What

and I’d like to give all of those.

Alisha was there. I visited her, with my friend Robert. She was at her father’s house. Although this is not reality to my knowledge as I remembered her parents being a good relationship, from what I could tell… they were separated in the dream.

It was her birthday and I sort of surprise visited her. I don’t think we were together… it was more as friends, but there was affection, in ways. I remember putting my hand on her lower abdomen, where her uterus is, and I remember her eyes then watered. It was a contact out of love, wanting to touch her… but it wasn’t much greater than that. Contact, and that area. There wasn’t any overwhelming need to kiss her, or anything at that moment. Perhaps I was afraid of anything else, because I do sort of remember wanting her still in that way… but it was less corrupting than before. I wanted to be with her alone. But anyways, moving along…

Robert was there. Alisha had weed, which didn’t look great (not normal “chronic”) but I remember feeling really high, as we had smoked some… which is odd as I’m pretty sure she gave that up years ago. I remember I wanted to go, because I felt not as welcome as I recognized how I just showed up, or something. I felt bad like I was restricting her from going out with friends, but she seemed to enjoy me/us/appreciate my acknowledging her birthday. Robert also said “yea I was thinking the same thing”- as in leaving. We did stay a while longer.

I remember I was playing a sort of videogame, or something. It felt real, though. I was running from these giant monster things, hiding in these red organic looking “cage” formations, and climbing high, where they couldn’t get to me, and blasting them with energy weapons of sorts, and… spears. Spikes. The creatures had armor, and were also reddish in color. Stood I’m guessing 19 feet tall. Pretty hard to take down but I did. The area I was running in seemed to be a river system of sorts. I could be wrong, I just remember water, and rocky sides to this system in parts. I was constantly just trying to make it through, having to use these cages to fight from, where they couldn’t enter, most of the time.

My parents house. First outside. Nobody home. Robert, my friend, is there as well with me. Perhaps others are with me as well. Two people show up that look a little “punkish”- kids I knew in high school or junior high. Maybe they just had that face. I don’t mean punk rock I mean punk like will steal your belongings, ransack your food like it’s theirs, etc, after you show them hospitality. Bad to pre-judge maybe but I gave them a chance and they proved it, in this dream, these images. I remember them wearing bright colors. “Hot” colors in ways. Orange and pink I think. or Orange and red? Or blue. Or yellow. One was one and the other was the other, mainly. Whatever- they were bright, and one got into my mom’s pink/magneta (or very, very close).. ice-treat stuff. Not quite ice cream. Not milk based… mostly ice looking. Sorbet… that’s it. They started in on it-one did, which pissed me off, and I basically threw them out- physically. They must have been into some other stuff, as well.

My mom never eats sorbet. I don’t really remember thinking about it recently.

I believe Robert helped me here.

I remember we delivered some newspapers, and this felt closer back to the point where Alisha was. I was glad they weren’t with perfume, and they were really thin, which I thought I had made a mistake on… but it was fine.

The night before, I think.. I had a dream about a bus ride with many friends… friends from high school. We were on our way back from something, or to something, or on a long trip. Charter like bus. We needed cables (electrical) for something. Aaron was a leader of sorts of the process… Aaron Calhoon- my first girlfriend’s brother, the captain of our soccer team. I helped find cables, or devised a way to use some other cables to do what we needed. A hot air balloon in part of the dream, and a burly, big man.. intimidating at first but nice guy… and a lake that I seem to remember from another dream a long time ago that I have forgotten since.. but then it might have just sparked that memory. Either way I believe there was water. I traveled for some reason.. traveled ahead for the group, to get something, to bring back, to deliver a message, or something… I had access to travel for one person, or so.  This one not so clear. I remember on the bus Christi was some of the focus- of my focus. We used to be friends, be friendly.. but that relationship sort of dropped off- I don’t know when… probably when my health deteriorated. I have wished, I guess, to have that light hearted relationship with her again, where she was always so cheery with me, and everyone. Perhaps it was my attempted sexual advances on her in college that she knew weren’t for anything other than to have fun, that changed things, and as well in high school when we dated for a short time and I just dropped her, for Sara, around Christmas time. There’s emotion there. Like she put up a wall. Anyways, I just remember her being in my thoughts, and perhaps wanting to show her I’m not a useless lazy sick person, by fixing things.. having energy, and taking initiative. My ego… Alston was there, and others, but those three are all I remember clearly. Richard.

Remember trying to throw a football and my hands were too small to hold it the way I wanted, so I kicked it, and could do that well.

Dream the night before was even less clear that I can remember. Involved a building that required a membership- a club. It was metallic-gray colored… strange architecture. Very angular, with semi-blocked but slanted edge pillars on the ends, and built in extending above the building’s main core housing. I might draw it later, but I sort of doubt it. I can’t fully replicate it. It was open- the building.. I don’t remember there being any real blocked off doors, or at least there were plenty of spaces for wind to just move through. it wasn’t a conventional building. Remember “breaking in” but it wasn’t really breaking in because someone was a member, or something. Just weren’t supposed to be there after hours. Lots of metal suitcases. Pretty thick, about a half a foot thick and 2.5 feet wide, and 2 feet tall. These were in a center section, in compartments. Food seems to be associated with something here.

Friends were with us, and we were in the basement there, which I remember as dark, and staring up through imperfectly joined, older looking wood flooring, but in the building I didn’t see anything but metal, above. Lindsay Taylor was down there… not like hanging out, but she had gone down there. Perhaps this is an associative memory of her and being in her basement, trying to learn how to roller skate. Her knowing how, and me feeling shy or whatever, sort of hiding… as children. Her grandparents basement I think. Her friend was also there. And then Alston, back to the dream, was part of it, and then I remember being outside, and Michael Herdrich was somehow part of it, perhaps just an association- as I can’t remember any direct memory, of him or Alston.. just feelings. Remember smoking marijuana, and playing some game- perhaps, or some activity, where I threw the suitcase over a fence, and it fell in a ditch immediately following that fence. The club was a golf course.. feeling. But I don’t remember a golf course, exactly. I was going to get the suitcase later, but decided against it as the light came up/the club opened… I didn’t want to be caught with it.

In another dream, don’t know when.. but recent… Michael Segrest and Richard Kelly were with me at my parents house, or it turned out to be their house after we left the place. Walking by the tree in their front yard, I remember showing them my new mask that I got, and putting it on and acting funny with it, dancing to make them laugh. Someone told me-one of them, that they wanted me to drive them in a Mustang. There was a full load at this thought for the vehicle, of some people I didn’t know, too, but then it was just us three, and Mike was driving, with Richard shotgun and me in the back seat. On the road, I remember a white car, an 80s model of sorts. The guy driving black, and was seemingly unphased as he was driving aggressively, to our right side on a two lane road, seemingly trying to pass. He would then go out into the grass, into people’s yards, through he bushes (the soft spots), weaving around to dodge things. He could have easily passed us on the left side but he continued to do this. I flipped him off because he was kind of scary to be around, and made me nervous, and pissed me off. The entire time he just kept his head forward, with a sort of subdued but forward posture, very little expression on his face. Then Mike went off road after a cemetary- or where the cemetery would end… he started off road, to the left of the road. We went through some grass, into open grass areas beyond some trees, and a building to our left I remember.. something about it. Don’t know. Don’t remember what happened next other than being in a parking garage, or something, heading to a Tool concert. I was ahead of them- Richard and Mike (and more people I think we were meeting there), as I think they were still parking the vehicle,  and saw a kid to my left, and his mother ahead of him. They looked like upper-middle class set.. the mother and the quality of clothing and the health of the child, and the way they acted… The child was wearing spandex-like outfit.. underwear and shirt, which I found a little odd, like they in a hurry forgot to put all his clothes on… but at the same time it could have passed, and could have been a swimsuit of sorts. She asked his mom about his dress, if it was ok, and I spoke up saying “yea, you will be fine”. It was raining, too. I remember a street divided the parking garage area with the main arena, that we were coming up on, but I don’t remember anything else. It was airportish…. the street atmosphere.. the way the garage connected to the main building here.

I don’t need to connect it, but I do.

John contacted me saying he’d like to purchase my guitar, and told me a story about how he got one of the first Yamaha guitars in this country, back in the early 70s. He said because he had a wife and kid at the time, and worked for little pay at another guitar shop, he had to sell his soul for it… whatever he meant by that.

I have to admit I’ve been dealing with some things lately, around this timing. A girl. I’ve written about her a lot. I feel her a lot. I think I’m crazy, a lot. Then I say no… it’s all real, (and imaginary). People exist in multiple ways, multiple phases of reality can be perceived. Does it matter which one? Love them anyways. Submit. Submit.

But this timing, was around when I left her place three years ago. The 23rd was three years after I met her. Like things culminate together, and together happens in so many separate ways, as well. It’s amazing, really.

I do want. If I wanted what I had right now. But I can’t ride the good feelings long enough (not yet. but I am getting better at it, where it matters, i think), and people get confused, and think it’s them. And then I think it’s me, when they’re in the same boat, sometimes. Sometimes I feel I should just stay away from everyone, as far as getting close… take myself out of the equation because I complicate things. When I’m in a good mood, things are different. But I find my reality reflects me. My mental distortion I see in the world. Then I consider that it’s all tied and not necessarily to me as a causer- that I am simply within the same, and with a gift to witness it… which can cause some confusion. Start/finish. If I do, wouldn’t that mean you do? How can there truly be an (separate from you) Alpha and Omega? It’s simply not logical. It makes absolutely no sense that “God” is not you.

So, I look to you.

He works at a Library– John Drew. IUPUI. Wants me to deliver the guitar to him. To not do it at this point feels more wrong than losing the (temporarily) potential to get the guts up to try to play and mess up, as would happen, and face embarrassment. There are lessons in both directions. Novelty and nobility (or) either way I choose, but the difference is, one is temporary, and one is a choice I can make right now that would contribute to one’s mission to teach. So I’m choosing that one.

The guitar was given to me by my brother in law, when he got a new one. The fact that it was a gift, well, I guess it’s okay. I love him too. Feels odd saying, writing, love… but I guess that’s a sacrifice. Chase, a friend, gave me a harmonica. B and C. Who is A? haha. and D? (B for Brandon, my brother in law). Wouldn’t either way be selfish? At this point? I mean I’m getting off on the fact that this is like a story to me, and like it’s all written, like a book, and he works at a library. Shouldn’t I get away from that… I mean for the last however many years fucking idiots have been reading books that fucking idiots wrote (in respects, with respect, you fucking idiots), and killing each other over it. In books, people stoned people. I just ran into a wall. What to do with Chase’s harmonica? Sell it, too?

Flip.

Chase gave me that harmonica. It was his uncle’s, who had died recently at that time. His son was born the next year on my birthday, and the mother’s good friend’s birthday, and there are more connections. Ultimate.

We went to a strip club that night that he gave me that… him Ryan and me. Took Ecstasy. Fell in love with one of the girls. I couldn’t let it go for awhile. Had a certain chemistry with her. Grew depressed in the come down. Wanted a girl with me. Wished we had stayed in Indy that night… she wanted to hang out after work, when I told her I wanted to see her outside of there. I meant later, another date… but she assumed I meant then. Maybe it was the drugs she wanted. Anyways, that doesn’t matter. I don’t think I told her. She smelled weed but I don’t think that would be enough to want to hang out with a random guy that paid you to hump them.

I don’t mean to tie all this up like this, but now I don’t think I can sell the guitar. Although it’s just an object, it was a gift, and for some reason I feel something spiritual with it, just like that harmonica. I could sell it.. and the story would continue as it does… but anyhow. It might go this way, too.

Perhaps I can meet the guy… and arrange a different time for it, to meet him. Maybe he can take the harmonica, too, on the condition that he keeps it in his shop.. that both are for his shop. In that case, if it worked out this way, I would give them to him. But by that time, see, he’s wanting to do this so that he can begin teaching. A delay would simply make him buy another. It’s not the mere possession, it’s sentimental. Brandon, my brother in law gave this to me. It’s not just a coffee maker… I’m not even a musician. The way the guy’s story comes to mine, in this timing, is beautiful… but as well, with the books. And wouldn’t either way be selfish? And how could I, for me.. tell Brandon… “I had to sell the guitar you gave me for $50 bucks”. I think he’d be alright if I gave it to someone. Selling it just doesn’t seem right in this light. I’m sure he doesn’t really care, but if I give something away, I want to give it all away. Giving away one piece doesn’t work. And I don’t even know where the harmonica is at the moment. It’s somewhere. I never lose it.

Oh Dilemma.

The girl, how it connects with her, to touch the story again, was an exotic dancer. Both musical instruments are having resonance around these periods of… sex. Sometimes I think she now watches me, like others- but perhaps in this phase. But like so many things align without our knowledge… well, I stalk her facebook page often. I see pictures she puts up, and they’re sort of like the “what’s the energy” to me… what’s her mood (not that this really means anything much about mood now, but you know). What is she showing, I want to know. Because it meant something to me one time, and I found such resonance with her. It might be with everyone if we know where/how to look or open our eyes- simply… but with her it came naturally. I opened my eyes. The first one I was interested in physically, spiritually, mentally- who I was actually interested in hearing her thoughts, not just what she thought about me. Maybe it was simply her openness. We’re all the same, inside. Really inside. So I guess I take that back.. the others just weren’t as open and vulnerable, perhaps. And perhaps I’m not, or wasn’t.

Gosh man.  I trailed off.

I’ve been checking her lately, because this was the time we were around one another, and her images match my thoughts…. go with a story. So precisely, the symbols. The messages. But I take for example that when the voice told me she was my wife and I had to take time to investigate… how I felt around her… if this was just sex talking to me… or whatever. I waited. I did the number of her name, finding a number that I recognized but didn’t fully identify until her, that was my mother’s name-sum, one of them. This if she had my last name. So much resonance, and a recent example I found exactly three years after, her user id on this facebook, something I left in part because I was trying to get away from her (haha), from stalking her, starts with that number, and ends with 23. 184xxxxx23. The numbers themselves, I don’t want to focus on… but as an example of how “unconscious” things are… how my feelings that she might be aware and actually have any thoughts of me what-so-ever, might be misguided, insane, and that I just need to… love her, despite anything.

So why don’t I touch her… why don’t I get too close to a mirage… or touch, a hallucination.

Because I have done it before and it has disappeared. (or I expect this, I preconceive)

On the other side of this, if it disappeared, and she said “OMG Pyscho get away” I could know for sure… and would know how to proceed.

Maybe some day, I’ll be willing to break it. Maybe it’s breaking me, and I need to. There would be good things any way. Not that I would count her rejection as a good thing in itself, but as said, it would then be known, and I wouldn’t keep dreaming about her.

All I have ever wanted is clarity… to understand. Because I can.

And tonight “I want you to check it”, and I check it, and it’s another image.

Same thing happened a couple of nights ago, but as much as I think about her, as much as I spin, wouldn’t I get it right at least (LOL, I just split my dry lip again) some of the time? Trump myself. Defeated. Logic. Until it covers everything I won’t proceed inward. Have to trap you. Whatever you are. Not in a bad way. Trap might not be the best word, though that might happen in the process.

I did go for a long time without her… once. I forget what brought me back. Voices. Perhaps. I don’t know.

Step back: Entities. Things that feed off of me. I’m a sacrifice. They have no real care about my fulfillment. Honestly I should shoot myself so that they can’t have anymore of me. This potential is as well, likely… considering. Considering my experience and human psychology… how we’re desperate  for approval. How we’ll sacrifice ourselves, going through pain and suffering to not offend. Social to a fault. Farm animals, in some sense, we are. They give me the tip. The let me see the surface of the water, and I’m rising up. My lungs waiting to bust open to take in the air. Always.

fucking aliens.

or whatever the fuck you are.

you control everything.

you set it up to juice it.

anyway you like, you’ll feed.

the only way to stop you is to end my life, but I doubt that will do anything at all to you. I’m a subprocess of a subprocess of a subprocess even if I’m the main process I lack the definition. I’m definitionless. But how else would it exist? Might this just be a trap of cognition.. of the way we developed. The only way to know or at least rest is face to face.

There’s this image that I can’t get out of regardless (Torus).

She constantly fools me. They tap into energy. Vampires. If you want to make it evil for me go right ahead. We need to switch it up a little bit. Tell me you hate me. I don’t hear you. Seriously, I wouldn’t be so serious if I could just see a human face- but I’m staring at a screen.

I’d probably laugh.

But what are these spirits that play me? They can’t be her. They can’t be him. But then again, can’t they be? I’ve already been over and over and over… this. God is you. There’s no other way. If God is you, and I witness God, all of these realities exist simultaneously.

But I had to account for the vampiric, parasite elements as well, or symbiotic. Or something. I can’t just stay in the cheese, believing that a human being has the mental energy and attention span and psychic ability to stick with me in my waking life, dreams, everywhere… How stupid would I be? How stupid would I be to believe that she sees me from the stars, that time before I saw the shooting star the build up of anxiety, and the voices, and the build up to a jerk of my body pulling my eyes to the sky to see this thing breaking up, feeling it breaking up, and “did he see us?”- an excited feminine voice. Yea, I’m quite nuts. Got quite a complex. I doubt it’s anything but me, but I have to keep going somehow, perhaps. I’ve considered that I’m flawed for a purpose.. that I split myself up to delude myself from myself- from the truth that I make myself up. Completely. But what am I into? Even if, even if this .. is true it doesn’t negate other possibilities, ways of function. (one in many, many in one)

This keeps going round and round and round and round and round and round, you know. I’m not the only one that’s been here before. lol. My God.

Year End/Begin 1982-1983 is more or less exactly 203 days from my date of birth.

12/21/2012 is more or less exactly 203 weeks from the date I was last in any kind of civil communication with Donna, 01/30/2009 (more or less, it could have been 01/28 or 01/29., but 1/30 was in-fact significant), but Friday was the day she went back to work taking her clothes off. (I don’t mean this in a bad way, although there might be some normal emotion considering I liked her. She was doing what she had to at the time, and I probably would too if I were a hot girl, able to make as much money in as little time, avoiding some of the bullshit of the “civilized” world which is rife with prostitution in a multitude of forms. Sell cheesburga? WHORE. Politician? Most likely WHORE.)

My birthday was 0-date for me, as that week “with her” was sort of a “zero-point” in whatever complex (one of them) I have. 161 days had passed before 0, the day of my birth. So 161 weeks, or lets say 162 from 203 (weeks from 12/21/2012) of 01/30/2009, I will find the date of xx/xx/xxxx and analyze my time around that time to see if anything at all significant pops up.

Processing…

Friday, December 23rd, 2005. I am with/in a relationship with Marilyn. She gives me a watch. It feels like a handcuff, and that’s how I associate it when I first put it on. More, that was two days after the 23rd. Marilyn was my last “girlfriend”. Two days after the 23rd… That was our last and only Christmas together. We ended in 2006 with 2300 days (or give about two days depending on interpretation of “end”) from 12/21/2012. …Two days after the 30th of January 2009 would have been times up for moving Donna’s storage from her storage unit, if the plan would have been what we had talked about in person (what stuck with me)…but it did change, I just missed it. It came in a text with a lot of other, unrelated information to sort through. I was also preoccupied. If we had talked by voice perhaps it wouldn’t have happened like that, but I’m not here to say if only it would have happened another way… just viewing from now, as it happened. That lack of information-processing was involved in faulty maneuvering , leading to another end.

But really… did I fail? In respects yes. In respects no. I failed because a “failing” system kept going. But.. that’s kind of contradictory. Need to learn, I guess.

Something has to break…

Yada yada.

The difference this time… I’m expecting it (the date). It’s not like I was looking forward to meeting a girl on 1/23 (and “ending” on 1/30-ish) who was born basically the same time that I met the last girl, date wise- “more or less”. I was- however aware of this “2012″ stuff. I don’t however apply to anyone else’s theories about it, or at this point know anything that will happen five seconds from now, or even what is truly happening now, for that matter. I was interested in Terence McKenna’s work/thoughts for a few years before meeting Marilyn, and had my suspicions, and had them reinforced many times already when the “2300″ days from 12/21/2012 came around, and 23 before 23 fell in perceivable for me order.

But this… “2012″. I have no idea. I won’t be let down if nothing happens. At that point it could simply mark two centuries until something happens. Haha. And then two minutes… just when you thought you missed it.

I’d like to go back further than Dec 23rd, 2005, to take this pattern back further (such as 203 weeks before). I think I’ve done it. But I can’t really remember back that far. Nothing sticks out. I barely knew what the day was back then.

Tool – 10,000 Days – “Viginti Tres” (Twenty Three)

203 seconds in, 3:23 minutes (at, voice on)… Voice: “The System”

Cannabis. Hemp. Marijuana. It’s kept illegal because it’s too useful… because big business keeps it illegal, so that they can stay big business.

Below is a link to just one website that details some information regarding this.

http://www.world-mysteries.com/marijuana1.htm

…and I meet my reflection. I have the opportunity to sell products which are easily better than the alternatives, yet still I see most of them- myself, as unnecessary, and with what I know, knowing that simpler is better whenever possible, I can’t with a clear conscious sell products- even if better than alternatives, which I know aren’t even needed. The product I would like to “sell” (Cannabis for life, for a start) would at most make me a living of about … well, it would be livable, and eventually I could drive a hemp-based sports car… but not until everyone else could too.

Still, for the pace of society currently, these products that I have the opportunity to buy into/sell might serve a purpose. On levels, we’re all guilty. For all I judge, I can find reflection in myself. I can justify it… but the algorithm/formula is the same, basically.

But I guess we need to fight it down the levels/up the levels. Does that work?

No, for some people, these products might be life savers, if they’re going to use them (like-products) anyway… and they are cheaper. I take it back. On levels I did see a reflection, but there is something allowing me to consider the idea. There are points of no return where “ideal” can’t be met, anymore, only shot for. Ideal has to begin with the beginning. Though- perhaps, there are points where we can “return” to ideal. Often those are when things break. But anyways. I think our way of life has been broken for a long time…? Then again… what’s not broke? Circles- I’m going in. And what is broke? Isn’t our sun breaking things? Aren’t we the result of something broken?

Still, some things have to change… and change…

I sold a Coffee maker that I received for Christmas of last year (well, two years ago, but last year). It in stores costs $70 and I gave it away for $20 because I need money for water, and enzymes. I had only tested it once, making two cups or so, not liking the “filmy”/waxy later on it that I noticed (most coffee has this). But I imagine to a normal can-eating-drinking person it wouldn’t be a concern.

Anyways, the lady met me and mentioned the other product I had advertized- my food chopper, which I had promised to someone else… which I’m still unsure I want to get rid of, but the burning motor smell makes me paranoid to use it with food. But anyways, she asked me about the hemp seeds and how I mentioned I don’t have great digestion, because her brother in law is diabetic and has those issues. I said I used the processor to help it further.. predigest it, but that yea, hemp is easy to digest, and very unlikely to cause stomach upset and everything like many foods are. From what I remembered it’s also good for pretty much any ailment, including diabetes (compatible, at least)… so I felt good helping her, and her brother in law out in that regard. Felt there was more reason than the $20 for a coffee maker that I met her.

I also recommended chlorella to try for him.. not that it’s a cure or anything but I have heard it can balance blood sugar levels, or help to, and as well it can aid in digestion. I know for the time it worked, for me.. it did. Then I became allergic. I think I was allergic long before, but it was “sub-clinical”.

Anyways, I hope I did more than sell a coffee maker.

Just decided to do a reading using the I-Ching deck that I have. My question pertained to “what” in regard to a person. What she was to me/I was to her, and whatnot. What to do. “What?”- basically. I can’t get much more precise. I was thumbing through the cards talking to myself, rephrasing the question many ways, and I reached the word “connection” and felt that was it, where my thumb was- that was “it”, and I checked the card to find it was Hexagram 1. This alone was entertaining. I don’t usually, or haven’t really been into it lately. Perhaps I’m not patient… but when I have done it lately I have just randomly pulled something without much care. Some care- yes, but I figure what will happen will happen, so I let it, and am simply the tool, in some respect. But this time I was more into it.

I rely on this book that came with the deck to interpret. It’s rather “beginner” in difficulty, as I have yet to really understand everything about it. I seem to have lost hexagram 1-6 descriptions and line-readings, so I had to find an alternate source, after trying to understand via the more comprehensive book that I have (barely, I’m impatient and it’s 6 in the morning and I sort of feel like winding down). I did find it, before or after pulling another card.

The second card/hexagram was number 8. I had a harder time accepting pulling that one, because it was more “choice” than undeniable “this is right” feeling. I usually shuffle the deck and usually pull from the center, as I’d rather not lay them all out, usually, on my somewhat dirty floor… This one was there but I was confused if it was this one or the one next to it. A choice. As I pulled it the other followed with it, so I’m wondering if I got the right one.Haha.

Only one line stayed the same. 1-4 and 6 all changed.

Hexagram 1 is the Creative/Force/Dragon, and Hexagram 8 is Unity, for a start. The first hexagram would be the present, and second-drawn the future.

It kept talking about  a man as a dragon, the interpretation I found. I wouldn’t know how to change the interpretation, but here’s what I decided to read, on this site: Compassionate Dragon Healing: Traditional Chinese Medicine. Lines 1-4 and 6 would apply to me, to read.

This is passive, even though I do find it to be rather interesting. I imagine I could delve into it, but now doesn’t seem to be the time. Most of what I see in it seems to be what I already know. It provides reflection. It’s general, but at the same time insightful. But again, too tired to delve, in that direction. Maybe tomorrow I’ll look further into this reading.

I ate some whole hemp seeds tonight. I enjoy them, and feel there’s something missing from eating only the inner hearts of the seeds, as I usually do. Something felt more spiritually connected, if can say that. It could have been simply a change, a “new” food item to explore. They also have a decent amount of vitamin A, which has been lacking in my diet almost completely. The inner cores don’t have hardly any. Don’t know.

Also ate blueberries.

what what

As it makes sense regarding my life history and situation, I’m going to attempt a program that involves “retraining” the Amygdala, which was devised as a treatment for CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) by a fellow, named Ashok Gupta… “Gupta Amygdala Training”. He suffered from CSF- himself, recovering using these methods. It has had success with treating people for other diseases such as Fibromyalgia, and Chemical Sensitivities/Electrical Sensitivities, as these illnesses have something in common, being found to overlap many times. It’s very involved, and makes a lot of sense. I have hope for it, considering I can trace my own issues back to stress/traumas, like he says are causes and with a little knowledge of the organ (and whatnot) myself and it’s function, Etc.

I have- already some hint as to how to work it, as I believe I’ve done it occasionally in my past, to feel better, and recently, have as mentioned in previous blogs… perhaps after reading some information about this program, and how some Buddhist monks have been shown to be able to alter the amygdalae activity positively with compassionate meditation.

I read this person’s blog tonight, and it helped to solidify my decision to move ahead with the training… whenever possible.

In ways I would be thankful for my suffering in life, if I can only heal from it, and learn from it. Not to leave the door open for it, God.