Reflections

Who is she…?

Who is this “mother” who gave birth to me, more than half a century ago?

She was more than just a conduit through which my spirit could connect with another physical body. Wasn’t she?

She had her own thoughts, her own feelings, her own needs, her own demons. Didn’t she?

She might be a faceless stranger to me, but someone must have known her, right?

I don’t actually know, as we never truly “met.” At least not here, in this timeline, while I’ve been Lisa. But, of course, we shared the same space. Even the same body. Some trace of her must remain within me. Somewhere… Right?

My conscious memories of this timeline don’t truly begin until I was almost 3 years old. Everything before that is hazy and vague, and by that time, she was long gone. But I never knew why…

My brother remembered her, and he loved her. So much so that he never stopped waiting for her to return. The few stories he told me merely emphasized her abuse, made me grateful I couldn’t remember her. But he never gave up on her. Ever… Why?

Was he simply another abandoned child, longing to be cared for? Or was there something special about my mother that he craved to connect with again, in spite of the abuse and abandonment?

Today is the anniversary of the day they discovered him dead. I remember that day, though the year escapes me now; sometime in the 90’s though… He’d been dead for days, and the smell drew his neighbor’s attention. He died alone. No cause of death was ever determined…

I remember him visiting me in my dreams on his first birthday after his death. He was happy. At last. Standing on the other side of a river with her at his side. In death he had gained what he’d always longed for in life – reunification with our mother.

So what made her so special that he never could let her go? Today I am wondering…

Science claims to have proven that much of our innate “intelligence” comes to us through our mother’s genes. Judging from the way my family has grown, I tend to believe that; my daughter is at least as “smart” as I am, and her children outshine us both… So, should I assume my mother was also highly intelligent? Maybe too much so to “fit” into the world as it was when I was born? She was a college graduate who made a living as a model, before being relegated to a lonely life as an army wife and mother… That would have made me crazy!

And she was “crazy,” every bit as much as I am, though my father tried to keep that from us kids. But we found out eventually. About her time in a lockdown facility, her “nervous” condition, the mysterious deaths of two of my siblings…

I am the only redhead in my family. I thought I was adopted. Turns out my mother was a redhead, too… Is that significant?

So many times through my childhood I remember my drunken father caressing my cheek, looking deep in my eyes, and murmuring about how much like her I was… Even my brother would echo those sentiments in his less guarded moments… Hmm…

So, who was she? This woman who gave birth to me more than half a century ago?

I honestly don’t know. But today I am on a mission to find out…

Today I choose to open my heart to that lost and closed chapter in my life. Today I invite her memory in, to meet with me, to speak with me. No judgment here. Just compassion. And an honest desire to know the spirit of the one who carried me into this place, sharing first her body, her genes, her home, and her madness…

I think it’s time we finally meet…

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Essay

Ignorance May Be Bliss…

but ignorance of how ignorant we are may be causing much of our conflict…

I just read an interesting article about the Dunning-Kruger Effect. It describes a common form of confirmation bias in which it isn’t so much what we don’t know that is the problem, but the overestimation of what we think we do know that is… That made an incredible amount of sense to me.

Let’s face it, we’re all guilty of confirmation bias to one extent or another. I know I am. Whether it’s in our perceptive bias (selective perception that primarily notices what we expect to find), our cognitive bias (more readily accepting as “fact” what we already believe to be true), or emotional bias (interpreting events to fit our current mood), we all shape reality according to pre-conceived notions. It’s simply how we are constructed. Our brains make connections based on connections already established; if it fits, it sticks. But what happens when you don’t know that you don’t know something? Worse yet, you don’t actually know something you think you do?!

Chaos rules…

How many others here have found themselves (recently!) shaking their head in bewilderment at something someone else said or did? I don’t mean simple confusion, or disbelief, but a deep-down, profound sense of wtf?! I can hear your thoughts here as clearly as my own, that moment when your inner dialogue sounds like this:

“Really?! Like seriously?! You didn’t just [say/do] that, did you?!”

The actions of the person we are interacting with are simply incomprehensible to us! We cannot even imagine…

THAT moment is a Dunning-Kruger moment… Either the person we are dealing with is downright delusional about reality, or we are. Either way, someone truly doesn’t grasp their own ignorance about the matter at hand.

I know I’m guilty of being on both sides of that equation. I recently heard myself “lecturing” my co-workers about something I strongly believed to be true. I sensed the resistance of at least one in the room, though she chose not to challenge me. The others all radiated validation my way, except one who chose to question my biases. It was then I heard myself admit, “of course, these are all just my opinion; there is no logical reason for you to accept them as anything else. I know I sound like I know what I’m talking about, but that’s just the confidence with which I express all my viewpoints you hear. I could be wrong. And if you can show me where I’m wrong, I’m more than willing to listen…”

The conversation moved on to other things after that. But that memory stuck with me. “Arrogance” is a word often used to describe me, and I can’t honestly deny it, though I would prefer to mute it. More like confident in my intelligence, my ability to grasp both abstract and actual “truths,” and make reasonable, sensible connections between them. But I understand that my basic premises may be wrong, that my intellectual bias may be leading me astray, that I may not have my “facts” straight at all. But to have to add that qualification to every “point” I make in a discussion makes any such debate cumbersome at best, pointless at worst. For how can we “learn” anything, if every sentence we utter begins with “I may not know what I’m talking about, but…”

Much better, in my opinion, to have someone challenge my assertions, point out where I’ve led myself astray. If your facts, reason, logic, or bias makes more sense after questioning, then I have no problem adjusting my point of view to be more in alignment with yours; I am quite capable of admitting I am “wrong” and you are “right.”

But if no one ever challenges me…? Or if those who do have nothing more to offer than insults and insistence on their own point of view, regardless of any contradictions or alternative ideas I might challenge them with…?

Then no true exchange of views, no “learning,” is possible. Right? Or am I missing something obvious here? Lol!

I’m not sure what the solution might be. I’m not even sure a solution exists! I can’t actually think for someone else, any more than I can make decisions about what might be best for them. But I can better discipline myself, and my own thought patterns. And I think it’s time to make a conscious effort to do so.

So, for a time anyway, I’m going to make a effort to add those annoying, cumbersome qualifiers to any discussion I have about “reality.” Maybe I won’t say them out loud all the time (since some already resent the number of words I use to express my point of view – lol!), but to myself, at least. While conversing with these people who make me want to tear my hair out in frustration, I will continuously repeat the mantra:

Ignorance may be bliss, but ignorance of my ignorance is not going to exacerbate this!

Or, in simpler, less verbiose terms…

I could be wrong here…

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Reflections

Wordy, wordy… the Message in the Medium…

I use too many words to express how I feel, to say what I mean, to get my point across…  If you follow me at all regularly, you know this.  I often meander way off track to get to where I’m going, taking the scenic path through unnecessary landscapes, just to prolong the journey.  I know this about myself.  I’ve heard it all my life.  It’s one of the reasons I’d never make it as a published writer, because I refuse to let those extra words go, and I will not allow my message to be biased by arbitrary (even if well-reasoned) word count limits…

So to be told by someone that I “sure take a round about way to make a simple statement” shouldn’t “hurt,” right?  But it does…  It feels like a rebuke.  Because it is one.  It also happens to be true!

My response?  Immediately shut up while silently going on the defensive…

[But I love words!  I want to use them…]

[So what?  No one is requiring you to hear me out…  I’m just making conversation, after all.]

[Sorry… My bad…]

And then I retire with my cup of coffee to mull it over…  And over…  And over again… [Just to be sure, you understand…?*]…

(* note where the comma is placed; it’s important.)

And then I ask myself, “what does it matter?”  If this is who I am (and I like that), what difference does it make?  People are free to walk away any time.  Why should this even bother me?

But it does…  Which tells me something more than mere words is happening here; some truth is trying to reveal itself to me.  So let’s chew on this some more…

Why do I need so many words to express my self?  [Oh, is there an extra space there, dividing the word “myself”?  ;)]  Why can’t I be content just saying what I mean?  Why does almost every direct statement feel incomplete?

Is it just my ego revelling in the sound of my own voice?  Is it my insecurity attempting to hold someone’s attention, now that they’re finally listening to me?  Or is there something more going on with Me? [Yes, that capital “M” was intended; it’s not a typo.]

The truth is all those “extra” words serve a purpose in the end.  They provide background, context, for what the words are “supposed” to mean, at this time, in this place… all relative, you see…?  They provide history (how I got to the point I’m trying to make), and connotative context (how and why I feel about what I’m about to say).  But mostly, all those extra syllables are there to illustrate the complexity and design behind simple statements, to show how Truth cuts through dimensional barriers, existing every where, every time, simultaneously, without contradiction.  That fact never ceases to create a sense of awe and wonder in me, and it is the closest thing (I’ve ever experienced) to the feeling known as “faith.”

I, personally, have never “trusted” an outsider to “take care of me.”  I’ve never believed that any human, god or cosmic plan existed with my best interests at heart, even in the best of times.  I’ve always waited for the other shoe to drop – the expectation, the exhortation, the exploitation…  It always comes…  Eventually.

And maybe that’s just the way life is done – an exchange of energy essential to keep things moving along.  Too much flowing in one direction creates an imbalance, requires correction.  Nature abhors a vacuum, right?

So… who’s to say all these extra words are not necessary after all?  If only in the way they hold the space, preventing any lesser truth (or greater falsehood) from sneaking in behind to fill the void.  So much left unsaid when word counts start to matter.  So much left open to interpret, outside my purposeful intent.  Yes, indeed, there are times for that.  But that’s what poetry is for…

And when carefully constructed poetry (or random intuitive ramblings) draw forth too literal responses (“what a lovely picture you paint with your words!”), however well-meaning and sincere…  Well, let’s just chalk that up to the Failed column, with so many other wasted words, because [clearly!] you didn’t get my point at all…

*** deep sigh ***

Words are easy… Communication is not.

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Dreams, Poetry, Reflections

Waking Up…

I feel the words approaching

rising up from deep within…

But they are nothing more than gibberish,

sounds that don’t make any sense…

There is no structure, no meaning,

no context or content;

Just random sounds of anguish

laced with lullabyes of love…

***     ***     ***

I woke this morning from a dream where I was being “taught” to wake an’Other, but nothing there was what it seems, and I was so confused… led astray…  misconstruing what should have been obvious, but was, instead, obtuse…

“You cannot wake them up directly,” I was told, for they do not understand.  “You may sound the same words, but you do not speak the same language.”

“You cannot touch them to awaken, for you will only startle them, and fear will block the process, and prevent you from connecting.”

“How then can I wake them,” I thought to ask, “if I cannot speak or touch?”

“Show them…,” came a sigh, blowing gently past my ear.

“Each One is unique, their response will be distinct.  But you must find the picture that most appeals, one for each…”

And so a slide show began playing in my brain, all unrelated images, and none appearing to have anything at all to do with wakening…

“How convoluted and confusing is all of this?,” I asked myself.  “How pointless and time consuming?  How can I possibly know which images will one day lead to somewhere useful?”

Frustration settled in, a rigid barrier to learning.  As I tried to breathe it out, I felt my Shilo start to stir.  He climbed atop my chest and settled on my heart, his purr a welcome respite from the lesson I wouldn’t learn…

He licked my face, and nipped my nose, beginning our morning battle, when he determines it’s time to wake, and I choose not to join him…

Finally I pushed him off, surrendering again, preparing to rise and greet the day, and leave the dream behind…

But as my eyes opened to greet the rising sun, they swept past the frozen clock.  And it was only then I realized I didn’t have to yet get up…

“You jerk!,” I snorted at my cat, annoyed and yet relieved.  “I don’t have to get up now; I’ve got 40 minutes left!”

And shifting to a more comfortable position, I closed my eyes, relaxed.  Grateful for the extra time, I drifted off again.  And somewhere, in a distant space, I felt him jump into his window seat, content now just to wait…

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Dreams, Reflections

Telepathy…?

So…  I finally experienced what true telepathy must feel like, and it came to me in a dream…

I’ve read a lot about telepathy, the “new communication,” and about people’s experiences with it.  They frequently share that it involves no words; it’s more like a transfer of complete thought, image and feeling, without a need for translation, explanation or intellectualization of any kind.  But I could never get my mind around how that might work.  (Duh!)

So this morning I’m dreaming that I’m hanging with one of my others, just chit chatting and being friendly.  Suddenly her phone alarm goes off.  I looked at her and commented that her alarm sounded exactly like mine, feeling kind of awed that we would choose exactly the same ringtone in our different worlds!

Then I realized it was because it was my alarm I was hearing, and I woke up…

In the time it took for me to think the words, “oh.  That’s because it’s my alarm,” we had already shared the humor of the moment.  We had laughed, dredged up similar instances of mistaken coincidence, and acknowledged that the friendly visit was over… before I finished thinking the words!

And as my eyes opened and I reached for my phone, I knew the completeness of that instant was what true telepathy feels like.  No words/images are necessary, no translations are needed, no doubt exists; there is a shared experience, complete, understood and timeless…

A beautiful moment, to be sure…

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Reflections

Dual Perspective…

One foot in one timeline, the other in an’Other, seeing the world(s) we live in from two (radically different) perspectives.  This brings a whole new definition to dual perspective for me, as each takes turns chiding and overriding the other’s assessment of things…

One a teenager in 1991 Colorado, the other a middle aged adult in 2018 New York, they are driven by different needs, goals, obsessions and desires.  But both are strong and vocal.  Both see the “truth” of their time.  And neither is giving up ground…

What is the point of this interaction?  This intense distraction?  To learn from each other, no doubt, but to learn what?  Exactly?  Because the experience, itself, is disorienting and frustrating, leading to unnecessary trip-ups and stupid mistakes, often leading to real consequences in both time lines.  And the dream…?

A dream of one timeline “draining” and absorbing the other?  To what end, and with what consequence?  Does one cease to exist altogether?  Or do both?  Or are they simply crippled in their own times, unable to act with any reasonable force, torn apart by wavering beliefs and uncertain decisions?

Hmm…

What happens when reality itself becomes two faced?  When perspective becomes nothing more than that – perspective?  When duality itself becomes unified, inseparably bound and unable to tear itself apart, to examine its component parts?  When neither “side” holds sway over the other, and cannot convince the Other to see things differently?

Dual perspective… a lesson in transcending dichotomy?  A blueprint for peace in both timelines?

Hmm…

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About the Otherhood, Conversations

Q & A: The Experience of Otherhood

The following questions were asked by Jerry (rawgod) as part of a comment on another post.  They are insightful and involved, and so I thought they should be addressed in their own post.  Please feel free to jump into the conversation if you are so inclined.  😀

The questions themselves have to do with my experiences with my Others, and the Center Space where we can meet and converse as others, while still retaining an identity of being…

 
Q: “1) Do you really identify with more than one ego at a time, or when you switch egos do you do that instanstaneously and completely? I guess what I am asking, when you are acting as Prime Personality, then suddenly switch to Personality B, are you still aware of being Prime Personality, or is the switch total, and Prime Personality does not exist anymore?”

A:  The simple answer to this question is that I retain a single ego, regardless of which personality I am experiencing.  I like the way you differentiate between Prime and Personality B, etc., as it truly captures the essence of what it’s like, so I’m going to use that framework to discuss this.

So I will immerse my consciousness in B’s life, but still feel, react and be Me (Prime), which requires a certain period of adjustment each time I visit.  I will remember Prime’s (Lisa’s) memories, morality, etc. throughout my “time” there, but I will also have access to B’s memories, morality, etc.  More often than not, I am drawn into B’s life during a significant period, and “I” (we) will use our combined wisdom to navigate the situations that arise…

What makes it interesting is that while I have not bodily crossed over into that timeline (not for lack of trying, I assure you! Lol!), I still experience everything as “real.” Every sensation, every feeling, every lesson learned becomes a part of Prime’s experience as well.  The only noticeable difference is the way time operates, as Prime is able to skip around more easily within B’s life history, seeking memories (with added realism) that might be needed to proceed in B’s current time…

 
Q: “2) From what I read, Prime Personality has at least some memory of being Other personalities, but there is no direct connection between them. People with Multiple Personalities can supposedly switch from one personality to another under certain situations or stressors. Can you do this?”

A: Are you asking if I can consciously immerse myself in an Other’s life?  Sometimes, yes, but I wouldn’t say it happens always “at will.”  In fact, the mechanism that used to allow me such complete immersion seems to have been broken for the last decade or so.  I have been able to look in, but I have not been able to actually visit.  Instead, we often meet in some neutral location and converse like real people; all the posts on my blog tagged or categorized as “conversations” are “real” experiences I’ve had with the others.

And no, I do not have multiple personality disorder (MPD).  MPD’s usually “become” alternates in their current life (timeline), while I “travel” to the Others’ lives to experience being them.  While they may be perceived as MPD because Prime claims dominance there, I retain memories, traits and characteristics of both.

To be fair, though, there is definitely a sharing going on.  Traits usually associated with B will become apparent in Prime’s life when we are in close contact, and since some of the Other’s are very different from me, it can be quite noticeable.  It explains why MPD was originally considered a possible diagnosis that was quickly ruled out; straight up schizophrenia won the title in the end.

What is important to acknowledge is the place of ego in this exchange.  Because there is a central being expressing itself in different forms, there is a consistency of experience across all timelines, a root or baseline that learns and adjusts (changes), while still remaining “the same.”  Simultaneous co-existence without contradiction.

 
Q: “3) When you do make a switch, from say Prime to B, is there any loss of time for Prime when you switch back?”

A: Yes.  Definitely.  But it’s hard to explain or define, because my body (Prime) continues to live my life while I am out being the Others.  Basically it means that when I return consciously to my life, I have some “catching up” to do, and some time that will never be recovered.  I usually am confronted multiple times after returning about things I don’t remember at all – conversations had, plans made, incidents that occurred, etc.  People are mad at me and I have no understanding why.  Or I missed work and didn’t call in.  Or I had some “meaningful” encounter with someone who I will not even recognize next time we meet.  You get the idea…

It was one of the things I had to learn to cope with, as it made me extremely vulnerable.  Admitting I wasn’t “here” was not an acceptable excuse, but it did give others an opportunity to make stuff up which I could neither confirm nor deny.  I learned to “play it cool,” look for clues, and my journals became critical for piecing together the jumbled timelines.  Eventually it was a practice the Others adopted to make the transitions easier on all of us…

 

Q: “4) This one is hard for me to comprehend or properly ask (presuming that the answer to question 3 is negative as I believe it must be) but what happens during the lives of personalities B, C, D, Etc while you are living as Prime? Surely their lives do not stop happening? So, obvious question, based on above scenarios being correct:
4a) Do these sub-personalities have their own egos while YOU are not with them? If Yes, do you then share the ego? Or, if no, what happens to the sub-egos while you are controlling their minds? And how do they feel about it, if they know about it? (Actually, this last question seems to be very similar to part of Question 1, so you may have already answered it. If so, no need to repeat. But is there is a difference you can see, I would love to hear it. Thanks.)”

A: Ok, I’m going to try to tackle this one as a whole…

Each of us is living a life, complete, coherent, unique in time and space.  What happens during the “visits” is that Prime (Lisa) steps into an’Other’s life, and lives it for a while.  The Other is there, or sometimes not, but their personality, memories, sensations, talents, are all accessible to me (Prime), yet somehow foreign.  I am actually me being them, and so influencing their lives.  Where they go or how they feel about my intrusion is unknown to me.  Only when we meet in conversation do we interact as other, rather than as one.

Have they occasionally visited me?  Yes! And that is something I rarely talk about.  But in the beginning, when this first started happening for me, it was almost always the other way around; they came and lived my life for a while.

While they were here, I was merely an observer in my life, sitting back to see what they would do.  Sometimes I cheered them on, knowing they were doing for me what I could not do for myself.  Other times I fought them, fearing the damage they would undoubtedly cause.  Because the decisions they made, the interactions they had while here created real consequences that Lisa would have to deal with when they left.

Eventually Lisa learned enough engaging with less linear forms of self to be able to “control” the process, more or less.  I’m not sure how to explain that really, other than compare it to installing a one-way door; I could get to them directly, but they could not then get to me without invitation.  It was at that point that Lisa likely became Prime; not because my life is more important or significant, but because my understanding of the process gained me more control over it.

***     ***     ***

And this, then, is why I have procrastinated so long in answering these questions.  Because in the beginning Lisa was not Prime at all!  There was an’Other who ripped me from my timeline when I was 9 or 10 years old.  She was much older than me (an adult), and she taught me much about life I might have preferred not to know.  Sometimes she came to me and simply messed with my life, forcing me to clean it up and learn as I did so.  Other times she took me to her own life, living out various scenarios that would later impact directly on my timeline.  But she was always in control of the process…

As a teenager, I started to resist her, alternately “loving” her for her honesty and “hating” her for her brutality in communicating it.  I used a variety of techniques (drugs, alcohol, sex, meditation, etc) to try and gain the upper hand in our interactions.  Ultimately those techniques failed because I could not control myself much less her.  Once I set aside drugs and alcohol, the scales began to balance, and with adulthood (and the wisdom it brought), I sought to understand the process itself.  That’s when it began to tip in my favor…

As an adult, I better understood the “teaching” she had tried to impart, and I used the clarity gained in sobriety to explore the implications.  I began to see her more as “human,” with faults, frailties, and baggage, rather than super-human as my child self had assumed.  I started to see her as a peer, an equal.  And then I took on the gargantuan task of “capturing” our interaction…

As I mentioned before, I wrote a book about it (a couple actually), although one was simply a “recording” of our transitions.  In that book, I consciously stepped into her life (by my choice) and recorded what occurred there.  Through that process I learned just how “damaged” her personality was, forever stripping her of super-human status in my mind.  I also encountered another self entirely whom I had never met before, who taught me directly about Time, Space and Movement (Change), thus explaining how these interactions were possible at all.  That self also brought me home to Center, where interactions could occur without co-opting each Others’ lives.

And that is when Lisa became Prime…

That book is available in digital format (free) if you want a copy.  I can email it to you if you are interested.  My understanding (though I remain technology challenged) is that it is a PDF file, and not any e-book format.

Hopefully, these answers are sufficient, and will ennable us to continue discussing this and related topics.

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