a suicide letter

I know why she didn't write a suicide letter. When you have reached the very end of your tether, you have nothing to say. What can you say to console the people you leave behind? What can you say to explain your reasons? Is there anything left to say when you've been through this a million times? Can you say sorry when you know it is completely meaningless? Can you say I love you when you are deserting everyone, causing immense pain and scarring them for life? Can you express your feelings when you know that there is no way to communicate what you are really feeling inside? When it becomes a conscious rational decision, and you sit down to write a letter, everything that comes out sounds either stupid, selfish or cliched. All I can say is that I have made the decision full stop. Goodbye.

musings of a drunken fool

Mummy you brought me to life,
carried me in your insides,
fed me with your fluids,
nurtured my synapses,
and loved me unconditionally.

I fell in love with you from
the first time I opened my eyes.
That familiar heartbeat,
that beautiful smell,
that incredible innocence.

I was yours and you were mine,
we were hooked to each other
for what seemed to be an eternity.
Our love didn't change
until one day you were gone.

My heart was completely crashed,
but I painfully rebuilt it when you returned.
Until you left me again,
and then came back again.
Sometimes you were gone
and back in a day.

When it seemed you were back for good,
Our love naturally resumed,
and we both rejoiced.
We could finally get to know each other again.
We could finally be in love again.

Mummy you killed me,
poured a tank of gasoline
all over my heart,
lit it with a matchstick,
and burnt it to ashes.



(Entropy goes only one way,
and fire is so permanent.
I will never be happy ever again,
there is no question,
my greatest love of all is gone.)

passed away

forgot what it feels like
to feel so bad
that writing tragic poems
feels so good.
to even have the need
to write a poem
to release and die.
to be trapped in a corner,
without any strength
to even hit the walls
or ask for help.
living life as a ghost
of one's past self,
a facsimile of what
you've built up all
these years, and find
old familiar feelings lurking
back up again, emotions
you thought you'd left behind.
to read back the darkly
decorated words and feel
relieved and comforted,
that momentary release
of negativity, that quickly
replenishes its self.
yet you find yourself
filling up the pages,
hoping that one day
they might run out,
only to find that once
a volume finishes,
another one creeps up,
his sons in their turn
seem to be even stronger
than their forefathers.
you find yourself with
collections of collective pain
whose meaning is never
fossilised but keeps changing
in accordance to the current.
forgot what it feels like
to feel so bad
that writing stupid poems
feels so good.

a lost thought

Looking for that ever elusive connection,
a link between my brain and her mind,
a once sprouting synapse that has retreated,
a message received in a dream forever lost,
a bright idea during a drunken frenzy,
a beautiful memory of my mother slowly fading.

Wishful thinking

I want to be a fully aware being.
Conscious when I sleep,
Active when I dream.

I want to know what is happening around me,
Continuously anticipating the consequence of any action.
I want to prevent deaths and heal peoples' troubles.
I want to remember everything and use this knowledge for my cause.
I want to tap into the secrets of the universe, receive the one truth and reach enlightenment.

Yes, I would be superhuman,
a being beyond any scope for growth
and thus, an idiot.

Time

A hard time to be. A time of many internal conflicts and many uncertainties. A time of confusion, awkwardness and radical change. One of those mega down times in the cycle of the huge yo-yo we call life. 

My world view has been shattered. I find myself torn between teleology and naturalism. What a stupid dilemma. I have completely lost my connection to the spiritual. I read back at my old astral-orientated entries and they look to me like ramblings of a mad man. The similarity to my mother's ramblings is remarkable, yet I have never been manic. What was the meaning of that extremely spiritual period I had been through? A chemical imbalance in the brain or a true connection with the otherwordly? Is there a difference between the two? Having seen my mum enter states of hyper-religiosity it is hard for me now to see my own experiences as authentic. 
Having lost my connection with her I seem to have lost a connection with everyone. Everything and everyone feel so alien. I have gone from empathy to apathy. I look at people and I see blanks. I can only feel small sparks from the people dearest to me: polz, gers, irene, dad, charles. I am clearly blocked. My communication centre is completely closed. I can barely talk or share anything. I am constantly and continuously sad. Waking life feels like a dream. It feels unreal and very slow. Days feel like centuries. Repetitive centuries – every day is the same. I find it very hard to get involved or care about everyday life and social interaction. All I want is to sleep. Only sleeping has become a nightmare. Anxiety dreams, horror dreams and mum-related dreams is all I have.

I have been through all this before with one major difference. Something is missing from my world. A void so huge has been left behind that I feel completely empty. I will slowly fill in this void with myself and until then I have to make sure it remains as clean as possible from negativity. I have to be patient. I have been crashed so many times in the past and have managed to rebuild myself, and so I will rebuild myself once more. I will surely come out of this stronger than ever, maybe even get my good spirits back once again. If something bad happens again I have to deal with it consciously. I shall not let myself unconsciously enter the loop again. I have to be always vigilant, awake and aware of my own responses and the things happening around me instead of passively taking everything. Easier said than done, but if there is something I learned is that people, including myself go through the motions of life and let themselves be carried by the stream of events around them. Only in retrospect can they see what happened, what they did and what they could have done. Of course you can never predict events, and life works in such a way that it takes you with it. If only there was a way to look at the system from a different perspective but without detaching yourself from all the important internal processes. To be continuously conscious of the internal and the external at same time, to have a birds-eye view of everything yet be inside every molecule – now that is a truly spiritual state. Perhaps all I am describing is a wake-up call. A call to let go of previous, negative or unnecessary patterns, a call to give birth to a brand new mrk. 

It is too early for me to make sense of everything that happened – let alone all the things I am thinking. What I know is that I have to venture into the internal world, and take a good, long hard glance at myself inside out.

Partial Acceptance

She is gone. I will never see her again. Acceptance. This is the general message from the guide to bereavement from suicide by the nhs. It has been lying around on my desktop for quite a while now, and everytime I read it, I find myself relating to it more and more. The first time I read it, I couldn't even go past the contents page. The second time I found I was going through some of the standard experiences listed in the document, especially shock, numbness, guilt, despair but still it was too painful to read the whole thing. Today I finally read it and found that I have gone through every stage and emotion listed in there. I was relieved to see that what is listed as "searching" - which involves seeing the dead person everywhere and thinking that you may be going mad - is a normal symptom. 


Most notably the only emotion I have experienced the least is anger. I simply cannot feel angry towards a person that was going through so much pain. I can barely live with the pain I am experiencing now, so I cannot even imagine how she even survived through all that before putting an end to it. I have never once thought how could she do this to us or try to find an answer to why she did it, things that Irene has suffered through. 


Everyone deals with it in their own way, and just like the nhs guide says I do find it very hurtful when people tell me what I should be feeling or doing, giving me advice or even worse, judging, as if they can possibly know what I am going through. I know people are just trying to be helpful but out of ignorance they might say the worst things. Again just like the nhs says there is nothing you can say really besides I am there for you and that is what I want and can only hear. I have probably only heard that once and it felt so warm inside. Mostly it has been ignored as people feel too awkward and don't want to upset me. It is funny though how the most typical phrases like I am sorry for your loss or our thoughts are with you and your family are also the most comforting. Basically the key is to keep it simple, any further analysis or advice can be just risky. The few people that I know that have lost a parent, including one that has lost a mother by suicide have told me the most beautiful and comforting things, the right things. I am nearing acceptance that is for sure. I will soon accept that she's gone and I will spend the rest of my life missing her. I am tired.

http://www.uk-sobs.org.uk/help_and_support.htm

http://www.uk-sobs.org.uk/poetry_and_prose.htm

Searching (psyche)

She is everywhere, in silhouettes of fuzzy women in long black coats, deceiving
red haired fringes and fleeting forms in the corner of my eye. She is ephemeral,
slipping from and into the nothingness of my desperately seeking mind.

I fantasise about joining her in death: a car accident, a stabbing
in a dark alley, a terrorist bombing with only one casualty.
It is always a solitary death, just like hers. These are not suicidal thoughts,
only a little daydreaming of a fortune-brought ending to my daily torture.

I would join her in a state of passive mind, consciousness shed,
forever dying but never dead. We'd slowly drift into the Park of asphodels, quick
phantoms sipping on sweet honeydew remembrance, loosely holding on to
the memory of a missed corporeal coexistence.

The closest place to death I can get to is sleep and sleep is my only desire.
I am comforted by these words.

Dreams

#about her

#1 (one of the first ones) Her ghost is circling the house. Her image is the same as the last time I saw her. She goes round and round the house hauntingly repeating in English: "To be granted redemption you must let go of your fiction." I assume this is her explanation for her death and I recognise that it is just a projection of an image but I don't care. I run after her trying to catch her and hug her, only to catch thin air.

#2 (Irene's dream) A bridge over a gushing river is separating Irene and her. I stand in the middle of the bridge. Irene wants to cross the bridge to reach the other side and ask her why she did it. I shout to her to stop trying as there is no point asking a ghost for answers.

#3 I fly to the outreaches of space to find her trapped inside a massive glass bubble. She is floating inside it, arms and legs wide apart. She is completely immobile and unaware, with her eyes wide open. She seems to be in a continuous manic state, fire burning within her. She is in a hell of her own. I try to break through the bubble to let her free but I am unable to do so.

#4 (Irene's dream) The family goes to the sea for a day trip. At the restaurant next to the beach Irene keeps asking her why she did it, but she won't answer. Irene finally says: "I know why you won't answer, you are just a figment of my imagination, you don't exist, I am just recreating you in my mind and therefore you have no answers."

#5 Irene, Nikos, Markos and I are hanging out in a new flat. It looks like it might be in London. At some point Irene and Nikos go out to get food. At that moment everything goes dark and mum appears. She says we don't have a lot of time and that she didn't want Irene to see her. In the mean time outside a storm picks up. She is really in a hurry and she quickly gives me her various e-mail and facebook passwords and I try to memorise them all. Suddenly lightning strikes electrifying the atmosphere, and the whole flat is shaken up like a giant glass ball inside a rolling barrel – the glass shattering to all directions. Markos and I manage to escape from a broken window and climb up the drain pipes to the neighbour's balcony. Irene and Nikos come back and she disappears.

#6 (lucid dream) She comes back from the dead, and does what she did with the car again, only this time she survives and is brought to the hospital just like the first time she burnt herself. I go to visit her at the emergency room, she is again swollen, attached to tubes and passed out. I keep telling her that I love her but she does not respond. The doctors tell us that she is stabilised and that we can go home to rest. When I get home I call her and say: "I am saying I love you again because I did not manage to tell you last time." She wakes up and says: "I love you too baby" and passes away again.

#7 In a post-apocalyptic landscape, a mass evacuation is taking place in Cyprus, everybody from the South migrating to North Cyprus. In the crazy mob and confusion dad and I lose each other. He goes to the North to find me while I go towards the South. In the mean time I'm talking on the phone to Irene and grandma who are telling me to go to the South and I sense they are hiding something from me. In the South I find mum – she has come back from the North. She has a new haircut and she looks beautiful. I am over the moon to see her at last after being apart for so long. Irene tells me it was a surprise that's why they didn't want to tell me. Apparently dad was in it as well and he awaits for me in a beautiful park in South Cyprus. There is a general sense of closure, of everything coming to an end, not just emotionally with mum and the family but also physically the whole world coming to an end.

metaforce

Everything is a metaphor
A metaphor of a force
Hidden behind metaphors,
obscured from changing views.
Incongruous and inconsistent,
We share them,
Never sure if we agree.
The world, a giant metaphor.
The brain, a metaphor-processing metaphor.
Beyond metaphors the metaforce.
A force without form,
that can only perceive itself
through virtual concepts,
metaphors perceiving metaforms.
Meaningless precepts,
perpetuating for as long as
the formless force needs
to amuse itself.

MEGA ENTRY

(At last I have found some time to myself. Nowadays to have more than a couple of hours alone is a luxury. That ever precious alone time is especially needed at this time yet it seems to diminish as time goes by. Today was the first day of my shut down, in the course of this week I plan to shut down and inspect inside - as much as possible. This week I let go of mundane everyday preoccupations such as feeding, working and keeping up appearances and I look at myself.)

2002 Crisis
I look back at the last bumpy 7 years. I might be repeating myself. In the dawn of 2002 I had just got out of a rough teenage-hood, only just starting to feel confident and secure about myself, to enter into an unexpected series of hellish, nightmarish events. My mother had become seriously mentally ill in response to my father's departure to start a new life with a woman he was secretly seeing for 14 years. Her transformation was sudden and terrifying. She had become so depressed she did not care about anything or anyone. She was terrified of everything, even the most mundane, small things in her life such as cooking or dressing were horrifying to her. She became extremely irrational, violent, antisocial, and completely oblivious of her own behaviour or of people around her. She developed dark and complex magical thinking that would creep the hell out of anyone. Her life was a living hell and without knowing it she had created a hell for everyone that cared for her. It is unclear to us or to science how the pills were affecting her but soon, she became obsessed with one thing - to kill herself. It was not long before she ended up in the hospital having her stomach pumped after taking large amounts of pill cocktails. The events that led her to the hospital are buried deep within my brain but I do remember her waking up later in a creepy manic state telling me that it was all over. Little did I know back then about manic states but it was clear that it was far from over.

After this almost successful attempt, attempted suicides had become her hobby. It was almost like a game, she would try to kill herself in increasingly creative ways, only to hold back the last moment or to be caught in the act. For me and my grandparents, suicide and depression had become a horrendous routine, every time she would disappear we would take the cars and search for her, usually to find her on the rooftops of buildings contemplating a jump. My grandmother would hide all the keys and sharp objects from the house and administer her medication. Frequent visits to the emergency room, psychiatrists, psychologists, and even group therapy had become the norm. By the summer of 2002 she was institutionalised in a psychiatric ward that looked like a set from a horror movie. Two weeks later, after a hardcore medicine treatment, she was out and the next few months passed with intermittent suicide attempts, creepy manic episodes, general depression and many many suicide letters.


2003 Fire
As 2003 slowly crept in she seemed to stabilise in a constant monotonous depression and the attempts seemed to come to a halt. Just as we settled into a depressive 'normality', she carried out her most carefully crafted plan: burning herself alive. Over the months she had somehow managed to buy large amounts of pure alcohol and possibly gasoline and had written dozens of suicide letters. She carried out the deed at around 9 in the morning in the room next to me while I was in bed. Waking up I found coal-like pieces scattered around the house before I finally found her covered in a black crust in her bed, with her eyes wide open. Silently crying I used moisturiser to remove the black crust off her face. To this day, this remains the most traumatic experience of my life, so deeply engrained within my memory that I remember every single stroke I took while cleaning her face. I can even recreate the same feeling of emptiness, shock, and plain brain damage that I experienced that very moment. Possibly the second most traumatic event in my life was visiting her at the hospital a few days later to find her completely swollen up and deformed, Elephant Man style. In fact, it seemed to me that I was in a fully-fleshed living Lynchian nightmare. She was in intensive care for two weeks, the doctors almost sure she wouldn't make it, but she did. During that time she tried to kill herself by removing all the tubes and the nurses refused to watch her which meant we had to be there 24:7 by her side.
As for me, I had reached the disturbing point where my mum's death was almost desirable. First of all she was a completely different person, that to me she was already dead. She had come so close to dying so many times that I had been through every possible emotion one can have about one's death. She was suffering so much and made everyone suffer that perhaps it would have been better if she died. We all secretly thought about it. If she succeeded in her suicide attempts, it would hurt, but the nightmare would be over. We all seemed to relish the relief of her passing away – a most disturbing and soul destroying state to be, to wish one's own mother or daughter to die. The surviving of her self immolation on the other hand, reinforced the feeling that this nightmare would go on forever, becoming worse and much more disturbing. We all fell trapped in this hell, and there seemed to be no way out and it seemed nobody could help – the psychiatrists only seemed to gamble various pills hoping some combination would do something. She was finally released from the hospital, burnt all over and wearing a specially made metal cage around her torso that was meant to stretch her burn marks to prevent them from completely shriveling up. Within a few days she somehow managed to burn off the plastic surgery implant she had on her neck using pure alcohol completely destroying it. The routine continued once more, with mother immersed in a silent, dark depression that was so soul destroying she had no will to kill herself or at least she did not have the strength to do so.

All these events meant that I had to put myself completely on the side, so by the time I went to England September of 2003 I had completely forgotten the concept of thinking about oneself. I started counseling at uni and worked with the therapist to regain my sense of self and the concept of putting myself first before others. As I started recovering she disappeared one day, witnesses having seen her with two tanks of petrol. After two or three days of anguish, the police finally found her in a hotel in a random town. She said that she could not go through with it in the end and had given up. That was the last time she attempted to kill herself that I know of, and after that her condition slowly improved giving everyone the chance to slowly heal.


2006 Depression
Three years had passed since then, and life became good again. She had returned back to her normal self, she had taken up many old and new interests, got her old position at work back, made new friends and became an active member of the family and of society. She literally turned everything round and started a brand new life of positivity. 2006 was a great year for everyone, and me, well I had finally reached a state of happiness I had never experienced before. Everything felt right again and I was having bouts of euphoria and no sadness or depression whatsoever. I really felt the worst was finally over, I could move on with my life and my bright future and finally make my biggest dream come true: live in a happy routine. Just like my mum I had finally turned a new chapter in my life and I was ready to take on the world with my talent and imagination. Most importantly I felt great gratitude for all the great lessons I had learned from this experience, feeling stronger, more mature, even enlightened in some way. Boy was I wrong. By the end of 2006 my closest friend, whom I regarded my soul mate and who was also my housemate at the time started entering a depression of her own. The setting was eerily familiar, the gradual descend, the inertia, the aggressive behaviour, the obliviousness and forgetfulness and the irrational thinking. It was not clinically serious like my mother but it was still bad.

The way this disease slowly crept up meant that I unconsciously entered again the vicious circle of the depressive routine I had previously experienced. You would think after all the great lessons I had learned I would have been strong and wise enough to put myself out of the loop and even be supportive to my friend. Instead I found myself deeply immersed within the depression desperately fighting to not go under myself, literally feeling forcibly pulled into the darkness once more. What's more, I stupidly tried to hold on to that glimpse of happiness I had experienced earlier that year – I simply did not want to go back to that state. It was not long before I caved in and became depressed myself, my friend's condition becoming a constant fear and nightmare I could not escape from as it took place once more in my own home. There were weeks that I would cry myself to sleep every night, desperately begging God to bring an end to this. I would pretend to go somewhere just to go to the park nearby and endlessly sob. I would unsuccessfully try to hide any emotion to avoid upsetting her. Instead, my continuous struggle to drown my emotions, made me mirror or identify with the exact feelings perceived which was even more upsetting to both of us. By the summer of 2008 when she started recovering, our relationship had become bruised. I had developed a deep fear of her emotional imbalance and had become so traumatised that I had constant nightmares about it and was obsessively preoccupied with every traumatic event that had happened those 2 years we lived together. She on the other hand was very disappointed with my seemingly immature behaviour, weakness and inability to be emotionally supportive.


2008 Mania
After we parted our ways I barely had time to recover, reflect and tend to my new wounds. It seemed that what had happened was just a little teaser, a preparation for what was coming next. Mum had entered a very serious manic state that followed textbooks by the letter. She exhibited rapid speech, insomnia, fascination with thought patterns, delusions, bouts of rage, hyper-religiosity, magical thinking and grandiosity, until she finally entered complete psychosis (due to the lack of sleep). This was the worst state I had ever seen her in. She was completely and utterly mad. Something was different though, this was the first time I was an outsider as I was not there to enter the 'loop' I had entered the other two times. That experience with my friend helped me realise that the only way to help someone with a huge problem is to be detached from the situation altogether. Not emotionally detach like I tried to do previously, but detach from the setting, just like a psychologist approaches a patient with emotional sensitivity but is not involved in the life of the patient directly. Of course the previous two times I did not have the chance to adopt such a role as I was an integral part of both of their lives and thus had allowed myself to become a victim of the situation just like them. Now being far away in England when the mania started, I was in the position to adopt this outsider view I wished I had with my friend and my mum in the past. It was clear to me that what had happened with my friend prepared me for this moment of crisis, and I was finally ready to help! And so I did.

With sensitivity, calm and tactic I helped her to see how her behaviour was different and persuaded her to take her pills. When the situation got worse she was arrested and taken to the newly built psychiatric ward. It was not a place of terror anymore, but a hospital that accommodated people with sickness. Her disease was not horrifying but was just an imbalance of chemicals within the brain that made her suffer. I would sit with her and talk to her like I should, not like her emotionally distraught son that could not handle the nightmare that was – god forbid! – brought upon him but like the emotionally sensitive son that recognised the illness of his mother and would calm her down with his acceptance rather than his rejection. I had reached clarity in more aspects than one, having discovered that what she had was a serious case of bipolar disorder that affects thousands of people and was not something 'special' that was just happening to us. We also discovered the great role the doctors' irresponsibility and unprofessionalism played in all of this, as well as the backward system and lack of support in this country, but I will not get into that. We all, including my grandparents and sister, made it right this time. We had been through this before and we now knew exactly what to do – without repeating the mistakes of the past – we had all visibly grown. It was much harder on the rest than it was for me as they were already part of that loop, part of her life, but they still reacted in the best possible way. It seemed that this crisis was a catalyst for everyone to redeem themselves, even my mother. It helped us all to come to terms with the past, and it helped her to become aware of her own condition. It was a very hard time and it felt like going to hell and back, but I felt stronger. I honestly felt that this was the last test, the chance for everyone to finally fulfill this lesson and then it would be over for good. And it was.


2009 Death
2nd of May 2009 she poured two tanks of petrol in her car and blew herself up. That was it. After years of trying, after years of everyone waiting for it to happen, it did. Death is so abrupt, so final, it's just over and nothing can be done about it. There's no undo button, and no amount of pills in the world can bring her back. She left without saying goodbye, no letters, nothing. No one has seen the body so it is almost like she disappeared. The only symbol of her death that we were given was her coffin, and the whole ceremony of the coffin going inside the earth was just horrific. Yes death has brought the slight relief everyone was expecting, we now know that we will never go through this again, at least not with her. It is a very bittersweet relief though and I would probably choose she was still alive even if she was still sick, although perhaps that would be a bit too selfish considering how much she was suffering. She was an amazing, beautiful, sweet and caring person – and that is why she will be thoroughly missed. She loved children and besides being an active member of unicef she took many orphans under her wing that she personally took care of. She was a complete mum, taking care of us with pure love and always making sure we had everything we needed. We were very close to her and would share with her everything about our lives without any need for censorship. She was a funny and excited person, with many elaborate interests and many friends that adored her. It is hard to think of something negative about her, although if I had to pick one it would be that she cared so much about other people that she would go a long way often to her own detriment to help them. She was indeed very pure and very kind, and I am really not idealising her because she is dead. She was so kind and obliging that she was often taken for granted which sometimes hurt her. If you brought her the smallest gift she would jump up from excitement and gratitude.

Here I am in Cyprus, going through her stuff, scattered objects left behind by their owner that have lost their meaning and have become themselves dead. Her most recent diaries are filled with nonsense she wrote during her sleepless manic states - hundreds and hundreds of pages about her spiritual revelations and the amazing connections she thought she was making. In the peak of her mania she developed an obsession with certain random objects and she makes lists of these objects over and over again, together with time and date of when she sees these objects. She thinks she can manifest paper clips and that the indicators of the car show her where to go. She thinks that her burn scars are disappearing and that she has new scars which are stigmata. She believes that she is the reincarnation of Mary Magdelene who had the baby of Jesus, which is me, and I am Mark the Evangelist while Irene is the Virgin Mary who has given birth to Jesus who is Panos. These are all things she kept repeating to everyone so there's nothing really new in these diaries – just the distorted ramblings of a very disturbed individual.
Going through the stuff I hope to find a glimpse of life, a feeling that she is still somewhere near me but all I feel is emptiness and everything seems empty and dead. My grandmother tells me "I might talk and laugh, but inside my heart has melted" and I know exactly what she means. We have all become zombies, going through the notions of life, being more or less the same as we were before, but inside we are completely empty and lifeless. The void she has left inside each one of us is great. I could at any time now give up everything and become a hermit, or just do nothing until I die from hunger. But I choose to pretend that I care about life, that I give a damn about petty little problems or mundane everyday preoccupations. I mechanically laugh at things and robotically have conversations with people. I dutifully follow the same patterns I followed before only now they're just that, patterns of a lifeless life. I guess what I am trying to say is that I feel dead inside. A huge part of me has died and that it is no exaggeration. She was the first person I've ever known, physically connected to her insides for 9 months, and spiritually connected for 25 years. For 25 years we exchanged unconditional love between us, pure mother-child love which is simply irreplaceable. I think the emptiness within me is obvious to people just like I have observed this emptiness in people that have had deaths in their families. I have had many dreams of her, in the beginning she would appear as a hollow ghost, an effigy, then she became just the distant reflection of an image. I feel so sorry for Irene, being pregnant when this happened, and then giving birth and raising two kids with this constant feeling of emptiness. At least she has the kids to keep her busy and to give her hope and strength, although knowing her she has probably entered emergency mode just because she has to raise these kids and who knows when she will be able to think about herself once more and deal with her wounds. As for me I have nothing really to keep me going but my creations. I continue to create and imagine but always under the gloomy shadow of her death. One day things might become bright again but I can't see any way for the shadow to completely disappear.

My greatest wish right now is to establish some sort of connection with her, a hint that she still exists someway or another. It is funny how the outcome of the first crisis with her led me to become a very spiritual person and believe in the existence of the soul while the second and final crisis led me to doubt this completely. The shock of the disconnection was just so great that it is very hard for me to believe that she exists in another form. I don't know if it is because she was my mother but I always sensed her presence even when we were miles apart, now that feeling is gone – I certainly cannot sense her here but I also don't sense any hint of her flame somewhere else. A psychologist would tell me that I should make a connection with the past, the memories I have of her and appreciate her great contribution in my life instead of obsessing about her spiritual existence. I would then answer that her mania and death were a great shock to my belief systems and that if I don't find a way to reconcile the conflicting experiences I've had I would have to reconsider my whole world view once more. The way I see things now is that all the spiritual symbols and belief systems are metaphors that can be traced to electro-chemical interactions with the body and the nervous system, which is all fine. The conflict lies in the fact that scientific terms such as electricity, chemicals, energy etc. are just as symbolic and fleeting as their spiritual counterparts and can be seen in reverse metaphors of the spiritual systems. In effect science is a belief system just as any spiritual system, with its own dogma, symbolic imagery and that certain secret agreement between its followers to avoid things that don't make sense or give them religious names such as the Big Bang. So both views are symbolic, metaphoric and fleeting, which again is fine as it is established how the brain works on qualia, packages of subjective metaphors that are infinitely open to interpretation. The problem is that if everything is metaphorical, it means that everything in a way is fake or unreal, which is exactly how I feel right now about everything. If only I had a glimpse of reality behind this apparent random sea of metaphors, a connection to a world that is real and pure perhaps I would come out of this seemingly eternal feeling of emptiness. I am sure I will make some sense out of this one day. Perhaps what I need is a huge bag of weed. Or acid. Mum I miss you, without you I feel like nothing, and no matter how much I rationalise, how many blog entries I write, how many metaphors I find to come to terms with what happened to you, nothing will change that. Love you M.


Post-crap
Having written this massive entry, I know feel very much relieved, albeit the feeling of emptiness is greater now that I've all this out. These are all things that I needed to tell someone so I could hear them myself, and writing them down does help a lot. Some obvious patterns: me coming to a peak state in confidence and self-empowerment only to have it crashed or put on hold because of a (self-)destruction of a loved one, finding myself immersed, identifying with and unable to come out of said loved one's difficulty (the loop), loved one finally starts to recover giving me breathing space to recover and pick up my broken pieces just like them. A certain identification and mirroring behaviour can be seen here, even at my mother's death I find myself developing a feeling of death inside. Out of this identification and immersion then stems a need to escape or avoid the problem, and because the source is seen to be external, there is a struggle to flee from the external causes rather than the internal causes within. In all cases participants come out wiser than before, so the negative experience is always seen to have a positive outcome. I wonder if I have now escaped the loop of such experiences or whether it will come back to haunt me once more. Somehow I am not convinced it is over just yet. If seen from a personality cluster perspective, ie. other people are just different facets of the same self, then within this microcluster a 'fault' is developed in its biochemical makeup (mum) which is then spread throughout the healthy cluster (family), healthy cluster filters out the fault and attempts to fix it while the faulted bit tries to self-extinguish itself. The correction mechanism leads to an evolution of the cluster as a whole, in effect the fault is in itself a mechanism that triggers evolution. Eventually in this microcluster the faulty bit sacrifices itself to make way for further evolution of the rest of the cluster, and perhaps return (as in reincarnated) or make space for new parts of the cluster to build on the lessons learnt and continue working for further development.

I'm tired of this crap. What I want is to be normal again. I want to stop thinking about my mum's death. I think about it everyday. Constantly. The first thing I think about when I wake up. The last thing I think about when I go to bed. It's really exhausting and soul-crashing. Everything around me is a reference to her death. Every little thing or word can spark the memory of her death in me. I keep thinking about the things I could have done differently. The things I've done that I shouldn't have, or the things I didn't do that I should have done. I keep thinking of the beautiful things she did for everyone. Her kind nature. I keep thinking what a waste it is that this person has gone, when they were making everyone's life so beautiful. Yes when she was sick it was hell, but the good she did when she was well far outweighed that. Yes I would rather go through hell with her every now and then and have her around in her good times and the bad times until she died from old age or from a natural cause. I wish I had quit my job and stayed with her until she got well. I wish my brain would think of something else besides her. I need peace. Yes I would consider ending my life now if I didn't know how it affects other people. I keep thinking of my last days with her, in the psychiatric ward and the events that led to that. They were horrific and traumatising yet I relish those moments because she was still alive. I miss being with her, even when she was in the hospital talking complete absurdities and attacking everyone. I think about the last conversation we had on the phone, she was telling me about her irrational fears that terrorised her, yet I relish that last phonecall and all I think about is her sweet melancholic voice. When I dream about her I recognise that it is just a ghost, a figment of my imagination, yet all I want is to hug that effigy and express my love to that hollow image. I fantasize about possible scenarios of her return and how I would react and what I would tell her. Every night I try to communicate with her, begging her to send me a sign. I desperately want to be normal again. Yet I know that what she has done is mark my scars permanent. It is virtually impossible to get over the suicide of a loved one, especially one's own mother. Before the suicide I was sure I could get over all the attempts and the fire, but now I have been stamped for good. Her actions will define me for the rest of my life, and although I might be able in the future to appreciate the lessons I have learned from all this nothing will change my yearning to see her again. I keep repeating myself in this blog, and in my head, well these thoughts have been recurring since she died. Everything I have written in this mega entry are things that I am constantly preoccupied with, even the spiritual-existential stuff, which represent my way of trying to come to terms with things. And although the spiritual stuff have been sufficient in the past for me to deal with what I was going through, now I'm in need of a different truth, a world-view that can accommodate this tragedy, that can justify this loss. Irene told me the same thing today, ever since mum died she stopped believing in reincarnation, the after life or anything spiritual and has become a complete nihilist. I am with her on this. Thanks mum for rocking our belief systems and shocking us for good one last time, I am sure we shall learn a great lesson from all this that will probably occupy the rest of our lives. Thanks for this opportunity. Now please come back. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

The End

Yolanda stepped out of the car and her body. Through the window she could see herself igniting the mass of meat she once called her temple. She was not interested in the doings of her body anymore, in fact she had lost any interest in all things terrestrial, her mind set to the stars. This body’s function had come to an end – there was no use in it left and she felt no remorse for its demise. She turned away from the car as the flames completely enveloped her lifeless blackened face. With new found clarity she slowly walked through the sunlit field – she could only perceive silence. With all her bodily organs absent, she felt light as a feather. The weight of her once overbearing brain had gone, no more thoughts, no more voices, no more feelings and memories. The constant excruciating inflammation of her fiery heart was now quenched with the coolness of silent haze. The hollowness of her insatiable stomach was replaced by the fullness of the promise of an ending. She continued down the field, her self-awareness like a white dress slowly slipping off of her.

Behind her the car had burst into flames and two young firemen who had seen the fire from afar ran to see what was happening. She conveniently parked the car just near a fire brigade – after all, she did not want to cause any harmful fires. To her these boys were merely shadows from the distant realm of everydayness, where life carries on from day to day trapped within bodies of malfunctioning organs. These shadowy creatures, unable to interact directly with their environment in any meaningful manner were thus forever condemned to a life behind shadows and objects. Unable to put out the fire themselves for their meaty constitution would not have been able to withstand the heat, these creatures brought forth devices that contained a substance that could drown her fires. Through the windows white, thick smoke dust ejaculated from these devices and onto the red and orange tongues of heat. The dust particles penetrated the fires reaching Yolanda’s flaming body, and although it could feel nothing, for her spirit this felt like a thousand rivers had finally come to extinguish her never ending fire.

As the heavens opened and flooded on her, the last crusts of her self-awareness peeled off and washed away. Any sense of identity and personality, any hint of an ego and false conceptions simply diluted within the cosmic waters. She was no longer Yolanda, she was indeed dead. Yolanda would only be true within the dark cavities of the memories of the people that had known her in the world of shadows, memories that would eventually dilute themselves into the oblivion and fragility of the human condition. As the fires evaporated into smoke off her dead body, so did the last parts of her existence drowned within the infinity of these cosmic waters.

To their astonishment the firemen discovered a perfectly sculpted statue behind the fires.

Ode to Polz II

Inside the symmetrical temple, the divine creatures worked tirelessly to create her. They used only top-quality material: love, power, beauty, energy, and supreme feeling. They carefully sculpted every bit of her being with extreme precision and attention to detail. They gave her powers beyond human understanding, she was, after all, a divine creation herself just posing as a human being. Finally when their work was done, they placed her inside a glass egg for preservation and display. She was probably the most prized possession of their museum of extraordinary entities, a creature engineered to perfection; tourists spent hours gazing at her beauty and absorbing the energy she so gladly emitted for everyone to share. Anyone who laid eyes on her would be blessed with luck and good charms, anyone who received her sparkling energy would be raised high above the ground and into the soft, swirling clouds.

Perhaps she didn’t know her purpose, no one ever told her after all, that she would be the model for generations of humans to come. Next to her glass egg, new concepts were being displayed as the divine creatures worked for this new reality they called physicality. On her right lied time and space, two truly odd constructs that would accommodate these new beings. On her left lied a map of the universe, a virtual reality populated with interesting structures such as stars and black holes, engineered with precision to assure the sustainability of this new system. The tourists were obviously interested in these new ideas, perhaps one day they would be able to experience this virtual reality, but their true eagerness always remained on the image of this beautiful creature and the possibility of a world populated by numerous such creatures.

Empathy Pains

I don’t like complaining, but I need to get this off my chest. Being an empath sucks! Perhaps it is my experience of it that is to blame, perhaps I am just a not very advanced empath and that’s why I am suffering a lot of times. See, the way I feel people’s emotions is like distortions in the atmosphere, the stronger the emotion and the more ‘base’ it is, the higher the distortion is. It doesn’t matter whether an emotion is “positive” or “negative” in the traditional sense, someone being very excited about something can be worse than someone being angry. It is all about the quality of the emotion, and from my experience when the emotion is self-centred, whatever that emotion may be, the lower its quality will be. On the other hand higher emotions (that are usually selfless) are felt as an absence of distortion, peacefulness, like everything is right. So when someone is feeling pure happiness or love (which is not very often) I feel happy myself not because of the actual emotion produced, but by the calm absence of distortion in the atmosphere. Now, with prolonged exposure to a person (typically after a minute or two) I am aware of the kind of emotion present, the way I am aware this is by feeling exactly what the other person is feeling in his energy body. This would typically be a sting on the navel chakra, but it can take part on all chakras. The most common ones after the navel is the solar plexus, heart and throat. At this point I am virtually feeling what they are feeling although I may not be able to describe it verbally. That’s because people’s emotions are usually so jumbled up and confused that they themselves may not be clear as to what they are feeling or why. I find a lot of times that I have a better grasp of people’s feelings than they have of their own. With even longer exposure (more than 6 hours) my energy body slowly absorbs these disturbances from the person completely healing them, and causing me to go through what they were going through with these emotions although they are discarded from me at a much more faster rate. One can say that I am an unwilling healer.

It’s been almost a year since my empathic abilities manifested and since then I have been trying to deal with it. I tried using a shield but found it useless in public places or with people I am close to. I tried just going with the flow and letting the distortion just pass through me, but that just made things worse. I have found that alcohol completely blocks the empathy, but that sort of block completely alienates me from people and plus I don’t like drinking! The best defence I’ve found against the distortion is creating an inner feeling of happiness and euphoria; this actively blocks my empathy senses as they are saturated by my own feelings. Like a shield this is very hard to keep up for a long time, it can be very tiring and then if I lose it the distortion attacks stronger than before. It is the best way I have found though for blocking people’s emotions in cases of public places and mobs in the streets. The worst thing is when I’m not feeling very well myself, if for example I’m depressed or a bit ill then I’m so sensitive to the distortions it almost becomes unbearable. Locking myself in the house is the only solution but I am still affected by my housemate, and if she happens to be in a bad mood… I’m screwed.

I wish people close to me would be more considerate of this, but not a lot of them really believe or can understand what it really means to be an empath. One thing is for sure though, empathy has brought me closer to people, or more like accept everyone for what they are. Being able to read everyone like open books means that I can see beyond their layers of false personality and get a glimpse of their essence, which is beautiful in each and everyone. :)

The Programmer

The universe? Well, it was quite a radical idea for its time, although at the time there was no time. It was based on a simple code really, with a few basic parameters; its elementary structure was the manifestation of the strange theory of "opposite attraction." This revolutionary hypothesis postulated the expression of two interacting yet completely opposite forces. These opposing forces in their pure state had no characteristics or attributes, the only distinction between them was their inherent division and contradiction. In the core of each force we placed an equal sample of the opposite force, so as to ensure an underlying attraction and prevent their cancellation. With this cross-sampling we accomplished a stable single force with its foundation intrinsically divided yet constantly attracted in itself. This force can be imagined as a disc containing a particle and an anti-particle with their nuclei switched between themselves. Once this basic set of code was completed, all we had to do was to set it into a spinning motion; in effect our part in the creation of the universe was only that of the initial dual code and that first push to set it into motion. After that, everything just took form on its own; of course we had already anticipated some of the first explications of the code, but we only anticipated up to a certain point, afterwards the code would get too complicated to predict.

In essence what happened was that this “particle” if one may call it that, started duplicating itself, creating many particles that, driven by their inherent attracting opposite forces started interacting with each other. The growing in complication interactions between these particles would create bigger clusters of particles that as units would interact between even bigger units. This new dynamic created by the interaction between the primordial particles is what created the first manifestations of time, space and evolution. The latter most importantly was an after effect of the initial spinning motion that we had specifically programmed. Particles work alone or together to evolve into more complicated sets of parameters, and therefore receive more means to react and evolve further. As they move along the spiral like motion, they interact with each other and their reaction brings about a change that is internalised in a loop. Once the particle-group is habituated with this new set of coding it springs upwards continuing the spiral motion, in other words, it evolves. One could then say that evolution is a result of program conflict.

The first complicated programs to evolve are what are called the “Master Programs.” These are very large in space yet quite simple in coding structure in comparison to the “Living Programs”. The Master Programs are essentially pure equations (combinations) of particles that interact with each other at a larger scale. These include (in no particular order): gravity, electromagnetism, radiation, stars, black holes, galaxies, nebulae, dark matter, elemental matter, minerals, crystals, atoms, quanta. Note how all these are interrelated with one another, forming groups and sub-groups. Once all the Master Programs are established we come to the end of the first wave of explication of code.

The second wave of program evolution came about when the Master Programs, having reached a saturated state of complication of code started creating more complex structures, the “Living Programs” as aforementioned. This new set of programs in comparison to their ancestors, were very compact containing far more information yet occupying a miniscule amount of space. This meant that they did not possess the global scale influence that the Master Programs had, although they themselves were largely influenced and motivated by the Master Programs as a basic background framework. Examples of the first manifestations of this complicated set of codes include proteins, and early forms of nucleic acids. These new programs, following the primordial notions of movement, action, reaction, interaction and reproduction kick-started their own game of evolution among themselves (always with the Master framework as a backdrop) that itself evolved to a new dynamic called “survival”, or in simple terms, the perpetuation of a particular set of code.

I guess the point of this experiment was to prove that through an oxymoron, a paradoxical set of coding, an anti-reality if you may, we could create (anti-)entities capable of experiencing or producing reality in themselves. Capable of realising that the reality that surrounds them can only be anti-reality, and henceforth devising and discovering ways of uniting with the real world. What we had in fact proven was that it was possible for a perfectly complete individual living entity to be born out of nothing, well, almost nothing. It was an interesting experiment, aye, it ignited some heated debates at its time but like all fads, it just faded away at some point, abandoned, left in its own devices. Now and then I wonder whether there are still living entities in there, wondering why their world is so absurd, trying to find their way out…

The truth is… “nobody” actually programmed this system you call the “universe.” The programmer of the universe was programmed by the programmer of his own universe; just another program created by another program in the grand hierarchy of programs…

MANIFESTO v.∞

Ultimate Reality Check / ReEvaluation

I have been having a hard time (psychologically) for over a week now; the last time such an extended depression had occurred was around the beginning of December. My problem at the time was feeling completely dissociated from the physical world and so I started a grounding procedure that led to a very positive and content mood. My heart chakra was fully balanced and I felt a pure love for everyone and everything, the beauty I saw everywhere was so immense that at times I felt like crying. At nights, I stopped involuntarily projecting to other planes and instead remained in the dream plane where I spent time with my family. Yet I find myself depressed again, and this time I seem to find no reason. I’ve become very anti-social and have been manically cleaning; I have no appetite nor care about self-maintenance. The sky is permanently dark and grey. My insight last time was that depression is self-indulgent, so I let my self indulge but now it’s time to spiral above my ego, and back to living in the present. I found this “manifesto” that I’ve written in June and I have found it to be quite powerful to read, it completely sobers me up and puts me into focus. I have made some adjustments, and will use this as a tool whenever something feels wrong.

(Speaking of wrong though, there is something fishy going on in a spiritual level, something is brewing, a change is poking from the other side, trying to manifest. Polz has felt it also although she sees it more as an internal transformation whereas I see it as a global one. It doesn’t feel good nor bad, it’s just neutral, like this smoke coming in between things and slightly blurring them, taking them out of focus and perhaps transforming them into something else. Something is definitely going on.)


Friday, June 2, 2006: “The following manifesto is version ∞ because it has been written/expressed an almost ∞ number of times in the past in my various diaries, sketchbooks, poems, trances, trips and dreams. It is the ultimate check of reality checks, it is the divine reminder, the road to the “formidable” exit. This new version marks the realisation of this set of rules as constants, thought manifestations of a message sent a long time ago. In other words, it is a survival guide for old soles like me and you.”

- I am more than my physical body.
- I am more than the sum of all of my thoughts.
- Every day is a new day, and I am a new person.
- I have chosen to enter this vehicle.
- I love myself and my body.
- I have chosen the course of this material life life.
- I am fully in control of this life.
- I am learning through the experience of material life.
- I am sharing the experience of material life.
- I am a part of a larger personality cluster.
- Knowledge is a force that guides me.
- Creation is a force that guides me.
- Intuition is a force that guides me.
- Beauty is a force that guides me.
- Love is a force that guides me.
- Gravity can pull me down but also lift me up.
- Light is the essence of matter.
- Limitlessness is my goal.
- Truth is my goal.
- Purity is my goal.
- Peace is my goal.

Grounded

I've had some grounding problems that were causing great discomfort in my everyday life, my excessive meditations and obsession with all things spiritual completely removed me from my physical existence, I'd find myself floating just above my head most of the time and seeing everything from a non-physical perspective. I felt completely disconnected from the physical world to the extent of looking at myself in the mirror and just seeing an image of a mere vehicle, a distant physical representation of myself. This ended up in a short depression period when I decided to take control of the situation and literally ground myself! The same night of this decision I had one last projection that explained to me a lot of things about my purpose here on earth and after that, communication with the higher planes stopped.
See, in order to be a balanced individual, one needs to be in touch with both physical and spiritual planes, one shouldn't take over the other. Now I'm more grounded than ever, my dreams have returned back to normal mundane dreams, I'm taking care of my physical vehicle as my own and I have to say I feel fantastic. When I feel I am fully grounded, I will start a morning mantra meditation to reconnect with the above!

My grounding recipe:
1. Take care and love your body as your own: do not neglect to feed it, daily exercise (gym & yoga), eat healthily, do not smoke, drink or do any drugs, take time to groom it and clean it. Make it look pretty!
2. Meditate on lower chakras, especially your neglected base chakra that can ease you back to earthly existence, pranayama and energy raising to lower 3 chakras.
3. Carry a grounding stone with you, I have an Onyx always in my left pocket, but an Obsidian and other black stones should do the trick.
4. Apply an Amethyst on your forehead when going to sleep. This will soften up the third eye, quiet your over-active mind and also give you pleasant lucid dreams!
5. Have frequent sex with a loved one, sex is a great grounding tool that can balance your over-active heart. Just release all the energy from your heart during... love-making
6. Make sure to socialise at least once a week and appreciate people around you, friends or not. Talking about everyday, mundane, non-spiritual stuff will balance your over-active throat chakra.

The//Warrior

The Crystal Dragon
This has been going on for quite a while now, but I have never talked about it directly (partly because it all sounds so off the wall) and I think it’s time I put all of my experiences into order. As a child I was trained in a Crystal Dragon temple, and by the age of 6 I had compiled a large journal of my experiences in this temple. The training involved lessons on the origin/makings of the universe, astral projection, shielding, healing and energy raising. I also received some peculiar lessons about evading time through vortices (black holes?) that are scattered throughout the universe, and was shown a great variety of worlds/locales in the astral plane. The end of the training became quite violent, as I was shown how to battle using energy through my fingertips as a primary weapon but also using the imagination to conjure up objects that could act as weapons. It was about that time that my training had stopped, or I quit, but I was left with the power of channelling. Only in very few occasions have I managed to channel information at my own will; most of the time the channelling process starts on its own distorting any physical sound around me and creating a loud high-pitched sound in my head that leads me into a trance. Throughout the past 20 years I have channelled various information (whether in 'speech' form or in visual form) ranging from the macrocosmic to the microcosmic from 3 distinct sources but have been unable to make contact on my own initiative except a couple of times. At around the age of 10, I decided to start meditation, which mostly involved chakra activation, microcosmic orbit and mantra chanting in the lotus position. All my spiritual knowledge at the time was coming directly from my parents who were involved in the very traditional and strict eastern philosophy of Sant Mat. For the next 10 years or so, I was meditating on and off, and had some very interesting experiences including past-life regression but never consciously went to any astral temples. I actually had forgotten completely about my experiences in the Dragon temple, dismissing the book I had written as childish fantasies.

Turning point
By the age of 18, I had finally got over a long and heavy teenage depression and was finally out of a truly traumatic school experience where I was bullied and outcasted. By that time my meditations had also become quite sporadic as I was involved in the normal things people get up to during that age, i.e. sex, drugs and drum ‘n’ bass. That didn’t last for long though, soon something would happen that would scar me for life… To cut a long depressing story short, my mother, a highly spiritual person was reaching a great breakthrough in her spiritual advancement when an incarnate neg came into her life. She described him as "a person without an aura" and she had disturbing past-life memories of him as a Nazi (my family was involved in WWII in our previous life), in a matter of months she went completely mad and unsuccessfully tried to kill herself numerous times using quite… unusual methods. The doctors could not explain it, she was given so many pills that absolutely had no effect on her and probably made things worse. Finally after two years of suicide attempts, she put herself on fire and now she is scarred for life physically and spiritually. My whole family was completely destroyed and separated because of this incident but I will not go into more gruesome details, the important thing is that this traumatic experience completely reshaped me and changed me. For those two years of hell on earth, I had completely forgotten who I was as I had to put my emotions aside so as not to go mad myself but also because I had no time to think about myself, my life revolved around preventing her from killing herself or taking her to the hospital every time she’d do something crazy. I was basically left alone to do this, as my father fled the house not being able to handle the pressure and became an alcoholic fugitive. By the end of the second year of suicides, my sister had finished her studies abroad and came back home so I went to study in London; we basically switched places. That first year in England was perhaps the most depressing year of my life; being away from the situation, I only knew what was happening through the phone while trying to grasp the emotions that I had accumulated over the years. Nervous breakdown upon nervous breakdown, I started to rediscover myself and build strength and hope out of utter nothingness. I realised that I had great power within me, not a lot of people would have survived what I had been through. I realised that life was worth living, and that suicide was not an option; through my mother’s suffering and my pain I found light. And the light urged me to return back to meditation, to rediscover my spirituality and my long forgotten childhood. Healing my wounds was a slow and painful process, but now looking back to what happened, I wouldn’t change anything. It all happened for a reason, and I’ve become a stronger, better person because of it.

Phase shift
It was almost two years ago that I started being interested in astral projection when I was given a book called “The Magic of Astral Voyages.” I was really fascinated and wondered why I hadn’t thought about projecting before even though I knew about it. I soon read everything there is about it on the internet, got all the Monroe, Bruce and Castaneda books and read them all back to back. I also got hold of the Hemi-Sync Gateway series, and it’s been two years now that I listen to the hemi-sync sounds every single night while trying to project. My first conscious projection happened in March 2006, although I had many experiences before that through lucid dreaming including some visitations to the Akashic records (led by an animal guide) and encounters with my guides. Since then I have projected many times, stumbled on a few obstacles, flew around the galaxy, accessed some very ancient previous lives and developed a very strong sense of empathy that I struggled to cope with during this summer. My projections are not OBEs in the traditional sense, I seem to just shift from one plane to the next without any linear transition, which is a much faster process but I still don’t seem to have control over what ‘station’ I’m tuning into; I just automatically tap into the dimension my frequency has the closest affinity to. It’s amazing how many things have happened, and the amount of information I have channelled over such a small period of time. Needless to say, slowly memories of my childhood training started emerging and after a thorough excavation in my parents’ old house I found the book I had written so many years ago. The writing style is too advanced for a 6 year old, and so is the scientific and spiritual knowledge in it… it’s just surreal.

Warrior training
Since September my experiences have taken a very different turn. During a projection, I was led by a guide through a dark underground corridor to a set of sliding elevator doors. The guide explained to me that there is a “Master” on the ground floor who will bring me up if he thinks I am ready to be initiated. The elevator comes down and I get in and go up but the doors don't open so I go back down. The guide tells me it's not time yet. The process is repeated several times until finally the saint presses this red button and I'm out in the ground floor, which is not really a floor of a building but this vast beautiful green landscape. The saint looks at me and smiles and leaves, and I ask my guide "so that was it? I'm initiated now?" the guide says yes. It was at that time that I realised there was a long queue behind me in the dark corridor waiting to come up. After that, I had a series of training sessions with a group of people for surviving the “big flood,” these involved very repetitive dreams where I had to evade a large wave of water while helping other people out of the flood. At the successful end of these sessions, the guide that supervised the training came to talk to me in private so the rest of the group wouldn’t hear. He gave me some sad news about a member of my family dying in the near future, but also said that I shouldn’t worry, that everything would end soon. I was like "everything, as in everything?" he said yes and then I looked down (I was at the top of a building) and there was a parade of soldiers all dressed up as ancient Greek warriors; they were presented as actors doing their part in the great play, the ‘upcoming war’.

For another few weeks, whenever I would go to bed, I would shift into this dimension that looked like a huge fighting arena with many levels/floors. Here I faced some scary demon-looking creatures that I intuitively knew I had to fight. Whenever I’d lose, the whole thing would start all over again until I got it right. This “battle training” lasted for weeks making me very tired in physical waking life as I barely managed to get any sleep. The good thing is that I was getting better at it, up to the point where I would ‘win’ my enemies every time. After the initial shock of this very violent training, I started becoming very accustomed of it so one day I decided since I couldn’t project in the outside world, to project within myself and clean up my core images. What I found in my heart chakra was a large amount of ugly core images all over the place. They all had an image of this tall man with a beard that looked quite frightening, I don't know who this man was but I instinctively knew I had to destroy him. I quickly took out my rocket launcher and started shooting at him; whenever I'd 'kill' him another image of him would appear and soon there were thousands of copies of him everywhere. I found a large endless staircase and on each step there was a copy of this man. I flew down the stairs to the ground level and randomly shot everywhere until each copy was gone. Then he appeared in his true colours, he was in fact this floating semi-transparent dark spirit with a large coiled tail like a reptile, and when I saw his 'real' looks my fear was completely gone and quickly shot a rocket at him burning him into ashes. The relief was tremendous and I slept like a baby after that. The core image hunting continued for 3 days, until I returned back to the ‘battle arena.’ This time things felt different, it felt that it wasn’t training anymore, that if I lost there wouldn’t be a repeat and I had the profound feeling that I was now chasing other people’s demons, although I am not sure what that meant. Everyday life had become unbearable during this time, and I went through a small depression, which could be an effect from all the core image cleansing. I felt completely disconnected from the physical world to the extent of looking at myself in the mirror and just seeing an image of a mere vehicle, a distant physical representation of myself. I finally stumbled on a book about angels that said that the ‘ego is very self-indulgent’; I felt that I was just indulging my ego by being depressed and immediately the depression disappeared. Talk about fast depression recovery! I finally returned back to normal sleep, and I finally had the chance for some peaceful energy raising. My inner projections continued, now without the core images, and during my visit to the navel chakra I got to see how emotions are generated and manipulated through this complicated mechanism of spinning wheels. I am sure I have heard about this spinning wheel mechanism before but I am not sure where.

Last night, my questions about all this have been finally answered. I was back in this vast temple/castle that I had seen before in my projections and my dreams. The endless staircases, the labyrinth of corridors, the smell of old stone, large museum-like chambers, murals on the walls, it was all there, but this time there was something different, it was filled with people! These people walked around in a hurry talking with each other, or going about their own business. In fact everybody was moving in fast motion, including me, and it distinctly felt that I was in a school; I joked to myself that this was like Harry Potter. ‘Nah. We’re more like the Jedis’ said some laughing voices and I realised I was with a group of fellow students that heard my thought. It was made clear to me that we were to investigate the ‘enemy formation’ and we descended down an underground tunnel that led to another completely different setting. The group cautioned me not to go any further, and I told them I knew what I was doing; I took a peak out of the tunnel and what I saw was what looked like the clone army from Star Wars making these very peculiar spiral formations across a mountain. I thought to myself that it was funny that the Jedi comment made everything Star Wars themed, when I was spotted by one of the clones and they started throwing fireballs at us. The whole scene restarted again from the beginning with us entering the tunnel which made it obvious that this was just a training session. The thing kept repeating and repeating until at some point I got hit by a fireball and with some panic I extinguished the fire off of me and returned back home.

It all sounds quite absurd but I can’t help but to see connections here. I was never into the whole Star Wars thing, nor did I ever bother reading about the Jedi temple in the astral etc. After this experience though, I have done some investigation and found that the Jedi temple is actually the Warrior’s temple in the astral, a place that many people claim to at least have seen. It would make sense that I was at some point initiated into this temple and went straight to the warrior training before being allowed to see and interact with these other people. It’s funny, because I have been complaining that I’m a solitary mercenary without any help whereas in fact I am just part of this larger community of warriors. God, it all sounds so absurd! Warriors? What are we fighting against, who is this enemy, and what of this war? I looked it up on many forums and people deny the existence of a war, but then again why would we be training if there isn’t any war? Need more information!

LOVE

Not erotic love, not friendly love, not motherly love, but just pure love – well, as pure as it can get on an otherwise impure planet. Forget all your conceptions and misconceptions, love is just a word, a code applied to a concept that cannot be described by language, for language is merely an imperfect code laid out by imperfect beings, which clearly cannot describe neither perfection nor what lies beyond it. Love is not an emotion, love is not a feeling, love cannot be heard or seen or touched. Love just is. Love has no opposite, no other side, no downside. It cannot be compared to anything, it cannot be measured, it cannot be accounted for. Love is perfect. Love is the sum of the universe, love is the driving force of life, love is every atom and every void, love is you and me. Love is the greatest lesson in this universe. Love is just a word.

Freedom without Love
Yet, if love is everywhere, and love is all there is, then it baffles me to see people completely block it and ignore it as almost something trivial. I do not understand, shouldn’t everyone want to love and be loved? It is the great tragedy of the human condition to oppose its very nature, the billions of atoms filled with love that make us up. Offer your unconditional love to another human being, and they might not even acknowledge the gesture, let alone its content. Open your heart inside out, and hit a brick wall. Utter “I love you” and receive mockery and disbelief. Show them recognition and respect, give them affection and care, pleasure, laughter and sex and they will gladly take it. For some people, these things qualify as love, for some people, this is the only ‘love’ they have ever felt. It saddens me to find how people are totally oblivious and unresponsive to love; it truly devastates me to see how everybody’s hearts are all so completely blocked. People are free, in a prison without love. What a paradox, what an oxymoron, what a tragedy.

Captivity with Love
What happens then, if you find youself in this loveless prison having acquired, understood, been enlightened with Love? Then you recognise your imprisonment, you realise you are not free, you realise you are a captive, a renegade, an outcast in a prison without love. You are innocent, yet found guilty. You love, but your love has no place in this prison. You quickly turn to your fellow prisoners but they think they’re free! You try to give them love, you try to make them understand, but they do not want to see, they do not want to open their hearts, for that would lead to the realisation of their own imprisonment, failing to see how this realisation is the closest they could ever be to actual freedom. Slowly and quite painstakingly, you find others that have opened up their hearts, others that have realised their false freedom, and between yourselves, quietly and carefully plan your escape. You discover that the only means of escape lies within your own heart; you immerse yourself inside it and explore its endless landscapes, and get a glimpse of what freedom really is. Then you return back to the confines of the prison that becomes smaller and more claustrophobic by the minute. This time though, the journeys inside the world of hearts have armed you with some gifts; you have now acquired empathy, unconditional love, inspiration and creativity. With these weapons on your tired back, you unwillingly become a wilful warrior; perhaps now you can fight them guards that have locked you up in this prison, perhaps now you can free all these souls that think they are free. Perhaps…

Honestly fucked-up

I’ve been sincerely and whole-heartedly fucked-up,
Doubly fucked by parents thrice fucked-up,
Three times three, myself I fucked.


The people around me, clearly all fucked-up,
The people I love, conditionally fucked-up,
Two by four, my lovers I fucked.


The culture I live in, undoubtedly fucked-up,
The human condition, factually fucked-up,
Square root six, my perceptions I fucked.


The nature of one’s fucked-upness,
Relies on the basis of one simple equation:
One plus one equals one, or I just fucked-up.