Then & Now
Then & Now
Struck by the difference between me then, vs now
I was resisting friendship, companionship — why, I don’t know. Sort of.
I have always been preternaturally prickly towards Neanderthal-like men. Even when I know they’re more sensitive than they let on.
Old, old defenses in place, most likely.
Nothing that required excavation.
I have never believed that digging was the answer.
As each month passed, and still I had no interest in going anywhere else, I found that as my relaxation deepened, so too did my awareness.
I’ve been reading more — physical books.
It started after I asked my reflector friend how she sleeps so well.
And it was book reading. It makes you sleepy.
I’ve been buying all kinds of books lately — namely, children’s.
I had a mistaken idea that boring myself to sleep would do the trick.
I finally came across a book I loved once before, Georgia, by Dawn Tripp. A novel on Georgia O’keeffe written in the style of an autobiography.
59-6 and 41-30 are in my transits ;-)… fantasies about creating.
I had otherwise ceased creating in my normal life.
This reactive, shadow-y part of me had come out to play… and I lost myself in that.
Misplaced, distorted power.
I have long known fantasy is an essential for me.
Getting lost in a story —
Sometimes I feel that’s all, ultimately, I’m here to contribute — just another story, hopefully one that will inspire and empower others to live out more of what is uniquely their own.
I have been lost in the murky waters of my own self sabotage these past two years.
After leaving the spiritual business world, something in me shut down.
Reactive, angered… and the biggest mistake of all, making life decisions based on a teacher’s perceived slights against me.
Vengeful.
I stayed with my mom for six months, in my place of birth that apart from the ocean, I do not care for — and I shrunk. I played it safe, and then the fight grew in me, because my purpose was no longer clear.
And then in July of 2021, just after the vaccinations came out, I swept off to Indonesia.
During my 8 days of quarantine in Jakarta, I remembered that a former Airbnb host in Bali, back in 2019, recommended the Gilli islands.
Somewhere peaceful, small, with no motorbikes — after eight days of no fresh air and terrible food, it was exactly the place I wanted.
I arrived on Gilli Air, the “spiritual” island of the Gillis, and knew I’d come to the right place.
5.5 km in parameter, you got by on manual bike, barefoot, or horse and buggy.
I would’ve left after that first week if it weren’t for pure logical projector Chris, who introduced himself that first day on the beach at Mowie’s.
He got me to stay for a month, which I then extended, month after month, until I ended up staying a grand total of eight months on Gilli.
I learned a whole lot of things in my time there.
As a way to earmark the shift in self that took place, I recall one evening in particular which represents my former, defensive self due to being heavily mind-identified.
It was my third week on the island, and I just walked back from viewing a villa for the next month.
1/3 pure tribal, splenic manifestor Greg, who owns a by-then defunct diving school on the island (after three years of no tourism), and introduced me to diving himself, pulled me over to his table of friends at one of Lucky’s raging parties on the beach.
I tried to refuse him, but he Manifestor-insisted —
“I try and have a beer with you after our dive, you refuse, say you’re working; what’s it gonna take to get you out of your studies?”
I conceded.
I was supposed to give him a reading as thanks for the dive, and it never happened. I *wanted* to have a drink— I just didn’t want to upset projector Chris, who was among the island inhabitants particularly concerned about passing on the virus.
But as soon as I knew that was my motivation, I also knew that Chris and I had ended.
I was very aggressive that night.
Luca, the owner of the Italian place just next door, and later to be my closest friend on the island, told me that everyone there thought, “just. Chill. Out,” in response to my behaviour.
Greg had of course offered to buy me a drink, and in the end, I *threw* him a 50,000 note IDR.
I was resisting friendship, companionship — why, I don’t know. Sort of.
I have always been preternaturally prickly towards Neanderthal-like men. Even when I know they’re more sensitive than they let on.
Old, old defenses in place, most likely.
Nothing that required excavation.
I have never believed that digging was the answer.
As each month passed, and still I had no interest in going anywhere else, I found that as my relaxation deepened, so too did my awareness.
In September — crazy enough, a year ago next month — I was gifted lots and lots of human design information, and for the first time in two years of my experiment, I actually began studying human design.
Prior to that time, I lived radically by the body knowledge of design.
It wasn’t until coming into the knowledge of what it means to be all-right, and a projector no less, that I began to study in earnest.
And as I did that, my relationships with the community of islanders, too, transformed — because my aura did.
The more I developed a sense of ease in myself, the more I became assimilated into communities both in real life, and online.
The individual pulled in, recognised for their value to bring mutation to the tribe.
…TBC…