compete as the best man in my wedding. I always thought that was going to be my brother. But god haven’t I been more sure I wanted to sob in someone else’s arms. I’m so happy I’ve loved someone so imperfect. I love that I know we can only be friends and I’m just in this weird limbo of letting go but also relishing the whole fun of – hey I was attracted to you.
Won’t you look at that ? How fucking bloody crazy, I still wish you the world.
And I love myself. That’s important. I think that’s important to talk about. Last year around these months too I decided I’m marrying myself. In some convoluted way. In a sense that I was committed to doing everything and anything and move mountains for the people I love the most, and that list should be including myself. That I would welcome myself every night, at home with kind words. And be quiet and gentle when I tuck myself to sleep asking myself so ‘how was my day?’.
And just like myself. Appreciate the things I experience, the things I like. The dumb things on the internet that made me laugh. To have more moments that were at peace rather in devastation, and to be fully responsible with keeping my inner peace. Because mountains my love.
Mountains, anything for you. I would do.
Not a single drop of self doubt, and for any worry and problem you have. The utmost dedication of processing and moving past that shit with honesty, bravery. And patience. Every fiber of that that’s available in my being. for you.
The days that I’m in love with myself are good, and I want to say that if I were to plot them in a calendar I’m just falling harder everyday..
Lastly. An internal etheric map. In two months I’ll be taking Seraphim Blueprint 5 & 6 some angelic energy attunements, and even if they haven’t happened yet; I know they’re gonna rock my life. Blast more demons, upturn some old false conceptions and build me back better. I mean look at me learning to love and create and be independent. Look at me growing. It will be wild.
But a quick recap for memory lane. Just for the road.
Feb 2016 was when I had my hands heat up and around june that year I had two life altering heart openings. wrenching. Euphoric, beyond understanding.
There are multiple times that my whole body buzzed in dreams. In good and bad days I felt different chakras open and close. My throat, my belly. That weird block on my right hip. Days where I felt like I lost weight just shedding emotional baggage.
These days, circa 2018, the weird that happens to me is that my third eye – when seated properly in place. feels incredibly at peace. stable. I feel like one of those saint figurines with a halo. For short breaths of time (maybe a couple of minutes, sometimes just a few seconds) I feel completely satisfied where I am, and hyper aware of my surroundings. I let go of all visualisations and affirmations. And just sit there, mindless and bodyless and it’s like time stops or the world doesn’t exist. money can’t exist. Just some pale numbers in this weird sensory illusion.
Before, I’d have glimpses of this while reading some wokefuck texts. Just some lines that would slap you into a stutter and just leave you staring into space questioning reality. And for a moment you feel the lifting of veils.
It’s happening more often now. I’m not saying that to show off but to just state a fact. It’s around july 2018 and mortal maria has this weird experiences of being comfortably seated in her crystal palace, in her ajna chakra, weaving down her spine and her other tan tien and other occult lingo and it feels rad AF. I can’t hold bad thoughts, in a very physical way.
Like I can’t physically even try, from a locational sense. Just those two types of awareness can’t sit together. You can’t sit in that pineal gland and be angry. I just forget to do that sometimes. Like the lot of times that we don’t do things that are good for you.
A channeled online reading told me I incarnated in this lifetime to talk to trees and animals. Low and behold I do love talking to trees and want to talk to them more often. But I find myself just doing office work seated at the foot of a tree in bare feet and just emptying my mind. Sitting in that nice ala-G spot area of mind good juju. And sinking it down to tree’s own great juju. At the base of it’s trunk, feel it’s roots go lower.
I feel their auras better at night. And I am in a wonderful mood just sitting with them all day. I wonder if by the end of this year I can really achieve going by a whole day seated at this point in my head. That would be a legit day of me being ‘high’ and/or of no mind ?
Something like that vippasana retreat I wanted to do of 15-days of no talking. I remember reading an occult book that said that pleidian monks used to not speak much and just talk telepathically because our voices expended so much chi. We could mesmerize and hypnotize people with them. Makes me rethink my role as a theater actress, I have deep intents to make every performance a ritual. A sincere exercise of empathy for other’s suffering and stories.
The rhythm of words..
I have fears about what might happen to ego me if I sit there too often. But really I’m not going to even energize that thought…
Some more mortal stuff:
I’m layouting some oracle decks with ate jammi this week. And getting a reading from her this sunday. I thought I was going to need that to release some anger about work but hey yo I actually processed all of that myself. I guess I’m actually going to have my first reading where I’m all put together, grounded and level headed and can have some higher dimensional counseling with the mortal paths in my life.
What gods shine on me, please open my ears. My heart to what ought to be asked, for honesty to reign, and Realness to flourish. HAH.
Also my grandmother’s cyst is benign. which, I already felt even before the surgery, but that’s not the kind of info you just blab about. I guess mortal me is going on a european cruise then since her operation will have her healthy and kicking. what a lucky bitch this meat sack is.
Off to the rest of my day now.
I hope you have a good one.