12|30|21
Tracking sweetness
Placing sweetness and perfection together as the emphases of my current actualism practice.
Sweet intimacy is suddenly open to me as a ‘passage,’ for the first time since 2015, thanks to recent investigations and catalyzed by Rick’s comment.
It has the character of, “I have discovered a room in my house which I had forgotten was there.’
I have been closed off from it because of associating it with love (re-translated by ‘me’ in an “Actualist-moralistic” way), and because of past traumatic experiences (going back to late 2015 and 2016) which resulted in a psychic ‘barrow’ being established to protect ‘me’ from being harmed by the bad feelings.
I was about to type out a very short version of the events of 2015-2016, but I’m realizing that if I am to get into this, it must be done slowly and sweetly. There is no rush. As Vineeto said… we have all the time in the world…
The last time I passed out, (as in, physically passed out) it was because someone reminded me of when I lived in Seattle, when the above events occurred (and subsequent psychic barrows were built out of necessity).
This requires careful archaeological work… a stomach of vibranium (shout-out to @Srinath … the sci-fi references strike again)… and the necessary tool-kit to permanently dismantle a demon.
The excitement of this moment finally arriving is providing the requisite enjoyment & appreciation: there are perfection and sweetness both here.
I’m not sure how much I will be able to type so this may be confusing for readers. No matter.
Following the loss of love and associated loss of connection to sweetness in early 2016, I did SOMETHING to protect myself.
I developed a new identity as a poet as a way of processing the trauma… I remember it started out as, ‘what do I like doing?’ and I wrote a poem. It was sweet. And it didn’t take long for the poems to be about the trauma itself.
By coincidence(?) last night I read the poem which hit at the deepest point of investigation (over a year later) I’ll paste it here.
As I’m searching for the relevant poem I’m scrolling through all the others I wrote during that 2 year period. There was a tremendous amount of flowing psychical energy and barrenness. So much life. I had no idea what I was doing but I was alive.
Waking every morning
Waking every morning with the sour aftertaste of the life I should be living in my mouth
Where are you? What part of me
isn’t good enough for it
I’m left lying with the glow of your recent presence in my dream
before the sun burns it away.
What is the heart but a wound? And if I sail out
to the middle of the sea will it still tune to you every night?
My body drawn up through the ceiling straight across the ocean at great speed
to you,
greeted every time with the warmth of
The only true thing in the world.In the day I can almost forget that
the most inner part of me is made of yearning,
a hungry flying swallow turning
in the sky, its split tails casting an invisible wake I’m left following.
But at night I am a thing of flight, finding my brilliant way
through the keyholes in between us to a place
that I have known of for so long. I feel often that
it is the place where I lived when I slept in
the womb of my mother, waiting but in many ways
already there.
And not beginning to suspect that
I’d spend the rest of my waking life fighting my way back howling
for someone to hear and set things straight again, knowing both that no one will understand and
that this is the only language for it.Where are you?
The most tender thrumming piece of me walks the streets while I sleep, piecing constellations into stories night-traffic only a tear of light in the dark and I’m aloft, crossing the great black wildernesses of this world.
If I could lay my head against your chest again
and sleep,
what dreams would there be left to dream?
This encapsulates where I wound up.
And actually on the night when my current partner and I ‘fell in love,’(2018) I read this same poem to her and the other friends present. The sorrow and love - and sweetness - of the poem attracted her and them.
Not long after I wrote the poem (end of summer 2017) was the darkest period I have ever experienced. It had the character of, ‘nowhere to go.’ Nowhere in reality was safe. I saw no way out. That’s when I began to have many PCEs.
Somewhere in all of this the barrows were developed.
What did they consist of?
Protection from the memories of sweetness
Because the rememoration was painful for me.
Because I was unhappy. Very unhappy
Because I felt cut-off from the sweetness.
The same cut-off sensation I experienced the other night at the cabin.
‘I’ can’t have sweetness (I tell myself) because I am being excluded / because she doesn’t like me / because they don’t like me / because I am not being embraced / because she is not looking into my eyes / because she is not “looking into my eyes correctly” / because she is the wrong girl for me.
What Richard told me was: ‘I’ am forever sorrowful because ‘I’ am forever locked out of paradise. ‘I’ cannot come, and on some level ‘I’ know it.
I seem to think that it’s the lover’s arms (the right lover’s arms) (In the right situation) is the sweetness, is the paradise, is the perfection. Because it happened that way. I was there. But it wasn’t all those things, it was that I wasn’t there. I wasn’t in the way.
There was no longer a barrier.
So the barrows I later constructed to protect me from the pain of rememoration have become another barrier.
The last years have been distanced because of that.
It’s ok to remember because I’m not locked out of heaven anymore. [edit: ‘I’ am, but the opportunity to be free is there] I can be free, if only I step down. It’s right there as an option now.
It’s not about the girl, it’s that those were the conditions that ‘I’ needed to step out of the way
There is pain here. Sweet pain.
I’ve never been 100% with my current partner because of this.
Sometimes there have been PCEs but not during intimacy/sex.
I could only get to a certain point and then it would stop. The intimacy would be cut off every time. That is clear.
This explains why I took ‘autonomy’ from my PCEs moreso than sweetness/intimacy. I couldn’t even approach intimacy.
Our entire ‘relationship’ has been built on ‘mutual autonomy’ at the exclusion of intimacy-sweetness.
Any intimacy-sweetness was in SPITE of me… the sweetness of the universe was sufficient to push through at times. But it would always be cut off before it could do much.
I’m receiving a rush of distant memories, always a sign of territory I haven’t been to in a long time. That is very encouraging.
Actually liking life. Actually savoring the taste of the sensations.
I’ve been so intellectual, this is your regularly scheduled reminder that enjoying & appreciating this moment of being alive is IT, everything else is far less necessary. Enjoying & appreciating drives everything.
I was ready for a drag-out fight with a demon, but all there was was a low, sorrowful howl. Sweet-sorrow. So much pain there.
I thought that I could just attract another woman and ‘run it again’ and that that would work out.
I was critical when I only had little glimpses of sweetness with the next girl. Then the same pain started again. That’s why it ended with her. It ‘wasn’t enough’
I still thought I needed a girl somehow
That’s the belief/reality part
I had already been looking for a girl since a long time before any of this.
I blocked off sweetness when I couldn’t sustain it with the girl(s).
I thought it didn’t exist outside of them and I was heartbroken.
And in the heartbreak I developed the ‘barrow’ / psychic-seal to prevent immanence/rememoration of the sweetness itself
I tried to be impressive to attract someone ‘better’
In hopes that there would be sweetness there
Sometimes there was. But it couldn’t sustain, because of me. Because of my fears and my desires.
That’s why I leave sweetness. Fear and desire.
Wanting things to be otherwise.
In 2015 I was so confused by reality. I was always trying to get elsewhere. I’m sure that was hard for my partner. It was hard for me.
There was sweetness but it was all conditional, in a bubble. Once something started to happen that ‘I’ didn’t like, it was only a bitter memory.
That’s what the beatles said: “what’s sweet now turns so sour”
That’s how it went.
That’s what the barrow consisted of, a wall of sourness.
“waking every morning with the sour aftertaste of the life I should be living in my mouth”
I used to wake up every day and be immediately hit with how much I hated my life. ‘my’ life.
And then the identity / coping mechanisms came in to protect me from that
I can find that barren space again. I know it’s still there.
The gap between what I wanted as part of my reality, and what was happening ‘in my reality.’ My emotional experiencing.
The gap between my desires and the ongoing moment of suffering I was experiencing (and indeed am experiencing, now).
“How to be happy” on the human level has never, ever worked.
All the ‘wise ones’ of the past say it can’t be done. Because it can’t, as a human - or as a God.
All the darkness is here in me, now.
I was just reading some really dark stuff (look up unit 731 if you’re looking for motivation to become free - warning, it is basically the worst that humanity is capable of)
And that’s the same for me. The same drives for control and chasing desire etc.
And I’m lucky to be on this edge of where sweetness is. Not far at all.
It’s insane that I’m here.
It’s estimated that 107 billion humans have ever lived, which means it’s a less than 100 billion chance of being one of the free ones (1 in 137.5 billion).
I have the opportunity of being 1 in 137 billion. It’s right there.
Even among humans living now, it’s 1 in 1 billion.
In between me and freedom is, ‘heartbreak,’ ‘girls.’
‘barren,’ ‘sour.’
The fear of remembering the sweet time in the past
I just remembered that in lotr, it’s Tom Bombadil that saves the hobbits from the barrow-wights. That’s a funny alignment.
The ‘impressive’ thing relates back to charisma
Beliefs are that, “if I do ‘x,’ I’ll get the sweetness. But it’s not backed up by evidence.
–
A bit bumpy rn, what am I missing?
I think I haven’t recovered from the above horrifying reading
I realized a few weeks back that I was using ‘fear’ as ‘clarity,’ because most people avoid scary things so it’s an opportunity to look into ‘dark corners’ / things that are usually hidden from view
And that happiness + harmlessness provides greater clarity than fear. So I could drop fear as a crutch.
So I can do that right now.
Many horrifying things have happened in history and continue to happen because of the human condition.
That is how we have arrived here.
A farm-boy in australia figured out an alternative 30 years ago.
Which means, it doesn’t have to just be a rotating morass of suffering forever and ever anymore.
And I get to be a pioneer, I get to be part of ending all of that.
In me, I can end it permanently.
I can’t stop all of them but I can do something about me.
The sweetness that is everything actual.
Everything that is. Not the fantasies and dreams.
It’s not me making the sweetness unconditional, it’s that the sweetness is already there and already inherently unconditional, it’s just a question of meeting up with it. Meeting it.
It’s bigger than ‘girls,’ but girls are part of it. They exist. They are half of the humans that exist. 4 billion girls and women on the earth.
–
My psyche is trying to reject what it doesn’t like, that’s why there’s nausea in these disturbing things. But in that nausea-rejection (disgust), I miss the actuality. Because the actuality is everything that is.
And that’s what happened in the past with girls too, something would disturb me or her and rejection would happen and the sweetness would dissipate
All the murders and rapes are happening in the actual world, but because of the animal passions and rather unfortunately-derived psyche-thereof.
Just a coincidence of evolution. What a bizarre chimera we are.
A meta-entity arising out of layered remembered emotion, and then socially-realized.
When I am disturbed/horrified, I experience nausea-rejection. I’m rejecting my experience
That rejection of experience blocks me from experiencing sweetness.
When I remember my childhood PCEs / sweetness it’s because I wasn’t rejecting my life so much
I wasn’t rejecting being alive
I started to distance myself when I was scared. I’d fake being asleep
‘islanding’ as protection
Aka, dissociation. From others.
But sweetness comes from, ‘no boundaries.’
Because anything can happen. Because that is the fact.
What is sweetness?
Apperception is sweet
Richard describes the actual world as sweet
Every PCE I have ever had has been sweet. Though that wasn’t always the characteristic that jumped out at ‘me’ the most afterward.
It may be that the sweetness was invisible to me, because of the psychic barrow-mounds.
Sweetness is inherent to what is apperceived.
Experiencing without me.
I am the one in the way
I don’t know what’s coming because I can’t know what’s coming. It’s wide open
All my schemes are merely kowtowing to an abusive being.
All because I’m so heartbroken and worried about outcomes
Apperception can be always
It’s inherently sweet. That’s the flavor. And it’s always now, that it happens.
The closest ‘I’ come to it is the enjoying - appreciating, the perfection… the sweetness. Benignity.
Everyone else is running around murdering, raping, generally causing a ruckus, but I don’t have to. I can be the sweetness.
No rejection anywhere.
This is ‘far-out.’
Humans are not supposed to be happy, harmless, sweet. It’s considered wrong.
We’re not supposed to apperceive. We’re not suppose to become free.
They’re all, ‘wrong.’
Freedom is on the other side of that, ‘wrong’
Outside of it.
The universe doesn’t care about my/our ‘right,’ ‘wrong’
We are semi-hairless animals running around the surface of a small, rocky, watery planet in a large-ish galaxy.
A bunch of plants around, too
It’s becoming the universe experiencing itself being alive
It’s not about humanity.
I’m humanity still.
All my thoughts, all my desires, all my drives and fears, are humanity.
Vineeto: You allow it to happen as much as you can bear, gently, again and again, and if you find any hang-ups, look at them and let them dissolve. Infinitude is big, really big, it also takes time to get accustomed to more and more of it.
This is referring to full-freedom (Vineeto in correspondence with the newly-free man from Sydney), but I can do the same with sweetness.
I still have resistance to it in some contexts, for example rememorating the experience at the cabin from the other night.
Because I see her as the beloved rather than a fellow human being, because I experience sweetness as conditional on what a girl (‘the beloved’) does, then that situation generates fear and offense, it is completely shut off from sweetness.
The sweetness is not because of anything anyone else does, but because of what I experience, what I ‘am.’
What this universe is.
‘no sex,’ ‘no girl,’ ‘rejection by the other,’ are all sweet too.
I’m walking alone through a frozen desert to the edge of humanity. And it is sweet.
All these beings suffering, and I am one of them.
–
My instinctive pulling-back is what is blocking perfection-sweetness
Maybe she will wiggle her bits with someone that isn’t me
And maybe she’ll enjoy that more than she has with me
And maybe she’ll fall in love with that person
And they’ll have a super sweet time together.
These are all unexceptionally human things to happen. Quite unsurprising things to happen.
So ‘I’ am hanging myself out there, basically setting myself up to be hurt over and over.
Since I don’t consider those outcomes to be sweet
So I reject my experience
Richard was more literal than I thought when he said that becoming free required intestinal fortitude lol. This is intense
Sweetness irrespective of the attention/love I’m getting.
Basically ‘Mr. Brightside’ stuck on repeat in my psyche rn.
They’re insecurities bc they interrupt my sense of ‘safe.’
I have a pretty limited capacity to direct events, so all kinds of things can happen.
So there’s not ‘safe’ in that sense.
There is safe in the ultimate sense and once again it’s a question of connecting to that.
Inching toward perfection.