I really don’t know jack about some shit. What follows, naturally, is I don’t know Jack Shit. In particular, I don’t know Jack about a good bit of this otherwise-called “spiritual” stuff. Some folks expect me to because I’ve chosen to add the label of “healer” & “teacher” to the alphabet string after my last name (B.A. in Liberal Arts & Sciences & M.A in Criminal Justice for those who really wanna know!).
Here’s a string o’ stuff that I neither know jack about nor have any interest in others’ stories about:
photon belts or Peleaidians
crystals or consciousness
intergalactic and/or crystallline stellar grids
5th or 12th dimensions and 9th waves of consciousness
akashic records, Atlanteans, Actuarians, Ascension
holograms, hologames, Hathors
super-special frequencies & first wave stargaters
Elenin or elementals
and other bupkus, bullshit or belief systems (otherwise known as BS) that I should subscribe to and then prescribe to others because I’m, well, not something others think I am or should be
I don’t believe Lemurian crystals are waiting for a super-special race of I AM peoples to arise (anyone else note how some of this ‘Oneness’ language is not about one?) and recharge them. I don’t believe we need special permission from aliens (or a/any God/s) to tell us we’re, well, notsospecial but they (another ubiquitous they) are. I don’t believe one needs to pray in a particular pattern of gold to orange (or vice versa), in a particular direction (I mean, really? You’re gonna be dissed because you look to the NorthWest rather than South and don’t speak Lakota?) or kneel/rise patterns to know love. I don’t associate dates and times with any ‘special-ness’ in the same way I don’t separate out my desk or a lovely stone as having any more meaning to me.
Here is what I do know:
I know that humans create stories. A lot of them. Some good reading, some not. I also know that humans don’t like it when others of same throw a kink in the works of their creation. Particularly kinks that may require reconsideration of what they think they know–especially about this “stuff” folks call speerachul. Because they knooooow, dammit! To suggest that we-the-human-race-we decided to give a personality to the earth & sky and all the bits of those things connected to both, to a *thing* outside of us…is, well, not very well accepted.
“Well, Ingrid, it seems you’re just ignorant about _________________.” You can fill in the blank with “the Ascension process” (12th floor, please), “Vortex Energy”, “gland activation”, consciousness, meditation, 2012, “Source Field”, Revelations, God, reincarnation, you-name-it-cabal-of-the-day, Tarot, “being ‘spiritual’ “, yadda yadda yadda… Getting my drift? Yep. I am ignorant and am glad to be. Someone else (a multitude of someones, in fact) over the course of time (a very, very long time) made up some shit to help make their experiences more explainable. For them. Period.
I get extremely frustrated when people who try to wrap their mind around me and what I can do say things like, “Oh. So, you must do X?” No. I don’t. “Well, you should take person X’s words to tell people what you do.” No. I shouldn’t. What I do, who I am, and the power within me has no resemblance to anyone else’s truth (although there is some undeniable repetition throughout history of all things freakily me, and, oddly enough, there are a lot of us out there who kinda do what I do). Here’s the real truth: No.One.Knows. We don’t know what “this” is, how it works, why it works sometimes and then other times doesn’t, why people (and critters) experience it differently each time, why we do, how it came to being, etc.
There are those who offer their ‘expert’ opinions on things that can’t really be explained, create pretty pictures to go with their discussions of matrices & other mumbo-jumbo so as to add validity, profess their own gospels of whatevertheheck. No one knows.
However, here is more of what I know:
What others see as mystery isn’t to me. It just is me. It’s my being, my purpose for being.
I’m not accessing anything outside of myself. It is in me, of me, through me.
I am one. And, as an aside, t doesn’t need a capital letter.
Things change for others when I turn up the volume. Awakening, cures, blah, blah. For me, it’s all a “Well, duh…”
I vibrate. Really. No battery needed. When I vibrate, others do, too.
I don’t ‘get’ it & I’m really comfortable with that. I’m not very comfortable trying to make others comfortable with it.
Others don’t ‘get’ it and aren’t very comfortable with that.
I don’t care about the other stuff. Really. I just do my ‘thing’. It’s nifty. It helps others. A lot. It’ll be even niftier when it helps me as much as it helps them (don’t even get me started on that topic-the one repeating the notion that I should suffer to serve others?).
I experience the world in a very unique way. I see it, taste it, touch it, feel it, breathe into and through it, hear it like no other. When I can actually articulate in words other things I know that are me and within me, I’ll be glad to. Okay, maybe glad is the wrong word because, admittedly, I’m afraid of it my-own-damn-self! Yup. Afraid. There: I said it. I’m afraid of the power within me. And, fuck all, that’s gonna be another entry that would, in fact, be a follow-up to already-posted An UnCommon Experience. Because I had another one that I’ve not shared yet.
FB note just posted as I typed the last three sentences:
Well, well, well. You know that awkward feeling when not paying attention to something you have that “AHA” moment that, in turn, is a “D’OH!” moment about the thing you weren’t paying attention to? Yep. Just had one. I’m an idiot. A dolt, even. And, now that I’ve established that factoid, I’ve not a damn thing to do about it. Fuck all. Deets to appear later as I flesh this out. In fact, it could educational and, indeed, entertaining for all those around me!!
Well, well, well. Indeed.