The Realms Of A Lightworker

Many years ago, when I was twenty years old I experienced a massive and radical awakening through what I later discovered was a Kundalini experience. What I never realized was what this single experience did for me, for the rest of my life. In the intervening years, into my mid-forties, I explored everything. I resolved, in a poetic way, that the unexamined life wasn’t worth living, so I explored as much as I could. I intentionally opened myself up to everything that would come to me, and that’s when the synchronicities began.

At first, they were curiosities, coincidences and happy accidents. I was beset by strange memorable dreams, deja vu, and a whole host of little oddities that I could comfortably ignore. My explorations included a bunch of discoveries, and realizations that not everyone starts their life like I did mine. From eight years old, I knew what my life purpose was, I wrote it out, and I never revised it since, and it’s been with me for forty years of living and I have no reason to change it now. At twelve years of age, I lost what little drabs of organized religion were impressed upon me by everyone else, and I lost it in the most amusing of places, the Church Library at the First Presbyterian Church in Ithaca, New York, which was my maternal grandmothers church, and the one where I was baptized and grew up frequenting on Sundays. Then zoom forward, seventeen years of age, and I encountered a medium / psychic fellow who helped me remember a previous incarnation. I was an Irish Catholic priest, mid 1800’s, and being inducted into that understanding was at the time just another amusement, but turned out to be fundamental for all the things that came afterwards. All of these events, little accidents, little nudges, all to place me on a certain path, and now that I look back in retrospect, it is hilariously obvious that I was always going to end up here.

Then several years ago, I started knowing things. I would be able to guess, with shocking uncanny success, if I was posed with a problem or question, and in the first heartbeat, that answer, which more and more started just happening all by itself would just land in my lap. After a series of self-exams where I would honestly test myself, test this gift, and after I was rocking nearly 100% accuracy I accepted it and let it become a part of who I am. I don’t use it intentionally, instead my instincts guided me to regard it as just another worthwhile input, pouring all of what the world had for me, all my perceptions, the events that happened in my life, all into a central pool and let everything mingle. I later discovered that this gift has a name, it’s called claircognizance. The ability to acquire knowing, gnosis, immediately without having to expend any sort of mental labor to reach the answer. I still had no idea what was happening to me, but I wanted desperately to follow all these breadcrumbs left for me, like a trail of M&M’s.

Over time, I picked up many more skills, through my young adulthood I picked up Tarot, Runes, and Bibliomancy and started to appreciate the more numinous and subtle shadings of existence. I started asking the big questions, the purpose of life, why we exist, and trying to understand this world that I exist in, what it means and my place within it. Then I had three lifelong lessons to cope with co-dependency. The first lesson was co-dependency in my family, then in my love life, and finally in my public life. Each time I thought I was done with the lessons to learn, only to careen into the next lesson. All of this set me up for my development, but also encouraged me to start addressing all the shadows in my life. Early traumas, sadnesses, and hurts that all goaded me into a kind of compartmentalization. Every interaction with others was jarring and painful, unpleasant and upsetting. Turns out, my nascent empathy was traumatized and as such, I created barricades around this, to protect myself. Everyone who wanted to grab a token and hurt me could line up, get their abuse jollies and I would just sit there and take it, stoically. It was just dissociation, which I came to understand much later in life. You can’t reach me if I’m not here, so I would leave. Leave within myself.

Years of this, of being the black sheep of my family, to being isolated and lonely, a permanent outsider, never once fitting in properly anywhere, never a part of anything, always browsing from outside and looking in on a world that seemed to be really quite wonderful, but also not for me. So I decided that I could just do it all alone, I was isolated and lonely anyways, nobody could understand the vast sweeping ideas that I was having, so I just determined to keep it all inside. That I could explore where I wanted to go, how I wanted to evolve in this lifetime and I would do it as a solitary practitioner. It felt right, I had mile-high barricades built around me, I kept my caring parts, my empathy, close to me, protecting it from a rude and nasty world full of rude and nasty human beings, and I resolved that I would live the rest of my days, cut off and happy. Happy in my separate peace.

And then, suddenly and unbidden, I started to channel. I would talk to myself, or more clearly, I would hear my own voice talking to me, and there was both messages and feelings to this exchange. I didn’t think I was losing my faculties, I felt like it was another gift from the Universe, maybe something like a consolation prize for an unhappy childhood, perhaps. And I accepted it, if it was going to be a part of me, then I would welcome it, add it to the chorus that was feeding into the central pool of experience building slowly within my mind. By accepting it, it doesn’t upset me, and some days the channel “pops open” several times a day, and sometimes it doesn’t for weeks at a time, it comes when it comes, it says what it says, and always the messages are advice, suggestions, and above everything else, this pervasive feeling of love and support. I can’t make anyone proud of me out there, but I apparently can for my channel, and whatever is on the other side of the line. For good or ill, I accept it.

Then after a while, with a lifetime of material building up within me, I started feeling this unfocused foreboding sensation. Like I could feel something coming towards us, from the future, something we were all blindly stumbling into, traipsing into. That’s when I tried to reach out, I didn’t know what sort of warning I could give, so I started to try to help people. My gift comes with a curse. The curse of Cassandra is the closest mythological story I can come up with. Gifted with knowledge, the gnosis from the claircognizance, but the curse that I would never be believed. I came to understand that I was still an outsider, but oddly enough, I started to also find people who could actually hear me. I think they would be proud to call themselves neurodivergent, and when I would share with them, they would hear me. It was jarring and shocking. The curse was always with me, making me othered, separated, an outsider with those that surround me, except for the neurodivergent.

Over time, I came to learn that everything that was happening to me was suited to a much greater purpose. Ticking boxes, checking off elements, and slowly evolving my way into becoming a Lightworker. I had this sense of foreboding still, and I carry it to this day, it’s still with me. I then encountered a dear friend who I never considered interested in any of this stuff, but he started helping me by saying the exactly right things, at the right time. The channel kept on telling me that someone would walk into my life, sometime very soon, and that they would help me to grow and open up. So, with my channel telling me it was the best path for me, and nudging me with synchronicities and unexplainable coincidences, I gave up my barricades and let each one of them crumble. This one person, this one very special person, enabled me to share all that I had become, all I had discovered, and everything that I had to say. This person could hear me, they would listen, and they offered kindness and support. I then started to dream again, I wasn’t remembering the dreams like I had, but I felt this irresistible pressure build within me. I wanted desperately to grow, to relax, to unclench. I knew exactly what would be my next step in my personal evolution, and that was that I needed to be Bright. As a Lightworker, I am told that I have a presence and a glow to me, perhaps I do, but I also feel this urge to actually try. Not just to accept what the channel and other sensitives and empaths share with me, but to grab the reins and pursue it. This pursuit has become one of the most exciting and passionate pursuits of my entire lifetime.

I know what I am supposed to do, my role in all of this. As a Lightworker I am supposed to inspire others. I am to follow a path of ever increasing emotional vibratory frequencies. I have to ask at every juncture, what do I prefer? What choice would lead me to where I want to go, this image in my mind of a world that we all want to live in. One built out of kindness, compassion, love, and respect. That’s my path, and as a part of it, I felt this overwhelming revulsion to all my prior low-frequency emotions. Hate, Fear, Anger, Rage. So I actively spurned all of those, at each juncture picking hope, kindness, compassion, and deep feelings of love over all the awful feelings. I was so angry, all the time, and I have come to understand that anger and fear are just messengers from beyond me, helping me to push myself towards the light. More than just abandoning the low frequency feelings, I embraced them, felt them, let them reach expression through me and as I did, they one by one faded out of my life. As it turns out, I was doing shadow-work, without even knowing that it was called that.

For me, in this world, I see the realm we exist in made up of three spheres. The lowest sphere is what my channel has termed “The Tar”, it’s hot, black, sticky, and has a breathtaking undertow that will grab you and pull you under with it. The Tar is a world of hate, fear, risk, suspicion, and scarcity of everything. It’s repugnant to me, and when I feel it, I try to steer away from it if I can. The next sphere is “The Dim”, and that’s our current world. You can see the light, it isn’t bright, but it is visible. You know what you should do, you see the path, you just need courage to walk it. We all live in The Dim, it’s the work-a-day world, the subsistence of living, the endless trudge of Same Shit, Different Day. The last sphere, the sphere I am working to enter, to champion, is “The Bright”. This sphere is one of kindness, compassion, respect, understanding, and is the home of my irrational altruism. That impulse to do something nice, unbidden, without any recompense because to give of myself in this way feels authentically vital.

I figured, as my journey started to take me down many unusual and out-of-the-way avenues, which I term my “woo woo” landscape, that really all of this, how I got here, what it all means, can all be reduced down to me simply wanting to have the Bright feelings, kindness, compassion, love, hope… the things that gain and generate and produce without working for it. A balm to the scarcity of The Tar, I suppose now that I have laid it all out for the first time from thoughts to words. My Lightworker nature just gives me a kind of vector, not only do I want to be more in The Bright, but I want to bring more of The Bright to everyone around me. All the advice that I get from my channel and all the sensitives and empaths that I have gotten to know on a personal level all give me little nudges. At first I wanted to scoop up everyone that I cared for, like a kind of shepherd of my flock as it were, and try to literally drag them into The Bright with me, because I didn’t want to lose any of them to The Tar. I could help them rise above The Dim, if I could just be strong enough, and convincing enough, to try hard enough. Once I had started trying, the channel and my sensitive friends all started to beat the drum to correct my path, another nudge. My place wasn’t to force or cajole or even prompt people, but instead to understand that what really matters in everything isn’t hard power, but soft power. Hard power is slapped down by Karma, where soft power is supported by Karma. So I shifted my approach and now I am concentrating all my energies on picking the right options in each juncture, and flowing from trying to make people hear me, to trying to inspire people. I can’t inspire without actually sharing myself with others, and so, this blog post was born in my mind and I write it out in an effort to be Bright and to shine.

The foreboding of what is coming is still with me. The world has sputtered and coughed in recent years, and there is this sense of something on the horizon that we are witlessly marching into, all of us. I don’t know what it is, nor when it is supposed to be, but I do know that I am right where I need to be. I need to tell people who I am, what I can do, and to simply inspire and shine as best that I can, being as damaged as I have been – and to rise above that trauma, all the reasons deep inside me that are screaming at me to not write any of this, to not share it, to not shine. If I don’t shine, I won’t be noticed, and I’ll be safe. If I ignore all of that, if I chase this Bright down and embody it myself, then I will shine, I will be noticed, and there might be risk. Then I smile and recall that I am to pick whichever choice is brighter at every juncture, and so, it’s brighter for me to share this with you all, knowing that an act of deep disclosure of a personal vulnerability is a monumental act of grace and trust, fills me with such joy and happiness. It’s scary, it’s frightening, and it’s also incredibly liberating! As with many things, when you are up close to a thing, all you can see is that thing, so this feels huge and monumental, but over time, and perspective that develops, this is just a blip, a pebble on the path, not a mountain.

The time for me to inspire, to learn to shine in time to reach my loved ones, if not more people, is running out. I don’t want to convince anyone of anything. I want to only share ideas, not beliefs. Ideas are fluid things, they can be endlessly revised and they don’t pick up the kind of baggage that comes with belief. Soon the foreboding event will happen, and I, and the other sparsely distributed Lightworkers will be standing alone again, but instead of being alone and separate from the rest of everyone, we are supposed to stand and guide. To be independent and strong, and to show the way.

That’s what occupies my time now, all my thoughts, every motive is bent to pursuit of this Brightness, and right now my channel is open, and whatever lies on the other side has this to share here, “The thing that scares you the most is quite often your next step. Be brave. Do your best.”

And that’s what all this comes down to. Do my best. My gift to give is giving itself. I am to give my shine to everyone, in hopes that they understand what it is that I want of the world. To leave the Tar and the Dim behind, to be Bright.

Walk in the Light.

Catching Up

Welcome to the end of July 2021! So much has happened, and most of it has passed without a blog entry. Life is a box of chocolates and sometimes you run into a really thick caramel and have to slow down.

COVID-19

shallow focus photography of microscope
Photo by Chokniti Khongchum on Pexels.com

In the time I’ve been away, I discovered that on Saint Patrick’s Day 2021, March 17th, that I had contracted COVID-19 when I could no longer smell or taste anything. My test came back positive, but I didn’t have a strong illness associated with it. Then my mind cast back to January 2020, and when I thought that I had Norovirus, but upon reflection I think it might have been COVID-19 as well, except in January of 2020, COVID kicked my ass. So perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn’t, I didn’t get tested at the time. Then we all got the happy news that we were invited to have our first vaccination series with the Pfizer mRNA vaccine. Mine was on 3/30, and then subsequently again on 4/20. Now I have at least one true COVID-19 infection, and the mRNA, so that puts me in a pretty strong resistant category.

Working From Home & Working In The Office

During the entire pandemic, the state of Michigan opened and closed. We played the flirt game with spikes and surges and it was very ugly for quite a while. Restaurants closed up left and right, the only real dining game in town was those joints that decided to adopt a strong take-out offering. I bounced from Home to the Office, and in one of those bounces, I contracted COVID-19 from my workplace. Since then, I have had weight issues which naturally led to hypertensive issues as well. Since April I think, I’ve been back in the office, and back in the swing of things. I still quarantine myself, I still mask, and I still have lots of hand sanitizer. COVID-19 has changed how I behave, it created a host of new habits and since they can only help me, I have kept them going. I don’t know if I will ever let go of them.

Noom

On April 16th, 2021 I started the Noom program. I started at 331.4 pounds, and now I’m down to 291.4 pounds, on the program, with a lifetime goal of 220 pounds. The program is very good, the educational components are really quite valuable and I’m almost done with the education parts. I don’t think that I’m ready to “be free of the program” as I think what I need most is the discipline that the app offers me, the rigorous control over my food intake, and being careful so as to not over-indulge and gain back the weight I have lost so far. I definitely think that Noom is a diet that everyone could really benefit from, I don’t feel deprived or starving, and I still am losing weight.

Crochet

person holding purple and white pen
Photo by Castorly Stock on Pexels.com

Over pandemic, I picked up a new hobby. Crochet, which is a style of working with yarn to make various fabrics and items. So far I’ve made many blankets, hats, gloves, and “Cat Pads” for donation to Kalamazoo Animal Rescue. I have discovered that Bernat Blanket, which is a 100% Polyester yarn works amazingly well for animal applications. The yarn is very strong, it can stand up to sanitization methods, and it doesn’t suffer when cats dig in with their claws. I started a WordPress.com blog Bluedepth’s Crochet and there I cover all the neat things that I’m exploring with the yarn arts.

One of the obvious and unfortunate things about yarn arts, and Crochet and Knitting is the gender issues that surround them. Both are seen as “women’s work” and so, much of the education and pattern supply is led by and for women. Obviously, there are some things that are unisex, and I do wish quite often that more people would try something like crochet or knitting, they may find something they truly love and celebrate as I do when I make something beautiful and it is instantly useful.

COVID-19 and Temperature Checks

I see a lot of companies starting to “open up” during our running COVID-19 pandemic. Right at the top, almost invariably I find the line item that, paraphrased “All employees are temperature checked before they start work.” and then it goes on and on from there.

I think it is worthwhile to start a conversation to illuminate understanding on what temperature checks really are. They are not quickie medical tests to determine if someone is infected or not with COVID-19. They are simply a very easy diagnostic tool to isolate vectors of COVID-19 transmission. Remember, that COVID-19 can infect you without your knowledge, it can replicate in your body without your knowledge, and by the time your immune system calls for a fever, to begin work on fighting the infection, COVID-19 has already been in your system and active and spreading the entire time, back to a standard period of about two weeks.

What temperature checks that fail do, is show you that you have a vector in your midst. Save your bus fare, because when someone is showing a temperature elevation they have been sick for at least a week if not two. These people should be interviewed to see where they have been so that those who have come in contact with them can be tested and quarantined.

So, while companies want to re-open because of economic pressure, which I do fully understand, a temperature check, a good thing to do mind you, is pretty much just identifying a bomb that has been slowly going off for two weeks. It is not testing, it is not contact tracing, and it is not quarantine. You haven’t found a sick person as much as you have found a Typhoid Mary or a Typhoid Marv.

We need to test everyone. We need a vaccine. We need masks, hand-washing, and social distancing. Everything else is just a carefully monogrammed pillow invitation for COVID-19 to spread and kill more people.

Ugly White People, Wearing Masks, and Leaving Facebook

So earlier today, after leaving our local megamart, which in this case is Meijer I was beset by wave after wave of ugly white people not wearing masks. I just cannot stand it, the absolute gall to put the public health at risk all because you want to be a dick about it. It is just beyond acceptable, even in our broken world, so I wrote a Facebook Post. I called them for what they are. Ugly White Pig Fuckers.

The Facebook AI flagged it as “Hate Speech” and so, since I have a long track record of calling out Russians for their shenanigans along with I’m sure other infractions that I have long since forgotten, I have been put in a time-out corner for three days on Facebook.

Almost everyone that I care about is on a shared Signal group, it’s a virtual pub where all my loved ones are also there and I can vent, and listen to my loved ones vent, and we can laugh and share things and because Signal is end-to-end encrypted, there is nobody there to tell me what I can or cannot say.

Very much like this blog too. I always mean to write more here on the blog, and this time-out from Facebook for 3 days is actually not a punishment but rather an invitation I think, to fully abandon the platform. The toxic people, the toxic stories, the endless and sensationalized bottom-of-the-barrel scrape that the wall has become. If I want to visit a wreched den of scum and villainy, at least Reddit doesn’t pretend that it is anything else than just another cultural latrine. Facebook is just a lemon-scented cultural latrine.

I pay for this blog and the service, so I can say whatever I please here without an obnoxious censorship AI locking my account out. Plus, it’s like TV, if you don’t like what I write on this blog, you are very much invited to forget all about it. Just don’t point your browser here, I will not be offended.

So instead of sharing things on Facebook, I’ll share them on this blog. The activity will pick up, maybe if I’m very lucky there will be a new community like Imzy, or perhaps something like LiveJournal before the filthy Russians got their grasping little fingers all over it. Everyone who reads the blog should know, I’m left AF, and while I am not Antifa, I am Antifa sympathetic, especially with the notion that anyone of good standing and solid heart will not hesitate to punch Nazi scum in the face.

So don’t look for me on Facebook. Look for me here. To Hell with Facebook.

Also… WEAR YOUR !@#$ MASKS IN PUBLIC!

Gin & Tonic

Aside

Ever since COVID-19 started spreading around the world, there has been mutterings that an anti-malarial medication called hydroxychlorquine had some benefit to people with the virus. Perhaps it is with viral replication or viral implantation it is unclear to me, but the drug did bear a mention by scientists and doctors. I did a little reading and quine, chloroquine, and then hydroxychloroquine all seem to be fully synthetic versions of a very old drug, quinine.

This was exciting, because I knew full well that I had quinine in my house already. It’s an ingredient in Tonic Water. So when COVID-19 was spreading, people were panic buying left and right, and I was buying liter bottles of Tonic Water and a giant bottle of Gin.

I figure that I don’t want hydroxychloroquine, leave that to the FDA, the doctors, and scientists to argue over. I could very well dose myself, very low-dose, with quinine every day in a collins glass filled with ice, a splash of Gin, and top it off with Tonic Water. What is the damage? It’s a very low dose, its a delicious cocktail with only maybe an ounce of Gin per drink, and I spritz it with a little lime juice as a flavor addition when I like. Because the Tonic Water is cheap, $1.89 per liter, has the chemical that seems to work against COVID-19, maybe a regular micro-dose of quinine has some effect either in preventing COVID-19 from infecting me, killing it off when my immune system notices it, or quite possibly I haven’t been exposed to COVID-19 yet. Either way, liters of Tonic Water are very easy to find, making two or three glasses of Gin and Tonic go really well with lunch or dinner, and it can’t really hurt me. So, why not?

So I started to muse to myself on the topic of micro-doses of quinine for COVID-19. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor, and there aren’t any studies. Chances are it’s all placebo, but if it isn’t? What if three doses of Tonic Water, say 100ml each, with ten of these doses in a liter bottle – what if my daily Gin & Tonic drinks are helping?

Maybe it is helping, it certainly isn’t hurting me. What if this was the answer all along and it was in your liquor cabinet this entire time?

Done with Higher Ed

I haven’t had a University dream in a long while. We were moved to new offices and I went exploring. Trying to find the vending machines I end up on a service elevator that heads to a basement. I don’t have the oddly shaped key that lets you return so I leave and discover that I’m in the middle of service corridors and I start to try to get outside. I end up in another one way hall in the library with an odd platform that seems to have only one function, to crush people. Like a compactor. I get out of there and end up in a sub-basement and eventually find my way out through a construction area with metal and glass doors allowing only exit, not entry. A student looking terrified actually gains entry and runs the other way. I make my way out to a courtyard and run into a younger student fleeing an older man who is chasing him with a machete. Then I wake up.

I can say that the part of my life where actually being inside University buildings is well and truly over. Here’s a dream exploring that awful place. I woke up and laughed, “Yeah, not going there ever again. You don’t have to wrap it in symbolism.”

Higher Ed, hah. Done with that.

White Christmas?

Today in Kalamazoo Michigan we have a high of 43 and a low of 28. There is no snowpack on the ground, the ground is bare. Again we have a no-snow Christmas. We’ve had these for a few years now, and looking at the forecast, by Sunday we’ll have a high of 57 degrees and it’ll rain.

Things that used to be aren’t any longer, the seasons are shifting around, and even our USDA zone is changing and has over the past few years. More than that, you can feel that something is terribly wrong with the world. You can see it in the people, you can see it in the sky, the weather, the birds, and the remarkable and tragic lack of any sort of insect out there.

This is the season of hope and wonder, so I won’t harsh it, but we all know deep down what I would write if it wasn’t the holiday season.

Chesapeake Beard Company’s Mercury Beard Balm, 2oz.

I encountered the Chesapeake Beard Company during a beard competition event at the Old Dog Tavern here in Kalamazoo, Michigan. They had a table set up, and they had an array of products available. Amongst all of their products, the Mercury line appealed the most. I bought both the oil and the balm, but the scents are nearly the same, so I’m only reviewing the balm. The product comes in a glass jar with a plastic lid. The balm is waxy, yellow in color and has the same consistency as the Viking Revolution balms, slightly firmer than Honest Amish and somewhat looser than the Reuzel.

The scent is the strongest of all my balms and oils and the fellow selling the product sold it as a homage to Freddie Mercury, that one of his favored drinks was a kind of Cherry and Rum flavored cocktail. This balm screams black cherry and a light undercurrent of rum running underneath. The fragrance is amazingly strong and has significant staying power. They use fragrance oils instead of other more easily diffused scents like linalool or vanillin. Much like how Honest Amish is an “exploding pumpkin pie,” Mercury by Chesapeake Beard is an exploding cherry pie. The scent is overwhelming and delightful. You likely wouldn’t use this balm if you were attempting a formal dress event where strong fragrances are frowned upon, but if you were in any other situation, this balm would be a home run. If you like cherries or if someone you know prefers cherries, this balm might be the perfect way to condition your beard and have a wonderful experience along for fun. I estimate that the fragrance lasts at least three to four hours long, significantly longer than any other balm, except perhaps the Honest Amish one.

It is worthwhile to note that they have renamed this product to Rhapsody, but they do include the old name, Mercury, on their website.

Reuzel Wood and Spice Beard Balm, 1.3oz

The Reuzel Wood and Spice Beard Balm is a brand new fragrance from the Reuzel company. They immediately get top-choice amongst my beard products because they were the first ones I had, and they have performed admirably for me. The tin is just like the standard Reuzel, a screw-top aluminum canister with the product within. The Reuzel Wood and Spice Balm, much like its predecessor, suffers from the same unusual crystallization in the wax that the standard Reuzel suffers from. The solution is to warm Reuzel products up to melting and then let them gently cool. This fixes the problem for both the standard Reuzel and this one. The front has the recognizable Dutch pirate and on the back the ingredient list.

The balm itself is stiff, waxy, and quite solid. It scrapes with the back of the thumbnail readily and melts with ease when you work it in your hands. The color is bisque, and the scent is wonderful and subtle. The fragrance is warm with vanilla, wood scents, and spiciness that lends a kind of forest-guide warmth to the user. There are notes of butterscotch as well, which really appeals to me. It is a remarkable departure from the standard Reuzel fragrance, but still quite pleasant to use.

When pairing this balm with oil, either unscented, which would be best, or even the Honest Amish Premium Oil would work as both have notes of woodsy warmth that would compliment each other nicely. I can definitely see this becoming a standard entry in my beard care kit.