It's beginning to feel like the rinse cycle in this mother fucker isn't it? Airy water bubbles whooshing through the fleshy-meshy fibers of me...and as i become more elementally sound, feel a gripping need to act/be/do slower, slower, as slow as Alex Grey takes to carefully piece together what he is about to say.  Counteracting need for speed n fictional rush to be 'on time'. Today, i am completely (again) relaxed into the timing of Divine. Of knowing what happens next is to be larger and more amazing than i can see at present. Phew.

Drive and determination occupy the mind, service n practice, song n dance. Now, after a powerful Pleiadian-charged healing session i feel hollow + magically the arguments with Self have ceased. It's a pranayama for the mind, the battle for control swaying on a mechanism that goes infinity.

Better to be foolish than arrogant, my heart explains
Sometimes i dance and it's not me
I am time/space traveling
Able to communicate the wordless
I am broken and declogged
I am all over the floor
I've spilled myself
And it's disintegrating as gas.
I am made of all elements
Remove my clothing
My fascia
My astral cape
I am illuminating frequencies
Of light and sound
Bouncing around
I am nothing.

Rules and regulations are the tall tales of our man(ufactured) paradigm. How can few people change an entire worldview over a few hundred years? Isn't that what we are working on now? A few dazzlers (you) stroking the divine wand leaving stardust dream sauce on all you embrace? You can't help it anymore, can you?

Remember that time when you had the whole world in your hands? What does it feel like this time around?

Oh i don't know about you but the limbically tinged flavor to some of my words has me apologizing profusely and repeatedly in both written and spoken varieties. I (cr)humble to release the jerk with the foul tone, like a fly that refuses to let up against your flailing whoosh!!! i heard something the other day that has stuck like glue 'IT doesn't get any better, only You get better) the humorous truth of searching for one's truth, just get on with being you.

When in no doubt of being one's You, i mean utterly convinced, madness intertwined with ingenuity with a sparkling of trust in the magic that you are moving meditation, one with the object completely. Overwhelming is the need for sleep with my face in the sunlight, a savasana for this big download awaiting my resting vibration. When i allow myself the rest, i always say that i will never forget again. A ping without pong is just pinging, and fuck, how annoying does that get?

Or does it fade into the static-drone background of humankind's self disgust, switched off over breakfast losing preference to sports statistics. 'Shit, I had money on them' On what? The winners or the losers? Depends on who you ask. Confusion continues when identifying that we are all the criminals dumbing and numbing ourselves, finally our inner neural/bio intelligences get a reset and if you have been awakening at a certain rate, you are ready and operate on this current amplification. 

What shows up, the answers i was waiting for, minus the how, when, who, or any other imminent details. Just flashes in frustrating cosmic code as i lean in to be unraveled on the need.2.know basis. I know things are going to get weirder. I am really excited about that.

I'm beginning to figure it out
That I haven't got a clue
I was thinking geographic locale
When I was asking spirit where
next to go
Answers arrived like a deep sigh
In between too many shallows

It's been working
And winding its way
Serpentine motions
Rocking and weaving my path
To this realization
Another leap of vision
Expands before me as possibility

I wait on myself
I weight on myself
Shake off the remains of the
Current shit storm
Resurrected from the 90's

Like Milli Vanilli returning their Grammys, shameful head and eyes low
They were partly at fault
But greater still the mechanisms
And masterminds to construct
Workable, lucrative farce

Consciousness when will you be called out to face the world?
Chosen partners and 'ships to
Gaze into the funhouse for soul's
Seekers

I tap, tap, tap into my heartspace
I love this little fucked up, rude,
Terribly destructive me.
Little angry G
Little g is getting her healing
Full circle
Because I am choosing to be
Light as a feather

Question is...
How soft is too soft?
Or does one have to be
The knife in a drawer
Full of spoons