Human Obsession With History

The obsession with history has become a hindrance to humans.   You may ask how this can be. Isn’t where we come from important information to have in order to understand ourselves?  What does this question mean?  “Where do we come from?”

You have been told that history will reveal to you, who you are and where you are going.  We say this may not be the full truth.  Your televisions have History channels and public networks telling you to stay focused on the history of your planet.

Could this be another mind control tactic intended to keep you distracted from working on your own inner spirit journey?

If powerful humans can keep humans they perceive less powerful focused in on confusing history stories, arguments of origins, who is right, who is wrong, with such a fervor that it causes a frenzy worldwide, where in this search are you connecting with you?   You aren’t because they have succeeded in distracting you.

Ask yourself if part of this, the real intent, of media focus on history is merely an intricately woven veil used to cover your eyes, keep you mesmerized and caught up so as not to face the one human who matters most to you.  You.

If every human faced themselves, released all belief systems existing outside of their own being and embraced their ability to love, what would be the outcome?

Consider that humans have been programmed and conditioned with the need for ritual and worship.

What does ritual do for you?  Does it make you feel a part of something greater than you?  What could possibly be greater than your existence?  Think of that sentence.  Why are you always looking for something greater than you?

Why can you never find it?

You don’t find it in religions because they do not eliminate your pain.  You do not find it because you forget to look at yourself.  So why is this such a difficult concept to accept; that you are the greatness you seek?  The truth of you is as simple as you rejecting what you have been forced to believe and listening to your own DNA, which is always attempting to speak with you.

You have been conditioned for centuries to believe that you must be a part of societies and that you must worship deities.  If you do not, you are shunned, labeled as weird, psychotic and an outcast of their group.  So instead of standing alone and feeling strength within that space belonging solely to you, you find your worth inside of groups where you will be viewed as normal.

This is the most abnormal way that a being can live.   Imagine a life where you, harming none, live the happiest you can, embracing a deep understanding that you have full control over yourself.

If only you just accept it.

~K~

Stream of Consiousness III

It is midnight and the rain is falling.  There are never torrents here in this land of evergreen forest.  She pours softly from the eave gliding down the tree leaves outside my window. 

I have knocking pain strobes in my eye sockets,  headache gone raw.  Sleep is a tender trinket dangling and taunting my view. 

Counting woolen lambs never led me to dream land.  What might I miss if I’m not aware to watch the night? What might my eyes exclude?  Where might I find myself wandering if I go down under?

My Oz is not the home Dorothy dreams of. 

There are teeth longer than devil nails chattering in the distance, while I wish on stars like the ghosts don’t exist.  I pull out fuck you guns, first my left, then my right.  I have the predators in my sight. 

Hush little angel. Don’t you cry. I’ll hold you as you say goodbye. How could they look into our eyes and think what they did was alright? 

I’m not in pain or angry.  At least not in this moment.  Answers are coded in light beams where truth is not what it seems, illusions are fueled by schemes and in the end they’re still screaming. 

But right now it’s me and the raindrops keeping my heart from stopping.  It’s me and the water. I flow. Mother. Sister. Daughter.  I am the eyes of my father with a shattered heart, left sore from too many wars. 

And his silence aches as I feel his heartbreak, the whispers of his tears.  Too many years lost.  Wind. 

But it’s just me and the rain again.   

Streams of Consciousness

I don’t write in this category often. I don’t want to share the daily grind. Held back by need for privacy, knowing that vultures are always waiting, insignificant events in the interim. Funny how people hide their shame. Who gives a fuck. It’s all a game of who can judge better, and my heart is thick and egg is good for the skin.

People make me ponder. Why are so many ascended ones still struggling with closed minds? I’m going to listen to my gut instinct on that one. I felt it from day one It just feels off. No need for explanations. Follow the path.

So many things about c-ptsd taken for granted; like why we don’t remember conversations well, or how we met people, or even names that go with faces. We remember what was significant to us. It never matches the other person’s memory. The result, we are perceived as unstable in our thinking at times.

Yet, I observe from an understanding that most people just simply don’t have the facts to be able to understand. I’m tired of explaining. It’s time for people to step up and care in general on a human level. When I see it lacking in someone, the inability to open to altering possibilities, I move on now. I just don’t have the desire to waste any more time. I want to say grow up and read. Be self educated. There’s no excuse. Accept information. Consider it. Weigh it. Open your mind.

Quit taking it all so fucking personal. Truth hurts because you let it hurt you. Instead of letting it water your seedling.

A year of aloneness and inward focus. My eyelids fade to grey. I can tell when it’s not time to speak yet. So I say enough to scatter the bread crumbs and satisfy the watchers.

Grandiose delusions. Just a spark inside infancy. Infinite sea. The more I speak, the more I just want to be silent. Some things are meant just for me, and that’s where acceptance comes to be.

The need to share holds hands with validation. The one who needs none, they say, is the most powerful on earth. Science. Facts. None of it is relevant except for;

The straining to hear
The weariness of human language
The readiness to sleep a thousand years

How comforting that thought.

This mission has been fought with precision, and from where I stand there’s a battle at hand.

I know what will come, and it feels like a shrug.