I sometimes envy those that read the tales and reminisce their internal workings over the years. I have been scorned for never growing up. And that could well be precisely the truth. That literal place of the imaginal has never let its grip lessen in the least over the years. Although ,to notice , one would have to look in times of the unseen. Perhaps a certain indulgence …perhaps a fearce attachment to something tried and true.
Some would call it faith..I call it gnosis only because that is the only word close to my understanding of the process.
The metaphors are truer than the form when breeching prisms of the mind.. And still they remain Prime numbers in this vision. The only difference, that I have acquired over the years, is an ability to adapt. Is that what we all do?
I have figured out that the whole form is based on memory. The shelves of memory take on both the dream and the not dream….without prejudice. Alphabetizing them in the same library shelves ….and once retrieved in future times, is selected only to use in even more different forms…all of it.
There are laws of this realm as well as there are laws in other places of ventures and explorations. And to violate these laws removes your rites to passage. So for that reason all are kept in clear action /creation/discernment, appropriate to the moment and effective for the dance.
I wonder if this is a form of controlled schizophrenia. Hmmm even more interesting.
Perhaps my lounging /musing over this very thing is the same thing as I spoke of at the first.
That is, reflections on the internal makings of our creative natures and their sourceand much more our reflections of our reflectionsJ
Finding the boundaries where nothing is left to be said just starts the chatter all over.
MAN! I LOVE this place!!!!
SPLASH!!!!!
WHOSH!!!!!!
Ahhhhhhhhhhh…..