123024

Dec. 30th, 2024 11:59 pm
prismaticbleed: (aflame)

I promised I wouldn't go to sleep until I at least took notes on this.

It's private until it's posted so don't write to an audience. That will kill the whole sincerity of it.


We went to mass at NOoL this morning because they usually have the Precious Blood (they're the only church left that regularly gives it that we know of) but... they didn't. It may be because there were fewer people at Mass than I'd ever seen there. Maybe it was because of Christmas. Maybe it was because of all the contagious illnesses going around right now. But we didn't get it. And that hurt.
I went back to my pew and mentally told God this. I felt almost betrayed. Why did You keep it from me? I was honest. I was yearning for it. I needed it so badly. Why could I not have it today?
And then suddenly I was in that particular mindscape where Jesus appears to me, that odd small place like a holy painting, and He "said" it was because of what He wanted to do instead-- and that was give me the Chalice upstairs. Which means literal Blood.
He's done it before. It drives me insane. He pours Blood from His Heart into a Chalice and hands it to me and I drink it and it's like the entire Creation account happening in my brain all at once. I feel it in my heart as well as in my head and every nerve I have. I'm on my knees, sobbing, stunned.
It's a moment that feels entirely like Infi. Ze always used to be with me, then. And if anything would "ping" hir, that was it.
I felt that loss so hard it hurt. I said to the Lord, "you said Christmas," that ze would be back. Maybe He didn't say so exactly; I've learned that hard dates aren't something He does. But I had hoped for it, so much, and the "loss" of Christmas this year as well was just devastating.
But... His reaction took me by surprise. He smiled, knowingly, and said, isn't it still Christmas? Isn't it the octave right now? It's not over.

And I don't know what happened next but the next thing I remember is being in the car, driving back to start the day's errands, listening to This House Of Winter as I went to the gas station, and... I was in heartspace. Blackspace. I think I just went right into it. and I was looking for Infi.



rough notes so I don't forget because I do need to sleep

- i think i tried to "find hir hands" to hold them. but couldn't. felt so wrong, to not be able to touch hir, or make contact.
-
- at the gas station i was TALKING TO HIR. i don't remember how it happened. but ze was "visible", yet in that way where you can't look at hir directly. (like death in rosewindow, ironically enough)
-
- infi had the stained glass wings. they felt weirdly sterile. yes they're beautiful but it felt... wrong? off? somehow.
- i remember asking about hir wings. why no more eyes and mouths. did ze say they were dangerous? or had been used? did we say this was more fear self-erasure?
- infi's "vibe" off in any case. fearing irreparable damage from cnc. "fallen angel." ze terrified to become "infidhell" again. refusing to go "just facemouth" or "mouthless", only having both at once. but this was suppressing the entirety of hir self, of hir very form and identity, how ze was created to be. but the fear was that form had been corrupted, ruined, which is why ze had left it in death
-
- most important point started when i brought up the fact that ze was basically intangible. ze said that was the point. "that way nothing can touch me" basically. there was a pause? ze added in a different, quieter voice, "do you want to touch me?"
- my response was "i want to hold you to my heart and i can't" and infi just stopped and after a few moments of silence ze just whispered "what have i done?" "what have i lost?"
- moment of stunned realization on hir part. in abandoning corporeality ze had abandoned the reason why ze existed: to love and be loved.
- ze suddenly, but perceptibly and strikingly resolutely, in that moment, "decided" to come back. i FELT it. it was that realization that i still loved hir and wanted to be with hir and i am SURE ze felt the same and ze wanted it too. and that just changed things
- key phrase, i remember saying how wrong it felt to not have hir with me, physically. literally "my heart needs to be beating inside of your chest" point blank emotional shot. emphasis on need
- there was such a feeling between us both during this conversation. like the sun rising after months of darkness. first light on the horizon and it's going to light up the whole world. that sort of feeling, a promise. a deep quiet burning love, an ardor unvoiced. the glimmer of it returning. the knowing that we could not turn back and would never dream of doing so. it was only forwards now that we felt this. it must be acted upon, life must return, no more fear
-
- KEY MOMENT: i "summoned" a small yet sharp red dagger, like an arterial curve, out of my forehead? felt like a unicorn horn. it was "JEWEL'S" i knew; it was Red, that's hers. but i used it to "cut my right wrist" just to get blood. and it was STARRY BLACK. but just white glitter, no colors.
- i collected this blood in a chalice (just like earlier!) and gave it to Infi
- ze paused and looked at it for a second, then drank it all. looked like ze was about to sob. huge significance in the action
- the blood went into hir and COLORED HIR SHIMMERY like ze looked before ze died. and it went to hir wings and spread through the glass and made them organic again, full of blood, part of hir
-
- whitewomb still totally gone. i remember it was all sewn up again like it had been once. red threads. i asked hir if ze thought it would come back and ze said ze didn't want it to? because that's where all the trauma memories went?? this surprised me, i didn't think it was so physically literal
- i said "but those memories became global now"; they are accessible to anyone looking for cnc data. infi looked SHOCKED and said what? ze had thought those memories would be mine alone after ze died. yes they were "disarmed" but they weren't supposed to be public information apparently?? it's STILL TRAUMA and infi didnt want ANYONE ELSE tainted by it. somehow this was a breaking point. ze said "i NEED to come back." like full stop. ze literally died because ze wanted that to die with hir. ze wanted to put the trauma to death, to take it to the grave, to give us the ability to start over by removing hirself-- the "cause" of all the terror-- from the world we lived in. and to an extent, it worked. but i can't live without hir. it seems none of us can. and... this revelation that hir death "numbed" the pain from the memories by deleting hir conscious presence in them, but didn't DETACH the memories, was unacceptable??
- type more about this because it was THE thing that infi refused to tolerate. "i have to come back" literally BECAUSE of this.
- ze was the focus of the hacks. ze was their main "door" to us. ze was the doomed "instigator" of the worst trauma in cnc because of hir programmed submissiveness. and ze literally thought that dying, trying to erase hirself from the world, would "free us" from all that and allow us to start over, to heal, to move on. it didn't. everything stopped dead when ze died. we need hir. I need hir most of all. and i am willing to take every risk and face every pain and i am willing to feel the horror of those trauma memories WITH hir. i just want hir back. i need hir to come back. i absolutely appreciate and respect and revere hir sacrifice, what ze did. i will never degrade that or take it for granted. it was a self-offering for the sake of saving us, ze hoped.
- but ze DIDN'T think the memories would be SO "neutralized" that they would become "ACCESSIBLE DATA"??? ze gave the impression that that's a BIGGER risk?? like even if the trauma response is "numbed" in them they SHOULDN'T BE "JUST LOOKED AT." or even able to be looked at. and i think maybe ze realized the problem actually was removing hirself from them. we can't feel anything lately. i think this is a big part of why.
-
- later on, with the dagger again, thinking about how ze died. and how ze would need to come back. still feeling disconnected from hir, being still discarnate. how to fix this, thinking, reverse of death. i held the dagger in my hands and looked at it and then looked at infi and everything had this awful beautiful ache and i was scared but i still wanted this. i held it out to hir
- ze took it and after a very powerful, knowing pause, hir looking at my chest, ze didn't hesitate or flinch and just plunged it in and sliced me open. it was shocking how bluntly direct it was. but there was a passion in it, i know infi, if it's not 100% it's nothing
- i opened the wound like a stigmata shape and then reached in and "took out my heart," it was "symbolically but really" represented as a large white crystal heart, illuminated brightly from inside. (strikingly, again, no prism colors. just white)
- i knew i couldn't break or cut it. it had to stay whole
- i placed it between us, at chestwound level, and then i reached out and did what i said i would. i held hir to my heart. except in pulling hir close it became ours. half in me, half in hir.
- no words for what that felt like. both of us in tears. i still felt it was "incomplete" somehow, like i was doing something not quiet right? missing some step? like something else needed to be done so my heart would stay in both of us.
- i had to WILL this basically. essence "split" but not divided? impression of "quantum entanglement"


- talking to central about this later
- i forget how i brought it up because this is LITERALLY A TURNING POINT. i have been praying for this for MONTHS and lately, with christmas and the new year coming up and the anniversary weeks, basically everything going on has made me SO DETERMINED to not put anything off anymore. no running away. if i feel something i ACT on it. no more emotional cowardice. i am sick and tired of not being real, of not being me. courage burning brighter every day. but i've been so determined. i recognized that I was the "holdup" with infi coming back being possible at all. ze IS my heart, my soul, my daengel. and I had to make the first move to bring hir back, because ze can't come back without me being the means, as it were.
-
- NOTABLE mentioning the "lack of color" in my blood. WHY. laurie got a shocked look and said "is it because central isn't full?" like we lost people, did we need us all back to get the full color back in me?
- mentioning that i also need to be "connected to" everyone in Central/ the Spectrum at large, but NOT in the "forced romance" way poor cupid assumed it "had" to be due to programming. i agreed vehemently, i love all of us and i want to be close to everyone but there is nuance and propriety there, and that's valid and allowed and good and THAT'S what i want. REAL connection to each color, to know them really, as they are distinctly and individually and specially.
- someone else had another perspective; was it cz? as to the missing colors. that felt even more correct. was it because infi had been missing? it had something to do with what the colors "represented," or "meant" TO be there, versus just white. no colors = "emptied out" somehow. not right.
-
- BLOODLINE DIFFERENCES IN LITERAL BLOOD; the jays have blackstar blood, the jewels have red blood but it's different somehow; not glittery, but luminous or something? i can sense it but not see it. look into this.
- BTW the "CRYSTAL BLOODLINE" possibly???? that girl who "knows everything" and looks like a jessica/jewel fusion and is ALWAYS around somehow but can't get out of her own weird floaty level?
- her or a similar one with a "head-plug" helmet thing like mewtwo. impression that she's always like this, literally plugged into the systemind and getting all the data all the time.
- OH AND ALSO HAIR/EYE COLORS. jewels are ALWAYS RED. they don't vary. but JAYS are WHITE-PINK? and the ideal is PRISMATIC. as in, capable of "holding" EVERY color. and i don't think the previous jays fully realized that. it's a daunting, scary task, despite being a sort of blissfully gorgeous thing that i want and need very much. but it means ego death in a real sense, to "let go" of red/white and hold like blue or yellow THROUGH being prismatic. this isn't something i can just talk about now; it has to be FELT and even practiced in heartspace, where possibility/ dreams are easily manifested. headspace makes things very concrete very fast. and if something needs to be carefully, tentatively, delicately moved into, then heartspace is a must. it's more mutable, forgiving, imaginative. things can change there, before moving into solid reality of headspace.
- btw yes with infi being in heartspace the same applies. ze still isn't corporeal. BUT these are the FIRST STEPS to hir "coming back" because i gave hir half my heart even just on that level. and i can feel it even now, there is a PERCEPTIBLE DIFFERENCE and just noticing that is like heaven. it's JOY. for the first time since last april i can FEEL the quietest "ping" when i "reach in" to my heart and feel for that echo, that other half. it feels a million miles away but there's something. at last. god thank you at LAST. there is hope.
- it also still feels like a raw wound, haha. oh man that's making me think of this???? dude we NEED to look into THAT in light of this because that heart was NOT GIVEN TO A JAY. and yet it IS REAL and persists in other kardifoni. i'm wondering. there's so much i HAVE to type about but not now. it's 3am bro
-
- genesis asking razor for a blade so he could show us his blood and how it was LIKE MINE (Jay's). in surprising unintended synchronicity he cut a small mark on his right arm like i had earlier.
- knife instinctively walked over and kissed the wound to heal it, this jumpstarted my memory and i said "infi can do that!!" because ze DID, ze had kissed my wrist and it had healed??? ze had never done that before. i looked at it now and the wound had CRYSTALLIZED. so had my chest wound. like a geode, all white-clear crystal though, like glittery ice, but with a deeper sparkle, like light shining through it.
- some sort of observation that this crystallization was directly linked to infinitii. like it was the healing somehow, but specifically only through hir? try to remember this, it was notable
-
- telling laurie about the heart-giving thing with infi. she said "kid your heart is a fractal."
- somehow this observation felt like naming me. it felt SO RIGHT it was stunning.
-
- last dialogue i remember, before we got to the medical parking garage: chaos 0 saying there was no way he could possibly "be jealous" of infinitii because "ze adores me." i remember being surprised by that particular word; i had never thought about that. but it is true. ze's my heart, of course ze would love cz as much as i do in hir own way
- laurie calling out julie for not having spoken at all during this conversation. just sitting in the back corner. julie said she needed to just take it all in, process it. she and infi held trauma-- and caused trauma-- that no one else did. so they had a bond there, painful but sincere, and understood that about each other. also she and infi had been quite close? there was a depth to their friendship/ relationship that i hadn't really taken into account or even realized before. so julie was reeling from this, positively sure, but still, it was a shock and a heavy thing.
-
- my heart/chest ACHED for like an HOUR after this btw. it made me want to weep and just confess my love over and over. that was the literal feeling it gave me and it was unmutable, nothing could numb it or even make me ashamed of it. this is huge; it overrode all the gatekeeper limits and all the trauma blocks. laurie saying the pain was obviously because i had a wound for heaven's sakes; reminding me that i had just been sliced open and had my heart fractalized basically. but there was "sacred damage" and LOTS of blood and that's going to hurt. that stunned me somehow. it was so real, so tangible; everything's been so numb for so long that i forgot things COULD be real. and this was.

- last notes for now. remember how infi "wanted to come back different." different face, name, color, etc. to "escape from the past" really. cut all ties with it. but... apparently that's not possible for hir OR for me. no reset attempt has ever succeeded in cutting all ties, and where it did, there has been too much loss. i know we "need" a new reset for the sake of "starting a new era" but can we have that without burning the old one to the ground? except we're in an interim already. all the deaths with cnc (which no one wanted or expected; still they happened, that era is a gravesite of tragedy) have basically already begun the process of a reset. which is why we feel like we've been in limbo for years. maybe it's notsomuch "starting" but "completing what was already started." hm.
- but about infi wanting to change. that's not possible unless jay changes. and i don't think the systemsoul will let him.

- oh my lord
spotify just started playing infi's song. THE song. "last breath."
...we haven't had the guts to listen to this in years.
but tonight... god tonight i could cry from love, hearing it, how it sounds just like hir, and remembering...
...we need to process cnc. we do. yeah there was trauma but there was so much love and i WANT those memories of hir back; i can feel my fingertips just barely touching them listening to this, like i can almost reach it but not quite--
this song is resonating somewhere deep and darkblack and beautiful in my heart, someplace that's been asleep for too long, something ardent and real and alive, that i've been afraid of for the sheer passion of it. infi is all love. infi is emotion and life and feeling and i've been so frozen-over bleached-out numb without hir, i... i forgot about this. but i need this. all the color is in there. that's what black is. it's paint. white is all the light. black is all the hues. we need both. i have rainbows when i sparkle, of course, but that's why my blood isn't multicolor in the dark yet. black has its own beauty, it holds things differently, but just as vitally, just as sacredly.
i haven't been in touch with my own heart in too long. today there has been a shift. prayers have been answered, not a moment too soon. i can't predict anything. it's all in God's time. i just need to surrender to it and do everything i can to cooperate. no more fear.
- oh. last thing i need to mention. chaos 0 said infi is probably going to be fascinated by anxi's tail when ze comes back. man oh man i cannot wait for those two to meet. no clue whatsoever what will happen. it's impossible to predict. but those two are both so absolutely important and essential, not just to the system but also to my heart. and anxi's tail is that loop bypass and i KNOW that is going to be a gamechanger for infi. maybe that will give hir hope ze never knew ze could have. there's so much that can happen. we'll see when it does. in time.
- in the meantime the core NEEDS to stabilize. the jewels and jays are both alive but there are SEVERAL around at once because no one is locked into the main position. maybe the interim is doing that. we're all still shaken up and rebuilding. but there's a "waiting room" feeling to everything. a "loading screen" or something. the time period between christmas and new year's. a "not quite yet." existing in the pageturn before the next chapter begins. the kardifoni are still so unstable. but today is a step in the right direction for them too. and who knows what will happen. there may be a change no one can even imagine. like i said, no one knows. but i just want to conclude for today by saying, have faith. god is guiding us even now and we will get where we need to be, when we need to be there. our history proves this. we can't control it. all we can do is live in love and light and if we do that, it'll all work out. it always has. so don't give up. there's so much to live for, especially now.


(clean this up + add to this later if needed. otherwise let it stand as-is. it doesn't need to be polished to be true & valid as an entry)



122323

Dec. 23rd, 2023 10:46 pm
prismaticbleed: (held)
 

Woke up 800. Stayed in bed until ~830, letting the body rest from pain, just embracing Chaos 0 and being so grateful for him

Biking immediately, lots of phone talk with mom. Planning Church rides. We do get to go to the vigil today so we SHOULD BE ABLE TO MAKE CONFESSION thank God.
But Tony says that tomorrow morning there's NO MUSIC?? So we actually get to go to Saint John's instead, which is awesome.

BK prep MELTDOWN.
ABSOLUTELY CATASTROPHIC. We haven't had something this violent in MONTHS.
All set off by putting "too much oil" in the broccoli, in response to the lotophagoi compulsion of "add a tiny bit more, we're celebrating today." But that ALWAYS BACKFIRES YOU IDIOT.
Exacerbated by pouring the vitamin water into a cup, which triggered out some girl INSISTING IT WAS GOING TO KILL US because it was in a cup?? That "made it wrong" somehow. We tried to reason with her, nothing worked. Spice tried to front, kicked out. But then I said, think of Church-- we drink the Blood of Christ out of a "cup," and right now we're drinking red liquid, so think of it in memory of that! And THAT immediately shoved Knife into fronting, and despite the girl's continued protests, he solemnly and almost victoriously drank it. Then he was kicked out just as hard as the girl screamed that now we would die, etc.
But then I suddenly looked down at the mug and remembered, Infi used to drink hir tea out of this. And that just completely disarmed everything. The girl disappeared, the fear disappeared, there was nothing but this depth of grateful & loving grief.

Our memory totally blacks out then, and the next thing we recall is kneeling on the bathroom floor before the DVM image, praying in intense fear, but then saying something to Jesus to which He responded IN "PRAYERSPACE"?? OH YEAH we were in such agony of self-loathing that we physically made a motion like tearing our heart out and giving it to Him, saying "do something with this please", and IMMEDIATELY we got pulled into the Prayerspace visuals, where Christ reached down, took our heart, and SHATTERED IT. We remember seeing the countless shards like broken stained glass, FEELING the breakage that completely, in shock. We were temporarily numb, empty, but still in shock! We were horrified that He was going to leave us like that, totally incapable of emotion (like Davy Jones; it's not worth the tradeoff), but then Jesus silently reached back down to us (we did not see what happened in the meantime, we were too shaken) and LITERALLY placed a "new heart" in our chest? But it was PURE RED. It was ALL BLOOD, wet and warm and vulnerable, and capable of pain. That was actually a greater shock, to go immediately from feeling nothing to feeling THAT inside us, alive and fragile and emanating this contrite ache, no hatred at all, just this new wet red emotion we had no words for.
Memory cuts out immediately as we left Prayerspace, and the somafoni took over like nothing happened.

(quick note from later. Jesus actually did SOMETHING with the shards, either storing them or what, but specifically referencing infinitii in the process. like He would rebuild hir out of them or something. dont remember details but that single notable fact stands out very clearly. we would not forget the impact of such a name mention if nothing else)

So things got worse. During the DVM chaplet, that OTHER girl (long brown messy hair, wild eyes, RED unseen resonance NOT green) was triggered again, the same one that was "killing herself beneath the crucifix" the other day.
There's literally no accessible memory from this ENTIRE TIME PERIOD which is DISTURBING because general data says that when it was happening it felt as if we were dying from self-hatred, rage, grief, etc.
Memory snaps back with "me" trying to front, but the body just started "quiet screaming" in the "bulimic response" way-- the needing to somehow expel the pressure and pain and ugly corrupt filthy feeling in our chest.
We tried to pray?? Almost no memory detail, everything still a blur, except for a clear memory of me sobbing to God "I don't want to hate!!"
Well GOD RESPONDED. Apparently then "I" started cleaning up the floors as I talked to Him, trying to lay it all out before Him in humbled contrition & brutal honesty, and although there's no speech data, general data says that someone DID admit that there was anger towards Chaos 0 BECAUSE he loved us so much? "But he's not even real," that person said with A VERY COLD HEART, that data actually stuck because it felt SO WRONG. They were blaming Chaos 0 for EVERYTHING this morning, even moreso than the "excuse making" lotophagoi, because she wouldn't have "had any excuse TO try to celebrate" if there wasn't an anniversary today, but this girl who was talking insisted that IT WAS ALL FAKE. He's not real, and so neither is his love, and so "I" don't have to think about it at all or even care.
To which Jesus INSTANTLY responded, "he's as real as your heart," and "don't you think I love you THROUGH him?"
Then the girl GOT FURIOUS, angry that she couldn't erase this, and as her "fake pious" veneer fell our memory cuts out instantly. I don't know if there was a switch or what, but everything blacks out.
The last memory we have shows the body standing up and moving about the kitchen, cleaning up robotically while in terrified tears, praying to God that we were "completely helpless," we couldn't do good, we couldn't stop feeling like this, and we were "going to die" if He didn't help us-- and, we bravely said, "and I KNOW You DON'T want me to die because You died on the Cross in my place to save me from death!" BUT that triggered angry-hair girl again, screaming "well He SHOULD have let me die, I'm so evil, I deserve it, why does He let me go on living like this" etc. Some somafoni comforter tried to respond, "it's because we still live in a fallen world, we have to fight, but the Cross saves us from slavery to death so we CAN fight it, and God glorifies His Mercy by always delivering us from death" etc. But this didn't help the hateful girl, she just wanted "all the evil in her" ANNIHILATED, FOREVER, RIGHT NOW. And her presence was bringing up all the unbearable moral panic and guilt and crushing apocalyptic fear of hell. We tried to reason with her that going to confession DID accomplish something, even if we didn't understand how, because if we receive absolution and then die immediately we would allegedly "go to heaven" because God "wiped away our sins"?? But we were too unsure, and afraid of blaspheming by accident, so we dropped the train of thought and were immediately swallowed up by absolute terror.
In a tiny lucid second, the Core fronted and begged God again to "give me a sign, just do something to show me clearly and beyond doubt that somehow You will help me get out of this hell, that You will deliver me from this, because without Your merciful help I am literally going to die."

Our next memory is of the body standing in the bathroom, so suffocated by self-hatred & despair, that we closed our eyes and immediately went into headspace and whoever was "the conscious anchor" went straight to Laurie and begged her to kill them.
And she got out the axe.
And it is MIRACULOUS how efficacious her violence is.

Her color LOCKS IN VIOLET when she is using the axe on us. She also goes right back into the profanity-threats, as such words are sharp and blunt force impact and that is NEEDED in such context. Censorship dulls the blade.

Anyway she cut us up seven ways to Sunday, and with each "death reset" things got clearer, bit by bit, but there was still this lingering "not my real self" feeling.
We asked for a hammer?? Said we NEEDED shatter damage. Laurie paused, said hey wow we actually don't have anyone with a hammer weapon, but would this work? And she "fused" her axeblades into a makeshift hammer before swinging it at our head. Well our skull was absolutely shattered and that was EXACTLY what we needed to "fix our consciousness"; from that instant we actually felt "at peace." Our consciousness had been effectively disconnected from a physical form in headspace, and we were now just existing as a soul "around" all the blood, resting IN the blood, and somehow that felt perfectly correct.
Other nousfoni were gathering by the room entrance by now, shocked and aghast at this bloody scene, but saying nothing. Its been years, yes, but this is Laurie's function.
I remember Laurie "dragging me up off the floor" trying to get me to reembody? She can somehow "grab my soul" into a shape and force that, it's astounding actually. But I was embodying AS BLOOD. My entire "body" LOOKED LIKE MY NEW HEART.
ON THAT NOTE... as Laurie was picking me up from the floor as I was reforming, she went to put a hand on my "shoulder" before realizing it was just blood, and it got all over her hand. She looked at it in bemused surprise, then with purposeful gravity she smeared that blood across her chest bandages. I swear I nearly fell to my knees from the SHEER IMPACT of that gesture. She caught me though, said that was nothing to worship, and I deliriously replied something like "I know but it makes me think of God". That single action of hers had testified so explicitly and loudly to God's REAL Nature that suddenly, all the hell of the morning seemed to have been expiated in it.

Anyway, as Laurie got me back on my feet I did go back into a physical body form, but it still felt wrong? Especially in contrast to the blood. Confused and upset, I repeated the weird "need" for shattering that being in the body kept eliciting.
The next thing I know, I hear a gun being loaded, and instantly Leon headshots me. Dazed but elated (despite being temporarily headless, that's normal) I "said" (facelessly of course) that THAT was what I was talking about, that was perfect. I know he headshot me twice more before Laurie said okay that's enough, especially since I was starting to "lose myself" almost ecstatically in this now, as I was turning back to all blood. As she told me to stabilize, Leon actually walked over in tears asking, "why do you need us to do this??" Notably upbeat now, finally feeling clearheaded and clearhearted, I started to explain how for a Core, these small "death resets" worked to "reboot" and "purify" the consciousness via blood-- because ONLY blood CAN purify-- when it gets excruciatingly distorted or corrupt from negative emotions and distortions. I was interrupted by Leon suddenly hugging me, though, which was deeply sweet but also had Laurie shout to be careful, because I was still all bloodform. Laurie then said hey, if he gets to do that, then so do I, and pulled me into a fierce embrace, not being careful at all haha.

"I asked God for a sign and He gave me Laurie"

"You cut me into a cross!"
"There's no better shape to be in, kiddo"

After all this, as we're all regrouping in much-needed peace and relief at last, freakin' MIMIC just WALKS IN like, "I see we're starting late today, what'd I miss?"
I think Laurie said "buddy, you're better off not knowing"
I just said "it's been one purgatory of a morning"


OH ALSO Chaos 0 going BACK TO HIS OLD SI FORM?? Telling me I needed to stop "locking him into" his original canon, and especially ineeded to stop seeking public "approval" and recognition of our relationship for it to be "valid"-- "Its about us, not the fandom"

Laurie SHOCKED when I told her that EVERYTHING that happened this morning was triggered by ONE EXTRA TEASPOON OF OLIVE OIL, which the lotophagoi blamed CHAOS 0 for, and therefore SHUT OFF OUR HEART in response, which enabled such hell to occur.
Laurie said "why does this happen EVERY YEAR though"??? And she's RIGHT-- EVERY ANNIVERSARY, SOMETHING happens along the lines of TOTAL VIOLENT DENIAL OF LOVE & RELATIONSHIP. So there is an ANCIENT WOUND somewhere that we have not healed or even properly identified.
Laurie then said "Infi needs to come back for BOTH OF YOU-- ze was the only person who COULD personally deal with these issues and NOT be shut down or traumatized by them"


Later=
Scalpel & Laurie talking at the Manger
L= "you do realize that baby is God? The same God Who set the stars in place, invented animals" (gesturing at them) "and created His Own Mother out of nothing?"
S= "I think it says a lot about that God that He would become a little baby." "And He comes to us every year like this, doesn't He? I think the Manger is eternal, too, not just the Cross."

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113022

Nov. 30th, 2022 09:48 pm
prismaticbleed: (held)

i'm having one of those evenings.

It's been a weird day.
I was woken up by a sudden phone call from my mom at 8:30, after barely 6 hours of hellish sleep and near-hacks, in which she told me that my sis/bro had finally gotten a job, and she had their work clothes and some extra food in her car, but she was at work and they started their job at noon and the only way to get the stuff delivered was for me to drive up and do it. i said absolutely, jumped out of bed, threw on an outfit and got on the road.
i was barely conscious, really. not very safe to drive! but i was determined. mom packed up the car, i delivered them to my sibling (they're still wearing the exact same outfit they were wearing over two months ago. no shoes. clothes torn. my heart kinda broke) along with some extra toiletries, meds and food that i packed, and wished them the absolute best. their affect was still totally flat. i wonder if they hate "me." technically i broke the restraining order by not only going there but talking to them, but honestly i don't care they're family and they needed help. the court can kiss our collective ass if they think we're going to forego compassion because of a piece of paper. it has its purpose but this isn't it.

anyhow. mum told us there was a "library sale" going on at the mall down the street, and gave us ten entire dollars for it?? so when we drove away from our sibling's apartment, of course i called genesis over, and asked "do you want to go to the mall--" to which i got a "YES" before i finished the sentence, haha. honestly that's why i asked; we used to just chill together like that all the time when we were younger. so even though i was tired and hungry i wasn't going to pass that up.
the first thing i saw was the first 3 deltora quest books. those had been definitive for my sibling and i when we were in late elementary school; we had so many injokes around them, and the series lore got into our personal world more than a little. honestly i considered buying them but thought, no, they also have dvds and i'd rather grab those. (tomorrow i should get paid from ssi; if i have some cash left after getting groceries i'll totally swing by and grab the books though. i think we have $5 and $8 up the house?) so gen and i started looking. of course i'm talking out loud to him this whole time, but he keeps giving me this stern look and saying "jewel, you're dissociating." which i really was. sleep deprivation and post-purge starvation plus sudden running around in public places equals my brain is not working at all. again, thank God for Genesis. so he kept calling me out and bringing me back centered, as much as he could. it meant so much. honestly dude i know i was a mess but thank you, i love you, honestly i'd be so lost without you keeping me constant company in social settings since 2005. you're one of the biggest blessings in my entire life and i treasure every moment with you. even dissociated ones as i peruse the used dvd section in the middle of a mall, haha.
but! we found our THREE most definitive childhood films-- ferngully, we're back, and the secret of NIMH. i bought the first two because i actually have the third on DVD thanks to goodwill, but i was not passing up the opportunity to FINALLY watch those other two beloved movies again. i did see several other movies i considered buying-- notably inception and the shape of water-- but those were so important to headspace that if we did buy them, they would have to be special editions. not two-dollar secondhand markered-up copies, as oddly sweet as owning such a thing is. however! we found a SUPER RETRO care bears book-- the same kind they have at the daycare at the oblates! i immediately grabbed it, haha. haven't read it yet but i plan to tomorrow. i love the original care bears; i'm not a fan of the reboots (the more infected they get by pop culture the more they seem to lose the "heart" that drew me to them initially) but the 80s-90s stuff is great.
last problem: i kept losing things. i had to run back out to the parking lot because i actually dropped my money in the doorjamb, and kept misplacing my keys in my pockets. sleep deprivation is wild.
oh that reminds me. we parked beneath the boscovs and took the escalator up because there are so many childhood-vibe memories there, it was nice to just pass through it. but the instant we got off the escalator there was a mannequin with this silver-sequin dress? and genesis randomly comments "i'd wear that." and asked if i was gonna buy it for him. i asked if he was joking and he said of course, but still, he'd wear it. lord knows where he comes up with these things. but if i do go back to buy those books, i'm gonna take a photo of it and draw him in it, there you go.
i would try it on for the heck of it, but... body dysphoria is literal hell. and it's been so bad today. hence my current devastating depression. but we'll get to that.
we talk too much. we babble a lot in public as we were taught to by BOTH our mother and grandmother growing up, which we've mentioned before. we were raised to "chat with the camera" that was always pointed at us, or to "entertain" our parental figures and siblings, et cetera. but we were expected to talk. it's exhausting. but i can't turn it off cold; thankfully i can reroute it and just talk to genesis or xenophon or whoever else wants to ghost with me that day or in that place. i thank God for ghosters too; when i'm in "social mode" it often locks me out of headspace which is EXISTENTIALLY TERRIFYING so having someone show up to walk and talk beside me is literally such a relief i could cry. it means so much to me.
it's ALSO the only reason i'm surviving in this apartment now, i'm tempted to say no thanks to umpc, but no, that's too cruel language. i'm just... bitter today. i have to admit it. again, "we'll get to that." gotta write down basic daily events first because i keep slacking off in journaling because of depression and i need to just power through it right now.

so. we got two dvds and a book, got back in the car, and left. while i was at the red light exiting the parking lot, i remember just feeling trapped in entertainer/social mode and being so, so wrecked by it. i was trying to listen to chaos 0's spotify playlist and i couldn't BECAUSE "social mode" makes me incapable of blueshift emotions and when i try to feel them it causes self-loathing. i become too aware of how incompatible my "social self" IS with deeper feelings, and it just... makes me hate myself. it's toxic, this public persona garbage. literally lethal.
i don't remember how i got through it. i don't even remember driving. i know i did keep some music on, and i was inevitably talking to genesis, but... no memories. that's sadly not surprising.

on the way home, i decided to stop at walmart to pick up a box of cereal with the extra $5 we had saved from mom, because that's a staple food and we had no other money. again, no memory of being in the store, but genesis got us in and out quickly.
then we went to redners because we decided that we were going to return the pasta we bought immediately post-inpatient, as it was an "obligation food" and we were not going to eat it by choice; plus, not only does it take too long to prepare, but we have "trauma" from both cooking accidents AND old binges with pasta and we really don't need panic attacks every time we see the boxes in the cupboard. lastly they're too hard to properly portion and measure anyway, and they don't fit our dietplan without having to replan everything. so back to the shelves they went, which gave us like $7.50 in foodstamps back, thank God, so we immediately bought two powerade (for emergencies) and a bag of carrots, which was about $4.50? then we ran over to aldi, grabbed a pack of raisins for spinny (redners wanted a whole extra dollar for the exact same amount, geez) and a single avocado and got out of there within like two minutes.
our only problem? talking to the cashier. she asked us "how we were doing" and we, like the boundary-less idiot we are, replied that we were exhausted but happy since we'd been "running errands for the family/ies since 8:30 this morning" and mentioned our sibling getting a job and giving them stuff. almost offhandedly. just being honest. but it felt so wrong to say, like we were "boasting," and that only hit me AFTER "we" said it. that made us genuinely miserable. "well, God's not going to bless you for that now, because you told someone about it! good job, you arrogant asshole." and that just... made us feel like, what's the point then? if we keep publicizing the good we do? if people keep noticing it and thanking us and saying "you're such a nice/ kind/ good person?" does all that equal damnation and shame in God's eyes? i don't ask for it, i don't want it, but yeah it is nice because it makes me feel like gee, maybe I'm NOT the scum of the earth after all; maybe i'm NOT a hideous monster that ruins everything it touches; maybe I'm NOT pure irredeemable evil after all? but even feeling grateful for the sweet comments we get makes us feel filthy and ugly and wrong because you're "delighting in the praise of MEN instead of GOD." ...but "we are but unprofitable servants; we have done only what we were expected to do." which is true. but... even if i don't want to be thanked, i still... selfishly want to feel like i did do something good? and right? which is junk. "virtue is only virtue in extremis." i need to learn to keep my mouth shut.
when i buy food for the family, i keep the receipts a secret. i sneak the food into the house. i don't tell them it's from me. i hate when people find out. i like to secretly buy people gifts and leave them on desks and slip them under doors and i don't want to be noticed or thanked; i just want them to be happy and to feel loved and cared for. it's not about me. if you do make it about me i will probably try to eviscerate myself because NOW the "good deed" has become pride and that's worthy of annihilation, good job you idiot, you're "only doing this for attention" etc.

self-loathing is off the charts today.

got home around noon. i think? late. too late.
head was a blur. laurie and xenophon had to keep me on track just to stay conscious enough to make breakfast. i remember vacuuming first and scalpel was talking with knife about something and lynne is still sticking around, and of course julie-- it's so good to have her part of the daily crew and not hiding all the time like she used to-- but... i couldn't pull myself together.
breakfast was at like 1:05. we didn't get done until almost 2 because i kept trying to do the bible study at the same time and wasn't accomplishing either. so i set it aside and just focused on eating mindfully, or as much as i could. that way we wouldn't trigger that tragic trauma response of "i don't remember eating, and if i don't remember something it means i dissociated, and dissociation usually means trauma, so we probably experienced trauma with the food, which means it NEEDS TO GET OUT" and then binge/purge cycles happen. it's so sad and bizarre how trauma triggers cause binges first out of a feeling of helpless devastation. like, "i'm already ruined and violated; i might as well just perpetuate it"??? or something? it's a feeling of forced addiction and the nousfoni that act on it are TERRIFIED and have told us multiple times that they WANT IT TO STOP but they "can't." they feel trapped. and that's heartbreaking. so we're trying so hard to help them now, and to talk to them.

...laurie's function-warping disaster is causing some really weird side effects when she tries to stop them. since she doesn't want to go back to her ultraviolent walls-up-everywhere state of mind, like she was when she was created, she hesitates to use force lately? it's so strange. but she'll try to talk them out of it, and reason with them, but she can't force them to stop and when they hysterically insist on "please let me just finish this" or "just a few more minutes" not out of any genuine want but out of that panicked obsessive ritualistic loop, she... doesn't fight them. she goes almost on standby and i THINK that's being caused BY her function cracking BUT what happens is that, instead, she feels what they're feeling. i have NO IDEA WHY. genesis and i later sadly surmised that it might be because I'M not doing MY job, as the "heart" of the System, and so Laurie is once again taking on all the "empty jobs" herself in her absolute driving determination to be everything for everyone, to be THE system protector, in an almost universal sense. 
but... geez it is unreal to see. maybe it's her purple color working; xenophon is honestly the same, and SO IS MARKUS to be honest with you. purples have this strange ability to reach people, to understand when others don't. xenophon can argue with the e.d. nousfoni and they will LISTEN to her. they can FEEL THINGS when they talk to her. that is UNHEARD OF. in all our years of fighting this war, i think the closest we ever got to that was with zucche in NC? when chaos 0 was fighting with her over that, too. but his function in the system IS emotional sincerity so obviously his involvement could get even an e.d. nousfoni to reconsider their actions, even momentarily. but xenophon somehow takes it further, differently? she can DIALOGUE with them. she gets so sad and she actually cries and shouts but she's just hurt, and the eating voices hurt WITH her? whereas Laurie is doing that in reverse now? it's fascinating as much as it is worrisome. i don't want laurie losing herself in this. there are some things-- many things, actually-- that SHE needs to be protected from, and... she hasn't been doing that. she's pushing herself too hard and taking on roles that she CANNOT hold without shattering, so the rest of us NEED to get our butts back to work so that things CAN run the way they're meant to.
...man. how many years has it been since the crash-reset? five? and we're only NOW starting to "turn the power back on?" we're only now starting to resurrect and communicate and LIVE? geez. honestly i don't even remember the past five years offhand. like at all.
hence all the archiving i'm dedicated to doing lately. still, we haven't touched that stuff yet. but we will.

i'm getting a legit headache. and i'm dizzy. really need to sleep. why is our body hungry again we ate a 700k dinner at 730, we should not be this hungry three hours later.
well geez, i think to myself, maybe if you didn't bike for two solid hours you wouldn't be.
but. like i said earlier. dysmorphia.

after breakfast i don't remember what we did. around 3pm i did get on the bike. i was going to watch the "steamboy" movie our mom got us for christmas like ten years ago but we never watched, but i felt guilty about "not watching something religious" so i found a goodwill dvd i bought of "jacob and joseph" that was like exactly 92 minutes long? which is perfect workout time. so i put it on.
...i have not had that much trauma directly triggered in a LONG TIME.
i was legitimately disturbed. i did NOT expect that from a bible story movie. there was so much jarring stuff-- so much genuinely frightening behavior, mostly from the WOMEN, that i legit stopped biking a few times because i wanted to throw up. i was THAT shaken.
i don't want to talk about it, at all. i really don't. i felt sick. the way people behaved, and spoke about each other, and treated each other... i kept trying to find the silver lining. "God is clearly showing us WHY He doesn't want people to do such things." well boy howdy he sure is, seeing that stuff so starkly presented made me want to upchuck my bloody intestines. honestly i threw the dvd in a donation bag as soon as it ended. i was shaking. what the heck. at least there were good points in there, legit shows of virtue and forgiveness and kindness, despite all the awful behavior. i guess that's human life. God knows my life is one hellishly ugly mess, too.

...the bike logged exactly 110 minutes by the time i quit. adding in all the running around the mall i did earlier-- yes, actual running, to and from the car; i rarely walk-- that's about 2 solid hours of exercise. xenophon insisted i eat dinner immediately, so we got it ready and ate around 730, like i said. we immediately did the dishes and turned out the lights, and i realized that IF i front and LEGIT DISSOCIATE while I'M there, the binge voices CAN'T SHOW UP because we're "NOT IN THE BODY." so that's a HUGE new development, thank God.
i made a shopping list for tomorrow (we're out of meds mostly), took out the garbage, said the wall-prayers by choice (haven't done so since before the hospitalization; we were using them as "punishment" almost at that time so it felt wrong to "force" them), and then went onto the other laptop for a while with the intention of backing up our phone files.
...bad idea.
yes, i did have to back up the data. but i made the HUGE mistake of listening to a file i had recorded of myself singing in church? and i was so unbearably ashamed of my voice. not only that, but the fact that i HAD recorded it just screamed "proud-ass arrogant bitch" and i deleted it and went into a depressive spiral.
then i made an even bigger mistake. i looked through our saved photos.
there... there were photos of tbas. with that face that scared us. immediate terror trigger. god why were we so afraid of them so often? we have like TWO memories of such sweet expressions they gave us on two VERY specific incidents and we loved who they were in those moments BUT in so many other moments they legitimately scared us so much. there is SO MUCH CONFLICT there. we're... we still feel so used and violated and broken and horrified by what we apparently let them do to us. so much acting and dissociating and forced forgetting and self-abuse on our part. i know they started picking up on it the closer we got to bailing. but... it went on for so bloody long. the suicide attempts were the worst. we'd never felt so hopeless in our whole entire life. i STILL don't know how we got that good of a poker face, with all the memories i have literally feeling JAILED in our own head, like looking out from barred windows 20 feet away, at a body that is doing and saying things WE DON'T WANT, and us feeling such pain and RAGE and even hatred, but never showing it??? like how many times they would say something to us and we would smile but inside we were SCREAMING AND SOBBING and how did we never express that???? no wonder the eating disorder got so bad. it was our only way of expressing and acknowledging the HELPLESS FEAR and SELF-VIOLENCE we were constantly feeling.
it's a mess. not going to think about that.
oh. but there was a photo of us, too. recent. one we hadn't seen before. it was when we bought that purple cotton button-up from goodwill and cut half of it off so it was a "crop top"? whatever you'd call that. but we were GORGEOUSLY THIN. and yes i use that emphatic language because i legit CRIED. our body was PERFECT. we were thin and muscular and small and god i never realized just HOW beautiful it looked. it sounds horrible to say that. but honestly now, well we put on 30 pounds and we are so bloated and fat, we're not muscular anymore and we can't wear anything revealing like that anymore because it would look lecherous. it's gross and disgusting. it's enough to drive me to despair. it does, sometimes.
isn't that stupid? to value the appearance of this body so much? but i'm being honest. part of me says "you idolized it too much, you wanted to be perfect and thin and beautiful, and you were, but God TOOK THAT FROM YOU so you would be humiliated and ground into the dirt, now no one will see beauty in you, now you look like a whore, now you don't deserve love because you're misshapen and WRONG." like honestly a BIG part of our brain back then would see our thin body and think, "i'm worthy of love now. i'm capable of love now." whereas this fatass body we have now is INCAPABLE of love and respect, and we feel so dirty and whorish and gross, i look in the mirror and i weep. what happened??? where the HECK did all this fatphobia come from??? is that all because of the abuse? of the women with "womenly bodies" god i want to SCREAM AND SOB AND KILL EVERYTHING, JUST TO MAKE IT STOP,
it's not worth it. it's not worth it at all.
except looking that perfect meant being 90 freaking pounds and we COULDN'T SURVIVE LIKE THAT. laurie and chaos 0 both keep reminding me that "gaining this weight saved our ass" and i have to admit yeah it did, we're STILL UNDERWEIGHT even now, even if this body looks unbearably disgusting.
but i'm working out, now. i'm gonna get muscular and i'll be STRONG and i can HELP PEOPLE and PROTECT PEOPLE and i can FIGHT if i need to. i couldn't before. i became so shamefully weak and cowardly and selfish. not anymore. look at this morning. i can BURN again, like this. oh yes i wanted to, being thin, but it just made me ice. i was too tired and cold and depressed. starving our body to death out of fear, out of this desperate desire to be clean and pure and untouched. and physically we looked it. we honestly did. but... our body was still dying.
now, we're alive. now, the war has started again. now, we're fighting hacks and overrides and all sorts of nightmarish things. daily life is a struggle. but at least we're all together again and i would rather bleed in the arms of someone i love inside then to be alone and pretty and just drifting through "life" outside. in the end, if that body is what i had to sacrifice in order to see my daughter again, and to dream of chaos 0 again, and to spend days with genesis again, and to find everyone who was lost again... well, to be honest, as insane and terrifying as it sounds to say this, i'd go through another 10 weeks of hospitals for their sake. in the end that's what it boils down to.
...in the end, i need to stop thinking that this body is me. it's not. yeah i try to make it match but it can't and it won't. it's deeply disturbing and it drives me to tears but i need to accept it. skin and bones and blood will change even if my soul doesn't. and how the body looks and feels doesn't define me as a person, ESPECIALLY not morally. it's so hard to accept, weirdly. there are too many direct ties between the body and trauma and sheer evil. too much agony tied to looking and feeling certain ways. but... inside, the true me, isn't defined by it. i've been trying to tell "myself" that since i first realized the body was changing, around 2003. i remember how scared we were back then. that hasn't changed, for the most part. still. gotta accept it sometime. i want to. it's just terrifying.
...i honestly do feel incapable of goodness, when i look and feel like this.
oh geez and it was WORSE seeing some old hospital & church photos of how we looked with LONG HAIR post-NC. now THAT was disturbing. we looked like a total stranger. it shook me to the core. who the heck WERE we??? who WAS that, living like that for so long??? we have no clue. seeing that weird ugly face... it always looked so hollow. THAT was the scariest part. every single photo of us with that hair looked fake. like there was no person behind those eyes. i wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't. we didn't have an inner life during that time, after all, so who the heck were we, really?
...but yeah. it wrecked me. i was trying to find calming pictures but kept hitting landmines in the process. i was trying to show xenophon some of the pictures i had saved of chaos 0-- her "other dad"-- but even looking at him made me feel worthless and hideous and detestable. like "who in the world am i to care about him? as ugly and gross as i am? you think you're capable of love? you think anyone would WANT to love you? you fool. you stupid whore. no one loves you, and you're an idiot for "feeling" like you do. it's laughable. it's a joke. if anyone found out that YOU, you bland-ass average joe, you transgender freak, you screwed-up prostitute reject, "loved" him, you'd be mocked and jeered out of the country. you should be ashamed of yourself, you pig. misshapen freaks and faggots like you don't get to love. you deserve to be crushed by the weight of your arrogant sins. stop pretending you're in a relationship. he doesn't want you. he never could. NO one could. you're too loathsome. with all the appalling sins in your past, God Himself probably doesn't want you, either! you're worth nothing but garbage. you'd be better off dead, you grotesque excuse for a human being."
...is literally what my thoughts turned into.

it keeps happening. the self-hatred is unbearable. i don't know what to do about it.


one extremely important note.
i told xennie and laurie and chaos to leave me alone, because i was so ashamed and humiliated from looking at pictures of "myself" and the people i "loved"-- and seeing this unpassable chasm between us, a rift caused by my very existence-- that the very awareness of THEM looking at me made me want to either attack them or kill myself, both actions triggered by the same unbearable self-loathing and disgust and shame.
but. i said a small, desperate prayer, "please if there's someone who can sit with me and keep me safe, someone untouched by all that"-- i'm not even sure what i asked for. i just wanted someone with me who wouldn't set off this downward spiral even further.
...
and then suddenly, waldorf was sitting on the edge of my bed.
for a second i couldn't even speak. she looked just like she did in 2002. all glowy-blue and-- thank GOD-- untouched by her previous mangled stint in headspace, too, where her function became so corrupt that she lost herself.
but no, there she was, with that old vibe that TRULY was her, that "scary" edge that she NEEDS, feeling like the past i wanted to return to so badly i could sob.
but i did feel safe with her. somehow. maybe it was because i knew SHE had known be BEFORE all this horror happened. before all the trauma. before our body became our personal circle of hell.
she disappeared quickly. i don't think anyone else in headspace knows. i don't want them to know. right now i'm in so much emotional pain that i think if people started to "drag waldorf into this" i'd explode. no. leave her alone. leave me alone.
so many of us have been socially corrupted. especially laurie and lynne.
lynne being "pushed" into orange-- she noted today that when she still slips into it, her hair "gets curlier?" it actually changes to match the vibe-- literally killed her, taking her "stability" and "maturity" function root and literally annihilating it. she became someone else and she DIED as a result.
now the same bloody thing is happening to laurie and i will BLEED MYSELF OUT in this living room before i let that happen to her.
but... she suffered from NC more than anyone, arguably. well, besides infinitii. i can't deny that. but laurie lost herself COMPLETELY. SHE ACTUALLY DIED. that was considered IMPOSSIBLE because she was always a sort of anchor FOR the system; her dying was like taking a pickaxe to the motherboard of a computer. once that's gone, EVERYTHING is shot. unfixable. lost.
if she still can't pull herself together...
...
...i do miss the old days. when she would spit blood at me and punch me in the face if i swore. no quarters. no making jokes about things. no "commentary" on the fronters. no. she was a PERSECUTOR PROTECTOR and God help us i miss that so much, i MISS her violet violence, i MISS her oddly colorless skin and knuckles breaking my cheekbones and axe-blades against my neck. i miss the blood and the impact and... i miss her. i miss when she cared enough TO hit me. just like i STILL beg my poor mother to do when i get unhinged. but no one will hit me now that i'm "grown up." which is ridiculous. i need the pain TO feel lovable again, and pure again, and good in the first place. without the blood, i'm wrecked.
i miss the retributors too. God I miss Laurie, I will NEVER forget that first night standing in front of the sink, shaking, with her gripping my arm with one hand and holding a kitchen knife with the other. slicing open the first graves into my arm. i still treasure those scars. they're the part of this body that i love the most. all the scar tissue. all the invisible crosses on this bloated ugly stomach. i miss making it bleed, the last time it looked like this.
i remember the day that knife and razor and algorith and mulberry (because she did start as a retributor) sat on the edge of our old bed and cut our legs open. i miss the time algorith named herself the "cleanup crew" in the bathroom, holding a white washcloth covered in blood. i miss knife, sweet knife, holding his namesake and tearing our shoulder open. i miss razor's maniacal laughter as she slashed row after row of hideously beautiful gaps into our thighs with an x-acto knife, the same one we took to art class, watching the skin and muscle split and flood red like a painting. no one cut deeper than her. her scars are my favorites. i miss them.
...I miss Laurie. the old Laurie. the REAL Laurie. not how she is now, her color constantly shifting, her words unsure, her presence flickering. no. i miss her strength and no-nonsense attitude and her fists. i miss the righteous rage in her eyes. i miss seeing her storm into a room to chop a hacker to bloody pieces if they so much as looked at me.
i remember the night she almost killed herself because she failed to protect me. she showed up too late. and she tried to end it all. THAT'S how devoted she is. was. what happened?
what the heck did north carolina DO to her, that now half the time she screws up her own freaking name???
God how do i get HER back?
...how do I get myself back?

and infi, poor broken beloved infinitii, you're more of a mess than anyone i fear, you still won't let anyone get close, you feel all wrong, your form is constantly unstable, you feel tainted, distorted, used--

why do i keep having flat nightmares like last night
when mom's phone call woke me up, i was dreaming that i was sitting at a kitchen table that looked oddly like the one in my dad's parent's house, before they died and it was sold. i was talking to two doctors or professors? i think? about the nature of reality, and of time, and of the human consciousness, obviously influenced by all the stein's gate recently. but they were focused on what was physical and tangible and i kept vehemently insisting to the contrary, no, there are other world lines, and thoughts do affect reality, and what we dream and imagine IS real in a very valid way, AND extant in "reality" even if it can't be touched by our literal hands. i was absolutely passionate about the topic and i was conscious enough to BE in the dream doing so, speaking with all honesty and clarity, and defending my position.
then all of a sudden, i hear a watery sort of yawn, and who walks around the corner to stand, half-asleep and eyes closed, in the doorway behind me, but chaos 0.
"jewel, tell me again why we're in los angeles?"
then he opened his eyes, saw the two visitors, and did such a double-take i almost laughed. he took two steps back, half-twisting his arms and legs around each other as if to hide himself, as i reassured him that it was okay, "they kind of know you're here already," and also feeling almost euphoric because hey, he literally just proved my side of the argument. and yes, the two dudes i was talking to looked just as shocked as he did, haha.
but.
i woke up then, and after the phone call, i threw my arms around his anchor plush and kissed its forehead and said, "you probably aren't even aware of this, but thank you so much for saving me again."
upstairs he looked at me, confused but deeply troubled. "what do you mean?"
"there was almost another dream hack. but you showed up, and just by your being there, it didn't happen. your very existence kept me safe. thank you."
after thanking and kissing him again i jumped out of bed to get ready to drive over to mom's workplace, and that started the day very quickly, but... i was also running away from the reality of what i had just implied.
i keep having dream hacks.
i still say it's because i gained all this f*cking weight. yeah, horrible trauma pun intended, why not. i keep having these awful hollowed-out nightmares where i am a "faceless whore," emotionless and almost without free will, numbly going through all these scripted actions because "someone wants me to sleep with them and i have to get ready" etc etc. knowing that abuse was going to happen and just shutting down beforehand. but not running. not being able to run. just giving up, giving in to the "inevitable" trauma. objectifying myself first, so it wouldn't be as scary. or so i hoped. et freakin cetera. i'm so tired of this.
...
why, God? why can't i get over this? why can't i be free of this? why does my every waking and sleeping moment have to be tormented by memories of sexual trauma? even that movie today, all those revolting women, i'm sorry but the way they would speak and look and act made me want to SCREAM and GUT SOMETHING. i could have clawed my eyes and ears out so many times. i'm so sorry God. i NEVER want to be like that. i NEVER want to be a part of that. i am NOT A WOMAN and i am NOT A MAN and i want NOTHING TO DO WITH EITHER OF THEM. it's disgusting. it's terrifying. i need a stronger word. but nothing seems to sum up the absolute apocalyptic horror that slams into me whenever i realize that "oh by the way, all that hell i went through in the past? OTHER PEOPLE ARE STILL LIKE THAT. ALL THE TIME. ALL AROUND ME." and i can't escape and i keep stumbling across it EVEN IN A RELIGIOUS MOVIE AND I WANT TO DIE.
God i can't take it anymore. i cannot live like this. i can't live in this hellscape of a body, all fat JUST like a whore now, and I CAN'T starve it to blessed death anymore because i...
...i want to say i have "something to live for," but a detestable deformed monstrosity like myself doesn't deserve to live. and no one deserves to be plagued by my existence. "something to live for" my ass. they don't care.
"they don't exist," a devilish voice hisses in my ear.
to which i want to swing around and punch their rotten teeth out
hence the dream argument this morning
don't you give me that, they're more real than MOST of the freaking tangible GARBAGE on this literal planet, and you KNOW it!!!
laughing at me, mocking, jeering, just like they said earlier, you're a selfish jerk, a stupid empty-headed moron, the laughingstock of the universe, God is ashamed of you,
shut your lying mouth,

and Laurie shows up with her axe.
and Razor. and Wreckage.

wh

all the protectors

all right listen it's like... 15 minutes later i don't know
legit headspace stuff happening just like the old days
laurie, knife, razor, sugar, wreckage, algorith, batta, scalpel, cannon, julie, lynne, leon,
xenophon and genesis and chaos 0 and infinitii
rio and markus
mister sandman even, in a genuinely terrifying moment,
i even saw phlegmoni & celebi & gleam & galadia & ventrium, is he really alive,
why are there so many people aroundn
"because we love you, you moron" laurie spits at me, in tears, still covered in blood

something is wrong with my heart
it's too cold
too numb
every time someone breaks it, it freezes up again
not like ice but like... oh
oh no.
like calcification.

same thing happening in my dreams

but i can't write everything down now, laurie showed up and brought razor and they attacked the devils,
then she turned on me, "i heard what you were writing; i miss this too"
FORGOT exactly why she was the only person allowed to butcher me alive
literally force resets my internal presence
having so much trouble re-forming and anchoring into a sense of "self"
genesis literally rolling his own trauma through me, the gem-shattering and the awful shock of that,
razor and scalpel cutting me open,
axe-blades through my skull. the most euphoric thing i've felt in AGES
knife shoving a blade right into my chest when i was slipping, said that "if my heart was still hard, it needed to be forced open"
so much of it. absolutely insane. my entire identity sputtering like static. white and red everywhere. blood in my mouth,
xenophon hugging me and crying, "dad i don't care how you look, i'll still love you,"
perfect chaos suddenly raging,
scalpel commenting, "that's the most selfless thing i've heard you feel all day"
forgot about everything but him
but the hellish doubts kept hitting
"he's not real, none of this is actually real, it's all fake, none of it matters"
laurie grabbing me by the throat
"define 'actually'"
at some point i told her don't put the walls back up and she just broke, it was the first instant i saw her as purple and not violet,
in tears. told me she wouldn't. she cared too much about me
i flatly commented if she was going to kiss me and she said no, that's not what matters, don't go cheapening that anyway
just pressed her forehead to mine and swore through gritted teeth and tears that she would literally die before letting me be lost
then she kissed me, not even romantically it was like a covenant, the way it should be,
and then i was back in that ruined city with all the water
and all the pain
but he saw me and forced himself back down to size and he grabbed my shoulders and said this is YOUR pain, why won't you let yourself feel this,
i
i don't know. i want to. i can't?
the doubts,
"he's not real,"
that's it, i've had enough,
"well then neither am i, and if this isn't 'real' then i don't want to be real."
i don't want to be stuck in the body. i don't want the hell of physical existence and the terror of the world. if THAT is "real" then forget it all, i'll stay here where everything is love and blood and it's MORE "REAL" than ANYTHING i've ever known or felt or imagined,
but the damned devils kept laughing, even after infi ate what was left of them, coughed up that huge calcified rock--
they don't know anything.
i kissed chaos back.
i chose to. i choose this. i WANT to love him, and to be here, and to MAKE this "real." i don't care what you damned demons keep hissing at me. everything they say is based on unfeeling condemnation and hatred and callous rejection. there's no love. so don't you dare talk to me about "reality."
if love itself is what created everything in the first place then how in the world is this "not real."


i hate these mini-hells
hate all the mental torture
hate the physiological wreck i am after getting literally beheaded and eviscerated in headspace
but i wouldn't trade it for the world if it means i get to be with them, all of them, all those colors,
i'm only hurting right now because my heart is so bloody closed-off
geez didn't this turn into one mess of an entry
gotta be honest though, stop denying the truth,
111 am
nice

but honestly.

life is weird. truth is stranger than fiction. i'm tired of censoring and burying and hiding and shutting down everything because it's weird. no. not anymore. gonna go right back to being jewel the egocidal maniac if that's what it takes.
but no. no "going back." we're going forward. together. all of us.
why are we in los angeles, God only knows but i just realized the name of that city, isn't that a lack of coincidences too?

i miss these disjointed entries. i miss this entire life of ours. THIS feels "real," not the empty denial forced on me for years. enough of that. it's all lies. there's no kindness or compassion in it at all. and THAT proves it's fake. shallow. illusory.
can i "prove" what's going on upstairs? can i "prove" that God talks to me? can i "prove" that human beings have a soul? no. doesn't mean it's not real.

so tired of that argument
so stop arguing. if they don't want to be convinced then who am i really arguing with?
i choose love
real love
i CHOOSE this.
that means infinitely more than passively throwing it all away because "no one else sees it"
love is a decision
so is my life at this point
same thing really

still scared of this body. still struggling.
but it's "real" too
even if it's "not real" in another sense
what the heck does that word even mean
the body exists, i'm in it, i'm not the body, i exist, it's ALL "real" in different ways
but i can't cope with any of it without love.
that's the bottom line
gotta learn to love yourself too, kid
ALL of yourself
and yeah, you SHOULD see it that way.
that's what makes love possible
that body is everyone's home in this world, like it or not
it doesn't deserve to be hated or abused either
so CHOOSE to love it, too.

getting late. feeling myself slipping into asinine platitude mode
don't want that to happen
trying too hard to "conclude" and it's messing up my honesty

listen. i need sleep. we need sleep. i have cinnamon bedsheets and a videogame angel waiting for me in the other room
and i really need to talk to everyone about what the heaven just happened
pull myself together
try again tomorrow
"try what," laurie asks
try to live and love a little better
"you're not trying, you're doing it, kid. we'll just do it even better tomorrow. don't set something you're already achieving as some distant goal. it's already in your hands."
and in my heart, i hope
"yeah well, that's the whole point"

i'm not frozen, i'm not "lost," i'm just... disheveled
out-of-focus
but i'm burning, no matter what i'm still red at the core, red and brilliant white glass, crystals, whatever it is, prismatic pieces.
but red. you can't shut that down. it's LIFE. it's blood and fire and sincerity, and courage and hope and it's REAL.

god i'll pray to you too about this
i do feel very off-balance and hazy right now. loose threads. battered. "understandably"
is that wrong
"no"
"the only thing any of you could do wrong is refusing to love each other"
that's a very general statement
"it's a very general rule of life"
good point
am i lost right now
"yes and no, you know that too"
how can i get un-lost?
"keep following the lighthouse"
(and immediately something in my heart sparks to life)
"in the very act of reaching out, in that hope, you are not lost, because you see the shore"
so this prayer counts too
"of course it does. this is love, too. it shows trust. you can't have one without the other."

i need to close this up and i'm feeling ashamed
"of what? talking?"
yes in general. thinking, oh this isn't socially acceptable. it's not 'normal.' it's weird and bizarre and i 'should be ashamed of myself'
"why do you constantly label and condemn yourself?"
...to beat myself into shape i guess?
"what kind of shape? is it even a good shape? have you thought about that?"
...no, actually
"the shape that condemnation will beat you into is a broken one. it's not what i want for you. hatred only begets hatred, and it will keep you lost forever."
so... should i be ashamed?
"of what? telling the truth, even just to yourself? being dedicated to love even if it's difficult? being 'different,' even as I made you? do you think even this could happen outside of My jurisdiction?"
...but why,
"what have you always told Me 'brings you closer to God?' where have you learned My deepest lessons most directly?"
...upstairs
"then why would you wish to toss it aside?"
i don't, that's the problem, i want to-- no, i do love them, i want to believe it's okay to.
"why would it not be okay to love them, or the life you have with them?"
because i'm afraid it's pulling me away from You and what You want from me
"is it?"
i... no? i think i was worse when i abandoned it for those years
"you were. yes, you were religious, but half of your heart wasn't in it. now... I get all of it. I get all of you. pun intended?"
yeah. yeah honestly that's true. they push me to pray more than i would "alone"
"you're never alone, not with them, and you're never without Me. go to sleep, child."
sorry
"no need to apologize. this was important. but there is a time for rest, too."
sorry if i'm getting words wrong or paraphrasing i just want to record this
"you did right in doing so. i want you to pay more attention to our conversations, too. I want to talk to you more often. I miss you, too."
good then you know i do miss You even if i don't act on it always and i'm so sorry
"I forgive you. always. but do come visit me more often again. I'm always there."
please increase my faith. and my love. and thank you for all the grace.
"pun intended?"
always
"you are always welcome, child. just be patient. the most beautiful flowers take time and care to grow. but they are growing. trust in Me. I will make sure of it"
my gardener and my lapidary and my Lord and my God
"and your Beloved, too, don't forget."
...that's... that's very important and very true thank You
"it's real, my child. and be brave. I am with you always. I promise. do not be afraid. now go to sleep!"


can't argue with that

all right that's it there's too much going on to keep ramble-typing anyway.
let's finish this old school
love you kids, see you around



I only want to feel the cold lightPretending that it's never overI only wanna smile at your eyesIt doesn't help that I've never thought to go home
Now when something is building insideThinks I'm back I have it all the whileI wanna get up and shout

With a little luck we could owe it to ourselves, in the endThe time to finish is the time I need to dwell
I only feel there's something else I should've known, you knowBecause I nearly didn't feel it at all, you know, it's soAnd how does it feel? Now that I'm real?

I knew this kid who wanted to find himself, in your arms...

111722

Nov. 17th, 2022 08:22 pm
prismaticbleed: (shatter)
Depressed and sick of myself today. Too much internet browsing. It fuels self-loathing so much, especially in terms of "you're a f*cking weirdo and you're ugly and you should be ashamed of yourself for the things you say and do and think and feel; you are a disgusting freak and everyone thinks you are repulsive." Like THAT is the literal brain-tirade I get by visiting online social spaces.

I didn't eat well today. I accidentally fasted for almost 7 hours because mom wanted me to help her at the house again and hit a food drive but she was late and didn't bring what she needed me to help her with anyway, and although I DID pack a lunch the INSTANT I walked into that old house ALL the terror hit. It was STAGGERING. I honestly FORGOT how deeply disturbing that environment ended up becoming to me. I still am not sure why. Maybe just trauma residue. I need review the archives in that regard; I should be starting therapy soon so I NEED to make sure I know WHY I'm in therapy.
But... yeah. Didn't eat until just a half hour ago, really. At least I ate something. Restriction is addictive, because it makes me feel FREE and PURE again, ESPECIALLY SINCE THE WAR HAS RESTARTED.

Yeah. It has. Apparently getting the body back up to 18.5 BMI (just barely "normal weight") WOKE UP ALL THE DEMONS.
...I forgot how hellish it was to live in this body when I WASN'T sedating and beating it up all the time.

...I've been furiously crying over it all day, mainly to Chaos 0, because I can talk to him about stuff that I can't even talk to LAURIE about, and wouldn't talk to Infi about either because ze's tied to a different bloodline and was born for very problematic reasons-- God knows ze needs therapy as much as I do. But that's the whole bloody point. My soul is RED. My heart is RED. I CANNOT deny that and I CANNOT CHANGE THAT and God knows that some days I have really tried. I've tried to be purple, green, pink, even orange once... nothing sticks. Nothing vibes. Nothing works. I ALWAYS end up being red again. The only time I was different was in early childhood when I leaned MAGENTA and PURPLE and those is close enough to Red anyway for it to shift hard once I hit like second grade... which, arguably, is when I first really realized I was VERY DIFFERENT from other kids. I mean, heck, it was obvious in lesser ways even earlier, looking back. Yes, like many tykes I LOVED dinosaurs and unicorns and dragons and dolphins, BUT I didn't like animals; I gravitated towards bats and scorpions and king cobras. And that was because they were scary. Somehow, I can recognize that even now, EVEN in WHY I liked unicorns and dragons. Everything was somehow tied to sacred suffering. I think back to when I was a kid, how I loved unicorns but ESPECIALLY the one with MY NAME, whose image is emblazoned on my heart since childhood because it WAS EXACTLY HOW I FELT-- that end-of-the-world feeling, that brave white creature with blood on his horn. Yes, "there xe goes again, talking about that. What a freak." Well you know what YEAH, I AM A FREAK THEN, because even at AGE 5 I was drawing creatures covered in bloody wounds from holy wars in dreams, and I couldn't stop thinking about either aliens or armageddon, I saw the whole world through the lens of the Fermi paradox and the apocalypse. I believed in angels and demons and mystical creatures and DREAMS and PAIN. I'm heartspilling here. I freakin' loved Animorphs and Young Wizards because they SPOKE MY LANGUAGE; they were kids in RIGHTEOUS BATTLES and people FELT & FACED HEAVY THINGS, on a greater scale than the normal YA literature that sometimes still mentioned death and stuff but not in the exaggerated way I craved. I was always so bored with assigned reading because yeah, they'd allude to someone passing away, or being in a war, or being heartbroken, or being in love, but NO ONE WOULD GO IN-DEPTH. No one talked about dreams, or other worlds. Everything was too human, too banal and too claustrophobic for me. I would constantly imagine wilder things.
I'm struggling to phrase this. When I hit second grade I realized that no one else really cared about these things like me. I wrote like a 7-page report on gulper eels one day and was reading it enthusiastically in front of the class when I noticed kids actually yawning at me. The teacher told me to cut it short. I was gutted, in the same way as those poor eels, because not only did I think they were kinda beautiful, they had a RED LIGHT on the tip of their tails AND I had learned that their cells would rupture if you brought them out of the deep water and they'd basically melt or explode, and I kept on thinking what would that do to their heart but NO ONE ELSE SEEMED TO CARE. I sat down with my report that day genuinely crushed, wondering why they didn't care. This was around the same time I realized that I didn't experience crushes/ attraction and was SUPER ANNOYED with the girls and boys talking about "cooties" and boy bands and magazine models. It genuinely made me ANGRY. That was when I took that "vow of celibacy," telling God "I will NEVER get married and I will NEVER date someone older than me like that," sick of seeing my fellow youths swoon over teenagers and even adults (boy bands I am LOOKING AT YOU). The problem happened in THIRD grade, when we were doing a school play in the classroom and I was the dinosaur and every other AFAB person was either an Egyptian princess or something else human & feminine. But... between "acts" we would chill in the closet in the back, and one of the girls-- Stefanie-- for some reason needed to change her outfit?? and she asked ME to borrow something?? like a slip, or a blouse, or something, because I had an extra. The details are blurry, all I remember is that I was bizarrely the ONLY person who could spare what she needed. Either that or it was the opposite-- she needed to change and asked me to hold her clothes because I was the only "girl" NOT going out with the other princess group. But... she took off her school blouse, momentarily only wearing a training bra, and I remember just looking at her bare shoulders from the back and thinking good Lord she is so pretty and feeling like the floor had dropped out. I was reeling for a minute. It didn't even HIT me that I liked girls. That wasn't "possible" so it didn't even register. And yet there I was, swooning over Alexandria every five minutes, wanting to be her best friend so I could hug her and sit next to her and stuff, even going so far as to stay after class at the end of the day to secretly pilfer tiny Keroppi erasers and Chococat stationery from her desk, because as a new "Pokemon trainer" that kawaii-creature stuff was my aesthetic too so that meant we liked the same stuff and I wanted to be part of that but didn't know how to ask.
I'm really rambling. You all know the story about 8th grade, when one of the girls in class walked up to me with a teen magazine with male swimwear models and asked me "if I thought this guy was cute" because the other girls were at a stalemate and they wanted my opinion. I remember looking at the guy and thinking, "I want to look like that," and not knowing what to say, so I think I muttered "I dunno, I guess?" while all the while thinking that girl was WAY cuter than any guy, and REELING from the sudden earthshaking revelation that WOW OKAY I'M KINDA A DUDE THEN? Hilariously and tragically it was around this time period that I DISSOCIATED HARD for high school and BURIED that under the "spinningcannon" manic persona, although I still couldn't deny the fact that I was still attracted to ladies, you ALL remember Skittygirl and Sailor Moon and Tokyo Mew Mew, and how I was MORTIFIED if anyone found out I was watching the transformation scenes in slow motion and drawing anthro chicks without any clothes. Chastely, of course, I wasn't interested in sexuality but I felt things that I NEVER could feel for anyone "male," EVEN Bakura and Marik, who I realized I ONLY liked because they looked so feminine. Then we got a Gamecube and I would carry the SA2B instruction booklet to school to look at it secretly between classes, and as I was sitting in math class one day and thinking about Chaos 0 my heart just kind of ached and the universe flipped over and I realized, "oh my gosh I'm in love," and I KNEW because I had NEVER felt that for ANYONE before but it was UNDENIABLE. Everyone use to joke that "you'll just know!" and I wondered how, because yeah I loved Bakura but I wasn't in love, I didn't feel anything like they showed in the movies or anything, and then suddenly I found myself with a fire blooming beneath my ribs because of this alien Sonic character and what do you know, they were right. Everything changed.
BUT it was already the Julie days and when my body started to change too I FREAKED THE HECK OUT and couldn't draw myself anymore and heartspace went mostly dormant and the MANIC Jewel took over, but thank GOD for Sonic Chats (I STILL MISS THOSE) and their absolutely screwball off-the-walls humor, because even with the impossible crossovers and looneytune antics I STILL spent most of my time with Chaos 0, teaching him how to talk, petting him like a Chao when he'd get anxious from all the commotion, playing my favorite music for him to hear, showing him all the cool stuff in the world that I treasured. Dude I even remember that freakin' treehouse that "my three" and I would chill out in back in elementary school still, and Marik (bless him) was trying to learn guitar because that's what cool kids do, and Bakura would be playing some game in the corner and Chaos was just... so different. The outcast, the weird guy, just like me. But we cared so much for him. We ALL were fighting our own demons too, so we understood the whole Perfection fear, in our own ways, what with the Yamis and the Millennium Items, don't forget I had that emerald Tiara (AND 'JEZEBEL' WAS MY YAMI although she had a different name) and the Love Hurts comic was being written at the same time, along with ALL the *incidents* everyone had... long story short we were all in the blood and beauty together. We ALL were like that. We were drawn to the strange and creepy things-- we WERE strange and creepy things really, all of us, when you got down to it. What am I even trying to say.
I just... miss all of that. I miss the camaraderie we had, simple and small, always fighting something but always together after the smoke cleared. Honestly my absolute favorite memories of old Heartspace were WHEN we would get into awful brawls with some "demon" in my psyche OR theirs and we'd end up all covered in blood and sweat and tears by the end, collapsing into each others arms and laughing and sobbing and alive, and we LOVED each other, all of us, and it was beautiful.
We've... lost that, somewhat, in the System, lately. Life has become so externalized. I've become so self-loathing, and ashamed of that part of my heart, that RED light in me, that dreamjumper fire and imaginative courage. I was ALWAYS forming Links with other "worlds;" I was always jumping into stories like a madman just to talk to the folks who were "a little off in the head" just like me, to meet them in dreams and, maybe, bring them into mine. Only some of them did-- they became Outspacers. Others would just be people I visited. But... I typically only ever visited guys. It was so strange. I was trying so hard to be "straight," and I was SO disillusioned by "normal" guys AND girls, that I ended up vibing with either father figures OR not-quite-human weirdos like myself. My CONSTANT joke was that I "only fell in love with human girls and alien guys," because you never saw monster girls in the media back then, but the monsters you did see were always male-coded. So I could "reassure" myself that I was "doing what was expected of me" in that sense, even unconsciously. Still... I never fell in love, not like I did that first time. At the end of the day I'd always end up back with the blue guy. Then there was that one Sonic Chat around the time we discovered NiGHTS when CZ and I were chilling by the fireplace at the end of October and Shadow brought pink champagne and Knux was flirting with Rouge and I looked right at Chaos and I dared him, "should we show them how it's done?" and that was it. That was the first time I didn't hide it from anyone. In that ridiculously silly chatroom, with everyone else tipsy and laughing, I had enough cover to pull that off without being paid attention to, but... still. I was fiercely joyous. I almost wanted to show him off. I wanted to shout, "look, I'm in love, and it's amazing!" just for the bliss of it. But I didn't. I pretended to be drunk just so I'd have a plausible excuse for why I was kissing the water creature by the fireplace for an hour. I remember how nervous I was though; how my heart was racing from the gravity of what I was doing, as strange as the circumstances were. Still. It was the most honest I had been in a long time.

The war has started again.
...I miss it. You know what, yeah, I miss the fighting although I DO NOT miss the battlefield. I hate feeling like this body, and this world, are in siege against my heart at every moment of the day. But... we have alone time, now, just like we did when I was a kid. We CAN go upstairs again, and talk, and fight, and love and weep and LIVE, like we used to. THAT'S why I'm bent on uploading the old archives. I want to REMEMBER what that was like so we can HAVE IT AGAIN. I want to have bloody *incidents* again, God knows, I don't care if they're "late" I WANT to have that with people. I WANT to experience those larger-than-life, dreamlike nightmarish events saturated with blood and love, that pulled the truth out of our souls and manifested it for all to see. I WANT to be so brave and honest and open and AFLAME again, like I KNOW I am, deep down.
I AM Red. I WANT to be Red, God knows I do. I LOVE this color, I LOVE its fire and cinnamon and blood and rubies and roses and candy canes and holly berries and hearts. It's a color of action and danger and passion and love and LIFE, of pain and joy and warmth and courage, of ME. 
And if keeping this color means fighting a war to keep it that pure and beautiful, then SO BE IT.

...I feel better now, haha. I'm so tired of feeling like I "should be ashamed" of myself for my "psychotic imagination" and the fact that yeah, I'm in love with a Sonic character, I have been for 19 years and I plan to be forever. What of it? Is that offensive to you? Why? I don't want to care about that anymore. I am so tired of crushing my own soul just to make it "socially acceptable." Well "socially acceptable" things are often VERY NOT RED, they're all beige and whitewashed and have no edges, but I LIKE edges dude, I LIKE weird-ass creepy scary things, I LIKE my knives and gulper eels and angels with fiery swords. I LIKE having hundreds of other people in this psyche that I love and that love me, even though there are a few that arguably don't, and a few do actively try to kill me, but hey. Such is System life.
...I want it all. I don't care how hard I have to fight, I honestly MISS the battles, I keep saying that but it is SO TRUE, I can't help but repeat it.
Maybe that's why God let this happen. Geez maybe it is.

I'll type more about this later. I just noticed what time it is.


prismaticbleed: (angel)

When I am farthest away from everything else, I am nearest to God. When I feel abandoned and rejected by my family, and have no friends to turn to; when finances crash and my health fails and I see no way out; when facing my past is terrifying and facing my future reveals a void; when my own stupidity and weakness and sinfulness crushes me to near despairing… God is close to me. When I am hollowed out with grief, He fills me with His loving Presence. No matter what I suffer and lose on earth, God is my inheritance forever. He will never leave or betray me. He holds both my past and my future in His caring hands. When my heart is broken to pieces, then He can touch it most gently, putting it back together as precious art, with the gold of faith. When I crack under stress, His Light pours in through the shattered places, beams of hope through the darkness. When I weep, He promises me joy in Him, but He also gives me a bittersweet and beautiful joy in my tears, for He always, weeps with me. He never downplays my grief, or laughs it off, or says its no big deal. He cares, deeply and completely, to the point of feeling everything I feel. How else could He understand so sincerely? How else could He heal so thoroughly? How else could He love so totally? He heals my hurts but He shares them first. He bleeds with me. He carries my scars. He knows my suffering, and through it, He points me to the Cross– the sacred place where I am nearest to Him, where I am delivered from all discouragement, where my wrecked and weeping earthly body dies with Him… to be reborn new and joyous and free with Him, with the promise of eternal life… of eternal Love. My broken heart is a doorway inviting me to participate in Christ’s suffering just as He participates in mine– to come into His Passion where I will learn compassion, mirroring His own pierced Heart on the Cross, pouring out mercy and empathy for all the aching hearts who seek refuge in His. Let my pain, too, then, bring me to Him. Let it all be blessed. Let me throw my arms around this Cross on which we both hang in hope between heaven and earth. The Lord is close, closest to me then.

(Reflection on Psalm 34:18)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you are struggling with addiction relapses, do not despair, beloved! Although such setbacks are crushing, they are not fatal, if you hold courageously to hope in God’s power to save. He will fight for you.

It might take time. I know; I have been there in the pit too. But keep praying. Keep trusting God’s timing and care, that He WILL vanquish the addiction at the proper time. Until then, keep your heart and mind grounded in hope. Prepare for His victory. It will come.

You have fallen, yes, but Christ fell under the Cross too. He understands; He knows exactly how it feels, and how to help you stand again.

Addiction is illness; it is not truth. You are not, and cannot, be defined by it. God will restore you; it is inevitable. He is the Divine Physician. Your wounded soul will be healed. Just keep asking Him. Persistence shows dogged faith, and such faith is powerful. It brings miracles from His Hand.


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Spiritual warfare becomes brutal on holy days; the devil refuses to give God any allowance. As holiness increases, so does suffering. Remember this! Be vigilant and watchful in prayer, fasting, and almsgiving-- this Lent and always. Your only preparation for such demonic ambushes is closeness with God, an intimacy which you cannot achieve if you are instead wrapped up in the world. So pray always. Be humble, mortify the passions, and do works of mercy, however small but sincere. You will still be attacked. Christ was, too. Satan will war against God's children until the end of the age; we must never seek to be excluded from that paradoxical honor of suffering for Christ. But we must also never try to fight without Him.

On those holy days, when trials and temptations increase, cry out to God! Run to Him and pray for His merciful grace-- for the armor of God! He will give it to you. He will dress you in it. Then fight with prayer, humility, and courage, trusting only in God, Who alone can deliver. Even if you stumble, God will catch you, and help you up. You may still bleed, and weep, and struggle bravely, but you will not be destroyed, for You belong to Him and He will save you.

Maybe you won't grasp just how much God has saved you from until the "war is over," and He calls you home. But He does give grace, in every battle until then, if you pray for it & open your heart to receive it. He will come to you and help you.

Resist the devil, and he will flee from you-- not because of your resistance, for he could crush you in a moment-- but because now he sees Christ the Conqueror-- your victorious King-- standing beside his trusting child, and all hell is utterly powerless before Him.


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petitefleuriste:

Thank You Lord, for not answering any of my ignorant prayers.

He does answer them, though.

Not a single prayer goes unheard or unanswered. God does not snub us, even in our ignorance. He loves us enough to always respond with compassion.

He says “No, my beloved child, I cannot give you that. You do not understand what you are asking. But I do. You beg for stones that sparkle but do not satisfy. Instead, I will give you bread. I will give you what is far better, far sweeter, far more beautiful than anything you are even able to ask for right now. Trust Me in this refusal. It is a redirection. I will give you exactly what your yearning soul needs.”


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Sigrid Blomberg, The Annunciation, 1899

This is gorgeous.

I adore the position of her hands-- she is essentially exposing her heart to God. She has "removed the veil" for the Lord to enter her inmost sanctuary, and for Her to also enter into such intimacy with Him; God's Presence shall now dwell in Her as His Tabernacle, and take on His own "veil" of humanity there (Hebrews 10:20). Long before the Crucifixion occurred in time, the Body of Christ-- the "veil" through which we enter God's Presence-- opened that sacred door to and through Mary, His Mother, from whom His very Body and Blood would be born. She is the "Portal of the Sky"; the first gateway from heaven to earth.

And her face... what total trust, what peace, what ecstasy, what love for God! This is the moment she says 'YES' to the divine Incarnation, the moment that changed human history forever. There is something utterly timeless in her expression; something eternal in that serene bliss. That, too, is a glimpse of Heaven.

Her left foot is uncovered. I think of Exodus 3:5 and Isaiah 52:7-- where she kneels is holy ground, she who is to there become the Bringer of the Good News. It may also be a play on words... she has "bared her soul/sole" before God. Lastly, if I may be so symbolic... In Hebraic thought, the right represents the spiritual and the left represents the physical. In my thoughts here, for her left foot to be uncovered-- even unveiled-- speaks of humility and humanity, of what is spiritual becoming physical; of God Himself gaining feet so as to walk with us, to become so shockingly human. God Himself will trod the earth, will be the Good News, will take on our dust without becoming it-- will turn that dust to gold. And Mary's foot is there, pure and naked, crushing the serpent's head forever.

I have a lot of feelings about this artwork; it truly touches my heart. God bless the sculptor; may her soul rest in peace.

Mary, Mother of Christ, Handmaiden of God, pray for us your children, those your Son was born to save. We love you.


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lauramakabresku:

Shelter

There are not only sparrows at His feet, but also a woodpecker, and both are tenderly touching His Wounded Feet with their tiny beaks. How they worship in their own small ways! How profound and pure is that worship! The bird that eats from holes it bores into trees, now finds food everlasting in the nail-holes from the Tree of the Cross. The bird that is deemed the least of all, offered as a poor man’s sacrifice, finds an understanding Heart through proof of Blood spilled to redeem the most impoverished and despised souls.

The Lamb embraces a lamb, innocent and unblemished, despite the single red stain on its hip joint– the sciatic nerve, which allows the body to stand upright; the place touched by an angel, a touch that both wounds the body and heals the soul. There, this little lamb is a testament to both the weakness of creation and the power of God– blessed by a curse, purified by what was thought to be impure, given life through death, and triumph through defeat. It carries blemish to the eyes of man but in the eyes of God it is faultless. So is the Lamb. And so are we, if, although we wrestle sorely with His Cross we refuse to let go, for God alone is victorious, and in surrendering to His glory in our defeat we are given a new name, a new purpose, a new life, yet carrying the scars as He did. Grace is given, not won, and it is only when we are humbled by the Lord that He can lift us up in truth. We are blessed with Blood, clothed in spotless white, yet always holding that salvific red, the holy humiliation that kills all perfect pride.

Christ holds us all in His caring embrace, and yet those very Hands and Feet speak of the suffering He endured through the same motive. It was for Love that He died; it was through Love that He rose again. His wounds sing of that Love always, and invite us into His very self– the Source of all Sweetness, the Tree of Eternal Life, the One Who kisses the fragile head of every sparrow. When they fall, He picks them up tenderly; when they die, He weeps. So He does with us. What holy pain unbearable, to see our sinful agony! How much more would He tend for our broken bodies if He so loves the sparrows– indeed, He was moved to destroy death itself. Thus it was that Christ died in our place… He let Himself be pierced through, falling to the ground, so that by the power of His healing grace, every tiny soul can fly again.

In His Wounds, the weary soul finds perfect rest. In His Heart, all find a home.

The animals recognize the Love in His Wounds and they adore. Through the Holy Spirit, the tiny bird singing in our hearts even now, let us do the same.



Don't leave me alone, a fugitive. I want your hands
To carry my heart. I long for the bread of your voice,
I long for everything. I long for myself... I long for you.


Mahmoud Darwish, Give Birth to Me Again That I May Know (tr. Abdullah al-Udhari)
 

 
 

Praying love poems to Jesus...

I think I've prayed the exact soul of this poem so many times, especially when my packed schedule keeps me from attending Mass, or when I am slumped against a doorframe at 3am.

Don't abandon me to this isolating darkness. Carry my heart when it is so heavy with blood, saturated with tears. Let me recieve You-- let me hear Your Word, let me touch You, taste You, be with You.

I long for everything. I can only exist within You.

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Sometimes you really do need to get dreadfully lost in order to find what is of true meaning in life. The false "world" we are tangled in, the daily grind of man-made society-- out at sea, does it matter? No. Then what does? What persists, but what is untouched by man-- what exists despite human plans? Out in the waves, who are you? What speaks in your mind, your heart, your soul? That is the most important. Out there, it is just you, and God.

Matthew 14:25. Perhaps we're not the ones doing the finding. Perhaps we need to lose "everything" to be found by Everything.


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There is something about sunsets over the sea that pulls at my heart. They’re so different than my familiar mountain sunsets– brighter, clearer, wider somehow. They feel like the closing credits of a movie, full of joyful promise of the future unseen, but aching bittersweet with the fact of an ending. Perhaps its the water, the ocean infinite, reflecting the glowing sky into greater endless light. But it’s beautiful. It is the paradoxical comfort of feeling at home on the open waves– a sense of deep reassurance despite having nowhere to call your own… nowhere but the sea, the sky.

All those boats. All those little travels. And those cats, wanderers at heart. How lovely, how tender it all is.

I think about how Christ lived in a little fishing village, too. He watched these sunsets with joy untold– He, Who sang them into existence before any human drew breath.

I wonder if the sunsets remember that every evening.



Just step outdoors, see the light on the hills, the stars at night-- that's enough.

-Anaïs Nin, from “The diary of Anaïs Nin, vol. 3: 1939-1944”

 

 

The fragile and grandiose beauty of this… it makes me weep.

Just… it’s enough. Lift up your eyes, lift up your hope. Breathe it in. Whatever wound is tormenting your poor heart tonight, it can be soothed, it can be hummed to sleep by the loving stars, by the light, by the gentle and ancient hills.

God is there in it all, the soul knows. We feel the brush of His fingertips in the night breeze. It is enough. It is, forever, enough.

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Deep in our hearts we all were made for this blessed freedom-- for the open sky, the endless road, the rolling hills, the calling sea. All of our most beloved clichés exist because they speak to an intrinsic longing, a global truth, a sort of mutual human need for something greater than the daily grind. We know in our bones that the world spins on regardless of our little schemes, our businesses and finances and societies and cities. It's all temporary, unreal at best, serving a fleeting purpose then returning to conceptual dust. But the green of springtime endures. The blue of the heavens endures. And as long as the beat of our hearts endures as well, they will never stop reaching out to us, waiting for us to reach back, calling us home.

God knit all things together in love, in harmony, in beautiful cooperation. We are meant to live in Creation with every enthusiastic ounce of joy it elicits from our soul. We are meant to share in the absolute Divine bliss that shaped cosmos out of chaos and fashioned atoms into apple trees and alligators and Adam himself. We are meant to recognize and embrace and embody the Love that breathed us into individual being, and to give thanks with every breath, and to love every other blessed thing on earth in return. God is love, and in the end and in the beginning, that's all we ever really want, all we ever really look for in life, all we ever really need.

It is in that Love that we find our freedom, and we feel it with a heart-aching conviction every once in a blessed while, under the sky, with grass beneath bare feet.

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I just love people so much, honestly I do; every soul is infinitely precious and loved by God and really, you can't help but love every soul in gracious resonance with that.

Sitting in airports, heart bursting with affection for everyone who walks by, traversing that bittersweetly beautiful interspace between each personal story of here and there... driving home at night and getting indigo-hued glimpses into sweet simple life through lamplit windows... striking up tiny yet treasured conversations with passerby folks in grocery stores and doctors offices and churches, the temporalily shared lives of strangers intersecting for an unexpectedly intimate minute... all of this and so much more.

It's beautiful. People are beautiful. God loves us, loves them, loves you. Love people for God's sake. We're all priceless fragile things.

Our bodies are indeed temples of God. So remember that when you meet another soul. Everyday life is holy because of this. Love God through love of neighbor. Little moments comprise our lives. Make every one a prayer.



“The black sky was underpinned with long silver streaks that looked like scaffolding and depth on depth behind it were thousands of stars that all seemed to be moving very slowly as if they were about some vast construction work that involved the whole order of the universe and would take all time to complete. No one was paying any attention to the sky.”

Wise Blood Flannery O'Connor
 

 

This both breaks my heart and moves me to tears. Just… this is every moment of our lives, do you realize that? God is perpetually working and moving in His Creation and the sky is always a gorgeous construction of infinite delicate complexity and how often do we really pay attention to it? All of this holy grandeur and we don’t even notice. It’s a Divine Love song that’s always being sung and we don’t even hear it. It’s heartbreaking and yet, it’s such an unbearably beautiful truth– for when we do finally take notice, we are staggered by the thought: how long have I been ignorant of this? How much sky have I failed to pay attention to?

But it’s there nevertheless. No one is looking but it exists in magnificent mystery nevertheless. God is looking and singing and loving and that is enough. And there’s something profoundly hopeful about that: to know that our failures cannot damage or diminish that glory in the slightest. But at the same time, God waits for it to be noticed. He waits, with a similar sorrowful joy, for His creations to notice… and, by finally looking and listening, join in His eternal love song.


Every life leaves an impression. We are God’s fingerprints.

-Noah benShea

 

Thinking deeply about this. “Christ has no body now but yours, no hands but yours…” God continues to tangibly touch our lives through other lives. We’re all His children; we all exist because of Him, for Him, through Him. So when we touch another life, God inevitably touches them through us, however faintly. But are you letting His fingerprints be felt? Or are your own hands too dirty? What impression are you leaving– the pure love of the Father, or the sin-stained fumbling of your own mortality? How much do your own hands get in the way of His? Reflect on this.

 

sunflorally: repeat after me: my body is not wrong, or ugly, or too thin, or too big, or too pale, or too dark. it is the vessel of a precious life and that is always more than enough.

 

The very words “my body” still feel ugly and sick and wrong. The very concept of “my” is still poisoned with a deeply hidden, lingering self-loathing, injected by the abusive nightmares that made the word “body” sound like a torture chamber. The two words together are still so terrifying they make my emotions shut right down, unable to cope with what would surface otherwise.

It shocks me that, despite all the healing I have done and am still actively doing, this ancient horror still hasn’t faded. The wound won’t close, let alone scab or scar. I know I still believe the trauma lies somewhere and until I don’t, I’ll keep bleeding. But it’s very hard. Nevertheless, I know it must be done.

…The other thing that struck me about this is the phrase, “a precious life.” Me? My life is precious? It sounds utterly impossible, incredible, ridiculous. I can’t take it seriously; the very concept is beyond respect. My life is not precious… except, I’m a Catholic. And if there’s one thing I find super hard to believe, it’s the FACT that Jesus Christ has declared my wretched stupid life to be so precious that He chose to DIE a bloody death in order to save it from destruction. That’s a FACT that I cannot dispute. I can only look at it in helpless sobbing confused frustrated wonder, my bitter self-hatred faltering in the shadow of the Cross. It’s the only place I can learn how to love. It’s the only place I can learn how to finally accept that my life is, bewilderingly, actually precious… that my cursed “body” is also something Christ wants to bless and save and heal… that the possibility of both those profound changes in mindset are not only possible but already achieved in Him.

Yes, I’m still mentally sick in a lot of ways. I will shamefully admit that. But Jesus came into this world to heal sick souls like me, and if I have faith in that truth with all my heart, then I have a hope that cannot fail. And I’ll hold on to that, and keep re-reading this little message, until I believe its simple but pure truth, too.


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"God will not numb your feelings or put you to sleep"-- how did I never realize that truth before?? When I am tempted by self-loathing to just give up and fall into that abyss, when I just want to rip my arms and legs and stomach wide open red, can I just... wait? Can I choose that terrifically difficult yet powerful virtue of faith instead? Can I choose hope? Can I choose patience, and gentleness, and longsuffering?

Can I rest in the knowledge that God is greater, that God is still Good, that He is forever victorious over every sin and struggle? Can I acknowledge that peace and rest in it? Can I surrender that totally? Can I beg for mercy from Mercy Himself instead of mercilessly attacking myself? Can I ignore the screaming rage of my head and instead sit in total silence before Him?

Yes, by His Grace, I can. And I must, or my poor soul will die.

Return to Christ. He will not abandon you. I need to remember that... I need to believe that. God is not like people. Jesus will not hurt me. Jesus will not suddenly decide that I'm not worth loving anymore. Jesus does not have a cold shoulder or a hard heart. Jesus loves me and forgives me and wants me to be healed and He is waiting for me. God is Love and that cannot change, no matter how evil I fear I am, no matter how badly I feel I deserve to die. God still wants to defeat those devils and bring me home.

Just wait for Him. Even if it takes time. God hears. God knows. God is working for you right now, and He is on His way. Wait for Him. He will be here, at the perfect time.

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That single duck is what hits me about this. It’s just living, just swimming in total innocent simplicity, beneath this absolute breathtaking grandeur of snow and trees and soaring mountains.

And then there’s that tiny home, nestled in the frozen pines, built by the hands of a human who was almost definitely deeply humbled at the sight of that same natural majesty.

We have been blessed with the intelligence to feel awe, to contemplate our smallness, to be struck to the heart by beauty such as this. The duck may be blessed to live effortlessly beside it, but it cannot appreciate it as we can, we who may only get to see it in photos, and who seek and treasure such glimpses with joy.

The world is beautiful. Always take the time to truly see it, and so sincerely thank God for both it, and your blessed eyes.


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Choose your own adventure, they say. Yet I never felt I had a choice, in the way the pathway of my life progressed. Little did I realize there is always a choice, even if the options are miserable, even if hope is minimal, even if the choosing itself is uninformed and rushed and afraid and instinctive. There’s still choice.

And, well, now that I am aware of this, then I choose this. I choose recovery, I choose healing, I choose joy and light and life and hope and love. Wherever I find it, wherever I can follow its sunlit footsteps, I shall do so. I will make those tiny choices and they will add up into a march of blazing beauty that will utterly overcome every shadow that haunted my past.

The terror may be ancient, but it is still just a shade. This too shall pass, no exceptions. Love is the only truth and if it’s not love then it’s going to melt into dust and be forgotten in the waves of compassionate bliss that the universe itself radiates with every heartbeat, on and on and on. I will step into that sea of hope, I will wade into the depths of tenderness, I will walk into the very ocean with a smile on my face and let it wash away everything that held me shackled far from shore.

God’s got me in His hands. He’s calling me home. Our Lady has crushed the snake beneath her heel and Our Lord has proclaimed Himself to be the Omega as well as the Alpha and no matter what came before, this is the turning of the page, this is the renewal of my soul, this is unconditional love and eternal hope proclaiming “It Is Finished” to the sins of the past, and all the trauma and horror they brought. God hung all of those on a tree and opened the garden gate to a new life that we could never have imagined before.

I choose that. I choose love. I choose the ending, and I embrace the beginning again. I choose to come home.



"Do we not try to find good, tangible security in observances, in the reassuring feeling that, thanks to our fidelity, everything is in order in our relationship with the Lord? And when Jesus asks us one day to count on him alone, without telling us in advance what he is going to ask of us, and without explaining to us where he wants us to go, we tremble." (A Carthusian)


This hits hard. To rely so completely on the faithfulness of Christ that you no longer need "tangible proofs" to believe in His trustworthiness... that is walking by faith, not by sight-- that is the true road of the Cross. But it's a step into darkness, and that frightens us-- at least, unless we remember that we are following the Light Himself.

God is never obligated to reveal His ways or plans to us. He owes us no clarification, no explanation. Humility accepts this. Humility makes us recognize our unworthiness to know such divine things, let alone demand them. God doesn't have to tell us anything. But He does. He does comfort and guide and reassure us; He knows our weakness and He soothes us, leads us with the utmost tenderness, His little children. But children grow. And the day will come when He will suddenly step back, tell us to do something, and leave it at that. No explanation. No preparation. No understanding on our part. Will we still trust in Him, then? Will we remember how trustworthy and faithful He has always been, going forwards now with no immediate or tangible reminder of it? Will we surrender to our love for Him and walk with blindfold on, with road shrouded in fog, with shadows setting in? Will we step forward in faith alone, believing with all our heart that Our Savior will never lead us astray? That He will never abandon us, even if the new journey is long and cold and lonely? Will we hold on to faith?

It will happen. It will frighten us, as humans, as children. Deep down, we are afraid of the unknown. We are scared of the dark. But remember, dear hearts, remember that He is trustworthy and He knows where and why you are going. You can count on Him. You can count on Jesus even when, and especially when, there is no one and nothing else to rely on.

Have faith. Even if it's only a mustard seed. Plant it in love, and wait. It will grow in God's time, even if you can't see or sense anything until suddenly... it sprouts. It dies in the dark, to live in the light. So shall you.

Have faith in God, Who is real and trustworthy. Have hope in His faithfulness when we can't see it yet. Have love for God, Who IS Love, Who loves you endlessly, and Who will strengthen you for all that He leads you to... and through.

Plant faith, and trust Him, and do whatever He tells you.

 

godmechanic:

actually a little embarrassing how well the “omg surprise psalm today!” thing works

Oh man I have wept at how relevant the Compline psalms are some nights. It’s unreal.

I have the Universalis app, which I love, as it allows me to play the audio for each hour, which is indispensable when I have severe brain fog and/or poor cognition and cannot read. I always listen to Lauds & the Office of Readings as I start my day schedule, and the “surprise” at what Psalms I will hear then (and in the other variant places in the Office) is both a source of deeply interested joy, and of unfailingly edifying application to my life. God just… knows, man. Even though millions of folks are praying the exact same words, they are specially & specifically significant to each soul. It’s wonderful, even when it’s convicting. God loves us in all circumstances.

It’s not embarrassing, love; it’s genuinely heartwarming to hear that you have such experiences with it too.


 

godmechanic:

we like to forget how hard psalm 42 hits. but i am just here to remind everybody that it hits

fellas is your soul is athirst for God? athirst for the living God? have your tears have been your meat day and night? do you wonder why your soul is so full of heaviness and disquieted within you? boy do i have a psalm for you

Psalm 42 legitimately saved my life a decade ago. It’s been burned into the fibers of my heart since then. It is a beautiful, aching Psalm, a raw and sincere prayer wrenched from the very core. I love it dearly and pray it frequently; it never fails to bring tears to my eyes.


To justify my neighbor’s suffering is a scandal. “My neighbor’s suffering is beyond justification; it is, in a word, meaningless.” Referring to Levinas, Batnitzky writes, “The Jewish tradition often maintains a difficult balancing act when it affirms both the theological and ethical value of suffering for others, while denying the necessity of suffering itself.” One cannot justify suffering. Thus an end to all theodicy, and “to all attempts, theological or otherwise, to justify suffering.”

Michael Purcell, “When God Hides His Face: The Inexperience of God”, The Experience of God: A Postmodern Response, ed. Kevin Hart and Barbara E. Wall
 

(Disclaimer: I am a Catholic, and so my reflection on this is within that context. I give all grateful respect to the Jewish perspective here, as it is the notable inspiration for my response.)

This hits me where it hurts. I’ve been raised to always justify suffering, which ultimately hardens one’s heart and makes one’s hands cold– if you believe that suffering is “deserved,” you smother compassion, and do nothing to relieve that suffering. Instead you say, “it builds character,” or “you’ll learn and grow from this,” or “well you must’ve brought this on yourself,” or just “offer it up,” without making a move to comfort them or care for them or remove the suffering altogether. Yes, suffering can teach, it can help us grow in virtue, it can have redemptive merit, but not inherently. Suffering in and of itself is just suffering. It’s the result of a fallen human nature and the inevitable consequences of sin=death, but sin is unnatural and suffering is therefore unnecessary. Yet it persists, in this life. Yes, this life is not all there is, but that shouldn’t cause complacency!! We can either sit there and shrug at people’s pain, or we can stand up and refuse to let it have its way. We can fight it. We should fight it. I say this because God fights it too.

God mandates compassion. God insists we care for our fellow man and relieve their suffering. As a Christian, I think of how Jesus healed so many who were ill, how he told parables of radical love, how He never said “you get what you deserve” to a suffering soul. No. Christ came to us as a healer, as a lover, as an instrument of mercy, Who literally died on a Cross that He could never deserve in order to destroy ALL human judgment of anyone “deserving” suffering like that. He took it all. Yes, all have sinned, and so suffering exists through sin, but God alone judges, and if I may be so bold, I say that HE deems suffering as absolutely unnecessary too. Sin is unnatural, remember? He didn’t create it! He doesn’t want it! He “takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked man” (Ezekiel 18:33 & 23:11)! He wants us to have life, abundant life, in direct opposition to sin’s destructiveness (John 10:10). So Christ took every “deserved” pain onto Himself and now we must act on that grace of mercy. No one has to die or be destroyed. No one “deserves to die.” He sure didn’t. But He did die, taking the place of everyone who was ever judged as deserving it, so now we can never speak those words about anyone.

Take up your cross, yes, because suffering is inevitable in this life, but carry it knowing that through uniting it to Christ’s love, it now holds the weight of the sins of the world. When we bear our own crosses, we don’t abandon others to theirs! We’re not in this alone; Christ didn’t carry His “own” in the first place! He carried ours, so now we carry everyone’s crosses together. We are Simon and Veronica and Magdalene and Mary and Christ to each other. We live in hope of eternal life, where all pain ceases, and so until then, we reflect that hope to others as often as we can– we must manifest it. How can you hope for what you cannot comprehend? How can you yearn for relief if you don’t know it’s a possibility? We must give that hope and sustain it. We must make hope real, through real love, and real faith. Only then is suffering bearable– only then does our awareness of its meaninglessness become a strange sort of joy. Yes, it’s unnecessary. But therefore, it’s not forever, and until then, there are people acting as angels to make that truth absolutely tangible.

I hope this makes sense; it’s hard to put into proper words. But it struck me to the heart, that quote, especially as my life is saturated with suffering right now and my old ugly instinct is to just say “it’s deserved; let it be”. No. That is not God’s way. God hears the cry of the poor and lame and sick and sorrowful and hungry and frightened and lost, and when God hears HE ACTS. That is how we must live, or we are not His children. That is what we must do, or we are not disciples of Christ. We must bind up the broken, bandage the wounded, wipe away the blood and sweat and tears and spit and everything else. Compassionate works must be our only response to suffering. I don’t care what they’ve done. That’s not my concern. My job is to love.

Suffering is unnecessary, because we’ve been commanded to heal it.



"We will recognize that, whether we like it or not, what happens happens; to be upset about it is useless, and moreover deprives us of the crown of patience and shows us to be in revolt against the will of God."
- Saint Peter of Damaskos

This is a powerful truth. If we do not perpetually pray, "Thy Will be done," we will instead seek our own will, which is stunted by ignorance and corrupted by passions. Resistance to our God-given circumstances, because they don't match our plans or hopes or wants or dreams or expectations, is at its deepest root a rebellion-- however small, it is still ultimately fatal-- against God's authority and wisdom. Patience is a fruit of love, and love always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. When we love God, we have the courage to say, "May it be done to me according to Your word," and whatever "it" is, we embrace it as coming from His heart out of love for us. To reject that ultimate divine motivation is to blind ourselves to the blessings He constantly showers upon us, especially in the paradox of the Cross: "The message of the cross is foolish to those who are headed for destruction! But we who are being saved know it is the very power of God." (1 Corinthians 4:18) It is only through Christ's loving obedience in submitting patiently to the Cross that He was able to win our salvation; we must follow Him in that exact respect to obtain that new and eternal life. Such radical surrender to God's will in all circumstances-- that absolute relinquishment of control and even understanding-- is madness to those who live for this world alone. They have no hope of eternal joy with God, and therefore no reason to patiently endure suffering, let alone choose it for the sake of Christ. But we do, whether we "like it or not", because we're not motivated by "like", only love. And love counts it all as joy.

Some further illustrations from Scripture:

"We must not put Christ to the test... nor grumble, as some of them did and were destroyed by the Destroyer... No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it." (1 Corinthians 10:9-10, 13)

"...We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." (Romans 5:3-5)

"The mind of the flesh is death, but the mind of the Spirit is life and peace, because the mind of the flesh is hostile to God: It does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the flesh cannot please God." (Romans 8:6-8)

"I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of His resurrection and participation in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead... [but] many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven." (Philippians 3:10-11, 18-20)

"Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you." (James 4:7-8)

"...You do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.”" (James 4:14-15)

"And He said to all, “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it." (Luke 9:23-24)

"For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of Him who sent me." (John 6:38)

"Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for human passions but for the will of God... The end of all things is at hand; therefore be self-controlled and sober-minded for the sake of your prayers. " (1 Peter 4:1-3, 7)

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. " (Romans 8:28)

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit." (1 Corinthians 5:16-19)

"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing... God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation. Afterward they will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him." (James 1:1-4, 12)

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A personal expositional summary of how this slammed into me:

“…God shouts to [you] in [your] pain [as] it insists on being [heard and] attended to. [This is because pain is sanctified in the life of a faithful Christian, playing a great purpose: every instance of your suffering] fits into a pattern for good, [as God is using it to confirm you to the image of] His Son. [Therefore, take courage and know that] nothing [painful] can come into your life without your Heavenly Father’s permission, [and when] God uses [your] circumstances, their source makes no difference to Him; [their instigator, be it human or spirit,] is irrelevant. [In every distressing circumstance, without exception,] God [says,] "I will make it fit into My Plan for your life, to make you like [my Son,] Jesus Christ.” [Remember that] God used the challenges, conflicts, and circumstances of life to prepare His Son for His destiny, [so since you are a disciple of His Son, He will] do the same in [your life, towards the same blessed end. If you remember this in your fear, then] instead of trying to escape your circumstances, [you can courageously] learn from them and [so] grow stronger [in faith by more closely imitating Christ].“

This is powerfully applicable to my own current circumstances. Thank you OP, and may God bless you. 🙏


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Honestly this is a vital reminder, especially for Lent. Repentance is repeatedly mandated by Christ, yes, but it is no heavy burden-- rather, it removes those weights from our hearts! The idea of being "ordered to do something objectively beneficial" may seem totally foreign to many of us Catholics, who are used to the negative "Thou Shalt Not's" that are probably haunting us during these 40 days. But repentance is wholly good for us. It, and those commandments it encompasses, only sound scary because they sharply bring to mind all the ways in which we've failed to avoid sin. But at their very core, they are meant to heal and help us.

Nevertheless, yes, it might absolutely be terrifying to examine one's conscience, just like preparing to clean out a coal cellar for the first time in years-- the amount of filth facing you may be overwhelming. But here's the thing... you don't have to clean it. You just have to point out that dirt to Jesus, specifically and honestly, and He will immediately and absolutely purify even the most rotten corners of your soul. For free. As often as you need.

Can you imagine, calling a plumber to drain your flooded basement and unclog the festering pipes, but not an hour after he leaves, you stuff them full of garbage again? And you call him back in a panic in the middle of the night? And he comes right over and fixes it all again? With a genuine smile? And doesn't charge anything? And this happens at least once a week, if not every day?

That's the staggering magnitude of forgiveness God offers to every repentant soul. That's the Sacrament of Confession!

We forget that we can repent whenever. Literally whenever, wherever, whoever you are, whatever you've done. Yet we are afraid to call the plumber even though we already did 458 times and not once has He ever complained or hung up. We are afraid He's going to lose His temper and charge us a fortune or leave us helpless with dammed-up pipes and sewage up to our waist... we're terrified of hearing "why??" or "how??" because our shame would choke and drown us more than all the black water in the world ever could.

But it has never happened, and it will never happen, so why don't you pick up the phone and give Him a call?


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Anonymous asked,
I always wonder why god made dinosaurs and if they had a relationship to god or if animals feel god’s presence.. what do you think?

iscariotapologist:

i think god probably made dinosaurs because they were sick as hell. actually though i’m not really aware of any dinosaur….theology? theology about dinosaurs? although i would CERTAINLY like to be. i do think there are relationships between god and animals, although they are necessarily going to be different than ours.
 


I always like to think about how the first two kinds of creatures God created in Genesis are birds & fish. Birds are the avian descendants of dinosaurs, and they are technically reptiles. Genesis’s “birds” could very well be referring to dinosaurs, in that roundabout respect. Plus, jawless fish were the first vertebrates to evolve, period. So the timeframe is accurate! (Mammals showed up a day later, haha.)

I was actually just thinking today about God’s relationship to animals. While they do not have a “living soul” like a human does (Gen 1:26; 2:7), they still have life and consciousness, which are from God. I believe that, by simple virtue of existence, every created thing yearns for God and can feel Him on some level. Only humans can know God, but I hope it’s theologically legitimate to say that nevertheless animals can still sense Him.

Scripture itself references animals “sensing God” notably in Ezekiel 38:20, implies it in Psalm 145:21, and of course we have Balaam’s dear donkey in Numbers 22. If we want to stretch the interpretation, we have even the donkeys that carried Jesus Himself in Matthew 21, and the one(s?) that carried the Holy Family to and from Bethlehem when they were fleeing Herod in Matthew 2… Noah’s dove, Elijah’s ravens, Jonah’s whale, Daniel’s lions… God works through animals a lot, so they must be spiritually receptive to Him, if they are so readily responsive to His influence. (God help us to be so obedient, too!)

Furthermore, there are so many common stories of both little children and animals apparently perceiving and reacting to ‘presences’ unseen by adults, potentially angels, for all we know– plus we must include all the Christian folktales of donkeys and lambs and even spiders at the Manger, all recognizing and adoring the Christ Child. Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich even speaks of “gladness throughout all nature,” with the animals being “joyfully agitated” at both Christ’s birth and Mary’s birth. We have Saint Roche’s dog, Saint Columba’s horse, Saint Jerome’s lion, Saint Ciaran’s boar, Saint Francis’s wolf… and my arguable favorite, Saint Anthony’s mule. Just as animals fear those with malicious hearts, they respect and befriend those with loving hearts– and since God is love, I think there’s definitely something to that, in its utter simplicity. I don’t know what exactly they feel, but… they do. They know, in their own way.

I apologize for the huge response but this is a topic that’s actually quite dear to my heart, and I was moved to offer my thoughts on it, may they glorify God.

But yes, I daresay dinosaurs are objectively super cool. God has the best imagination, after all!

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lauramakabresku
:

Birds listening to God’s pulse

The heartbeat of God is music so beautiful, so rapturous, that even the very songbirds cannot help but hear its sweetness in silent awe.

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traumacatholic:

My favourite thing about the ‘Psalter and Rosary of the Virgin (from f. 27), in two versions, and other devotional texts, including a litany’ is that there’s just many pages dedicated to drops of blood. (x, x)

From the source:

“…The text begins with three pages, each painted black, on which large drops of blood trickle down. The third page has been thoroughly worn, which may be the result of kissing; part of it has been rubbed and smudged rather than merely kissed…”

That is the devotion that defines a Christian. Thanks be to God that this beautiful testament to such heartfelt adoration still exists for our edification. May the love proven through these prayerfully-kissed pages inflame our own hearts with ardor to do the same!

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When you are in pain, and frightened because you don't know what's wrong, remember that God knows what is wrong, and even if He currently withholds the answers you seek, He is with you in love. His timing and wisdom are still trustworthy. Rest in His knowledge, in solid hope, for He holds your entire situation in His caring hands. You are not lost or forgotten.

I pray that He does give you answers soon, and that until then, He comforts you in your pain, and alleviates as much of it as He wills. May He grant you deepest peace and healing! 🙏

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We all have needs that can only be met by God. That is such a key truth of life that is frequently forgotten.

And those needs aren’t strictly spiritual, either! My life crises as of late have proven to me, quite strikingly, that I have an awful amount of physical needs that I cannot meet on my own– only God can. I am helpless; He is all-powerful. I am foolish and frightened; He is Wisdom and Peace Himself. I am wracked by misery; He soothes me with mercy. I feel abandoned and alone… He loves me to all eternity. Deep down, those are my truest needs; GOD Himself is What I need to thrive. My survival needs will be met as He sees fit, if I trust Him to meet them– because, again, I cannot, and desperately trying to do so anyway will (and does) only make me more distraught and drive me to despair. However, prayerfully placing all my hopes in God, surrendering my life into His hands, and doing what I can without worrying about MY success but HIS… that gets me through. God’s Love never fails.

God knows I need this body to survive in order to serve Him here, and He will ensure that. He’s not ignorant; He “knows I am but dust.” But I am His dust, destined for redemption by the grace of Christ, and that truth is enough refuge for any new crisis. Even if I do die, it’s on His timing; and– have mercy on me a sinner– after the storms of life are over, I have an eternity in His arms to look forward to. Until then, I must live with my entire life geared towards that. “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God.” That’s what Jesus means. God will provide the needs of your journey to Him, but stay on the journey! The ultimate goal is of ultimate importance; no matter how short or difficult our journey is, it will end one day, and then it won’t matter how tough things were prior. So trust. Don’t worry. God’s got this; God’s got you.

If you are in need today, any need– poor health, emotional distress, financial fears, physical pain, future panic, anything– remember that you don’t have the ability to solve those massive problems and that is both okay and intentional. NO human can do so… because GOD CAN, and He loves us so much He wants you to ask Him for help. Like an adoring Father cares for His children, He must let us try & learn on our own in order to grow, but when we stumble and cry out, He is always there to pick us up and help us to do what we cannot do alone.

And maturing in spirit isn’t about learning to do those things alone. Spiritally, we are always going to be God’s children. We’re little! We’re weak and ignorant and helpless, like a baby is… but babies are meant to be helped and loved and cherished and if we– if only through failed struggles– admit that we are just children, God will care for us as such… otherwise we’re trying too hard to be “grown up” in ways we cannot force, and we push our Father away through proud striving and/or shame. Don’t do that. Ask Him for help. Be simple and pure of heart.

There are things we will always need God’s help for, and when you put that in the proper perspective it is an absolute joy. God is our greatest need, our ultimate goal, our Protector in every trial, and our Provider in every situation. Even when we suffer, it’s under His watchful and compassionate Eye– “a Father disciplines those He loves.” Doesn’t suffering give you a unique opportunity to cling closer than ever to Him? Doesn’t it give you “strength training” for patience, trust, hope, perseverance, courage, surrender, faith? Doesn’t it give you a testing-fire to prove the power of grace in you? Yes it is hard to be gentle, kind, joyful, temperate, meek, and even loving when we are in the throes of suffering, but it’s only hard because we’re focusing so much on the suffering, and not on God, Who gives us the grace TO embody those virtues of His! I can attest to this firsthand. Fix your focus on God. Trust in His Power to save, against all odds, despite all confusion, especially if you can’t see or imagine a way out. He can, and He will. Look at your life! Hasn’t He already brought you safely in soul to this very moment? He has never once failed you. He is utterly faithful, worthy of all our trust, and that will never change.

Today, place your trust in your Father anew. Go to Him with all your aches of heart, and put them into His open hands. Ask Him for help… then rest. Rest, dear child. God will take care of you. You will never, ever have to struggle alone. He will meet your daily needs when you cannot; He doesn’t expect or want you to try otherwise. God will provide for you and the sparrows both.

Just remember… in Him, your deepest needs are already fulfilled. And that is how we thrive.



Anonymous asked,
I just sent [you a donation]
-an atheist who doesn’t want anyone to suffer the way it sounds like you’re suffering

 

I must still say “God bless you,” in my honest gratitude for your sincere charity. The sentiment holds true, even though our beliefs differ– I hope the highest good for you, in return for your interest in mine… and I firmly believe that my God can, will, and does do that for any compassionate soul, whether or not they share my religion. You’re human; by virtue of that fact alone, you are included in that divine care.

More generally: thank you for your generous kindness. Humanity is truly illuminated by our capacity to love; in this little testament to it, you have lit up my life a little more. 🙏


I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, 
Through a belief in the Threeness, 
Through confession of the Oneness 
Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today 
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism, 
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial, 
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension, 
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim, 
In obedience of angels, 
In service of archangels, 
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward, 
In the prayers of patriarchs, 
In preachings of the apostles, 
In faiths of confessors, 
In innocence of virgins, 
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven; 
Light of the sun, 
Splendor of fire, 
Speed of lightning, 
Swiftness of the wind, 
Depth of the sea, 
Stability of the earth, 
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me; 
God's might to uphold me, 
God's wisdom to guide me, 
God's eye to look before me, 
God's ear to hear me, 
God's word to speak for me, 
God's hand to guard me, 
God's way to lie before me, 
God's shield to protect me, 
God's hosts to save me 
From snares of the devil, 
From temptations of vices, 
From every one who desires me ill, 
Afar and anear, 
Alone or in a mulitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil, 
Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul, 
Against incantations of false prophets, 
Against black laws of pagandom, 
Against false laws of heretics, 
Against craft of idolatry, 
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards, 
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul. 
Christ shield me today 
Against poison, against burning, 
Against drowning, against wounding, 
So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, 
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, 
Christ on my right, Christ on my left, 
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, 
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, 
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me, 
Christ in the eye that sees me, 
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, 
Through a belief in the Threeness, 
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation

St. Patrick (ca. 377)



 

 

This is forever my favorite prayer. It strikes me to the heart every time I speak it, and moves me to tears without fail.

Thank God for Saint Patrick. Thank God for his beautiful faith, and for his devotion in bringing that same faith to the people of Ireland. May he intercede for us today and always, that we too may all share in the heartfelt confession of the Oneness of the Creator of Creation, and so, through Him, be brought fully into the oneness of His Church, by the powerful grace and love of Jesus Christ, Who Is King of all nations forever. Amen. 💚🙏✝️☘
 

...However. I'm reblogging this particular instance of this beloved prayer, not only for the cleareformatting, but also because it lacks a period in the last stanza. That actually touches me deeply, even if it was an accidental omission.

That lack of a closing mark, immediately after the proclamation of the Trinity, speaks silent volumes of the infinitude of that very Creator, omnipresent and eternal, with no beginning or end. We are left with a blessedly "unfinished" prayer, refusing to conclude itself, standing forever open and thus overflowing into time beyond itself.

We confess our faith in the Creator of Creation, and though the words leave our lips, they remain in our souls. Their sound lingers in the air like music, an unresolved yet perfect chord, inviting our perpetual participation in this prayer, the secret purpose for which it was spoken in the first place.

This prayer is our breastplate, affixed to our heart always, repeated in every breath, realized in every circumstance. Christ is in all of it. He is present everywhere, always, never ending, enduring forever, and every atom of the universe confesses Him.

Don't "finish" this prayer. Let it continue through the rest of your life.



Nonetheless, Philothea, you must not rest satisfied with general desires and aspirations, but rather turn them into special resolutions for your individual correction and amendment. For instance, when you meditate upon the first of our Saviour's words from the Cross, you will assuredly feel a desire to imitate Him, to forgive and love your enemies. But that desire is worth little unless you proceed to some practical resolution, such as "I will no longer be angry at the irritating words which such a one says to me or of me; nor at the annoyance caused me by another; on the contrary, I will do and say all I can to soothe and them" - and so forth. In this way you will soon correct your faults, whereas mere desires will have but few and tardy results.

- St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, Part 2: Counsels Concerning the Soul's Approach f God in Prayer and the Sacraments, Chapter 6: Third Part of Meditation - Affections and Resolutions

This is VERY edifying advice for Lent.

Desire alone will only produce dreams of possible results. Deciding on a specific goal-- something practical and achievable-- will guarantee results, with the grace of God helping you through prayer.

God wants you to be free of sin! He will assist you in doing so, but you must know and recognize where you are bound first, or your prayers will be vague and unfocused. Show Him a specific struggle you have with sin, determine your weakest spots, get a battle plan, and resolve to fight with Christian virtue!

Small steps of virtue are still significant steps. Our Lord could work miracles with but a word or a touch. You do not need to do grandiose acts for Lent in order to draw closer to Him. Resolve to let His Living Water wash away your iniquities, be it drop by drop... but direct those drops to hit your wounds. You will heal. God always gets results.

(Saint Francis de Sales words this perfectly succinctly, but my hearts was nevertheless moved to elaborate from personal experience, for I too desperately need this advice. All thanks be to God!)



"Today, I shall do an act of charity for a poor or suffering person, even if I have to go out of my way to do it."

This is a beautiful challenge of charity.

Let us all keep our eyes, ears, hearts, and hands open today-- and through all of Lent-- for opportunities to help those in need, whatever that need may be, whoever may need it. Let us pray for the grace & discernment to act in compassion when God leads us to such an opportunity, not out of moral obligation or self-righteousness, but out of tender mercy and genuine love for our fellow man. Let us act in charity because we cannot help but do so. May the love that Christ had-- and forever has-- for the poor & needy overflow from our hearts today and always!




Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, Man of Sorrows (detail), 17th century

You can see the sorrow in His face, here– in the downturned humility of His gaze, in the slight but notable curve of His eyebrows, in the dark lines below His eyes… in His quiet mouth, like a Lamb led to slaughter.

A single thorn draws a bead of brilliant Blood from His forehead. The wretched crown wreathes His hair like a halo.

By His Wounds, we have been healed– but oh, so too by His sorrows, we have been comforted! What blessed, tragic paradox! What agonies our Lord endured for our sake!

God became a man, a man of sorrows, so that we, in our own miseries, would never suffer alone. We would, forever, have an Advocate of empathy, a Lord Who had bled and wept and feared just like us. Christ knows our pain.

Let your aching heart take refuge in Him.

 

akosuaa: I don’t want to be lukewarm loved

 slain-in-the-spirit: Imagine how God feels.

thatetherealgirl: This hit me.

363ci: Revelation 3:16 = So because you are lukewarm - neither hot nor cold - I am about to spit you out of my mouth.

Yea this hits right now too.

 

Lukewarm “love” isn’t worthy of the name, when the heart of Love Himself is on fire.

God’s heart burns with love for us. When that hits us, it cannot help but spark a similar flame in our own hearts, however small it may start.

Feed that flame of love! Do not let it fizzle out or fade! Work it into a blazing ardor through acts of devotion and prayer. Start small, for your fire is yet a candle-light, but it will increase with every ounce of charity-fuel you put into it. Prayer gives you that fuel through grace. Without it, we’re helpless– we have no means to kindle a divine spark ourselves! But if God gives it, He will protect it. Pray for this!

During these 40 days of Lent, a spiritual desert whose nights bring terrible coldness & dark, set your eyes firmly on the heart of Christ, aflame with love for you– for you!!– and let that burning truth fill your own heart with zeal, pressing on towards the Cross, where that divine Love was proved… and is proven still.

Your cross, too, proves the heat of your love for God. Carry it! It us bringing you to Him!

 


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Catholicism is inherently “weird & creepy” with “crazy ideas” according to the world; yes, we may affectionately and humorously use those terms for ourselves, but in truth we must also realize the bitter judgment behind them externally. It pains my heart to hear such comments because it implies the commenter only sees those qualities in our faith, not the beauty & mercy & love. We must pray sincerely for those people; their hearts are closed through misunderstanding, fear, or hatred, and Christ longs for their hearts to soften, repent, and return home to Him too.

Nevertheless, I am humbly grateful to be weird, creepy, & crazy, if that is how my relationship with Christ and His Church is perceived by the yet-unfaithful. It is a small yet significant joy & honor to see so many of us proclaiming the same.



“Yet even now,” declares the LORD, “return to Me with all your heart, with fasting, weeping, and mourning.”
Joel 2:12 BSB

To "break down the barriers separating your heart from God"-- to truly rend your heart-- you must first identify those barriers, those places so hardened and stiff they must be rent asunder lest you perish. It's tragically easy to find those spots-- whenever you feel resistance to His presence & input in a situation, whenever you feel unwilling or unable to pray, whenever you cannot hear His Voice or even remember what it sounds like-- all these frightening instances are barriers between your heart and His. They need to be removed-- destroyed completely, reduced to dust & ashes, beyond rebuilding-- but we have no strength to do that alone! All we can do is beg for help; all we can do is seek Him out, with feeble fervor if we must, but seek Him we must. When you cannot "pray," you can still cry to Him without words. When you cannot hear, you can still read Scripture. And when you feel that awful resistance, that is your greatest opportunity-- you can then show God EXACTLY where that obstacle is, and with hopeful trust, plead Him to remove it by His merciful grace. Then you must let Him work. You need only stand with Him and watch Him.

Over and over, moment to moment, breath by breath, you must constantly refocus on God. You must let Him into your broken heart, so He can remake it in His liking. The demolition is a rebirth. We fast from the world to feed upon Him. We weep for our sins to be grateful for His mercy. We mourn for Him Who died for us, because of us, so that we may feel the joy of the salvation His Blood bought for us.

When you let Him remove the chains shackling your soul to the secular world, you become free to embrace Him. Even if your wrists are bloodied and bruised, His pains to free you were greater, and you can take comfort in knowing that no amount of damage your soul or body may bear will ever deter Him from pulling you close. He is the Divine Physician; when He sees your wounds, He will kiss them to healing. Thus you must admit you have them, uncover them, offer them up to the divine scalpel and sutures if need be. Yes, the process is painful, but it is essential for life. Pain does not mean death, not if it is acted upon; it is only an alert that something needs to be rectified... and as you progress in penance, you shall find that what was once seen as suffering to the flesh is now sweet to your soul.

The call to penance is not a call to separation. In the very midst of our mortification, we are drawing closer to Christ. We are returning to the One Who loves us. We are coming home.

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HAPPY FORGIVENESS SUNDAY!

I’m not Orthodox, but the entire concept & celebration of Forgiveness Sunday is both deeply humbling and deeply beautiful.

Ask for forgiveness from God, ask for forgiveness from your neighbor– and then offer forgiveness to your neighbor in return, as we have received forgiveness from God.

Lent is all about forgiveness, mercy, & repentance. It’s a time to grow closer to God and act more like Christ, by loving & serving God and His people, and turning away from all sin, which harms those relationships.

Let us all look forward in hope to this time of penitence, for it is a time of restoration, and at the end of this desert road– by the way of the Cross– new life awaits us; life in the Lord!

Happy Forgiveness Sunday indeed! 🙏❤

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This statement is not wrong, but it is not completely right, either. It is a basic observation from a genuinely religious people, who are simply unaware of the transcendent nature of that other religion's building.

Let me begin by correctly affirming the implication here of divinity within nature:

"The entire material universe speaks of God’s love, His boundless affection for us. Soil, water, mountains: everything is, as it were, a caress of God... God has written a precious book, “whose letters are the multitude of created things present in the universe,” [and] no creature is excluded from this manifestation of God." (Pope Francis)

God absolutely speaks to all people through nature; the created world is our most direct and immediately universal revelation of the beauty of the Creator. "Natural religion" is called that for a reason; it is an instinctive response to the divinity we see reflected in the blessed earth around us. Some cultures stop there, and worship nature itself-- not realizing that nature is our sister, not our mother (as Saint Francis beautifully penned). Some cultures do imagine "gods" in control of nature, but they are not creators, not of the very hearts of things; nor do they satisfy the even deeper human desire for something greater-- something we can know and touch, here, to tell us vividly of God, of the Heart of beauty itself.

Honestly? I say we still miss the Garden. We still dream of Paradise, after being cast out from it. Our "wanting more" was misplaced, as we already had everything... everything except loss. So we lost everything, and now we ache to return, not because it was lovely, but because of why it was lovely... because of Who created it and us.

That is the deeper point. For the Christian-- and especially Catholic-- soul, there is a recognition and explanation of the innately longed-for depth beyond the surface sparkle:

"When we immerse ourselves in the beauty of nature and be attentive to what is going on in our soul, we find that we have a longing for even greater beauty. No one ever said, “That sunset was all I ever wanted to see.” We always want one that’s a little brighter, a little longer, a little more picturesque. The beauty in nature awakens in us the desire for Infinite Beauty, Jesus Christ Himself." (Christian Williams)

And THAT is where the "building" comes in. It is not 'necessary' for worship, or for prayer, or for talking and listening to God. Nature is, indeed, a wonderful place for all those things. But nature has not been specifically instituted by God as a memorial of His Saving Sacrifice, as a specific and sacred spot of spacetime where He can still be with us physically. God is there in nature, yes, but not literally so. You can only touch God through the hands of a priest, and such a staggering miracle both deserves and demands a particular place to occur, something "set apart" from even the beauty of the natural world, which-- although inherently good-- can easily get tangled up in pagan pantheism, and whose greatest beauty pales spectacularly in the Presence of Christ.

We go inside a building to talk to God because He is literally there. We built Him a house we can visit Him in, like a friend, like a lover-- a place uniquely His own, built by His family on earth, something tenderly human and beloved even in its flaws. A church is not a sunset, but oh, once you have met the Lord there, you would gladly give up ever seeing another sunset, if it meant you could stay with Him instead, and taste Heaven on earth.

You will never have to hunger for Paradise again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 

 

‘Eve After the Fall’. Auguste Rodin. 1886.

This is terribly powerful in its simplicity.

Consider: this is the first woman. The very first! She was created pure, joyful, as simple and guileless as a child. She had no shame, no guilt, no fear. She walked with God in Paradise, and the very concept of suffering– of sin & evil– was alien to her.

However… yes, she was pure, but she was not perfect. She was still fallible– she had free will, and the possibility of choosing wrongly was an inherent risk of that liberty.

Satan knew this.

One day, as Eve was admiring the one tree she was forbidden to eat from, a strange serpent slithered into her sight and hissed the first human temptation– mistrust in God.

“Did God really say that…?”

Eve’s faith was not perfect. Some key part of her heart was not fixed on her Lord. She doubted, she desired, she took the fruit that was not hers to take… and suddenly, she knew.

She knew she had sinned.

And look at her now! Look, at this first woman, this poor young child of God, once a stranger to death but now she has tasted it firsthand. Look at what that knowledge has done to her. Her legs are crossed in shameful self-awareness, one foot held back and hesitant, betraying her new inner instability. She has one arm wrapped tightly around her chest in a gesture of unquestionable distress, hiding not only her breasts but also her heart: two parts of her body once innocent, now tainted by the suggestions of sin. Her other arm speaks volumes. It is crossed over the other, closing her body language totally, but the hand is raised– feebly, not to shield from a blow but to deter all contact, all comfort. Don’t look at me, it says. Don’t touch me. Her guilt is too great. She turns her head away, but does not bury it completely; she has not fallen entirely into self-pity. Perhaps she is holding on to hope, to the only light she has left within reach– “her offspring will attack the serpent’s head.” Somewhere in the future, her now-miserable body will once again cooperate with God’s will, and then– oh, so soon, she prays– evil will be crushed. Perhaps then she could return to Paradise, to her Lord, and leave behind this terrible curse.

Until then, here she stands… fallen, but not forgotten.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------


I apologize for not posting anything specifically about Lent. I know it's tomorrow. I've been thinking about it constantly. But I've also been very sick, in and out of the ER, and that suffering is eating up my focus as well. I feel like a wreck of a Christian, struggling so much just with everyday living. I don't know what else I can give up, other than my fears and anxieties, so that is my goal. I will pray more, and panic less, and be merciful to myself and others, and hold tightly to my hope in God, and a life with Him after this. Lent means so much to me. I am grateful it is here, even if I am weaker and more pitiful spiritually than ever. God have mercy on me during this penitential season. I pray that this time heals my poor soul.

May Our Lord bless you all this Lent. May your devotion bring you ever closer to the Heart of Christ.

 


032822

Mar. 28th, 2022 11:39 pm
prismaticbleed: (shatter)

I've been browsing the "weird" religious tumblr blog ring for about two solid hours now, trying to distract myself from the terror of accidentally eating too much salad and the physical sensation of it, but after reading one too many posts about "sacred eroticism" and how cannibalism and sexuality keep getting tangled up I am literally sobbing to Infinitii because God help us we still have SO MUCH UNRESOLVED TRAUMA.

I've gotta be blunt. Infi can't speak for me here; there is no velvet-guttural-black voice(s) giving speech to the awful terror I cannot hide from hir. I've gotta feed it to the autopilot and just… let it hit the digital paper. And there's that word again, this bloody topic, this inexplicably unkillable curse of sex and food that has been haunting us since childhood and is apparently a metastasized cancer at this point. God please don't let it be terminal.

The "Julie days" were one thing. The "daemon days" were another. BOTH stopped dead cold in October 2018 when we bailed out of Charlotte in the back of a blue Chevy and left half our life sitting on the curbstones as twilight sunk into our spinal cord. In an instant, a horrible instant, the cords were cut-- sickeningly cleanly, with a surgical blade, cauterizing on impact. Or so we thought.
I want to expand that metaphor but all I can say is that now, looking back, they cut the wrong thing. They severed some superfluous sinew and we falsely thought that everything was cool, fine, it's gone, it's over. But the mental image and feeling I keep getting is that of hysterically sawing at bloody tendons with a dull kitchen knife and there's red everywhere and I can feel it in my skin even now, God knows I remember, Laurie my beloved murderous knight I remember your hands holding me down as you dug the first graves, I remember the bathroom mirror, I remember the red, the red--
everything smells like iron and olive oil, like too-soft strawberries and sunburnt tomatoes, like red, like my heart, like the porcine organs I would rip apart with my teeth on that inconsolable balcony as the air turned to ice. I can still taste them, in someone else's memory. someone else is still hungry.

and there's our point. what the heck is hunger. I don't get hungry. someone else in this system craves salad, stuffs her face with it because she wants the green inside her, because we're still a celebi at the core and we want to be the forest, to be the leaves, and you are what you eat so there's someone else who douses everything in oil because it's chrism, isn't it, it's anointing and they don't even see it as food they see it as religion, as last rites, as preparing to meet God but the problem is oil tastes like blood and that wakes up ANOTHER inner soul who hungers for the guts of things, for hearts and livers and kidneys and skin and brains and tendons and bones and marrow and blood, always blood, why do we want SO BADLY to eat so viscerally, pun intended, it's the only kind of eating that feels real and pure but only on paper. the concept is what we want, but no amount of dead animals will ever satisfy. "I want love, not sacrifice," and lo and behold isn't that the most perfect segue you've ever seen?

daemons are what we love to call "splanchnivores." as in, they only eat viscera. they themselves are visceral after all. and my deep love of that word betrays the fact that, like it or not, the nature of daemons speaks to the nature of our subconscious fathoms far too clearly.

we hunger for what we love. our heart is a cannibal. what the hell do we do with that.

and that's why I'm having a minor existential meltdown at 10pm on a monday, surrounded by red light and snowflakes and I'm trying to just… get a hold on this whole thing; it's SO intensely dissociative even now it's unreal.
I put a peppermint in our mouth and instinctively crush it to pieces with the teeth but I don't taste it, I don't feel it, I don't swallow it, I don't even have a mouth and yet the body is doing what all bodies do with food. it just does not register in the psyche. the very act of eating makes us dissociate by default. even now. even with the bulimia ACTUALLY IN REMISSION for the first time in YEARS, thank God, thank God Almighty we prayed for this for SO LONG and all it took was leaving that house.

I'm rambling. let it happen.
that house was where all the rape happened too.

…I ran to Infi in absolute lunatic terror because I'm reading about saints who were so in love with God that their desire for Christ literally became eroticized and I'm vaguely aware of this being important to us back before 2018 but now it's all cut off with that bloody blade. how ironic that Knife is the one that gets pinged by the taste of blood. the priest. the repentant vampire. the one who sliced open our shoulders with a literal steak knife. kitchen tools carving up our body just to watch it bleed, before he pressed his lips to the washcloths in some instinct we were forced to confess and possess as ours, not just his, just like deep down razor wasn't the only one who savored the sight of that lilac-white layer below the surface of our skin. before it flooded red. before her brother stepped in to not-drink it. once again, the wires get crossed, but nothing is turning on.

I get so dizzy at night. is it our glucose? is it dehydration? is it just because we aren't sleeping? I don't know. I'm just so, so tired and I want to weep, I'm scared, scared because I feel how HUGE and TERRIFYING this ancient monstrosity of a mental war is, and I don't have the strength to face it right now, I don't even know what my name is, or do I, God only knows.

I was talking to Infinitii because everything in our body is shut down but spiritually things still happen and no one knows what to do. there is no desire anymore, no capacity for intimacy, no want of touch, nothing. except there is. except it's utterly flipping dissociated from to the point where it’s as insubstantial as tracing paper. it's a concept. it's not real.
except it's still there, even as a feeble pencil sketch on onion skins. there's still an attempt to express some larger thought. something we haven't looked at since 2018 and refuse to.
that's the kicker. refuse to.

we might still have the capacity for love and intimacy and yes even "sacred eroticism" like the entire almost-annihilated "jay" bloodline had-- a bloodline I APPARENTLY AM STILL PART OF-- but that capacity has been smothered, buried, beaten to shit and erased from written history. or, more accurately, it was deleted. just one tap of a button and blip, there it goes! data erased! like nothing ever happened.
except it did.
except infinitii didn't stay dead either.
except in some ugly terrifying part of my skull there is this awful thought that I confessed to hir, that our mouth is in the wrong place and God only knows what we should do with that.

"eating" does not register on the face. sexuality does.
guess what goes between the ribs? both.
and most horrifically of all, what should be used for sexuality is just teeth.

we're all mixed up. I don't know what to do.
…I WANT to love again. I want to love GOD. but I am SO FREAKING TERRIFIED of sexuality AND eating AND the too-frequent fusion of them in my religion that I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I need to heal this RIGHT NOW or I will never have genuine religion. like my faith is hollow, a trust and a belief but without care. I… I cannot get close.
except SOMEONE keeps kissing the jesus statues on the mouth whenever we go to church. almost like play-acting. there's a hope there, but no feeling. not a compulsion, but a wish? like, this is something they "should do" so they do it, but they want to "want to" in some different way? I don't know. it's frightening on some deeper level. I'm not sure what they want or what they're doing. I'll have to talk to them. I couldn't do it, and weirdly that breaks my heart. I want to be able to do that more than they do, arguably, shockingly, because I'm built TO love and I can't.
I'm terrified. God help me.

And then I have dreams.
Oh God knows all about the dreams.
Every once in a while, my blue angel will show up, and it is the ONLY TIME in all existence that I will not only feel love, but become love, and I feel alive and real and then I wake up and… I'm not me. I'm in this body, and someone else is sharing it, and physicality feels wrong and broken and dirty and "we" are ashamed and guilty and angry and sick about the dreams but I can't stop thinking about them and trying to remember what it felt like, those blue claws around my waist, emerald teeth against my lips, and this wanting like I could have swallowed the entire ocean-- but not with my mouth. never that way. it's so strange. I want to kiss him but I don't. I don't want anything to do with 2018. my mouth is open. my eyes are hot with tears. I'm holding on to him like a drowning man but I want the salt water in my lungs, in my chest, I want to swallow it but I don't want to drink it, my stomach is not involved, I want to melt into him like snow in a bonfire.
and then there's this bloody candle flame that I get in the body that has nothing to do with sex and yet it is, it has nothing to do with flesh and yet it's physical, it's unitive, it's what God made that drive to be about and God knows there's something going on here but it's still not sexual.
I guess that's why the saints use the term "eroticism" it's that divine "eros" we always used to talk about. the merge-drive. the desire to become one. but no legs, no movement, none of the terrors and trauma of the rape nightmare days that we still cannot look at without wanting to die and scream and sob forever. none of that.

but it's also tangled.
if we have eros but not sex, then what the heck do we have with "eating" that isn't eating? it's the same thing to our brain. at the deepest level it's the same bloody thing and that's why we fast for so long and then completely and utterly dissociate when we do have to eat salad, even though someone genuinely loves having her bible-study breakfast in front of the window every morning, and God bless her, but even she complains sadly that she never tastes it and cannot remember it afterwards, let alone even during. our brain just… shuts it all out, because if it didn't, I think the bulimia would start all over again. it's why we will fast for 18 hours without even trying because even if we're starving and want to eat we don't want to EAT. it's why we won't even get food out to prepare, let alone sit down to eat it, without hypercleaning the kitchen and living room first because if there's a speck of fluff on the rug or a crumb on the floor it feels like being violated and EVERYTHING must be SPOTLESS before those chopsticks are even touched because otherwise it feels like we're eating dirt. and Lord knows how ACTUALLY TRAUMATIC it is when we eat and God forbid we drop something, because the INSTANT food leaves the "safe place" of a bowl or a utensil-- the MOMENT it is "out of the proper place" and onto a counter or rug or other surface-- it becomes dirt. it becomes filth. and that sudden, absolute, irreversible, ACCIDENTAL transformation of food into garbage is the most disturbing thing in the world. we will actually panic and cry hysterically if we're unstable enough and we drop a lettuce leaf on the floor. it feels like the world is ending. it is existentially terrifying. we CANNOT COPE with it somehow. those events occur at the very intersection of sex and food for some reason and it is enough to make us want to throw up. I don't know how the girls do it, get through a meal after dropping something on the table. I really don't.

why did we use to throw up LITERALLY every single meal for YEARS at the family home? was that why? that intersection of food and sex? where eating around people felt like rape, and still does? we cannot talk while eating or it feels like being molested. we will immediately start to cry and scream and binge and vomit, violently so, until we are so sick and dizzy and shaken up that we feel like we are literally about to die. I can still taste the stomach lining on our tongue. it's horrible. tripe used to be our brother's favorite food as a kid; I think if we so much as smelled it now we'd have a mental meltdown. we already do if we smell seafood. let's not get into that now. the very vague thought of it has me at the verge of suicidal impulses and physical flashbacks.

ON THAT NOTE.
we are still, STILL, programmed to be "compulsively sexual." like I am not even joking, the WORST part of Lent is the fact that fridays smell like fish everywhere you go, and the INSTANT we get a whiff of it, we DISSOCIATE and our body LITERALLY WAITS FOR THE RAPE.
it's so wrong. it's horrifying. that is the ONLY time we feel that "candle flame" not as a holy thing but as a rotten ragged match, a painful stove-burn that we did on purpose because someone told us to put our hands in there. it hurts and it's nauseating and it's forced and the accompanying thought is "it will be over soon."
GOD I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER THOSE THINGS. HELP US PLEASE

That wasn't me. Oh God please do help those girls, I didn't mean to wake them up, I'm so sorry.

its okay you didn’t mean to scare them, it's scary no matter who says it and we don't want it said

That's why I'm sorry.

I know but it's
it's something
people keep saying we need to talk about it
WE DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!!!! EVER!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE LEAVE IT ALONE LET IT ROT IN HELL WHERE IT BELONGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE

I am genuinely so sorry, I don't think I can cope with it either

NOBODY CAN

that's a good point, in fact that's the whole point of this entry, which is that right beneath the surface of our daily life there is this HELLBOMB just waiting to go off, if the right godforsaken button is pushed. how horribly, horribly ironic that something from the ocean would do it.

I want to die. God help me I cannot cope with this.

I need to talk to some upstairs people. Christ be our light. Please bury this for now. We can't deal with it yet. Please help us. We don't know what to do.

Good night, God willing. We have Adoration tomorrow morning which means we can sleep in until 7.
We need to visit grandma in the afternoon but… we need a more stable mind first. right now, the thought of walking into that house… hoo boy. it'll be like walking into a minefield. I am absolutely cofronting right now, with a manic red social, there's our coping mechanism incarnate, hello there.

Oh by the way mention that at the gym today, two people got onto the treadmills on EITHER SIDE OF US and we nearly had an absolute mental breakdown on the spot. like it was TERRIFYING. our immediate flashback was to the two guys who mugged us on the sidewalk, they were on either side of us just like that, as we ran and listened to spotify on our phone with that same exact brand of headphones, WOW NO WONDER WE THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA DIE, that is UNCANNILY EXACT.
but yeah. awful. RIGHT AFTER almost hitting that lady's car because we dissociated. and she got out of the car and yelled at us. JUST LIKE when that OTHER blonde angry lady hit us at big lots and we almost died. I think we still have a scar on our back from the broken glass. I hope so. and our hand! I'm sure. I will look in a minute, I can't see in the red light. but it's nice.
the red light washes out our skintone somehow where we look safe. less "physical." more of a concept. it's holy, it's good. there's no food in here. but.
too many people associate red light with sex
and there is definitely still that potential for "eros" in here. somehow. like previews before a movie. maybe that's just trauma flashbacks. but oh I'm so sorry please I don't want to ruin the red light in here for you. it's beautiful. it's safe. I don't want to hurt you. I'm sorry everything is just so weird and terrifying tonigght, there are too many flashbkac,s we don’t want to remember this please god no no no n


all right kids let's get our ass to bed. Laurie out. We've gotta fix this. See you around.

 

082421

Aug. 24th, 2021 02:00 am
prismaticbleed: (held)

Last night, I begged God to kill me.

I had had enough. My dietary struggles-- constant electrolyte imbalances, the blood sugar spikes and crashes, the myriad intolerances, the allergies, the stiff and inflamed joints, the bowel troubles, the cramps and bloating and pain and reflux, and above all the vomiting-- had become so unbearably inevitable that I just… gave up. "Take me home," I sobbed to the Jesus picture taped up in the hallway, hands pressed desperately against His paper scars. "I'm done. I can't live like this anymore. I don't know how to live. Please, just take me home to be with You. I don't want to live anymore." So on and so forth. I was finished. I saw no future, I had no hope, I wanted to be done at 31 like Saint Rose of Lima. Everything but death was a dead end to me, last night.

I remember asking God that if it were possible, to somehow help me survive until at least Christmas, so I could celebrate that beloved holiday and then die on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, three days later. That would be fine. I'd die in the church, or in the snow, and I'd be happy; I'd have sung at midnight mass and I'd have seen the tree and heard the carols and been blessed with all the gorgeous little gems of winter. As long as I had received the Sacraments, then, I could die happy. I was totally resigned to that.

I woke up this morning, and without even realizing it, something had changed in me.

I split my meal times up dramatically. I had 4 tbsp of hempseeds at 7:15, and packed the second 4 to eat in two hours. I cut an avocado in half and did the same-- packed it up, to eat at two more intervals after. I got into my red & white outfit and headed off to my gastroenterology appointment.

It was the first time I've been to such an appointment without pain. That struck me as I walked out of the exam, not having had any new meds prescribed for the first time in ages either. Despite the digestive hell of the past month, I wasn't in any pain at the moment, at all. I felt okay. And that was notable.

Furthermore, the doc said I actually am not lactose intolerant. I actually have the enzymes needed to digest it, according to lab results; the problem is IBS intolerance. It's the same thing with blood sugar-- I am not chronically hypoglycemic, nor am I diabetic. I'm possibly not allergic to shellfish, my liver cysts are benign, and my gallbladder looks absolutely fine as well. So… thank you, God.

I walked out of the appointment at 9, and as I stood in line I noticed that everyone else was fidgeting and/or complaining, checking their watches, etc. It surprised me. Are people commonly that bothered by having to wait? I wanted to exclaim, "if we didn't have to wait for things, patience wouldn't be a virtue" but the words didn't sound right and I didn't want to make anyone there even grouchier when it came to patience. I just… wanted to take a stand against that subtle opposing vice. "We're right where God wants us to be, right now," I thought. "There's no need to hurry. We'll get to the next place on God's timing too." The clock does not revolve around us; billions of other human beings have their divine schedules mapped out through timespace like ethereal threads and we must accept our place in that cosmic tapestry, weaving in and out of each other's paths, content in that dance and not demanding that anyone make way for our rebellious beeline to nowhere. "Look at it this way-- when we have to wait in line, we get to practice patience. Virtues need to be tested in order to grow. You can't be patient unless you've had the opportunity to be im patient." Et cetera. L'esprit de escalier. I wished the man ahead of me a good day and headed off to my car, my conscience a see-saw, knowing I should have defended the Christian behavioral choice but also knowing that my words had been poorly unplanned and my anxiety barred the Holy Spirit from speaking up instead. I resolved to be more aware, more open to inspiration, in the future-- to not close up in self-conscious silence, effectively a sin of omission. But I myself stood still, and smiled, and offered a kind hello and gentle manners, hoping to attest to patience nevertheless, even if I hadn't taken the chance to preach. Perhaps actions still speak louder than words in such situations.

So I had a clean bill of health this morning, with no upcoming appointments needed, the first time for that too. I still had bloodwork at 11:30 to check my metabolic panel, but there was plenty of time to spare between now and then.

I cannot quite remember what I did next. I know I stopped at the bank, and then I ran home briefly to make sure grandma took her ibuprofen and also to brush my teeth after eating my second serving of hemp seeds. However I also grabbed my three S.O.S. electrolyte boxes from the closet, in order to return them-- I actually brought one box with me in my car, and put two packets into my Power Water, but I forgot that-- possibly because of the maltodextrin-- my stomach really does not like it. It causes immediate pain and nausea and burping, and that is not worth the trouble, especially when I get better nutrition for a better deal with Ultima now. So I headed back off to Wal-Mart.

Here I have to interject again. I had four boxes, minus two packets. I knew I was never going to use that fourth box. But I couldn't return it missing. So, I found an Ensure electrolyte stick in my purse and stuck it in there instead. Dishonest? I hope not. My conscience is still prickling me about it. I returned that edited box because 1) someone else can still use the 8 packets plus the odd one out, 2) I did my best to restore the item with what I had, not intending to cheat the buyer, and 3) that return would be at extra six dollars with which I could buy house groceries. And that is where my conscience pokes me hard. "You're still thinking too much about the money, " it warns. "You're not thinking about the objective, context-free morality of your actions. You're focusing on whether or not there's a profit to them, the ends justifying the not-so-pretty means. That's mammon. You have to stop thinking that way."

So I was haunted. Where to go when you're feeling low in the soul?

CHURCH.

I went straight to Saint John's.

God bless them, their doors are finally open again. The second I walked in, the heavenly scent of incense hit me like a truck and I nearly sobbed, "I'm home."

I spent… a half hour? Just… being there. I love that church so much. It feels like my soul. It's so big and quiet and full of raw ambient sunlight and shadow and cold white marble and warm humble wood, full of glass and candles and flowers and gold. It's the only church I've been to-- besides the Basilica in D.C. which I WILL live at one day if at all possible-- that feels so close to my heart. I am profoundly blessed that it is so close to my house as well.

When I first walked in, though, I had to use their restroom, which was not a problem-- it's this oddly sweet little old room with tile and a stained glass window of Saint Joseph, and I always feel safe in tiny interim spaces like that. While there, though, in a sudden fit of deep affection I actually clambered up on top of the sink and toilet tank with a wet paper towel to clean the years of dust off his hands, feet, face, and halo. So now when you look up at him, he glows. It's the least I can do for my heavenly foster dad, after all. I love him very much.

I went into the main church after that-- after a joyful gasp at realizing the doors to the central inside were also open-- and immediately got caught up in the Pieta statue by the door.

Mary is weeping, her right hand tangled in Christ's hair, fingers pressed to his cheek, her left hand holding his lifeless body to hers. Her eyes are purple-blue and she is so sad, with a shocking keenness to it that speaks of acute heartbreak, not just deep blue mourning; there is a white-hot sword plunged through her heart and it bleeds out through her tears.

Christ Himself is bleeding, the statue actually depicting embossed blood drops from His wounds, which I touched and shook. His hand is limp, the fingers beginning to curl in, the nail wound bruising blue around the edges, and I grabbed that hand in both of my own and just held it. I thought, "I've never held someone's hand like this before." It was a shockingly intimate gesture on my part, new and profound. I stood there for a while, like that. Christ's eyes are half closed, unfocused, poured-out exhausted from the unbearable pain that has now stopped and left Him drained entirely. His mouth is slightly open, His teeth even visible in the statue, another tiny display of total vulnerability that struck me to the core. This is God, lying here in His sobbing mother's arms. This is God, His skin torn and ragged and pale, His bones all worn out, His face so beaten and sad and tired. That statue is a thousand sermons to itself. I can still see it clear as day in my mind.

I forget how and when I moved on but I did. I looked up to see another statue of Mary, her eyes raised to heaven, a statue I am fond of because it always seems to catch the beams of sunlight streaming in from outside. I talked/prayed to her for a bit, and at one point I was asking for the grace to suffer more for God, and it got sunny to the point where everything looked golden. I took this as a "sign from God" that this was the "right track" for prayer, and I continued, somewhat foolhardily perhaps, and added that I "wanted to bleed for Him." At that the light got cloudy again. Hesitating with worry, I pondered this for a moment, and sensed that it had been spoken out of a sort of pride or self-centeredness-- out of my personal "aesthetic obsession" with blood and suffering in a different sense than the selflessly sacrificial. So I then re-centered my heart and rephrased my request-- "I want to let Christ bleed through me." And the sun came back . …So I will definitely be reflecting on that whole exchange for a while.

I prayed before the altar for a bit. I cannot reiterate my exact words, nor would it be proper to. But I can feel and smell and hear and see and taste everything about it in my heart even now. I'm more real in church than I am anywhere else.

I do remember my closing prayer. Still remembering the clouds earlier, I emptied that worry before God, and said-- "Whatever I am, You made me. Whatever I can do, You gave me the ability to do. I am your Dream-walker. I am your Heart-singer. You have given me my purpose, for Your glory. You have given me the ones I love, to bring me closer to You. And if I am to love You more truly, and if I, too, am to me your angel, a messenger of Your love to others-- then please, I beg of You-- give me the grace to live every moment of my life for Your sake, for Your glory, and for Your love. In all my life, may Your will be done." That was the gist of it. I felt shaky afterwards, always feeling "stupid" for "bringing headspace into this," but there was no guilt, only self-conscious "shame" for "being unique." But God made me an "us" and we ALL know that it is for His glory so praying about it only makes perfect sense. I do have to dedicate an entire entry to that train of thought soon, to be honest-- not now, as it's late and I have to be up early again-- but that's a note, to remember.

I then did a little bit of "exploring" around the main area of the church; I found the stairs up to the choir loft, a back entrance to the sacristy, stairs down to what I assume is a storage room, and little bits of stained glass in all those places. I passed the statue of Saint Joseph with his lilies and I felt such a wave of filial affection, I nearly teared up. He feels like a dad to me now, possibly because of the consecration I did in the hospital back in the spring. I prayed that he help me continue to consecrate myself to his wife. I prayed to Saint Ann at her statue, and to the child Mary, asking for them to help me love my mother the way Mary loved hers, and for Anne to bless my own grandmother the way Christ blessed her. I walked down the aisle and just took in the light and the silence and the color and the holiness. In a second fit of love I dunked both my hands entirely into the holy water and asked God to
bless all that I did with them, then I made a very wet sign of the cross and asked God furthermore to bless "everyone in here"-- the entire System, all of us, for His sake.

I blessed my mouth too, asking for blessings on my dietary struggle, for cleanness and edification of speech, and… for purity of love, too, with the one who tastes like river water, who is now also effectively holy water himself on a spiritual level (and literally so if I can get a priest to do the job). But I clearly remember saying "he is a messenger from you, God, and I must be the same to him in return" and feeling the weight of that, as well as the joy and the love … all marriages are meant, first and foremost, for the glory of God, and in that inevitable liquid intersection between blessing and beloved I prayed for us with as much sincerity as I could muster.

I stopped at the tiny underground chapel before I left, with spirit-push #3 dropping a tenner into the donation box to light three of those gorgeous red candles I love so much. I asked Saint Therese to send me a rose "with a message of love from God," told the Infant Jesus that I was sorry for "taking back that ring" when I moved to Charlotte and begging forgiveness for that scandalous act, asking again for blessings on my "marriage" but also imploring that "before I am bound to anyone else, I must be bound to You." I prayed to Mary, my mom, looking so young in her heavenly blues, asking her to guide and protect me, her daughter, to also be a handmaiden of the Lord, to live as a holy woman in imitation of her, to learn to love my earthly mother with more sincerity, and to be a "spiritual mother" myself in helping Christ be "reborn" in my own flesh, to bring Him more fully into the world anew, to bring about His Kingdom in my own life.

I went to the statue of Jesus and I just… felt His scars. It blew my mind. It made my heart shiver with holy fear.


I wanted to check produce prices at Schiffs, to see if I could go there instead of ShopRite from now on, but as I headed that way I realized, "wait a second. The little local farmer's market is open today, isn't it?"

So I went back to Schiffs, now looking for lettuce prices, but I had no luck on anything-- they didn't even have organic produce. So I just grabbed a bunch of bananas to get cash back and headed back to the market, where I got two green leaf lettuces, two zucchini, and one purple bell pepper. Yes, purple! Then I went to the library next door but they were inexplicably closed for a week starting today , so I wished the other girl there (who apparently just found that out too) a good day and headed back down the road for bloodwork.

I was in and out of the office so fast I swear I didn't even get to turn on my phone, haha. Which was nice! So I immediately headed across the river to the other local library, still hoping to grab a mythology book for research if it was God's will for there to be one there… and there wasn't. Long story short, that other library is super tiny and their selection of nonfiction is too; I ended up just checking out the graphic novel shelf and was deeply disappointed to see it 85% Marvel and 10% blatant paganism. The other 5% was Land of Oz adaptations, which I spent 15 minutes flipping through and being equally disappointed that it struck me now as just… fluff. Perhaps "fun" to read, on some level, but a waste of time for me. My maturing "memento mori" mindset has really started to scour the edges off my mind and I no longer have any time for time-killers, thank God since I'm still a Celebi deep down anyway.

I ate my last bit of avocado as I drove by the river (accidentally on a one-way residential street… sorry about that) and headed to Redner's and Goodwill to finish up my errands.

As I drove the back road to get there, though, my heart broke to realize that Our Lady of Mount Carmel JUST finished their 11:30 mass. I had FORGOTTEN they had one-- how wonderful it would have been to have gone there instead of the darned library! It made me sick at heart. I need to type up a mass schedule and keep it in my car, so I ALWAYS know where I can go to be with Our Lord.

Goodwill had no new stuff, and I prayed that God find me a white long-sleeve sheer top to wear with my skirts, but over a colored tank, for modesty but also avoiding heat exhaustion. However there were no crisp white anythings, just two or three offwhite tops that were either skin-tight or overly huge. I started to check black but decided I didn't want to wear that color in summer, so I gave up and left, thanking God for His guidance nevertheless.

Redner's had everything I needed grocery-wise which was lovely. I got pudding & Lactaid for grandma, bok choy & oatmilk & vitamin waters for me, ice cream for the boys, and I think that's it? It was a small order, but a needed one.

I got home around 1:30, I think? I planned to start my salad immediately but of course there were SO MANY CHORES to do. So I took out the crudbuckets, took out and burned the garbages, wiped up the counters, did TWO SINKS full of dishes, washed and dried a load of laundry (but put them aside to hang for later)… it’s a bit of a blur! But inbetween I did chop up my carrots and zucchini and pepper so I was eating something as I worked-- I was already getting muscle spasms and I didn't know if that was hypoglycemia or heat exhaustion from the oven-hot car or both. I downed a small Gatorade with 2 Ultima scoops in it almost immediately, haha.

Grandma had a sudden craving for a hot dog with sauerkraut around 2:30 (I remember because FATHER MITCH was on), and I told her "give me fifteen minutes" and I literally zoomed straight up to Walmart in shorts. I grabbed potato buns, turkey dogs, ketchup, mustard, an onion, cheese slices, chili, and sauerkraut, and within 20 minutes I was back in the kitchen with the goods-- only to find my brother Chris struggling to put a tray of pulled pork in the oven and anxious because it wouldn't be done and ready in time for him to eat before work. So, uh, "do you want a hot dog?" And thus I began making three hot dogs, haha. I fried up the sauerkraut with onion & butter & honey as I do, heated up the dogs and chili, and got some pickles out too. I made the food and served both Chris and grandma and they both said they were delicious, so that made me super happy. I love taking care of people, but I never want to give anyone bad food! So when they enjoy a meal
that I make, I not only feel trusted and useful, but I know they are getting not only nourishment and enjoyment but love from that little plate and it just warms my heart. I think it's a woman's mothering instinct, haha. It's a good thing.

Oh yeah! I got two extra things at Walmart that I forgot about because I paid for them separate-- a bag of quinoa/pea protein powder, and a little tin of smoked rainbow trout, also for protein. I figured, hey, I need more protein in my diet, why not start now, since the day has been literally FLAWLESS so far as diet is concerned? And so I did! I put three scoops in with the salad and put the fish aside for Friday, mixed it all with curry powder and salt and pepper and… did more dishes. XD I'm sorry dude. I don't mind though, it kept me nicely busy.


But. At one point I had to get a bedpad for grandma from the clothesline, and decided to burn the remaining two garbage bags to clean up the porch, and… that's why I'm typing tonight.

For some reason, when I went back out there, heartspace opened up.

I think it was the fire, simple as that. I think it was just handling matches and dancing around the smoke and the sunlight and looking up at the sparkling green trees all around, and it just reached in deep and before I knew it I was talking to my friends, to my beloved.

Chaos Zero wanted a blackberry. Just one, off the hill, if I found one. So I went looking, and… there was exactly one, but on the very top of the path, a great deal of brush between it and me. Chaos, as excited as the Chao he is at heart, nudged me to go get it. I gently told him that I would, but I was wearing sandals and shorts and didn't want to get ticks. He understood this, and decided I shouldn't put my legs at such a bug risk, but I felt how enthused he had been about me getting him this single little berry from the hill and I just couldn't let him down. So I headed back onto the porch, and then without a word, I put my boots on.

"Do not underestimate my love," I said, and joyfully stomped on back over to the hill. (When I reached it, I got a split-second mental image of Chaos just looking at me with the sappiest smile on his face, then turning to Genesis and just saying, "That's my wife." Genesis nodded knowingly, replying "You got a good wife." help my heart is MELTING)

Going straight up, I grabbed the berry-- only to find that it was not only the ONLY berry around, but the LAST berry in general; all the others were withered and gray and dead. Unfortunately this berry also paid the price of approaching autumn, as it was only three cells barely clinging together. I showed Chaos, and he decided we shouldn't eat it-- we tossed it deeper into the woods instead, with the hope it would re-seed somehow and bring more life out of that fruit's final push against death. CZ was quite satisfied at this, as was I, but I still felt sad that the berry was neither eaten nor shared, as that's special too. So I asked Chaos if he would like some blueberries instead. His eyes lit up at that as he agreed, so I went and picked exactly ten of them, offering him two at a time, the last two which he practically bit out of my hand, haha. (That's a very Genesis thing too.) But it was so sweet and simple, the two of us just meandering around the edge of the woods picking blueberries as the golden hour settled in and the birds sang in the warm summer trees.

Walking past the fire on the way back towards the house, I was struck by how the smoke was catching the sunlight through the trees, giving them shimmering form, like hazy ribbons streaming down from heaven. The beauty plucked at my heartstrings on its own, but even as I stood and looked, Chaos put one oceanic hand on my incandescent shoulder and said, "that's you, too, you know. You make the light visible." I nearly cried, at that.

We went over to the pear tree then, and Laurie showed up, asking me what I was up to. I said I was picking pears, or at least, I would if there were some low enough to nab without a ladder today. Laurie and Genesis bantered a bit about this as they always do, and I managed to find one pear that I could get if I pulled one branch down a bit, so I did. I ate half of it as I wandered back around the yard, then decided that instead of eating the whole thing-- and possibly upsetting my stomach-- I'd plant the rest of it. So, between the two cherry trees, I stooped down and dug a little hole in the dirt with my nails (accidentally unearthing an earthworm, hello buddy) into which I placed the pear-bottom with its seeds, then covered it back up. The dirt had that heavy petrichor scent from the rain and it was all over my hands and I felt very real and alive.

I continued to wander around the back of the garden, looking at how it had overgrown (and at the swallowtails on the pink phlox), telling Laurie that I "still wanted to build a chapel beneath the pear tree," then decided to look for one more pear because why not. After a bit of searching we found one more tiny one (I think Genesis actually saw it), which I again ate half of before pitching the rest up into Diamew, to a fate only God knows-- to be eaten or seeded or both. Then, realizing I really should eat my actual dinner, I headed back into the house.

… I still didn't eat dinner, haha. I put in another load of laundry and did more dishes and took care of grandma and then I got to finish my salad. However my body was so psyched that I had EATEN for the first time in literal months (outside the hospital), that it actually got hungry and so I decided to nibble on bok choy and carrots and an entire cucumber until it decided it was full. Also it was craving mustard?? So we had mustard on romaine lettuce, haha. It worked! Nevertheless I was talking to my guardian angel the whole time to make sure I had permission to eat those foods, and to make sure I didn't go overboard, and everything worked out perfectly.

So then I brushed my teeth, washed up and got dressed, and then put on Spotify to go hang up all that laundry on the porch.
When that was done, I did more dishes, wiped up the floor, made more hot dogs for Blase to eat for dinner (as mom never showed up to feed him), cleaned up some of the refrigerator for space, planned my schedule for tomorrow, and now I'm here. Typing! And very tired! I wanted to go on the bike for an hour but honestly, I was on my feet for a great deal of the day and I don't feel like sweating out all my potassium before bed again, so… I'll just bike for 15 minutes, haha. Can't break the habit, that's important.


But yeah. I prayed to die, and… well, God answers prayers. Something died last night, but it wasn't my soul, and in the morning I found hope resurrected.

So thanks be to God. Thank you Jesus, thank you Mary my mother, thank you
Saint Dismas who I always ask to pray for me, thank you Saint Rose of Lima who I know had something to do with this, thank you guardian angel who always strives to keep me on the straight and narrow and never gives up on me. Thank you God, for it all.

Yes I'm exhausted but I'm happy. I'm loved and I CAN love and I have HOPE and I just want to cry from the joy of it all, yes I know suffering will return in due time because that is blessed too but today showed me that I don't have to suffer from sinfully poor choices anymore. I can handle pain if it's for love, God knows, God graces. And so when it is time for that, I pray I can face it with a heart still full of this same faithful joy, full of this same loving hope.

Until then… I'm going to go bike, then collapse into bed and wrap my aching arms around Chaos Zero and sleep. It's the little blessings that mean the most, really. Tiny blessed things. Blueberries and grandma snoring and impromptu hot dogs and smiles exchanged with strangers at the farmer's market. Earthworms and lemon balm in the garden and folding my brother's socks and having people to dry dishes for. I'm just… I'm glad I'm alive, for as long as God wants me to be, now that I see what life is. Christ incarnated into this same simple sacred life. I must live according to that truth as long as I am incarnate, too… after all, if I do, I will only ever have good days, no matter what.

 

080521

Aug. 5th, 2021 09:13 pm
prismaticbleed: https://www.deviantart.com/teacosies/art/celebi-420071633 (tears)
Another rough day so far.

I keep getting massive stuttering panic attacks when I have to talk to people, even my own grandmother. I feel like I'm in court, like there is no such thing as an innocent conversation anymore. I'm so ashamed of myself, of my very existence right now. I know its because of the gluttonous weight gain diet I'm on. I'm utterly humiliated. I'm so FAT. Everything hurts, and I'm always nauseous. I can't even sleep at night. I want to sob.

People keep asking weird questions about my diet plan, too, and making weird comments. Even the kitchen. I want to throw up and scream and weep and die. I have no appetite at all anymore. I don't want to eat. I'm so bloody tired of food. The very act of eating feels like torture, like abuse, all over again. I'm so tired.

I still haven't heard a thing about inpatient.

I have a pounding headache again. I bet it's the butter.

I'm fasting tomorrow, though. I've decided. No meat, no butter. I have to. I'm getting so gross.

I must be severely intolerant to some food I'm eating. Maybe the cheese? It's new. But the headaches, the hot flashes, the heart racing, the fatigue, the phlegm coughs-- is this going to be my life now? Just sickness and suffering whenever I have to eat? Can I offer this up as a cross? Or does it not count, because it's a sin? Why is every act of eating objectively a heinous SIN???

I want to go home. I give up.

If there's no inpatient or residential, I will do PHP. Or even better, i hope there's no PHP either, and I can just dissociate from all this and pick up where I left off, taking care of grandma all day and all night-- a life of loving service, not demonic food.

Except... I was fighting and losing this war then, too. That's why I'm here, the asshole who ate enough to feed a small country and then puked it all up, sobbing and helpless and STUPID STUPID STUPID.

I just want this all to stop.

I want to cry.

My self image in nightmares is fat now, and fat = whore. Inevitably now if I become aware of this body in a dream, "I" immediately become a catty prostitute and end up reliving trauma memories. I hate this. I want to be thin and pure and safe and REAL again. Not this garbage bag of devil flesh.

I struggled to come to terms with my new reflection all last week. This body is so bloated I look like a corpse. My skin hurts all over like a bruise from the sudden stretching-out.

I tried real hard to give it a positive spin. "I have Mewtwo legs now," I thought. "I have an Alcremie body now." Trying to associate size with something sweet, something strong. But it's not working. It's fighting too horrific and powerful an enemy.

When I look in the mirror, I see everything I'm terrified of.

I have Y's legs.

I have C's face.

I have S's stomach.

I have mom's shape.

I want to DIE.

I WANT TO DIE IF I HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS.

...Maybe that's why I'm forcing the butter, besides UPMC programming. Everyone just wants me to gain weight, with NO thought for my psychological or spiritual health, and the fastest way to do that is by pushing fats and carbs. Butter and pasta. Literal whore food. If I saw myself eating that outside of this prison I would eviscerate this bloated body with a butcher knife.

God I miss knives, oh God I miss the knives and the razors and the sharp-edged combs. I wonder if I could get a plastic knife, smuggle it into the bathroom... get a plastic comb, break its teeth so it learns to bite. 2010 era flashbacks. White-haired, red-stained days. Blood and horror. Why do I miss that, so suddenly? Do I miss the family inside? Oh I do, I do, who am I kidding, I miss Knife and Razor and Wreckage and everyone else. I miss being alive.

"Lord, grant me an upright mind."

God, I cannot drag my mind out of this. I must think of You but I feel trapped in my mourning. Is that a sin? Is this pride?

God, how can I serve You even in this distress?

Let's go back to the body.

Laurie told me there is hope, there is possibility. Yes, I look hideously ugly and frightening right now. Yes, I feel very sick and shaken. But this hell space of food focus is temporary. Sooner or later, I will be in a QUIET place, away from constant strangers conversations, able to exercise and sleep and sing and play music and write and paint and go to church. Eventually I will be free of this. And then I can FIX THIS.

I can start running miles every day again. I can eat my safe vegetables and not push calories. I can go outside and see the trees. I can live.

But I can also utilize this weight, Laurie said. Looking at my body frame, I'm not as stick thin as I always wished and thought I was? I appear to be built sturdier, thicker. I've got wide shoulders and solid limbs. If I get an exercise routine going (remember the Sonic & Medabots biking days???) I can get this fat to fuel MUSCLE growth. So that's hope at least.

The deeper problem is... do I want to be so strong? Yeah, it's definitely a desirable possibility on one hand, but... even deeper down, I still... admittedly I want to stay 11 years old. I want my child body back, thin and slender and safe and pure and lively and bright and UNSEXED AND UNTOUCHED.

I want to cry. I can't grow up, not really. I can't integrate the concept.

...Well. The good news is I just threw up. My sitting nurse is that super quiet handsome guy that first sat here after I had that trauma meltdown from that one lady last week. Thank God. I know the redhead kid last night had his purpose too-- I learned a LOT from that-- but the mental and physical pain I was getting from lunch was too much to bear safely. I was legit PLANNING to bleed. That CANNOT be taken lightly, in BOTH senses-- blood is holy and should NEVER flow for something as stupid as self hatred over food. Now, if it was in atonement for my gluttony and wastefulness... but no. Not even that justifies it anymore, now that I understand my faith more.

...They just started singing the Anima Christi hymn on EWTN. I want to cry. God, I cannot fathom how You can still love me like that.

...I need to return to the growing-up concept, now that my stomach is emptier and I can form a coherent thought.

I am, honestly, afraid of looking like I did when I was about 17, before I started to drop weight (remember I was GORGEOUSLY THIN in 2012; I miss that so much). High school was the last time I was fat-- once college hit, trauma memories resurfaced and that weight became a tangible, inescapable perpetuation of it. But prior to that, prior to the Spectrum waking up-- yes, there was a time when it was ONLY the coregroup gang-- I did not remember the terror, and my childhood had been buried for protection, so the body was wild and manic and energetic and RED. Every photo I see of the body from high school is FRIGHTENING. The eyes are wild, the clothes are tight, the muscles are firm, the grin is violent. She was a demon in a very real sense, at least looking back visually.

But our INNER world back then was PROLIFIC despite the physical beastliness. Our inner self, that "Jewel," was the one who was obsessed with Trigun and Chrno Crusade and Zatch Bell, with Medabots and Sonic and NiGHTS and Pokémon, with Yugioh and Sailor Moon and DragonBall Z, with Tokyo Mew Mew and Transformers and Fullmetal Alchemist. She LIVED in media and she LOVED the souls she met there. She lived ENTIRELY out of herself. So she never even knew what her body was like. But she was MANIACAL in her own right. She had more sheer energy that she knew what to do with. Yes, she loved to run and exercise, that we know. But as for life in public? She was nonexistent. And when you put a manic red wildness out among people... you get hell. You end up with a gluttonous, violent slut.

That's why the photos are terrifying. SOMEONE ELSE WAS DRIVING THE BODY, because the STATE of the body was INCOMPATIBLE WITH OUR TRUE SELF. If our current Jewel, crazy as she was, couldn't even inhabit it... then our child self NEVER could. And that means that big body was INCOMPATIBLE WITH INNOCENCE. It could never be pure. It could never be gentle. It could never be safe. It could never be good.

So. I NEVER WANT THE BODY TO LOOK LIKE THAT AGAIN BECAUSE I KNOW WHAT EVILS WILL TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ITS SIZE AND STRENGTH AND HEALTH, and I KNOW THAT IT IS A HELLFIRE ENVIRONMENT THAT WILL INCINERATE ALL CHILDHOOD PURITY IN AN INSTANT.

A big body is nothing but a furnace for destruction. I'm sorry. I don't care about potentially being muscular. That's not my job. It's not my purpose. I NEED to be small and thin and pure and good because like it or not, MY HEART IS RED and if you put that color in the wrong environment IT WILL ANNIHILATE ITSELF.

The trauma dreams prove this. My own bloody reflection right now proves this. I think that's why I keep having panic attacks and sobbing. I cannot cope with this literal hell. I would rather die. At least I would die pure.

But am I pure? Or am I just desperately grasping for it in the wake of unbearable loss, trying to scrub the tar out of my soul and hoping there's still white underneath?

Only God can save me. Only God can heal me now. Only God can fix my utterly broken body and soul, but at this point I would genuinely be happiest if He just... forgave my heinous sins and washed me clean in His blood and let me die like that. I don't want to live anymore, I see no future for me-- except, no, I do, but it's impossible to realize physically and THAT makes me want to cry until the entire world is flooded from heartbreak.

Sounds familiar, doesn't it.

...That's the only way I could ever grow up. Somehow, maybe. God knows. But it's the only possibility. It's the only blessed option. Every other path to adulthood is hideous with trauma and its frantic stains of regret and terror.

I still want to be a nun, yes. But somehow that doesn't register as "growing up." It feels rather like perpetual childhood, because it IS so absolutely inherently pure and kind and good and gentle and safe and holy and untouchable. Religious life IS my ideal, and if God is willing to accept me as such, then please oh Lord, accept me. Guide me to the right convent. Show me, clearly please because my mind is broken, where You would have me live and love You. Show me, I beg of You, if it be Your Will for me.

...but. if it's not.

then my only other option to grow up is to get married.

and there's only one safe way for me to do that in the entire created universe.

...I can't even type it. It's too sacred. I cannot talk about it in common language, in words that even the secular culture uses and abuses and mocks and mangled. It's SO blessed a thing that, as I tragically said, it isn't even possible in this world-- not with this body, not with this past. Unless God works a reality-bending miracle, I cannot get married in this physical life, not as marriage is meant to be. I know this.

...but, God, lately I've actually started to want it.

Oh, I never really did before, not truly. I know this too. I took a simple vow of celibacy in 2nd grade, disgusted by dating and infatuation and sexuality as a whole, and I kept it right up until the initial onslaught of abuse took it from me in 8th grade. That broke me, and ironically cemented my determination to detach completely from all sexuality in this world, especially marriage, in which it was mandatory.

...Then I fell impossibly in love.

Seven years later, my heart changed completely, and... for the first time in my life, I had hope that God could fix even me. I had hope that, despite everything, God could heal my shattered soul and show me what He meant marriage to be.

But I went about it wrong.

I brought the body into it.

And everything went to hell.

It's an old story. But it's important in this context.

...I don't want to eat dinner tonight. I'm actually not bloated right now. I've also been exercising as much as I can while hospitalized and that is helping too. But... if I don't eat tonight, I will get in trouble, and they're weighing me tomorrow anyway so if that number drops I'm really sunk. God help me, I'm so tired of food.

I'm starving but I'm so tired of the food that perishes. It's not what I need.

I need the Eucharist, for one. That's tops. But flowing from that, I am so tragically hungry for love.

...I guess you could say I even have an appetite for it.

God, You knew what You were doing, giving me that dream, huh. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst, Father Cedric Pisegna drove that point right between my ribs on Sunday, too; the spiritually hungry look for spiritual food, and God promises that they will find it. Without that appetite, there's no seeking. Without that want, that ache... and I'm not talking about the physical. That garbage has nothing to do with this. I'm talking about a hungry heart. I'm talking about deer and running streams. I'm talking about "This is My Body." I'm talking about LOVE. I'm talking about GOD.

And that's why I want to get married.

I've been....obsessed with the entire concept lately, as a concept, as a core, a heart-- the essence studied apart from the worldly distortions and lies. Looking at its very soul has shown me the absolute beauty of it, the absolute holiness of it, and I understand why Christ is the Bridegroom and why He constantly talks about His relationship with us-- us!!-- in marital terms. It's mind-blowing and yet it's TRUE-- and that would have TERRIFIED me at any point in the past when I didn't get it. Because I didn't, not until now.

But why now?

Maybe it's because I know I'm dying. Maybe it's because I know I'm starting. Maybe it's because I'm so tired of not loving as much as my heart demands and the only way TO do so is to give myself to my beloved totally. That's how God does it. And I think-- no, I know I must do the same, or my heart will die from sorrow. I'm RED, for heaven's sakes. My entire soul is defined by ardor, by holy fire, by warmth and life and blood and... and love, love so absolute and true that it must encompass everything. God is Love, and the Trinity is a relationship, and Jesus is our Bridegroom, and if we therefore want (need) to immerse ourselves fully in that love, we have to get married. Either to God, or to a God-loving soul. I can only be a nun or a wife.

Except I think God is changing that "or" to "and." Paradoxically.

I cannot get married physically. I might not be accepted into a convent because of my health. BUT. I can still somehow be both a 'nun' in the world and a wife in my heart. At least, God, I hope so. I want that more than anything.

I can still be a consecrated virgin physically, I hope. At least I can vow myself to God nevertheless.

But in my innerworld... I am so wracked with indecision. I can't just turn off love. I can't just act like eighteen years of love never happened. I can't just abandon the only thing that has ever legitimately felt like a vocation to me... yes, awfully, even moreso than wearing a habit, because to be totally blunt with you, my joining a convent would involve more than a little bit of "running away from the world to be with God" and that's not proper motivation. Honestly I just adore God and in a sense I feel like being a nun is the ONLY way to love Him enough.

...But He also gave me someone that I love so much, it has brought me closer TO God than anything else in my entire life. And God knows that. I know He does. We've talked about it.

And that's where I stand tonight.

...but if I died tonight, I wouldn't even care about marriage or my body or anything. I just care about God. He's all that matters, no matter how stupid and wretched I've been. God, I really do love You more than anything. I'm so sorry for everything. Please, forgive me, and have mercy on my poor soul.

CALYREX

Jul. 22nd, 2021 08:36 am
prismaticbleed: (Default)

Time to figure out my buddy CALYREX!!

Basic= GALAR region= gallant, gala, GALAHAD (King Arthur), HOLY GRAIL (ALL CHALICE INFO RELEVANT), & disease (Gaelic)

Dynamax curse= PAPILLOMAVIRUS HORNS!!!
✱ Based on UK, notably WALES, SCOTLAND, & the ISLE OF MAN. (+London, Bath, Liverpool, etc.)

✱ He is a WOLPERTINGER: a rabbit-deer. "General rule" is JAY WINGS, ROEBUCK ANTLERS, COTTON OR PHEASANT TAILS, & SABER FANGS. (fusion) (+duck feet?) "CHIMERICAL"?? They are very shy & live in dark Bavarian forests (conifers, rolling mountains, MASSIVE.) They have a weakness for female beauty and, like unicorns, can only be caught by a beautiful young woman-- ideally at night, on a full moon, in a secluded nook. "They... fall in love with human females."
✱ ARCTIC ones are "snow hare, polar fox, reindeer, & snow owl" fusions, "beautiful & deadly"
✱ Related to JACKALOPES? Shy unless approached, then deadly. POISON BITE? Can imitate the human voice!
✱ Wolpertingers are a GLOBAL phenomenon. "One must be drunk to see them"? Partial to drink (whiskey), too.
✱ "Warrior rabbits"! ALSO, HORNED RABBITS go way back, to Persia, Medieval manuscripts, etc.
✱ KAUYUMARI? "Blue deer" deity; seems to fit "life-bringer" "harrower of hell" tropes?? Antlers from RABBIT? ALSO ties to LIVE-GIVING BLOOD? (CHALICE! PLUS Kauyumari is tied to WATER?? ) + "Overwhelming perception" with which he "secures life" = the "divine essence in all things". = "NIERIKA": portal that CONNECTS THE (3) WORLDS = a mirror, holes carved in stone, EYE OF GOD, FACE OF DIVINE = most notably all refer to PEYOTE, "the visionary sacrament through which they can be in contact with the realm of the sacred" = "The intimate relationship between [plants & humans], evidenced by certain plants producing substances that can influence the depths of human mind & spirit" & "the wonderful/ dreadful effects prove their religious importance & the sacred respect they are due" effectively. Psychoactive plants have SACRAMENTAL purposes, + medicine! There are many, but we're focusing on PEYOTE: it is American (jackalopes) AND it blooms as a CACTUS, reminiscent in shape with Calyrex's head & notable as such.
✱ PRAYER BOWLS (chalices) & WHITE FLOWERS (life) tied to HOLY WORDS-- kept in a basket ("hamper" = "hanepier" = case for holding a CUP = "hanap" CHALICE) (But ALSO in medicine, "hanepier" = SKULL or HELMET) held by his ANTLERS, & received BY THE HEART. Again, there's a lot, & I don't need it all, nor do I want to appropriate it-- we're just looking for relevance to Calyrex, and, always, for reference to CHRIST.
✱ On that note! "Blue Deer was created to give life to the votive offerings (to God?), so he is connected to the PRAYER BOWL, full of fresh water (the nierika = portal to sacred = BAPTISM??) & given to "OUR MOTHER OF THE SEA" (STELLA MARIS + OCEAN OF DIVINE MERCY), as his BLOOD gives LIFE to the prayer bowls"!! OBVIOUS EUCHARISTIC CHALICE. Also notable, "Blue Deer offers his blood in sacrifice to nurture & grow the CORN" = staple crop = wheat/ bread of life = EUCHARIST again!!
✱ LASTLY there is a SHEEP, "its blood was the first shed to allow Kauyumari's words to rest (in the heart?); in its head is a plumed ARROW, attracting his words & embodying the Spirit of the sacrificed lamb." CHRIST = SACRIFICIAL LAMB = WORD OF GOD = HOLY SPIRIT = ARROWS OF LOVE/ REPARATION FOR BLASPHEMY = FREE WILL (in the head) + RATIONAL SACRIFICE, etc. Very rich in Christ symbolism, unsurprisingly!
✱ Another notable paraphrased myth of BLUE DEER is that he first appeared to a group of starving youths, all glorious & fat, so as they chased him in hunger he pitied them & instead led them to PEYOTE-- it SATIATED THEIR PHYSICAL & SPIRITUAL HUNGER & THIRST, despite intense famine, AND it was also MEDICINE for healing their diseases of malnourishment & poverty! (EUCHARIST) It was, all in one, "rain, food, & health"-- BOTH "deer & corn," essentially both BLOOD & BREAD (EUCHARIST). But the packaged significance & parallels of all this being in a SACRED CACTUS PLANT is notable, ALSO to Christ Jesus, Who was a desert flower of abundance & health blooming in the Palestine deserts & the dry starving hearts of unbelieving men. "Christ is the Vine," yes, but He's also the APPLE TREE... which is our next point!
✱ But first, PEONIES. Calyrex's head bud looks JUST like a peony bud, just white. They are often called the "KING OF FLOWERS"? In China, it symbolizes royalty, wealth, honor, bravery, & integrity-- but also it was exchanged upon farewells as a GIFT OF LOVE.
✱ In Japanese tattoos, peonies are associated with a novel in which 108 men/women were "banished to the hills by the feudal government" & banded together to "ferociously" foil their oppressors-- they were the "Outlaws of the Marsh" & were covered in tattoos, often peonies. Also titled "ALL MEN ARE BROTHERS." It's not really relevant, except for the possible idea of heroic rebellion against unjust power & invaders.
✱ Peonies also mean COMPASSION, purity, lifelong commitment, joy, & MARRIAGE? They live long!
✱ BTW, peony = heal; Calyrex MENDS HEARTS!!
✱ Peonies don't like to be moved or divided, need to mature for years before blooming, cannot have too deep roots, & need support to hold their weight. All that can & should be expanded symbolically IN RESPECT TO CALYREX-- also taking into account his BUD STATE.
✱ In winter, the foliage dies back BUT the CROWN & ROOTS survive (Calyrex silhouette??) They need drained soil & full sun or they ROT. Also "if they don't go dormant in winter, they will flower poorly the next year." Cutting down to ONE bud will boost its size.
✱ Flower lack is caused by no sun, overcrowding/ competition, disease, or "PLANTING CROWNS TOO DEEPLY."
✱ Peonies, though, thrive in cooler, dry places with lots of sun. They are NATIVE TO ASIA.
✱ ETYMOLOGY = "Paeon," Greek student of "god of medicine" Aesculapius; teacher got jealous & Zeus saved Paeon by making him a flower. Paeon is considered the "physician of the gods", HEALING ALL THEIR BATTLE WOUNDS. That's CANON! It also pings for King Arthur again, with the Grail (chalice), but we'll get there.
✱ The name "Paieon" ALSO was used for ANY "god" who was a "deliverer from any evil or calamity," even sorrow & pain. Again, CANON. Paradoxically, "paiein" means TO STRIKE, giving "destroyer" vibes, & so "Paean" would both heal & avert evils AND go to battle to strike AT those evils. Hymns & warsongs both. PROMPT.
✱ Paieon healed with HERBS (hello Peyote) & "knew the remedies for all things"; the "healer of pain."
✱ HE WAS SAID TO "HAVE NO PART IN DESIRE; HE IS ALIEN TO THE EROTES" = CHASTITY!!
✱ TONS of references to plants as medicine.
✱ Paeon used the PEONY ROOT (liquid) to CURE HADES??? It was a POISON ARROW TO THE SHOULDER. (See Blue Deer!!) BTW HADES ≠ HELL.
✱ Deer were an ancient STAPLE FOOD & were frequently seen as MESSENGERS OF GOD (angels!!)-- Calyrex has a notably wing-shaped cape!
✱ WARRIOR RABBITS, too-- they fight with their horns.
✱ CALYREX IS NOT A SKVADER; he also DOESN'T HAVE ACTUAL HORNS-- he has ears split into FOUR, which act like sepals. His bud is TRANSLUCENT when light hits it in official art??
✱ His cape ONLY becomes frilly & winglike ON HIS HORSE-- more Apocalypse angel vibes = White: CONQUEST (IN CHRIST??) & BLACK: FAMINE, in stark contrast to his title as the "King of Bountiful Harvests"-- although, on Spectrier, it is said they "ran all over Galar to BRING GREEN TO THE WASTELANDS." This is so notable-- Calyrex can both cause plants to "spring forth" and can MEND HEARTS!! So despite Spectrier's ghostly tendency to drain life & herald famine, Calyrex HEALS it and TRANSMUTES the presence of famine into a herald of MIRACULOUS ABUNDANCE.
✱ LIKEWISE, Glastrier-- a forceful, brutal, arrogant conqueror-- has its heart MELTED in a sense BY CALYREX, who uses its power for good in serving/ saving the weak, AND by uniting raw "justice" (in war) to MERCY, as Calyrex HEALED HIS ENEMIES WOUNDS after battle (PAEON)!!!
✱ BUT YOU NEED THE REINS OF UNITY. Without this BOND of LOVE (the horses are called "beloved" & "faithful" by Calyrex), THERE IS NO LOVING TRANSMUTATION. "Make all thoughts captive to Christ & obedient to Him!" Christ is the TRUE KING, Who alone bestows kingly authority on earth, AND charges all kings to justly IMITATE HIS EXAMPLE of mercy, humility, love, & service. "The greatest must be a servant," etc.
✱ The reins ALLOW those they unite TO communicate with each other (love surmounts ALL obstacles), enhance Calyrex's power "over bountiful harvests" (blessings of abundance TO FEED THE HUNGRY & GIVE LIFE), "unite him TO his beloved steed," AND were GIVEN TO CALYREX BY THE PEOPLE!!!
✱ They CREATE it by fusing a lock of hair (black or white) from either steed WITH a beautiful, Radiant BLUE Petal Calyrex gives YOU from HIMSELF. The horsehair can only be obtained by DEFEATING them-- a humbling act-- and when fused with the petal, they BECOME the reins, now luminous blue (seen in card art quite strikingly). Like this, they are "AS ONE"-- a paradox, but a blessed one-- it shows, literally, how unity via self-giving love & its resultant communication-- unity with CHRIST, the Life-giver & King-- can REDEEM & SANCTIFY ANYONE, no matter how troubled & lost. Calyrex TAMED him & now, instead of selfish rage & pride, he is loyal & uses his power for THE GOOD OF THE SAME PEOPLE HE USED TO TERRORIZE-- notably, by "ravaging & raiding" ALL OF THEIR FOOD, especially the CARROTS! THAT is when the Reins of Unity were forged: in gratitude, AFTER Spectrier & Glastrier had been HUMBLED and now SERVED in loyal LOVE. Their hearts had to BE bondable first!
✱ THEIR INITIAL FUSION CREATED A BOUNTIFUL FOREST IN THE WASTE (FAMINE & DEATH DEFEATED)!!! THEN they traveled & spread green life & food; again, an apostolate effect of sorts.
✱ The PEOPLE built the CROWN SHRINE for them to live in-- a GORGEOUS monastery-esque structure with STAINED GLASS even. BUT!!!! WHEN THE PEOPLE GOT COMPLACENT & LOST FAITH & GRATITUDE, CALYREX LOST HIS POWER TO DO GOOD for them, the Reins of Unity BROKE, and they faded into legend. (BTW Crown = King = CHRIST)
✱ CALYREX CAN SEE ALL OF TIME??? "KNOWN" events specifically?? So there's NOT omniscience, but WISDOM & CLARITY & KNOWLEDGE. Holy Spirit gifts, really.
✱ Yearly, Calyrex brought food & vegetation to the people = his LEFT hand for fruit, his RIGHT for verdant blooms & grass.
✱ Assumedly prior to all this, Calyrex was FOUND INJURED in the Crown Tundra DURING A TIME WHEN IT WAS BARREN & INHOSPITABLE. Calyrex just APPEARED during a bleak winter, "regal yet wounded & weak" (Christlike), so the people were MOVED TO PITY, took him into their village, and nursed him back to health!! (Loving service) Once healed, Calyrex "emitted a dazzling BLUE (heavenly) light" that turned the tundra into lush plains. The people then thrived DESPITE the frigid & barren region BECAUSE CALYREX SUSTAINED THEM WITH HIS CONSTANT BLESSING. The people now considered him their KING, perhaps because his life-nurturing power already did hold a sort of honorable rule over them, in gratitude & goodness (you WANT to serve such a gentle & loving King).
✱ CALYREX ALSO PERSONALLY PROMISED to tame Glastrier/ Spectrier, a "ruffian" & rebel, and soon enough he was "BENDING HIS KNEES" to Calyrex in CONVERSION & LOYALTY (lost sheep/ prodigal son?)! THAT'S when the people made the Reins of Unity FOR them, so Calyrex could "command him with ease."
✱ I find that detail SO notable-- Calyrex DIDN'T & perhaps COULDN'T make the reins; he didn't demand Glas/Spec's loyalty so "hard." BUT the bonds were forged BY THOSE THEY SERVED, not as a control device, but as a SIGN OF GRATITUDE, and even a SYMBOL OF FRIENDSHIP, as the reins REQUIRE a GIFT OF SELF from BOTH parties, which the people only UNITE for a new purpose of closer unity-- more loyalty & ease of obedience THROUGH self-giving relationship, NOT control or force, just GUIDANCE (easy yoke)! AND IT HAD TO BE REMADE YEARLY. Their relationship & commitment NEEDED that regular, true rededication & renewal... BUT. IT ALSO BANKED ON THE FAITH & GRATITUDE OF THE PEOPLE THEY SERVED. Without their love, Calyrex & Glas/Spec's bond would weaken & break-- pride & arrogance would again replace Glas/Spec's humility, angry as he would be with their lax hearts, & Calyrex would lose his ability to do them good as their hearts would slowly but surely turn cold towards him as their faith & love waned.
✱ Glas/Spec LEFT Calyrex then, as they had no power or purpose, & thus no reason to stay united. Glas/Spec went to the Crown Shrine & Calyrex disappeared?-- a show of arrogant taunting vs meek humility, it seems.
✱ The Crown Shrine was built AROUND a "sacred sapling"? No origin given. Perhaps it was the first green thing Calyrex brought forth. But the Shrine/ Temple, like a Church, was built TO GIVE CALYREX A "WORTHY HOME." You can't ignore the Catholic architecture here... nor the fact that, when they LOST faith, CALYREX (the gentle king of life) LEFT IT, & GLAS/SPEC (rebel of pride & destruction) TOOK OVER. It was heavily symbolic of the state of the people's hearts: who & what they were REALLY worshipping in their forgetfulness of LOVE & the King that loved them (Christ parallels). The barrenness in their hearts brought the same fate to their land, & they began to starve & freeze again, without the warmth & nourishment that grateful faith & love ALLOWED to enter & change their lives!
✱ There's a WEIRD myth post-Calyrex that claims he would "steal the body of those who misbehaved," which strikes me as a GROSS MISUNDERSTANDING of the nature of his bond/union with Glas/Spec. Their fusion was NOT a "stealing of one" BUT a "sharing of TWO." Their bodies remained INDIVIDUAL, BUT now operated AS ONE, in a sync born NOT of force, power, or control, but of HUMBLE, LOYAL, GRATEFUL, FRIENDLY LOVE. It's a COOPERATION for a GREATER GOOD & PURPOSE THROUGH self-giving & self-sacrifice to the point of achieving a FULLER self, FOR OTHERS' SAKE. Also, the specific mention of "misbehaving" also reveals their fear (therefore NO "perfect love") of justice & inability to grasp BOTH mercy AND conversion??? Because Glas/Spec REALLY misbehaved, BUT he never lost his body-- actually, EVEN IF HE DIED & SPLIT IN TWO, HIS BODY WAS NOT LOST TO DEATH?? Big Christ/ resurrection vibes; "if you life IN ME and I IN YOU, YOU WILL NEVER DIE." But the people couldn't grasp the SHARING & SELF-SURRENDER/ GIVING for the sake of cooperative love & SERVICE!!! Yes they worshipped Calyrex, yes they had faith, BUT was it only "because he multiplied the loaves"?? Was their devotion corrupted by becoming complacent in abundance, forgetting the utter famine he saved them from? Did they forget the tender compassion they showed him, which he reciprocated a thousandfold-- OR did they decide he OWED them, forgetting pure charity?? Either way, they could no longer even conceptualize the truth of Calyrex's actions; their lax hearts were blinded now. They forgot his face, & now could only mourn that vague yet keen loss of a King who once loved them so, & gave them riches untold without cost-- "come, all you who hunger, and dine without cost"-- recognizing their hopeless & powerless need. BUT THAT'S THE DOOR, THAT HUMILITY & CONTRITION & SEEKING, however feeble. Deep down they could still taste the heaven of mutual charity & I think they hungered for THAT even more than food. All they had now were fables, which kept their faith from totally dying thanks to HOPE-- an abandoned BUT extant church, testifying to a greater yet forgotten purpose AND the King for whom it was built (a King who COULD NOT MOVE BACK IN until/ unless they STOPPED WORSHIPPING IDOLS. so to speak)-- and a poor yet sincere effort at a statue, a sign of repentance and affection, an apology & a consolation all in one-- the King couldn't have been a mere myth, to hold such a place in their hearts, and that statue was a reminder of & hope for his literal presence to return & take its rightful place again.
✱ BUT THIS is the BEST part-- if the Crown Tundra people were prodigal children, then Calyrex was ABSOLUTELY the father. He NEVER LEFT! He is seen WATCHING OVER THEM, assumedly heartbroken & yearning too, POWERLESS to help WITHOUT FAITH, HUMILITY, LOVE, and REPENTANCE. Their doors AND hearts had to be UNLOCKED & OPEN for him to come back in & reign there... just like Glas/Spec, who would have to do the SAME now in the present. We'll get to that!
✱ BTW, CALYREX & GLAS/SPEC'S INITIAL FUSION WAS OF THEIR OWN HEARTS!! The reins, made by the people, were only a symbol OF the people, & only STRENGTHENED their unity BY GIVING IT A DIRECTION OF PURPOSE!!! It's not a chain, but a BOND. I can't emphasize that enough. It's becoming a SLAVE OF LOVE, a HUMBLE SERVANT, under a HUMBLE MASTER... Christ, His friends, & His people. I ALSO reiterate: The reins ALLOW the connected TO communicate with each other! They heighten their relationship from simple cooperation to DEVOTION. "I no longer call you servants but FRIENDS." This bond UNITES THEM AS BELOVED (!!!) and thus boosts Calyrex's ability to flourish life AND FOOD; again, Eucharistic vibes, as it is a SACRAMENTAL BOND, a COMMUNION, and LIFE-GIVING FOOD, THAT UNITES YOU TO THE WHOLE BODY OF CHRIST, His CHURCH-- the Temple of which HE is the Crown, the Head-- for the sake of LOVING SERVICE in FEEDING HIS SHEEP in the cold-hearted, desolate wastes of the devil's destructive attacks on the world. Calyrex, imitating Christ, is RESTORING Creation to its INTENDED state of nourishing life & love & giving & sharing! Food is grown AS A HARVEST not to be hoarded or gobbled, but to FEED THE HUNGRY, and to rejoice in CHRIST'S ABUNDANT LOVE, with "plenty of wicker baskets left over."
✱ THE CARROT SEEDS. "To plant IN A FIELD (parable of the sower!!!); the kind of carrot is determined by WHICH field you plant the seeds in." There are only TWO fertile grounds available... the SNOWY VALLEY (slope) and the OLD CEMETERY. Calyrex, imitating Christ IN HIS LOVE FOR THE LOST, is bringing food-- nourishment AND communion, a deeply natural act of love-- OUT OF BARRENNESS. Without cooperative love & care & concern, NOTHING would grow! You humbly buy the Seeds from an old farmer, it's so simple & pure. NORMAL carrot seeds, purchased from an old man who is STILL growing vegetables to feed his people, despite the cold & hard ground, sells YOU seeds so YOU can feed others too... and YOU'RE only buying them FOR a friend in need. It's all charity, simple as food & friendship.
✱ Carrots are hardy ROOT vegetables that can withstand tougher climates; they are actually TAPROOTS, reservoirs of nutrition for the plant, which are designed to dig DEEPLY into the soil to REACH WATER & SURVIVE DROUGHT. They are difficult to remove & are SINGULAR in purpose, not a tangled mes, and you CANNOT DIVIDE IT & have it still grow WITHOUT THE CROWN & ROOT IN EACH PART!!! "I am the Vine," etc., but ALSO Christ is our CROWN! And attached SINGULARLY to Him, we too can send down DEEP taproots int he dark yet fertile soils of life, where we WILL anchor in BY UNITY TO CHRIST BY FAITH, and absorb life from deeply hidden springs of LIVING WATER despite any lethal droughts on the surface world.
✱ OH. Also, Glastrier is PESTILENCE. He WEARS A CROWN & USES ARROWS (AGAIN). White horses in general were associated with warrior heroes, fertility, & END OF TIMES SAVIOR, Who traditionally rode a white horse in triumph over evil-- but white horses can ALSO mean DEATH, and when linked to pestilence/ disease, we have a tie to ETERNATUS as well. BUT. In general, horses represent freedom & power & spiritual awareness, BUT when the ego takes over that you get the ANTICHRIST, not the real Christ. In any case, it is CONQUEST.
✱ White horses are often PSYCHOPOMPS, guides between the LIVING & DEAD (Christ or Satan, abundance or famine, etc.). They are also heroic & pure & the ONLY fitting mount for a King! So there's a dichotomy, with which one Glastrier can become-- alone or serving Calyrex. An evil white horse has poison arrows; a good one, LOVE.
✱ Tangent: the BLACK horse of famine, Spectrier, is JUST (scales) in how misuse, neglect, & luxury will lead to LOSS & DEATH: "Memento mori," the ghostly steed reminds us of consequence and the beyond. It is ONLY by honoring the reality of death & the soul that we CAN let go of greed & gluttony, and THAT is why Calyrex uses Spectrier to BRING ABUNDANCE. "Our daily bread" is still needed, but we MUST RECEIVE IT FROM THE KING, and use it JUSTLY! Spectrier reminds us of the alternative & cost.
✱ White is FALSE PROPHETS of pride, of whitewashed tombs, of power held through lies.
✱ The Black horse DOESN'T TOUCH the oil & wine (blood & anointing?) but there's NO BREAD (Christ)!
✱ Carrots symbolize HONESTY, confidence in good conscience, integrity, wellbeing, HEALTH & PROSPERITY, fruits of labor, success in efforts, LONG patience (esp. hidden & dark). They also IMPROVE OUR EYESIGHT-- BOTH STEEDS ARE BASICALLY BLIND. They have NO vision on their own, wild & free but with NO DIRECTION. Calyrex's carrots are PURPOSE-- a vision of meaning & a future! This WILL bring them all those other good qualities.
✱ In Hebrew, CARROT = CUT ("g.z.r." root), as in making a DECISIVE CHOICE ("cut" a choice) one way or the other.  Combining this with the carrot-- given as FOOD, requiring a sort of surrender to humble service & helplessness (can't feed self, need help to live, NO PRIDE)-- is a choice between LIFE & DEATH again. Relatedly, the "carrot & stick" metaphor contrasts "hard vs soft" power-- obedience through punishment, OR through reward. Yes it's a basic start, BUT any good heart will inevitably soften to true devotion towards someone who is/was willing to feed & guide you even when you were greedy & stubborn & ungrateful. Calyrex just loves his horse and wants him back. So he, although nearly powerless alone, humbly asks others to aid him in this mission of mercy & kindness, PERPETUATING those virtues, all to grow his friend's favorite food as a PEACE GIFT-- Glas/Spec used to STEAL them! But here is one JUST for him, growing right in the midst of ice & graces-- love & life flourishing hardy & strong despite all odds. This carrot is the ultimate reward in what it manifests, of Calyrex & their bond. 

1. CROWN TEMPLE / SHRINE (CHRIST/ CHURCH HOME)
GLAS/SPEC IS STILL THERE, WATCHING, but WON'T COME OUT WITHOUT THE CARROT! (needs that tangible good, that hope made REAL)
2. PATH TO THE PEAK (CROWN PUN; "HEAD") = ALL barren snowy trees. STEPS! & AWFUL Giga beams. NO ABILITIES; stripped.
3. TUNNEL TO THE TOP/ SUMMIT (EUCHARIST REF, "source & summit") = CAVE. Winding! Tied to HEART; INITIATION? SEARCH FOR MEANING. + TOMB! ✞
4. SNOWY VALLEY/ SLOPE = FIRST snowy spot. Going UP! (get ice carrot)
5. GIANT'S BED = HUGE. → GIANT'S FOOT (scary) RUINS. DEVIL TRIED TO "STOMP OUT" GOOD??
(RUMBLING SEA CAVES  THREE POINT PASS  SPLIT DECISION RUINS FRIGID SEA)
↑(FROSTPOINT FIELD = BETWEEN 2 PATHS. Cold. Flat, or UP) → FREEZINGTON (The ONLY settlement!!!) → (DEAD END) SLIPPERY slope/ Max lair (HELL)
6. OLD CEMETERY (shade carrot) (No snow. Lots of ghosts BUT ALSO NIDORAN??? "Till death do us part" pair??) (AUDINO too!! "Listen" and "hearing the HEART"; life despite death) (THERE ARE RUINS?? of CHURCHES??)
7. [RIVER] BALLIMERE LAKE
→ (surrounds) DYNA TREE HILL (in it) (GLUTTONY.) (Also NO HEALING POSSIBLE; just the tainted Berries!!! LOST EDEN SATAN TREE) LAKESIDE CAVE

✱ About that fear of Calyrex "stealing bodies?" DEER & RABBITS DON'T EAT PEONIES.
✱ Peonies cure many diseases, and WHITE ones show APOLOGY. Also peonies are for 12th anniversaries= 12 is PERFECTION OF GOV'T AUTHORITY-- the King has returned, contrite, and seeks to COMPLETE his love-- Christ marrying His Church, and lovingly ruling Her.
✱White Peony ROOT is said to cure pain (sin), inflammation (vices), cramps (sin hinders), autoimmune (selfdestruct), & bloodclots (wrong life). There's TONS of symbolism! White Peony symbolizing "apology, regret, shame," and Peonies being generally "compassion, honor, fortune, joy, etc." = White: PURE, VS "White horse" paradox of PRIDE! The "King of Flowers" (CHRIST) purifies this color true, making it a bridge to HIM & His cures THROUGH that humility & love! For Calyrex to speak THROUGH PEONY exemplifies this. He's the flower given a HEALING gesture, to RESTORE relationship, allowing PERFECT KINGSHIP to be restored, thus curing the ills of stubborn pride and FLOURISHING THROUGH SERVICE & COOPERATION.
✱ BTW Peony really seems to have a pure heart. He is SUCH a dad... and he has GREAT FAITH; open heart.
✱ THAT SCARY DYNAMAX TREE has FRUITS that are basically SATAN APPLES (fallen Eden) (the birds that eat it FIGHT): the tree is IN THE MIDDLE OF THE "GARDEN" (vs. Tundra), surrounded by water, and IF YOU EAT OF IT YOU WILL "BE LIKE A GOD," but an EVIL "god," ETERNATUS... because Dynamax energy IS PART OF ITS BODY/ ESSENCE and it's a HORRIBLE corruption of intimacy, an power, in AWFUL contrast to Calyrex = His power is FOR OTHERS, supportive, humble, etc. But Eternatus power is FOR SELF, offensive, proud, etc. ALL "MAX" FORMS LOOK DEMONIC... & BIBLICAL GIANTS WERE DESCENDED FROM FALLEN ANGELS. The "Giant's Footprint" appears to have STOMPED ON CHURCHES??? There are RUINS BY A GRAVEYARD. And that area of misleading verdance-- oh yes, it's a "garden," but the ONLY food is TOXIC and NO ONE LIVES THERE, ONLY GRAVES-- opens up into SEA CAVES & a FRIGID OCEAN... inhospitable, undrinkable, rough waters bringing DEATH, NOT LIFE, & symbolizing the devil again. "Three point pass" leads to 3 dead ends. It's a scary mockery.
✱ BUT!!! THAT THREE WITH THE FRUIT WAS NOT CREATED EVIL, and there IS HOPE OF REDEMPTION FOR IT... IN CALYREX. That bud on his head isn't a "flower," per se. IT'S A FRUIT BUD. And it appears to be the SAME KIND AS THE DYNAMAX TREE, before it "fell" (when Eternatus fell)! In official art, the "bud" LOOKS TRANSLUCENT even, as if it weren't a flower but a FRUIT.
✱ Calyrex's "bud" LOOKS just like a Peony, BUT its connection to the Dynamax & large calyx makes it STRONGLY RESEMBLE A PERSIMMON. And some persimmons ARE PURPLE. That's very close to the Red/Blue dichotomy in Dyna/Caly, as persimmons are Orange/Purple, and purple is RIPE? But the shape is EXACT, even with the "bulge lines" into 4 sections. It's soft & translucent and the ONLY RIPE FRUIT LEFT, truly-- the only one that is NATURALLY EDIBLE, not "mutated" & toxic! OH-- AND IT'S ONLY "GLOWY" WHEN HE'S ON HIS HORSE. Otherwise, alone, it's the same opaque dark green as the "buds" around his neck, which don't change color on the horse.
✱He has 8 buds, which symbolizes HOPE, "new beginnings," salvation, triumph, bright futures, etc.
✱But he's ALL BUDS. He's a CALYX, NOT A BLOSSOM HIMSELF: The calyx is the FIRST part of a flower that develops, and the petals & parts grow WITHIN. The calyx PROTECTS the flower as it develops, preventing it from drying out.
✱BUT. "After flowering, many plants have NO MORE USE FOR THEIR CALYX, AND IT BEGINS TO WITHER." THAT'S what the villagers did-- when they finally had food & flowers, they LET CALYREX WILT... but they didn't realize that THEIR SOULS WEREN'T MATURE, and Calyrex was PROTECTING & NURTURING THEM. So once he was thrown off... the cold returned & crushed them. Their hearts dried up from lack of gratitude & love. They weren't ready to bloom on their own yet-- and wouldn't be WITHOUT that cooperative unity!
✱"THE HOLY GRAIL OF FLOWERS IS THE BLUE ROSE." They DON'T EXIST in nature, but are rich with myth, symbolizing a LONGING FOR MIRACLES, the "search for the impossible," wishes/ dreams becoming reality, etc. In general, roses symbolize ARDENT LOVE & BEAUTY, the "QUEEN OF FLOWERS," and a blue one in that respect speaks to a PERFECT love-- a HOLY love, blue as the heavens. There are also 2 myths in which a woman would only marry a man who gave her a blue rose: many tricked her with stone, paint, magic, but this is not true love. Ultimately, a simple & pure man gave her a white rose-- "if their love is true, it will be blue." And so it was!! Blue roses are NOT unrequited-- just "unattainable," and for GOOD REASON: true & perfect love CANNOT be "attained," or created, or hunted down, or bred, etc. Blue roses, according to myth, ONLY come through a PURE & HUMBLE GIFT OF A WHITE ROSE. Where others gave up of this "impossible task" or turned to trickery, the one who valued LOVE persisted in HUMILITY... and FAITH, NOT POWER OR PRESTIGE!!! That's why it's "impossible"... BUT "nothing is impossible for God." In the Chinese marriage folktale, actually, the princess ALONE could see the blue in the white because THROUGH LOVE & TRUST, HER FAITH LET HER SEE THE HIDDEN TRUTH. Tying this to Calyrex, and the mythicality of the blue rose, HE grants miracles THROUGH FAITH, FOR LOVE WITHOUT COST, selfless not sensual, BUT power schemes & doubt & the like BLOCK both his power AND will make him fade from sight! His love also cannot be forced. He can only bless through pure gift: notably the Reins, which REQUIRE A PETAL, a beautiful blue one that OBVIOUSLY is from a rose... a WILD ROSE. And it GLOWS.
✱ OH, BY THE WAY. The reason why the white rose alone can become blue is because it is HUMBLE = EMPTY OF SELF so it CAN HOLD THE UN-EARTHLY COLOR. All other roses are full of THEMSELVES = pride in their power, beauty, etc.: in their own merits. But you can't love like that... blue pigment DOESN'T EXIST IN NATURE. Blue ONLY exists AS LIGHT. So ONLY a white rose can BE blue, by BOTH RECEIVING & REFLECTING that blue light-- the color of heaven, UNATTAINABLE UNLESS GIVEN IN LOVE to a heart that is PURE enough to reflect something BESIDES ITSELF. The "Holy Grail" is holy BY HOLDING.
✱ If Calyrex's 8-bud garland truly is of ROSEBUDS, they symbolize UNAWAKENED LOVE, but a garland of roses symbolizes "THE CROWING REWARD FOR THE MERITS OF HOLY VIRTUE"... but remember, "Virtue is only virtue in extremis." Roses HAVE FRUIT when they bloom BUT "fruit flesh becomes soft AFTER A FROST." So there's a LOT to unpack. Unawakened love = 8 buds for HOPE & SALVATION = Calyx protecting from death by inclement weather = Those buds will only bloom AFTER A FROST that will ALSO allow their eventual fruit TO BE SOFT, SWEET, & EDIBLE-- not hard & bitter & inedible. ALL of this is a recipe for LOVE, humility, self-giving, perseverance in virtue, purity of heart, right relationship & communion, etc. This is the journey of Calyrex & his people... and ALL OF THE ROSES ARE BLUE. Their whole story is one of sheer generosity-- it's ALL GIVING & GIVING BACK, and being open to receive IN LOVE. The INSTANT ego & pride & complacency fill up gratitude's humble place, THE BLUE CAN'T GLOW.
✱ About rose hips: they eat them IN SCOTLAND for their ANTIOXIDANT properties that FIGHT DISEASE (Eternatus)! But the Scottish rose (petal match) is the wild DOG ROSE, said to soothe "rabid bites" (DYNAMAX) and its 5 petals representing the WOUNDS OF CHRIST. Roses are also "pain & sweetness" which is VERY CATHOLIC. You must be willing to SUFFER FOR LOVE.
✱ The bud-mantle Calyrex wears is also marked by little TRIPLE TRIANGLES; an obvious tie to the HOLY TRINITY & Their Love, Communion, & Generosity. They are pointing DOWN & are dark blue, blue-gray, & white at the heart-- the latter an also OBVIOUS CALLBACK to the Blue Rose myths. When the heart-- where the Spirit dwells-- is PURE & WHITE, humble & not trying to glorify itself with pigment (earthly color), then it is EMBRACED BY CHRIST, Who is WHITE-BLUE as the INCARNATE GOD-- the truly divine FUSION of white & blue, literally impossible in anyone BUT Him-- and His Life in/ through/ with ours is the BRIDGE to TRUE Blue... God Himself, Love itself, the "ever-unattainable" BUT ever-given in love.
✱ The Blue & White triangles point DOWN: a symbol of receptivity, the WOMB, & the CHALICE! We must RECEIVE the Spirit, THROUGH God's grace poured out in BAPTISMAL WATER (cup), for our soul, like Mary's womb, to CONCEIVE THE SON... Whose Blood FILLS the Chalice.
✱ CHRIST is an UPWARDS triangle because it is PASSION & the force of action, the SWORD OF TRUTH that can ONLY occur INCARNATELY. Thus ONLY Christ can hold this "masculine" vibe because its ties to energy & activity REQUIRE A BODY-- the "feminine" down-shape is more subconscious mystery, in how they operate. BUT, NOTE THAT THE "FATHER" TRIANGLE UNITES BOTH.
✱ Three-triangle patterns ALSO symbolize many trinities of existence, notably PAST/ PRESENT/ FUTURE & CREATE/ DESTROY/ PRESERVE for Calyrex's powers of psychic vision & abundance.
✱ Three as a number also symbolizes harmony, completeness, & new life, and triplets emphasize the importance of something. Applied to these symbols on the BUDS-- 8 meaning hope & salvation-- shows how our salvation & hope is ONLY complete THROUGH the Trinity working in our hearts, working as a PROTECTIVE CALYX as our souls mature into wholeness of new life in Him, blooming as blue roses of selfless love, colored by the Divine.
✱ Alchemically, the up & down triangles are the unity of fire & water: two things plants need to grow (fire's light) and symbolizing the unity of power & meekness, justice & mercy, etc. Calyrex's kind kingship exemplifies this.
✱ Triangles in general mean "growth into higher states of being," higher purpose, transformation, etc. This applies to both Calyrex's calling Glas/Spec & bringing harvest ot of famine, but also its trinitive aspect reminds us that ALL those good things can ONLY occur THROUGH GOD WORKING IN US. Triangles are always spiritual, it seems; not carnal.
✱ Those buds are arguably SIERPINSKY TRIANGLES, too-- SELF-SIMILAR FRACTALS: zooming in on ANY part of one reveals a PERFECTLY IDENTICAL COPY of the original. VERY EUCHARISTIC! Fractals are found all over nature, too: in three branches, snowflakes, flowers, cabbages, etc.! They are proof of Divine order & elegance-- "patterns that the laws of nature repeat at different scales... we see this basic principle repeated in the fractal structure of organic life forms... every tree branch is a copy of the one that came before it." (CHRIST = VINE = LIFE; ALL THINGS THROUGH/ WITH/ IN HIM!) A fractal is like, one big basic heart-form that keeps "self-replicating" at increasingly smaller scales until you can't even SEE the original, all-embracing shape-form anymore... but you see all its fractal copies, echoing its essence infinitely. THAT'S GOD & CREATION!!
✱ FURTHERMORE, the also-ubiquitous natural FIBONACCI SEQUENCE-- recurrent geometric patterns & numbers-- began with RABBITS and is most clearly seen in FLOWERS. Everything has this divine ratio & symmetry as its wholeness. I just love that. There's no "deep symbolism" other than its referring to Calyrex's species, the bud-triangles speaking of uncomparable life & abundance despite all famine & loss, and the innate reflection of God in all things, giving them true life. The greatest fractal in existence-- indeed, the clearest-- is the Eucharist, the BREAD OF LIFE. Christ, our true King, gives us Himself PERFECTLY & INFINITELY. Calyrex cannot & does not, but his generosity does at least reflect that miracle of heavenly abundance, and the triangles remind us WHO is the source & summit of that.
✱ At its heart, a fractal is the great guarantee of infinite life & abundance, through the eternal life, love, & generosity of God. Look at Jesus & the "fractal bread." Have faith, & He will sustain you despite all famine.
✱ CALYREX'S EYES ARE ALSO TRIANGLES. The iris is 3 TONED: pale blue, grey blue, dark blue-- and the pupil is WHITE. This of course hearkens back to the blue rose + fractal points, BUT! 4, Biblically, means completeness & perfection, notably in CREATION: the divine 3 plus the 1 "other" that He has made in Love! So for that to be CALYREX'S EYES immediately ties into his GIFT OF SIGHT: he can see all events, past & present & future! True sight is COMPREHENSION THROUGH FAITH, seeing by the same Light of the world that makes white roses blue, seeing His infinite Being in nature... and Calyrex uses this sight TO HELP OTHERS, that extra 4th color of pure white, of selfless humility & purity OF sight-- of understanding.
✱ His eye color is the REVERSE color of the buds, giving a vibe not of "becoming/ maturing" but instead of that 4's PERFECTION, of being spiritually cognizant of God in all BUT recognizing Him AS Him, first. Christ is again the bridge, but here, the Spirit's color is the outermost and it's ROUND?? Which lends itself to seeing His influence IN all things, AND people, THROUGH CHRIST. And all of this is again set in white-- the same purity of heart at the core is ALSO what unites it all, "as within so without," the Golden Rule.
✱ Some notes while reviewing Calyrex's Pokédex data (because this is a very fluid "document")-- flower "crowns" are for the triumphant & faithful, but Calyrex's isn't a pagan garland but a ROYAL CORONATION CROWN: a symbol not of award, but of SERVICE TO THE PEOPLE! And in heraldry, green is both nature & WISDOM. Hope & health & life are other associations. But BLUE is ALL ROYALTY & PIETY, TRUST & LOYALTY, patience & understanding & humility & peace. Also rare virtue? Wisdom & intuition are united in it, and it is surrounded by similar spiritually calm virtues. So for Calyrex's bud to be primarily green with a blue heart gives vibes of that "green" life & hope & health, connection to others & need of community (lushness of rainforests, rich in chlorophyll, PINE green that survives the cold & shelters others), being what PROTECTS & NURTURES the deeper heart-virtues of BLUE; trustworthiness, wisdom, peace, understanding, loyalty, piety, stability, spirituality, etc. In the spectrum, Green is the BRIDGE between "body & soul," the hue of pure natural life, bringing the holy color virtues to the more earthly tones. Blue is all about honor & truth, but is softer in tone than indigo, bringing a sense of gentleness & mercy & empathy despite its "ethereal" essence.
✱ Calyrex's blues are notably unique-- the palest is PERIWINKLE, a flower color that symbolizes new friendships, new beginnings, purity, strength, & eternal love. It is all about cherishing; that's all Calyrex (bless him). It's also hop, innocence, peace, kindness, protection, loyalty, devotion, comfort, etc. It's also the "Virgin flower," for MARY, the CHALICE OF GOD! The next blue is actually CORNFLOWER, another flower hue! Cornflowers are "very courageous, being able to stand strong against all the elements of nature." They are signs of unfailing hope, they're edible, and in Greek myth, they were said to-- AGAIN-- HEAL WOUNDS CAUSED BY POISON ARROWS. They are fragile in appearance but terrifically hardy. They can represent chaste love, purity, & blessedness; hope in love; fidelity, life, resilience, tenderness... AND MARY, who gave us the true "corn," the grain of Wheat from Heaven, to feed every heart forever. They are super medicinal, too, especially for tired eyes-- symbolic of relieving the soul, too, of long watching & waiting for hope & deliverance. They herald good fortune, and "each bloom is a blessing." They are said to notably wilt when one's true love is unrequited-- that, too, happened to poor Calyrex.
✱ The final, darker blue is, unsurprisingly, royal blue. Its first notable association is with "paranormal vision"-- seeing beyond the physical, into the "royal kingdom of God" which is only visible with the heart. It also is associated with INNER sight & wisdom, clarity & decisiveness. It opens the heart & mind with integrity. Like most blues, it is trustworthy, reliable, calm, and communicative, but all of this is enriched further by its REGAL aspect, that encompassing honor. In general, it's about DIGNITY & KNOWLEDGE, uprightness, fidelity, and the essence of both AUTHORITY & SPIRITUALITY, notably UNITED. Royal blue is serious but emotionally sincere & deep, conservative but respectful, professional but courteous & peaceful, humble yet kingly IN such virtue. So this is all obviously very applicable to Calyrex: he is a gentle, wise, trustworthy, solemn, & honest king, not aloof but not attention-seeking, etc. Remember: Blue is the color of HEAVEN so inevitably it will carry those virtues, AND making this last hue on the bud-triangles (and his eyes) ROYAL emphasizes the fact that ALL kingship is ordained BY GOD, FOR GOD, and IN GOD. The ONLY true King is CHRIST, so ALL earthly authority is spiritually OBLIGATED to imitate His example in reflecting His royal role! That Divine authority symbolized by Calyrex's royal blue AND its placement: His sight & knowledge come FROM God, and it is God Who protects & nurtures all blooming virtue in our souls. Lastly, Calyrex's cape (+WINGS) follow the same pattern as the buds-- interestingly, as they symbolize quite literally both his kingly role AND the holy "angel = messenger of God's plans & purpose" aspect: Calyrex's kingship is not for himself, but for others, in BLESSING THEM. The cape/wings are primarily PERIWINKLE, only bordered by royal blue-- putting the emphasis on FRIENDSHIP, PURITY, KINDNESS, & ETERNAL LOVE, which are ringed with HEALING & COURAGE and only tipped with REGALITY & HONOR. All these virtues are present in equal importance, BUT!! In his normal form they are small and almost decorative, mostly hidden behind his back, and LOOKING LIKE TEPALS: a sepal (protector) that resembles a petal. HOWEVER. This is interesting because, although Calyrex does have floral ties to both Peonies & Dog Roses (btw HELLO HERO DUO), this little addition of his wings adds elements of a LILY: notably the AGAPANTHUS, the "BLUE LILY," whose name means "FLOWER OF LOVE." Like cornflowers, they are tenacious and strong, symbolizing the heart's power & spiritual strength. Notably their blue color, associated with their name of love, emphasizes HEARTFELT & NOBLE LOVE.
✱ They are believed to PROTECT FROM STORMS (Eternatus) AND HEART DISEASE (Calyrex mends hearts), as well as signifying valiant & caring protection in general.
✱ Tying into Spectrier, Agapanthus is often used in FUNERALS, made into wreaths & placed on coffins to "represent the beautiful soul of the deceased"!
✱ And, again, it's a sign of purity, "fertility," beauty of soul, & loving relationships. They are ALSO tied medicinally to HEALTHY BABIES-- noted because flowers/ buds/ fruits are also reproductive.
✱ "Generosity of spirit" too! "AGAPE!"
✱ Note that Calyrex ISN'T wearing a CAPE (sleeveless), but a MANTLE!!! --and ONLY ON HIS STEED!!! By himself, he only appears to wear a BOLERO jacket. I note this solely because a "bolero" is a genre of song, "characterized by sophisticated lyrics dealing with love." It's all about heartfelt emotion, with a "beautiful singing melody," simple & purely romantic. It's like courtship; whereas the MANTLE is a symbol of AUTHORITY and POWER & RESPECT & PROTECTION, all Kingly aspects. The mantle "REQUIRES respect for the authority of the wearer," ESPECIALLY IN THE BIBLE: "there is no one in authority that GOD didn't put there!!" So HIS Power is working through them & protecting them. It is a GOD GIVEN power & authority that ONLY GOD CAN TAKE AWAY-- even if people disrespect it or forget or hate the king, GOD STILL SUSTAINS THEIR AUTHORITY, BY HIS WILL, FOR HIS PURPOSES. God also did this with PROPHETS-- their mantle was a tangible sign & proof that GOD CALLED THEM & they SPEAK FOR HIM. It is a sign of the HOLY SPIRIT upon them-- and for Calyrex, HE GETS WINGS TO SHOW THAT. This is why he continues to exercise power over his steeds, & has power to influence nature-- he's doing GOD'S CHARITABLE WORK, serving & blessing & healing others, with NO thought for himself-- he does assert his kingship, but NEVER demands or coerces obedience, or even loyalty, as it were-- his people lost faith and he did not retaliate; he respected THEIR free will-- for only freedom allows for GENUINE faith & loyalty & love. His power DID NOT DISAPPEAR-- it only was BLOCKED from affecting them, due to unbelief-- like Jesus & His miracles. SO. He manifests his mantle when his kingship CAN manifest, notably BY THE BOND OF UNITY with his steed-- no good & humble kind rules alone-- but he wears his "bolero" when alone, a symbol of SEEKING reciprocal love, of "romancing" his beloved people with sincerity & giving of himself. HE CANNOT RULE WITHOUT PEOPLE TO RULE, AND HE WILL NOT/ CANNOT RULE WITHOUT LOVING RELATIONSHIP.
✱ The "WINGS" are different too: his mantle has angelic/ bird wings, BUT his bolero has "fairy" or bug wings. Although yes, I consider them tepals in truth, the visual effect is still valid. Avoiding paganism, Calyrex's four tepal-wings resemble those of an iridescent beetle-- notably a JEWEL BEETLE. Not only is that an obvious reference to "CROWN JEWELS," the objects of metalwork & jewelry that "symbolize the particular power & continuity of the monarchy" (crown, sceptre, orb, sword, mace, ring, etc.) (BTW during coronation with these, they are ALSO ANOINTED WITH HOLY OIL!), but jewel beetle wings have been used AS ART for centuries, notably in RELIGION, for both their ethereal & unfading beauty (literally), but also for what they symbolize: beetles fly "between heaven & earth," dwelling in both, and they were used as FOOD-- notable because food = life, and eating something of such God-given yet humble beauty & flight was hoped to bestow such virtues upon the eater.
✱ In MANY shamanic societies, the beetle is mythically & profoundly linked to CREATION: their working with dirt balls evoked primordial "potter" themes & planet-shaping, in "retrieving/ shaping" that raw matter into shape. BUT note!! The beetle ONLY SHAPES, NOT CREATES! He's God's HELPER, in forming order out of chaos, & life out of death-- turning empty waste into a flourishing land. Very Calyrex! And the ball-pushing is WORK, spiritual work symbolically, but also LABOR FOR OTHERS, as the beetles do that FOR THEIR CHILDREN. In Egypt, this rolling is tied to the SUN, another life-giving symbol, yet ALSO tied to death in its setting, although still carrying the promise of sunrise. In his beetle wings, Calyrex evokes the essence of this "life cycle" with HARVESTS & HOPE, his ability & promise to work for others to bring blessings, his powers to make new life flourish AND help hearts "fly to higher things," the lasting beauty of SELF-GIVING, rebirth after suffering & apparent death (famine, Eternatus), the requisite of "dying to self" for the SOUL to be reborn "like the sun," ALSO BY THE SON, the spring after AND WITHIN winter. ALSO HEART SCARABS, focusing ALL of those virtuous things rightly in one's heart, not in any outer object, for all virtue comes from cooperation with God (the Divine)-- the One Who created life from dirt & can transmute ALL sorrows, & Whom the beetle "flies up to meet & bring His blessing down"-- MORE ANGEL VIBES! Honestly, there is SO MUCH Christ-parallelism with beetles in Egypt; it's notable, especially in its staggering humility... & overlooked beauty... & FOOD ASPECT, HELLO EUCHARIST = UNITY.
✱ Beetles were ALSO, like Christ, tied to DEATH as well as life, IN THE CONTEXT OF REBIRTH, & therefore also INITIATION = CORONATION in terms of being a "spiritual warrior," notably-- and all Kings carry a Sword.
✱ THERE'S MORE BLUE-DEER "SACRED ALTERATION" in that the scarab beetle was the "CUP OF DIONYSUS," relevant ONLY in the chalice & wine aspect, and the resulting "holy drunkenness" being a means of "communicating with the divine," noting wine's "inner fire" = HEART, & again lifting all this up to the Eucharist, a HOLY BANQUET given FROM SELF & ALTRUISTIC LOVE.
✱ HERE'S A KEY: THE SEMITIC PEOPLE WERE THE FIRST TO PORTRAY THE BEETLE WITH 4 WINGS = it being COMPLETENESS, only possible BY self-giving & communion with God & others, a holy paradox. AND. SAINT AMBROSE & OTHERS EQUATED THE BEETLE OF HABAKKUK 2:11 TO CHRIST, the true King & CREATOR! (Also Psalm 22:6 for His humility!)
✱ LASTLY, the beetle's "creator/ helper" myth was purified by this, in alchemical reference to Christ: the beetle was the "prima materia" of the great transmutable work of the soul, from dung to divine-- CHRIST was the "stone" created AFTER & BY HIS DEATH & RESURRECTION (SUN/SON), the jewel from the mire, the crown gem from the beetle's wing. This is the beautiful hope He gives us all, despite our wretchedness, and this great hope of life from death, of flying from dirt into heaven, from emptiness to fullness, is the King's promise bestowed on Calyrex to carry, the blessing of both physical & spiritual rebirth & growth into ever-lovelier things. Beetles are all about CHANGE!!
✱ As for the angel-mantle having those LONG GREEN ENDS, they simply remind me of EVERGREEN enedles... notably YEW. THERE'S A YEW, IN WALES, IN A CHURCHYARD, which is one of the OLDEST TREES IN THE WORLD. Like 5000 years! That's VIRTUALLY CANON with the sacred tree in Freezington!
✱ Yews, again, are symbols of LIFE & DEATH, said to transfer longevity to the warrior who used weapons of its wood, and said to protect against evil, notably against the devil himself.
✱ They resprout from a dying trunk = rebirth, but their RED BERRIES are lethally toxic = DEATH!
✱ CHURCHYARD YEWS are especially sacred, through prayer & proximity-- with weapons OR branches from it being vanquishers of evil. They decorated places of worship, reaching up to God yet rooted in the earth-- like the Church herself-- and its longevity a hope for eternal life in Christ, crucified on a tree, dotted with "red berries of blood."
✱ Some even say that the Cross WAS a yew!! This is fitting, as ancient cultures associated yews with death, funerals, sorrow, mourning, etc. It was also said to "draw out the poisons from the air" in graveyards, warding off evils. So it is treated with solemn honor in this "memento mori" respect.
✱ BUT. Remember that it is ALSO RESURRECTION, which requires death first!! Their presence, however melancholy in some respects, are also POWERFULLY HOPEFUL, living reminders of life AFTER death. Extracts from their bark have even been proven to fight cancerous tumors (DYNAMAX)!!
✱ BTW those berries AREN'T TOXIC TO DEER OR RABBITS.
✱ Their bark can withstand unlimited clipping & shaping-- metaphorically with Calyrex, no amount of "reshaping" his memory or "clipping" his power could damage him; the yew's wood is SOFT & grows slowly, giving it great strength & resilience.
✱ OH, and that ANCIENT Fortingall Yew was once used by locals to carve out DRINKING CUPS: "quaich" cups, inspired by ancient BLEEDING VESSELS-- even MORE Eucharist/ Cross connections-- even morseo as these quaichs are used as signs of FRIENDSHIP & WELCOME in community gatherings.
✱ There is an old legend that the yew was also the BURNING BUSH (sent by God to DELIVER HIS PEOPLE from slavery & starvation) & the tree "of Golgotha, growing FROM ADAM'S GRAVE." That's more death/ life, which is ALL super fitting as Calyrex ONLY wears his yew-like mantle ON HIS STEEDS, who are VERY death-associated BUT who paradoxically BOOST Calyrex's life abilities-- that's resurrection! "This is the tree of glory," BECAUSE Christ worked His redemption FROM one.
✱ Evergreens in general speak of life undying despite death (winter); BUT they have NEITHER fruit NOR flowers! Calyrex's ties to the yew are small yet significant BUT ONLY IN THE CONTEXT OF HIS MANTLE-- his sign of HOLY & PIOUS AUTHORITY. He is not immortal, nor is he so directly tied to death-- BUT that mantle gives him a SOLID RESURRECTION MISSION, something even greater than his life-blessing gifts.
✱ This is ALSO different from his beetle wings as they represent the JOURNEY TO & COOPERATION TOWARDS resurrection-- they do not herald it so immediately as the yew & its ties to the CROSS!
✱ Next up-- his last color! It's actually NOT straight-up gray; it appears to be IVORY, or even cream? But either way it's a WARM tiny, not a cold or neutral one, but its subtle enough to, again, give that vibe of gentle hope. Ivory in general is pure & comforting & soft, good balancing qualities for the authority of blue & formality of dark green. It's sophisticated, elegant but simple, pleasant & unassuming, but never harsh, aloof, or obtrusive. it's also close to BEIGE, which often gets a bad rap for being "boring," but it fits his humble nature perfectly. Beige is loyal & dependable, reliable & practical & constant. Predictability is not a bad thing when it concerns virtue, & the comfort sought by those in tumult & turmoil! And this is his BODY color-- not his flowers or bud or wings-- it's his own natural heart's purity. AND THAT IS WHAT BECOMES HIS ANGELIC MANTLE: could ANYONE truly serve God, or seek to work as His messenger, if they were not so humble of heart & poor in spirit?
✱ Ivory is "understated elegance," "a place of refuge," gentle warmth, reverence & humility, etc.
✱ In many images, though, Calyrex's color is more of a silvery GRAY. That color is "the perfect neutral," calming extremes & balancing between absolutes. It is intelligent & diplomatic, refined & dignified, authoritative & wise-- the virtuous benefits of "gray hair," as it were. Gray is reasonable, agreeable, sophisticated, and serious. It is "the soul of all color," and "a gray day provides the best light." It is a stable "middle ground" of clarity & prudence, free from wilder emotions. It makes all other colors glow without overwhelming. Gray "doesn't lead with emotions," is mature & stable, "solid as a rock" & therefore a safe soothing haven for turbulent & aggravated hearts. It avoids attention and publicity (private), but will offer practical insight to all who ASK. Gray can "overthink"-- Calyrex's massive noggin!-- because it sees AND UNDERSTANDS "both sides" so clearly. But it will never force anything, being supremely patient & still, maybe even too much-- it can miss opportunities to act? It is deeply self-reflective BUT needs help from brighter colors to take more active decisions according to it. Despite this, its "dynamic humility" makes it the "ideal authority figure," honoring & respecting others & always acting with equity, integrity, & candor. Lastly, gray can be grim; it does not deny darkness; but it also always holds on to the light.
✱ Calyrex is LIGHT GRAY which is MUCH more soothing & even hopeful than darker shades. Calyrex is arguably almost WHITE, too-- emphasizing "lighter" virtues while still preserving gray's roots-- and the warmer, ivory/ beige overcast is a perfect finishing touch for this king, making him approachable, personal, & amiable, but not overly so-- he is still private & unassuming. His neutrals are therefore the perfect complement to his dark blues & greens, adding levity & a touch of warmth without burning, and without stifling or muting them either-- the snowy gray even HIGHLIGHTS the "life-giving" hues in quiet contrast!
✱ One last color bit that I forgot before: the bud on his head DOES look like a PERSIMMON, and I still theorize it being a "FRUIT BUD" connecting him to the Dynamax tree & its fake, toxic "harvest"... notable because the Persimmon is also known as the "FRUIT OF THE GODS" or "DIVINE FRUIT"-- in this context, an EXPLICIT warning against the idolatry of power & self-worship, & another mini sermon about CHRIST being "THE VINE" apart from which NO FRUIT can grow in a soul, with the BLUE ROSE & PEONY/ PEYOTE ties emphasizing the elements of pure love & gracious healing.
✱ When RIPE they are nutritious & sweet; when UNRIPE they are BITTER, SOUR "CHOKE FRUITS". Pride has no humility or patience & you WILL choke on its impatient, immature, inedible "fruits."
✱ Persimmons symbolize PERSEVERANCE & HARDY ENDURANCE, as they thrive in many soils & can survive SUBZERO TEMPERATURES!! They are also DROUGHT TOLERANT & RESIST PESTS & DISEASE to a great extent. They are signs of "increased blessings" in one's endeavors, and their sweet beauty promotes joy & peace. The trees are ABUNDANT in fruit, promising prosperity, especially with its durability, and the branches are a protective home for small & weak creatures.
✱ They also represent TRANSFORMATION, ENLIGHTENMENT, & PRUDENT JUDGMENT-- this last bit as their inner-shape was said to PREDICT WINTER WEATHER!
✱ There are ISRAELI PERSIMMONS (Christ's land) that are ALWAYS SWEET, even when hard. They are called "SHARON FRUITS," after the Biblical plain, which was "proverbially fertile" & known for its ABUNDANT FLOWERS, and referenced in the Song of Songs with the "ROSE OF SHARON"-- a beautiful flower that grows in dry, unfavorable conditions, and whose delicate beauty was matched only by its HUMILITY, despite being a "lily among thorns" for that very fact. But this flower refers to CHRIST-- the bridegroom, the King of flowers, giving Himself to us in a gesture of totally committed love, unique in rarity & beauty & perfection. And, again, this desert rose was ALSO a HEALING flower, making this gift even more benevolent & selfless.
✱ Connecting these virtues to the persimmon-- notably since Calyrex's is GREEN, symbolizing "immaturity" & need of growth into wisdom-- shows that ONLY CHRIST gives us WISDOM & SPIRITUAL FRUIT, which requires LOVE & HUMILITY to receive.
✱ This "unripe green" is only tangential though as the INNER color is BLUE. So the TRUE fruit is ripe with HEAVEN'S color, but it is still in its green calyx because NO ONE BUT GOD HAS PERFECT WISDOM. Even if He gives us the fruit, it is paradoxically "never fully ripe," always needing more grace & patience to become more full of truth-- a process that terminates only IN heaven. So the "blue" impossible color hearkens to that unattainability, as does the blue rose: their fullness is ONLY tangible, whole, & accessible THROUGH PURE & HUMBLE LOVE.
✱ A note on Ravel's Bolero (as in the jacket)-- "the repeated theme & slow build has been called an 'exercise in hypnotism.'" It is "nostalgic, sweet, & quietly complex." Being a LOVE song, the repetition shows persistence in its devotion, & the slow build shows how, like fruit & flowers, true love sweetens & matures over time, with fidelity-- it is no wild, sudden infatuation. The "nostalgia" also refers to the people in Freezington reminiscing on when they knew & loved Calyrex, after they had become "hypnotized" by his constancy & forgotten how precious it was-- had forgotten to reciprocate or be grateful, their hearts lulled into complacency. They weren't truly listening-- for although the tune & harmony stay the same, more & more instruments come in over time, enriching the orchestration & adding flourishes of color to the heartbeat of a theme. Like the cycles of seasons & harvests, predictable & repetitive & slow, there is nevertheless always a new joy to it, a new sweetness, dear in its familiarity yet never quite the same twice. Love is not novelty, but fidelity, a solid prism for the light of grace. Itself it does not change, but every tiny shimmer of light casts new yet familiar rainbows. This is true, committed, joyful & grateful relationship. It is the "bolero" of perpetual courtship, of the core of love recognized by all yet always new, always returning even sweeter. Ravel himself disliked the bolero, claiming it had "no music in it" due to its repetition-- but isn't life itself repetition, cycle, pattern? And it IS music. Calyrex's little jacket is a little reference to the loving reliability of the harvest, but also of winter. Wisely, he heralds both, but with the inherent reassurance that spring will return, that hopes will be fulfilled, and that life cannot be stopped. Neither can love, and its power to GIVE life.
✱ Hares in general are a symbol of vitality, rebirth, & resurrection-- life & fertility, spring & autumn. The white color is for chastity & purity, removing all unsavory connotations. They are also PREY animals-- more self = food symbolism. In Egypt they are notably tied to the life/ death/ rebirth cycle too. Some myths see them as "spirit messengers," bringing wisdom from heavenly realms. They represent attention & contemplation with their ears & watchful nature. They are mild, humble, lucky, & good-natured, solitary yet auspicious, resourceful & clever. They can also be tricksters; there's definitely a hint of this in Calyrex's sense of humor.
✱ BUT! He is also PART DEER. They are typically seen as spiritual & mystical.


(black apples, avalon)
(GRAIL (+ calyx/ sepal))
(
↑KING ARTHUR (+ ZACIAN??))
(CELEBI ties? vision + element typing)





021921

Feb. 19th, 2021 09:52 pm
prismaticbleed: (angel)
CROWN OF THORNS DAY

Snow driving
Terrified of falling in the ditch. Teaching me humility; I really don't know how to drive in the snow.

Rheumatologist. Very worried.
Bloodwork girl had a PEACHY PINK VOICE.

Home, lots of phone calls

Called to Communion
"You should feel bad" = gay marriage being legalized to "prevent hurt feelings".
Truth, but where is my mercy within it?

Dark night of the soul= stripped of ALL pretenses and ideas about God. No spiritual consolation?

Thoughts on Lent so far:
1. I'm still making too much food
2. I'm still cold towards Chris
3. I'm still whining

HOST BEATING LIKE A HEART WITH LOVE = asking, what does it mean for the Host to BE God's Heart? What does a heart do, in beating? What does it mean for us in the Host?
Beating means life.
It beats blood to the body.
If God's Heart beats with Love, then His Love IS His Blood.
Blood is life; without it we die. It carries important things to the whole body.
Without Love, God "cannot live."
That Blood, that Love, carries His "nourishment" to His Body, keeping it healthy and alive.
If His Heart beats with Love IN THE HOST, then in receiving the Host, we recieve HIS LOVE-BLOOD, TO GIVE US LIFE.
It will not affect you unless you ALSO let YOUR heart beat that Blood!
Similarly, you must not only eat the Host, but DIGEST IT.

HOLY SPIRIT = LOVE = BLOOD
"THROUGH HIM WITH HIM IN HIM"
BODY OF CHRIST NEEDS THIS BLOOD OF LOVE TO LIVE.
WE GET THAT BLOOD FROM HIS HEART ALONE.
etc.

Its all so gorgeous I could honestly meditate on it for years and I should. I'd love to.

Begging God to teach me more about Him
IF YOU WANNA LEARN, YOU GOTTA TAKE TIME TO STUDY!!! A TEACHER CAN'T TEACH ME IF I DON'T ATTEND CLASS.

Rorschach thoughts. Never compromise the faith. New life in heartspace? Asking God about it. Listen.

YEARNING to pray and read. LENT IS ALL ABOUT THAT. Increase the time all day, every day.

AMAZING readings today. Reflect on them deeply.

"Clothing the WICKED" misread at Mass. Hit hard. We must do that especially. Their SOUL is naked. Have compassion!!
prismaticbleed: (angel)



I have long been upset that we do not have an Advent Wreath at home, so today I made my own. 💜🙏🕯



I saw this and instantly burst into tears.

I’m so tired of the world lately. I’m so tired of being alive. And now I can’t even go to church, my one refuge. I spend my days sobbing uncontrollably. All I want is God. Everything else is just miserable vanity.

But this, this is just… joy. Jesus, my Jesus, arms open, welcoming me, light and flowers and beauty, all of it feeling exactly like a homecoming– so simple, but purely so, perfectly so. I cannot put into words how this makes me feel, what weeping bliss it breaks into my heart. I want to run into His arms and stay there forever, forever, laughing with final relief and love. I’m home. It’s over. I’m home with my Lord and the hells below will never touch me again.

God knows I don’t have much time left here. I know. I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of not absolutely inundating every millisecond of my life with God while I remain– which I haven’t been doing as the daily war of illnesses is hell and the lack of monastic-grade worship is making it more of a hell. But I don’t give up, God help me. This is my hope. This image is exactly the goal that keeps me breathing.

Jesus, when its time to come home, I’ll come home rejoicing. Until then, let me keep my heart fixed on that thought. Keep the lights on for me.





The Varieties of Religious Experience (Series 1) Church of the Gesù

Mother Church of the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits.  Contains the tomb of St. Ignatius Loyola and many other saints.

Just take a few minutes and genuinely look at each photo here. Take in the depth of beauty, skill, and devoted love evident in the grandeur of architecture and art. Look at the natural glory of the light and space from God’s hands that perfects it all. Realize that every inch of this gorgeous church exists solely for the praise and worship and love of God– a temporal glimpse of the eternal bliss portrayed in that third photo, in the presence of our beloved Lord forever.

I could legitimately live here.




As the Lenten Season of penance and prayer begins, Catholics are called again to tread in the Way of the Cross with Christ… Despite the crown of thorns and reed scepter, bother intended as mockeries of Christ’s claims, His Divinity and majesty are evident. The persecutors of the present day, who force Christ’s Mystical Body to undergo the humiliation and suffering of the road to Calvary, will also find at last that Christ is truly King and that His divine power cannot be overthrown by earthly tyrants.

His divinity transmuted everything He touched, awakening deeper truths within it all. Those thorns are a true crown, for through humility and suffering Christ became King over all the earth, whereas a crown of gold would have been hollow and superficial. That reed is a true scepter, a sign of power through the most weak and broken thing, the ability of God to reign both through what the world deems useless, and to rule over the world and its empty power with those same humble means.

Behold, the Man– the true Man and the true God, His revelations a divine paradox, understandable only by the pure and simple of heart! May we walk His holy road with Him this Lent, seeking to imitate His divine example of blessed poverty of spirit and body, in order to ultimately share in His boundless riches in heaven!

We are His Mystical Body even today, and we must embrace His Cross in our lives all the more ardently in these terrifying times, for it is only through uniting our sufferings to Christ’s Passion that we, through Him, can rise triumphant despite it all.



Running this through Google Translate gave me some unexpectedly poignant results…

“I am yours, take Me back.”

“I Will; Uphold Me.”

“I Am. Receive Me.”

Just… what truths. Take Christ back into your heart. Obey His requests and defend His Word. Christ is born, both in history and in our hearts, then and now and always– He Is, so embrace Him!

We are worth more than many sparrows to the Lamb of God.

We are His, and He has come to bring us back to Him.




The Nativity by Gari Melchers

This is the mysterious glory of the Incarnation– that God Himself became man, became a tiny infant, in our shoddy gritty shadowed world, in time and space and temporality.

Jesus existed as the Light of the World right there in those dusty streets.

He still does.

And just… look at Saint Joseph. Mary is resting, exhausted from the effort of birthing divinity, as any of our souls would and will also be… but now, there is the Child; here is the Child, Light shining out of darkness, and His foster father is just looking at Him. Wordlessly, he gazes on in awe and wonder, perhaps even with some fear over what this means, what this will bring, in this world– but above all, he looks at Jesus Christ with tender love. He probably doesn’t understand much of what’s happening but that doesn’t matter here. He trusts in God, and he trusts in this Infant before him, fragile and small and infinitely brilliant, impossible to comprehend but there, alive, breathing and loving and his child.

I really, really love this painting.




The Cathedral of the Annunciation, Moscow, Russia

I suddenly find this so fitting, the golden-white warmth and beauty standing strong amidst the frozen black trees, the frigid grey sky. Yes, I adore winter, but I adore it’s beauty, the glory of God’s creative dream manifest in it, whether or not I’m freezing as a result. It’s beauty is constant, despite all inhospitable conditions.

And that’s what I see here– the Annunciation, the proclamation of perfect beauty in the very midst of a tumultuous world, despite all pain and hardship and sorrow and fear that marred man’s heart, and would continue to do so. Rejoice nevertheless! Christ has come, and His glorious Presence turns even the coldest snows, bitterest winds, and harshest ice into things of gorgeous gratitude. Christ transmutes it all– unfailing light and warmth in the dead of winter– and it all began with the Annunciation.




A church, burned and destroyed by ISIS during the group’s occupation of the predominantly Christian town of Bakhdida, Iraq.

The town was under ISIS rule between 2014-2016 when it was liberated by the Iraqi Security Forces.

Try as they may to destroy the buildings, those who oppose Christ can never destroy the true Church, for it is founded upon unshakable truth and grace.

Even now, these ruins speak in tragic triumph to the soul of their message. Although no mass is celebrated there now, the simple sight of the altar and icons is enough to move a heart to resolute rejoicing, to worship and gratitude, to an act of loving recognition of God despite destruction’s futile efforts to silence it.




Ecce Homo, Titian
 

I love how His Face looks so bruised, like the red He is holding… and yet there is this profoundly sad gentleness in His eyes, and that divine yet softly ineffable glow around His thorn-wrapped Head.

Behold, The Man. I adore every portrayal of Our Lord Jesus like this.




Mouth of Hell. Speculum humanae salvationis. Bruges. Ca.1460 Chicago, Newberry Library

Hell is so disturbingly carnal. Demons are always naked and wrathful and salacious and hungry. Hell itself is portrayed with a literal mouth, gulping down the damned, as heaps of animalistic devils ravenously chew and bite and devour fallen souls. It’s blood and spit and sweat and screams. There’s too much flesh, too much physicality. Hell is something far too tangible.

Inferno, Canto 24. The Divine Comedy. Gustave Doré ~ 1885 

What scares me the most about depictions of hell is how many people are in it. All of them, wracked with blind fear and awful despair… oh how we must strive to lead souls away from such a fate!



The Fall of the Rebel Angels (detail). Matthias Berckmans ~ 1643 Kerk Sint-Gummarus [Lier] 

The textures in this are terrifyingly fascinating. That’s something I’ve noticed in art– that holy angels are textured by their beautifully billowing garments, while fallen angels are textured by contorted coils of flesh. Just looking at the writhing bodies here, the pain and rage of hell is nearly tangible.


 

Des douze Perilz d'enfer, Robert Blondel. Bourges ~ ca.1480 BnF via Bibliothèque Infernale on FB

There is a harrowing power in the condensed message this painting. It’s something I love about medieval art like this– space itself is relative, so that the image becomes more symbolic than literal.

Here, we see Adam and Eve cast out from Eden, but they are entering what appears to be a castle gate– the doors to the “gilded prison” of the world. Furthermore, this is juxtaposed against the fall of the rebel angels, also cast out of God’s presence and into the world, their stolen kingdom and castle… a horrifying sight, marked by the angel’s flaming sword, as if in solemn warning to the first couple that disobeying God is never a small matter.

I also like that the blue of the angel’s wings reflects the distant glory of both heaven and the faraway scenery– something beautiful that we yearn for and must strive to eventually reach. Heaven is the faraway kingdom, and we only can reach it by means of God’s gracious help, for no fallen thing can ever crawl back up, nor can anyone cast out of Eden ever reenter. But, through Christ, we can be reborn, restored, and re-initiated into heaven’s pure light, and that is our greatest hope.




Knight, Death and Devil. Aleksandrov ~ 2012 via Bibliothèque Infernale on FB

Ahead of every Christian soldier looms the fact of his terrible death, and behind him creeps the fact of his terrible past. Yet he must pay no heed to their whispers, their mockeries, and their attacks, for they only seek to drag him from the straight and narrow path. The Christian soldier must put on the full armor of God and march ever onwards in steadfast faith, knowing that in Christ neither death nor the devil hold any power over him.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…



Tower of Babel. Aleksander Mikhalchyk. Ukraine 

At first glance, this great tower does seem wondrous– but keep looking, and its utter hollowness becomes obvious. This is nothing but a monument to man’s pride and selfish ambition, striving to reach the glory of heaven but never able to either achieve or imitate its beauty. It’s just rock and rubble in the end. Without God, even the most magnificent work of human hands is worthless dust.



Isaac Blessing Jacob, 1670, Bartolome Esteban Murillo

I’m studying Genesis 27 right now, and I dearly love how intimately this historic moment is presented here… how commonplace it feels, with the holy scene indoors juxtaposed against the unaware outside world. I also really love that Rebekah is there, too! I never imagined the scene that way, but it’s a notable and sweet addition.

The use of color and shadow in this is sublime as well. It’s a joy to the eyes, as much as its content is to the heart.



Descent from the Cross, 1311, Duccio di Buoninsegna

 

There is such tenderness in everyone’s postures, actions, and expressions here– but my heart is just breaking at Mary.

I can’t even find words to describe her, here. It’s beyond words. I could meditate on this moment of ineffably mournful yet triumphant love between her and her Son for a very long time.

I really, really love this painting.




A mosaic of The Last Supper from the Benedictine Sisters’ Clyde Monastery Chapel in Missouri.

What strikes me the most about this is that Judas is almost visually invisible. He is lost in the shades of the mosaic around him– whereas all the other Apostles stand out clearly. It’s quite a heavy symbolic warning of the gravity of sin, especially that of hypocrisy in religion.




Our Lord Jesus Christ (Notre-Seigneur Jésus-Christ), James Tissot

This image of Jesus is overwhelming; it moves me to weeping. It is so beautiful, yet so powerful. I am stunned with love of Him Who loves me.

Behold, our Lord, His Hands pressed to His Heart, His Face solemn and serious– hear His unspoken words, this physical declaration of His ultimate Incarnated Love! Understand the importance, the gravity, the ultimate end and goal of the Truth communicated here: God is Love, and Jesus is God, and Jesus is Love, and that infinite eternal Love is there, here, tangible, tender and true and powerful within that Heart, beating for us beneath His Hands!

He is our Lord! What is there for us besides Him? He is our joy, our hope, our peace– He is our Everything, and He wants to be our everything; He desires so strongly to give us all He is that He even became a man like us, to live with us and love us in an intimately human way, in a way so staggeringly close that, I wonder, if we truly grasp the hugeness of it. God became a man so He could live and die for love of us. His death, cruel and tragic, merciless and bloody, He suffered at will so that we could be pardoned and live. His death was and is the righteous sentence for our sins and God Himself, our Judge, became also our sole source of pardon before Him, because He loves us and wants us to live– truly live, free from sin, full of hope, and able therefore to love Him with hearts broken in reciprocal love.

I honestly could speak His praises forever from the surge of ardent love I feel in beholding this image of Jesus. He is my love and my life, and that’s what hits so hard about His Hands and Face here– He knows this, and He knows how crucial, how vital, how monumental the Truth He is not only indicating, but Incarnating, is… and He so tells us, in this gesture of unfathomably passionate love hidden beneath humility, that we must never take this Truth lightly.





Annunciation, 1897, Carlos Schwabe.

I love how Mary is almost completely covered by light and flowers here– it highlights her selflessness, her focus on God alone. Surrounded by emblems of holiness, purity, and fruitfulness, a water jug at her feet, Mary becomes the bringer of Living Water and Divine Light to the whole world, the sweet fragrance of heaven itself clinging to her clothes.




The Annunciation
Cornelis van Poelenburgh—1635
 

The composition of this is stunning– with the clockwise embrace of clouds and angels leading to Gabriel’s outstretched hand, but ending right at the door, leaving Mary framed by a complimentary curve of earthly shadow. It’s the only thing separating them.

But that door feels like Christ– it feels like Mary’s ‘Fiat’ that brought Him into her world, down from heaven and into the flesh. She became His door to earth, and through her, He became our door to heaven. But no one else could open it– not even Gabriel, nor any other celestial power. He only revealed this potential passage, through God’s ultimate question, and gave her the choice as to what to do. And she said yes– yes, I will open the floodgates of heaven! Yes, I will open the door for Him! And thus, the divine was wed to the human, and Jesus Christ became man, in the womb of the humbly blessed Virgin Mary.




Alfred Agache (1843 - 1915)

L'Annonciation, 1891

Mary, Gate of Heaven and Star of the Sea, surrounded by their infinite blue, the vine above her reaching upward to the unseen realms where the True Vine she was about to conceive also hailed from.

And Gabriel, humble and honored, dressed in surprisingly earthly tones, knows he is not the focus here. He signifies the bringing of heaven to earth, foreshadowing the Son of God being wrapped in flesh, indistinguishable from any other earthly man in mere appearance. But these two figures, messenger and Mother, know the Truth about to be manifested– that the human girl dressed in heaven’s hues was to conceive God’s Son Himself as a little boy, and so unite both their realms and realities… the grandest end, in the humblest beginning, in this small exchange between two souls before the endless sea and sky.




Annunciation (detail)
by Michael Wening

The Christ Child was conceived in Mary’s Immaculate Heart even before He came into her womb.

So it must be with us, spiritually– we, too, must echo our Blessed Mother’s “yes” to His birth in our lives, letting the Divine Infant be conceived in our hearts, letting Him become the Lord of our lives, bringing Him to all we meet with humble yet exultant joy.




Annunciation
Mikhail Nesterov,

I love the dignity Mary shows here. Her “Fiat” is given with total willful grace, total surrender in love. There is no hesitation, doubt, fear, or confusion in her here– only humble pious finality, her agreement being the unbreakable foundation of Jesus’s coming Gospel on earth. The fruit tree blooming above her prophesies this, the divine Fruit of her womb coming, too, from above.

Lastly, I also love how Gabriel’s wings are that same gorgeous blue, the hue of heaven that so embraces our Blessed Mother.




Anunciación de Jaime Serra (Zaragoza, ZARAGOZA).

It always stuns me when God the Father is portayed with Jesus’s face– because that’s literally the only visible face the Father has for us. Yes, we can recognize God’s Presence in all of Creation, and we can acknowledge Christ’s Presence in the hearts of those who receive Him, but to see the Face of God? In the Old Testament, that very visage would strike you dead– innocently but inevitably, as no mortal mind could even comprehend His Face, let alone lay eyes on something so transcendent, so holy, so Real.

And then the Annunciation happened, and immediately, God began knitting together a Face for Himself in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Jesus is how we can look at God. The Father is seen in the Son, both literally and figuratively. Jesus Christ IS the “Face” of our Creator, in such a directly intimate way it moves one to tears– for only through Christ’s eyes can God meet our gaze with the most incomprehensibly tender love.





Details I love in this: the softness of Gabriel’s wings, the gentleness of their hand positions, the practically tangible light around the Holy Spirit, the way lines and angles all flow together in harmony, the delicate colors, Mary’s foot.



I really love this. God and Gabriel, moments before the First Mystery of Joy came to be– and dear Mary, as yet unaware of her most blessed role in salvation history. What a thought.



crawlingtowardchrist:

Always remember why we are Christian. God’s sacrifice is so unimaginable, incredible, and more than any one of us could ever do. Today is the day that Our Lord showed how much He loved us, and how much pain He would go through to save us!


 

This is the heartwrenching, gorgeous, terrible and beautiful paradox of Easter– that this awful truth of Christ’s bloody yet loving sacrifice of Himself has purchased for us eternal life and salvation through Him, through that same love.

Christ Crucified is not an image of death. This image, this vision of unimaginable pain, is also a declaration of unfathomable love. Christ chose this suffering in order to deliver us from damnation. This is how dearly He loves us!

This same Jesus who submitted to death has conquered death, victorious in His humble obedience, and has so opened the gates of heaven for us to enter through His holy example. Let us rejoice in this greatest of hopes, and now let us allow Him to wipe away our tears, for He Who Died has now been raised from the dead and lives forever!




“And may the God of peace, who brought again from the dead the great pastor of the sheep, our Lord Jesus Christ, in the blood of the everlasting testament, Fit you in all goodness, that you may do his will; doing in you that which is well pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom is glory for ever and ever. Amen.” - Hebrews 13:20-21

(The Risen by Severin Benz) +

He is truly risen!!

I love the use of color and shape here– the hard square browns of the rocky tomb elicit thoughts of the Cross, especially with the blood-red shroud draped across it at such a sharp intersecting angle. Yet from that same point, Christ’s crucified foot rises above it now, with beautifully billowing waves of purest white, the robes of our Living God wrapped about Him like the very clouds of heaven. Around Him, the blues of evening twilight brighten into the golds of dawn, night into day, darkness into light, even as He transmutes death into life. His Wounds still visible, His Cross now held as the banner of triumph, Jesus has been resurrected, and now points us to the heavenly Kingdom, Himself the Way, Himself the Victory.

Alleluia!!



“Make me a channel of your peace!” -St.Francis of Assisi 

This is arguably my favorite image of any Saint and Our Lord. The tenderness and devotion of the Love between Christ and Christian, made even more powerful by the Cross and Blood, and driven home by the shared Stigmata, strikes straight to my heart.

I could meditate on this image for years.
 


Reblogging this for everyone else with a cross of chronic illness, its constant reminder of mortality, and the feelings of helplessness and despair that may bring. Never give up. Keep faith, keep hope, keep joy, all of it in God. Fix your heart so firmly on Christ that nothing can shake you, for His Love will hold you secure. Although our bodies are dying, and inevitably so, Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life, and through Him– in Him, with Him, for Him– we have the promise of life eternal.

Never give up. The end is not the end.




Gerard van Honthorst, The mocking of Christ, ca. 1616-7

I think about this painting a lot. I can’t get over the striking contrast between the contorted faces of the shadowed men, loudly jeering and laughing, and the utterly innocent surrender of Jesus Christ, completely unresisting, His Face soft yet profoundly sad in the light, even with a rope around His neck, even with the red thrust rudely into His Hand, even with His Head pierced and bleeding. There’s a genuinely visible divinity about Jesus here, hidden to worldly eyes, right in the midst of suffering and mockery. It’s very moving.



Saint Joseph, look, I’m tired tonight,

But somehow I think that you care;

For being a father and one who works

Are things that both of us do share.

It tires a man, yet the heart is high,

For, Patron Saint, it’s all worth while.

Its rich reward is a loving wife,

And joyous light in a child’s smile.

O, Father, Worker, bear with me,

Help me, Joseph, to do my best,

To love, protect my family

Till work shall cease and Heaven is rest.

 

[My beloved grandpa died two years ago this April. We found this little prayer card as we were cleaning his work desk three days ago. I daresay Saint Joseph did answer this sweet petition for him. He is indeed now at rest, and today I specially remember him with love as I share this with you. Happy Father’s Day to all. 💛]




tomicscomics: It’s too soon for him to realize it’s too soon.
 

I actually love this because yes, those wood & nails DID hurt Jesus eventually, but! He still followed His dad’s advice, in a profound way– Jesus was ‘bullied’ worse than ever when He was crucified, His feelings being not just hurt but His Heart entirely broken… and yet, Jesus chose the Cross. He chose it when He was hated by the whole world. Jesus chose the wood & nails when others may have fought back or cursed in vengeance. Jesus bore all the hurt Himself, so no one else would have to, and He did it out of mercy, forgiveness, and love.

Carpentry ironically proved to actually be the literal answer for everything, in that Cross. Father knows best– pun intended!




Richly detailed stained glass like this really pulls at my heart, as the stunning colors and intricate artwork serves to glorify the portrayed truth in such a special way.

The luxuriant hues of the women’s garments speak symbolically– Mary’s blue speaking of the Divinity in her womb, the white attesting to her virgin purity; Elizabeth’s red humbly attesting her mortal age yet the gold of God’s light lifting it to miraculous fruitfulness! Even their halos speak: Mary, green as the new Eve, the true Garden, crowned with the gold of God’s power alive in her… Elizabeth in violet, inspired by the Holy Spirit to praise the Son hidden before her, this same color even highlighting her right foot, turned towards His Mother, turning her aged life to a new eternal life in following this new and beautiful Way.

The angels quoting the Gospel on their banners are truly gorgeous, their faces peaceful yet joyful, their very presences unseen by the women in time yet proclaimed by us in recognizing wonder. They elicit feelings of mysterious bliss, a trembling awareness of the incomprehensible God at work in this seemingly mundane exchange, a conversation that the eyes of the world can neither revere nor respect, but which the Children of God see and know and love for its eternally profound significance.

Religious art is a magnificent gift to God’s people, a gift given by Him and for Him, for His glory and love and gratitude. May all artists in His Church use their talents wholeheartedly for this holy purpose!



Pacecco de Rosa, 1607-1656
Salome with the head of Saint John the Baptist
 

This is, in my opinion, one of the most disturbing portrayals of this event. It immediately strikes you how YOUNG Salome is. This girl, practically a child, danced for her stepfather and his lustful guests, then had her own mother use her to request the coldblooded death of a prophet, even John the Baptist, the harbinger of Christ Himself. And this child likely was completely ignorant of the great evils she was both the key player in and enabler of. Had she no conscience, no sense of moral propriety, no questions of motive? But this painting answers that, to me. Look at her face, at her blankly passive eyes, a child doing what mommy and daddy want and simply pleased with that, yet fatally incomprehensive of the greater immoral underpinnings of her obedient actions.

That backdrop of utter detachment and empty motive makes John's doom all the more awful. The greatest Prophet's mouth is open just beneath Salome's ears, but death is not what silenced him. Those who could hear him would hear him even in death. No, John's words were smothered only by hers, her simple fatal and terrible demand-- for regardless of the truth, regardless of the bigger picture, she neither knew nor cared nor concerned herself with it... and so, here, on that wretched silver platter, he is just a severed head.



Saint Jerome Writing, 1605, Caravaggio

I feel such a deep love for Saint Jerome, honestly. Just these images of him… an old man, alone in dark silence, devoted to studying the Word of God. I live with my beloved grandparents so I know the wrinkled forehead, the bald pate, the worn and fragile skin, the white and fraying hair. I also know the strength that illumines even a fading body through faith. I see that sliver of a blessed halo above that downturned face in holy focus and I genuinely love this Saint, this old man who adores the Lord, and I cannot wait to meet him in heaven, and I pray to imitate him more while I grow older on this earth until then.

Dear Saint Jerome, pray for us!




“Our Lord sometimes makes you feel the weight of the cross. The weight seems unbearable but you carry it because in His love and mercy, the Lord helps you and gives you strength.”

-Saint Padre Pio

This is so true– and the sculpture illustrates it so beautifully! Look at our Lord, how He leads us with gentle but unshakable reassurance! To imagine myself in Padre Pio’s place… it actually makes my heart ache with love. What joy there is to carry the Cross with Christ! ❤🙏

 



I never tire of meditating on the mystery of Christ’s Agony in the Garden. It’s heartwrenching and unfathomably deep. Christ, the Son of God, was in agony over what He was about to suffer for the salvation of mankind– He was going to do it, He wasn’t running away, but He asked His Father for mercy nevertheless. “If this cup can pass from me…” and He wept and sweated blood and pleaded with His friends to keep Him company and He suffered.

It’s… too much for my heart sometimes. “Not my will but Thine,” and He meant that sincerely, but it didn’t abate the pain, and that means a great deal to remember. Seeing my Savior like this, crumpled in sobs and desperate prayer, awaiting His own gory death… the Creator of the World Himself, trembling, helpless, fragile, and small in the shadows of the darkly knotted trees… it’s truly a divine mystery. And it’s just as beautiful as it is sorrowful.




Detail from Christ Crowned With Thorns, Dieric Bouts, 1470.

I am sure our Savior wept, silently perhaps, but still with His entire aching Heart, during the tortures of His Passion. He incarnated partly to share our weaknesses and pains, to be able to fully understand and assist us in our own torments… and He incarnated entirely to die. His saving death gives us life– but so, too, do His Tears, in a less literal way. Jesus wept because He felt every pain we have ever felt. He knows our afflictions. He knows how much it hurts. And so His Holy Tears flow with His Precious Blood, as He bears the Crown of Pain itself, the King over even those things that hurt us. He is Lord over all, and there is not a single thorn in our lives that He has not felt first. He is with us in every ache, crying with us, and loving us entirely.

Won’t you comfort Him in His sorrow, He Who wept to comfort you?




Simon Marmion - Man of Sorrows (c. 1460). Detail.

Presented so starkly, it becomes an honest shock to remember that nails were hammered through His Holy Hands. Nails! Big metal nails, sharp and solid, punched through flesh and sinew and bone and into raw wood… and then, after hours of world-changing agony, they were pulled out again– what an awful yet holy task!– leaving garish wounds, big bloodied holes, in their place.

Have you ever bled so? This sight, of red running down His arms in fat sticky drops, have you ever suffered similarly? True, nothing you have endured can compare to this, these sacred traumas, but can you empathize? Can you feel a twinge of shared suffering? Does your heart wince, imagining His great anguish, your own scars a mysterious reminder of His?

And His Pierced Side… oh, no human soul can fathom!

Look upon Him and tremble with grieving love! Weep with sorrow; reach out to comfort Him Who was crucified without consolation for your sake! We all suffer our splinters and sores, and we know how bitter injuries can be, so give this solace to your Savior, that you will endure your future pains with humble remembrance of His!

“Be not faithless, but believing.” (John 20:27) Reach out and feel His Hands, even here, even now. Behold thy Lord and thy God!





The Flagellation
This rare 18th century Spanish colonial figure represents The Flagellation of Jesus Christ. Hand carved and polychrome painted wood with inset glass eyes.
Unknown Artist.
 

Look at His back!!

His shoulders, His knees, from being crushed to the ground in agony, His shoulders, from the edges of the scourge…!

The blood He shed for us is unfathomable and it breaks my heart in half.

My Lord, what are you thinking, in such shocking pain, in such awful sorrow? What has moved your holy Face to such pensive distress?

O that I, too, should share Your grief-stricken meditation, in holding the terrible sight of Your wounds in my heart!



Every time I remember that Jesus kept His Wounds it just floors me. Our Savior is a Crucified Savior and that is so important to knowing Him, to understanding why He was born, and what He does for us now in Heaven.

I just see this, those horrible holes, dripping with dark blood, aching in agony, and I realize there is no bitterness or despair or complaint in it at all– it is Love, only Love, that suffered and died to save us from the pain of sin, to deliver us from damnation: a doom so unbearable that God Himself endured unbearable pain in order to destroy the very root of it.

Jesus keeps His Wounds to remind us that it is finished, that His Death is our Life, and His Blood is our Healing. What trembling joy and holy fear a heart must feel upon beholding them!

 



Christ in the Desert [1872]; Ivan Kramskoi [1837 - 1887]

This is forever one of my favorite paintings.

Look at that horizontal line of clouds, so low and dim; look at that bleak and rocky ground, so harsh and grey… Look at our Lord’s face. Look at his hands. Look at the way his robe is pulled tightly, as if against the cold desert night. I swear I can feel the silence, the vastness, the time… this artwork speaks volumes without a word. It is heartachingly beautiful.




Daniel Gerhartz

Every time I see these paintings, the sheer tender beauty of the light and color makes my heart ache in awe. The jewel tones are so precise, so stunningly vibrant amidst backgrounds of warm neutrals that they feel like rainbows gleaming in a dun sky. The brushstroke technique adds to this– everything is soft around the edges, watery like looking through tears, blurred like a dream right before waking. It feels specially transcendent because of this, as if its glorious subject matter is too magnificent to portray in any solid human manner or method… and indeed, isn’t it so? The radiance of Christian religion glows with divinity in every blessed item and action so devoted to it; it is perfectly fitting that any work of art striving to capture the precious essence of that worship would ultimately turn out like this– hazy with holiness, giving us a trembling but true glimpse of heaven’s splendor beyond the veil.




Polyptych of the Resurrection Virgin Annunciate, 1522, Titian

“Behold, the handmaid of the Lord.”

The great love, purity, and humility of our Lady is somehow so visible here, in the touching and sincere simplicity of her pose– the bowed head, the downturned eye, the hand to her heart. And yet her arms are open. She does not hide herself, nor turn inwards, but offers herself totally to God. So it is that the virginal red of her humanity is embraced by the blue of Divinity, with the pure white triangle of the Trinity fixed like a seal upon her heart… and the Mother of God shines as the morning star out of the darkness of the world.

“Be it done to me according to thy word.”




God loves us all. He doesn’t see political parties. He sees the heart. And even the most hardened sinner, even the most lost soul, has a chance to be redeemed and saved through His Divine Love and Mercy, if only they would believe in His Truth, and humbly submit to His teaching!

So remember this before you are tempted into judging politicians as people. They are sinners, just like us. And they are still precious to God, just like us. We are all at His mercy, and indebted to His Love. So let us honor Him by treating each other with merciful love, too.

Vote for policy, not personality– and above all, vote according to Christ.





When I feel distressed and helpless in life, it truly helps to think of Christ holding me like this, as His Child, His Creation. Even now, He sees me and remembers me from before my birth, when I was known only to Him, but known completely and perfectly, and loved just the same. He holds me and knows me and loves me still, and forever, and that gives me such comfort. Even if the world sees me as worthless and purposeless and unwanted, Christ calls me His Own, and that is my undying hope.



HOPE IN GOD 

Death can shatter many hopes; it cannot break the Ties which unite an Immortal Soul to the Souls which it loves immortally.






The Temptation by the Devil
, 1865

Gustave Doré, 1832-1883

 

I really love this, actually. There’s a symbolic visual truth to it that really strikes me.

Here we have Satan, fallen angel, self-proclaimed illegitimate prince of the earth, brazenly and bitterly trying to get Jesus to worship him– Jesus, the King of all worlds, the Creator of life itself, the very source and summit of incorruptible light– and yet, the devil is at Christ’s feet. He’s on his knees, furiously imploring perhaps, goading and sneering... But Jesus doesn’t even look at him. He knows that the devil has no right to sell His own planet back to Him.

And honestly, it’s apparent. The devil gestures to his “kingdom,” but all we see is a tiny huddle of man-made architecture swallowed up in miles of untouched green. And so is the truth. Amidst the wilderness of God’s natural art, all of man’s achievements– all the devil claims to control– will ultimately be reduced to the rubble and dust it came from, and time will proclaim God’s endless sovereignty. The devil has nothing to sell. And truly, Jesus knows it– as surely as He knows the birds flying free, which He protects to the last tiny chick, and as surely as He knows the sun, blazing gloriously behind Satan’s ignorant claw, testifying to the eternal light that will defeat him with every sunrise. Jesus owns the hills, the sky, the clouds, the dirt, the dawn, and the devil himself. But there is one last, heavy, hidden truth.

His Holy Face shining with the promise of true kingly glory, Jesus looks away from the devil’s spoilsand wreathed in the red that will one day purchase the one thing He wishes to claim irrevocably as His own special possession, he looks to us. And His eyes say, you are worth the cost.




prismaticbleed: (shatter)

[uncensored for brutal honesty]


proverbs 9:16-18


eating disorder hell.


Allergy panic girl
Blue obligation girl
Enjoying eater girl = tied to CAKE???????
Bingeing girl (once we hit "that point") = tied to RUPTURE.
rupture's "second name" keeps feeling lke GORGE but thats sounding like a SURNAME, NOT A SECOND NAME. why is this? is that name tied to her girl instead???
cannot even theorize rupture's second name because we do't know enough about her function and/or heart host TO guess.

tobiko hasn't been out in a while?
someone ELSE keeps purging, "we're going to die why cant we stop" mindset
tobiko would panic "get the poison out" then became dpressed and QUIT??? IS HER ANCHOR CHANGING LIKE RAZORS???
but this current purge person basically BLACKS OUT in the process. existing before nd after, not during.
too much fear and trauma to have tobiko front for that anymore???

WHERE IS SPICE WHEN THIS ALL HAPPENS?????


WHO IS TIED TO THAT BIG TAURUS DAEMON???
someone definitely is. but i think that soeone is still vague. i KNOW they were out but we can't even get thier fronting data (this is simeon, hi!)

Chocoloco still tied to angry "jess" BUT he was yelling at the latter nousfoni? the one eating the chocolate candy.
did they even like it????

THERE'S A BROWN MANIC WHO ONLY FRONTS TO LOOK FOR UPPERS????
"we need to stay awake, we need to have coffee and/or chocolate!!!!" 
BUT CHOCOLOCO ISN'T FROM HER. THAT'S SURPRISING.
WHY IS THIS?
(her heart can't hold a daemon??? choco tied to the global concept??? feel this out)

IS THIS THE SAME NOUSFONI WHO KEEPS DRINKING ALCOHOL OR ARE THERE TWO OF THEM???

there's someone ANGRY who comes out when we try to read corrective or self-knowledge stuff???
girl. close to angry jess root but not her. muddy brown, feels washed out. angry at me/us fr typing this but wont stop us? just a low flat disdainful anger.
the boy from yesterday (zodiac rage) has an edge to his anger. he'll yell about it. this girl wont. like a heavy dead weight anger, no action. just shutdown.
why? what are her roots?
her response think "don't think about that" nose wrinkle and try to BLACK IT OUT. like covering eyes. total shut off! scary.
why does she do that? doesn't she want to learn
she cannot front if someone else is strongly fronting? only if in vague pseudosocial mode? like readig.
need a name for THAT state of mind. different from upstairs AND downstairs. sort of an inbetween.
headspace level parallel???
anyway we have to find someone who LIKES reading that stuff so they can OVERPOWER that, for lack of a better term. (who am i, they're thinking i'm the "bleaching optimistic" one, that stings but i think its true.)
also, whoever this good-reading person might be, they CANNOT be hyperreligious, that only compounds the problem. religious voices need to be dealt with very carefully as they bring an entire other level of tangled motives into the picture and we cannot untangle both at once with this, not safely.



Juniper = job is to SAY NO. NO MATTER WHAT.
CHAOS out helping Juniper. Lots of love there actually. they remember the last time.
someone called her out!!!! who?

Mirror realization, called JESSICA out??? LEGIT DEADNAME CORE. A GOOD PERSON!!!!!!!!!
Someone else before her, recognizing the heart of all this is THE DESTROYER

ALL MIRROR PEOPLE ARE STRONGLY AWARE OF THE SYSTEM AND HAVE TOTAL POWERFUL INTEGRITY. "TAKE NO SHIT" BUT DEEPLY COMPASSIONATE. (reminds us of triple a little???)
jamie is pure motivation, but real about it
this girl is "tell it like it is" and determined to spread awareness so things change. not violent.
triple is NOT a mirror person, 
her vibe is blurring hard even pinging her writing this??? with two other people? FEEL THIS OUT
TRIPLE DOESN'T THINK OF OTHER PEOPLE AS DIRECTLY AS MIRROR VOICES DO.
triple "says what no one else will admit" and she's ANGRY about it. but only comes out actuvely, in response TO a hiding of something that HURTS.
(^THAT NAME ISN'T FITTING HER WELL??)

- much later, mirror girl taking us to bathroom to get dressed and SPICE came up alongside her; they are SUPER SIMILAR almost like sisters??? but unmistakably different even so.
someone else fronting with them too? talking TO mirror, worried. NOT "THROUGH" it like an actual mirror nousfoni would!!


Jessica called LAURIE while drying dishes. Told her EVERYTHING.
laurie sobbing in rage about this. then SHOUTING for tiger lily. looking for a "social protector"
GOT HER OUT BRIEFLY but she couldnt stay???
where is the cerise protector??
(she says "i'm here" but she's still mostly faceless and totally nameless. says she's figuring out what her new role is, now that we're not in a trauma environment)
Laurie took the garbage bags out
SOMEONE HYPERRELIGIOUS came out by the tree briefly, condemning? i think a jay stepped in briefly to tell them not to be so caustic before laurie came back.
laurie asking who even wanted the food? like the ham, and the pie, who liked it? got NO RESPONSE. Actual disgust, cringing at thought of food. the response was DISLIKE!!
Realizing the people responsible for the actual eating have SMOTHERED CONSCIENCES. the idea of someone else "owning" a food item causes a "blind response" in them. they CANT fathom it for their function. the thought when eating the trail mix, "this belongs to mason, this isn't yours," caused them to mentally BLACK OUT because they cant comprehend/tolerate the guilt response? or CANT STOP? like if they admitted that theyd have to stop eating, and they cant for some reason????? their function is TO eat so it'd be denying Why they're out???? FIGURE THIS OUT. i dont even think they Want the food, it feels like a total compulsion. programming. they're vaguely Aware of guilt and shame but don't quite Feel it. everything distant, conceptualized. even while they eat. sort of "clear muffle" over everything, like two feet of gel or plastic. WEIRD AND FOREBODING. 
wreckage coming out on the way back in from outside, hearing people arguing in another apartment. she and laurie briefly cofronting almost, slight level difference. but close, next to each other. rubbing elbows almost. wordless close recognizion of each other. "i'm here for you"
back inside, laurie wanting to tell mason and ollie everything about this problem. fess up, admit helpless angry scared frustration, inability to stop or control ourself. terrified at this, but NEED to admit it to prevent it in the future. considering going to mcdonalds or ihop all night when the arrows work, to flat-out prevent any and all such behavior. wanting this in any case, i think the isolation is Causing a lot of this trouble? messes BAD with our perception of reality. can't fathom anyone or anything BUT the current social person existing. (THIS NEEDS TO BE LOOKED AT AND WRITTEN ABOUT.)
at computer, laurie having unexpected feelings towards kris' picture on the lamp? she's fiercely fond of him. deep camaraderie bond, but also a sort of burning platonic love. like a weapon heated glowing hot. knuckles white clenched holding it to defend someone. very devoted.

WEIRDLY, THE SLIGHTEST VARIATIONS ON THE DEADNAME CALL DIFFERENT PEOPLE OUT.
the full deadname is tied to THIS girl, the good one.
SEEING IT IN TEXT CALLS OUT SOMEONE DIFFERENT????
context appears to be HUGE for this



briar out RIGHT NOW feeling panic at tasting food in our mouth? scared as shit.
good. more of us need to ACTIVELY FUCKING REALIZE what this is doing to our godforsaken body.
- someone ELSE triggered by smell of food on hands. briar ALONGSIDE them. neither aware of each other???? (!!!)

jewel says GO BRUSH OUR TEETH so we can relax!!
jessica agrees, go get it done so we can actually get back to living!
(jess is OLDER than jewel! maybe 15, 16? not 17. DOESN'T KNOW QLOK. might not even BE tied to school?????? possible for nousfoni to be older but NOT HAVE MEMORIES OF LIFE DURING THAT AGE IN THE BODY. e.g. a "16 year old" nousfoni not knowing anything about what happened when we were in high school. or an 18 year old nousfoni not knowing anything about holding a job.)

someone wanting to eat vitamins and melatonin gummies, not out of hunger, but out of panicked compulsion.
THE BLUE GIRL?
laurie yelling at them for this. that person DOESNT QUITE FRONT? just comes in "sideways halfway" and has the body do things, SO THEY DONT FEEL THE EFFECTS OR CONSEQUENCES!!!!
the one who eats is NOT HER.

now, someone JUST came out TO eat the vitamins, scared and nervous but they WANTED THEM. happy to eat them actually. feels brown? long hair. wanting to eat more but not really understanding concept of "food?" 
feelng like THEIR daemon might be that big taurus thing. 
cake's girl is younger, not nervous. not rebellious.
rupture's girl only comes out with the intent to binge and purge.

weirdly, that vitamin-eater person (those two? blue and brown: concept and carry-out) are more concerned with eating MEDICINE than food???? always looking for vitamins, pills, mints, etc. health panic obsessed. subtype of lotophagoi???

(Is Hoban still around? her vibe was always vague, she was kind of defined secondhand. feel her out and see if her anchor is split or wrong or if she's fading or splitting herself.)


Another huge thought:
So many of us are HUGELY CONTEXT-LOCKED.
We noticed this today, wondering why the heck NO ONE gets triggered out in the kitchen anymore? Why it's so hard to find Jason and Juniper and Taureia and anyone? 
It's because the ENVIRONMENT CHANGED.
The fairy lights don't trigger anyone. The stove light DOES. It's a trauma flashbacker. So are those little string lights over the stove, due to past association. And, total darkness triggers out a totally different bunch!
Similarly, sitting at the table to eat triggers out certain people, whereas eating in the kitchen triggers out others, and eating on the floor triggers out still others. The couch is by FAR the safest place, and the kitchen itself is utter terror by default. No eating in there ever, please-- ideally, at least, because we tend to stress-blackout in there and then trauma loops happen. That is the most terrible part of PTSD and we need to plan for it better.
We are SO HYPERSPECIFIC this is not surprising but we still somehow completely missed it.
MAKE A LIST OF THIS STUFF so we can use it to our healing advantage!!!



ORANGE IS CORRUPTED
laurie asking for data on bathroom convo, lynne snidely saying she "should know"; laurie turned and called her out on this, she BLUESCREENED???? froze. everything stuck for a second then laurie got warped to GRAYSPACE???? lynne there, floaty, disoriented? said that wasn't her, she wasn't angry. asked what was going on.
corrupted orange is ANGRY. feeling of jovial dude in a bar who suddenly snaps. fiery, but energetic. NOT the apocalyptic burn of red anger. orange has motion behind it, and voice. red is quiet and violent. orange is angry and pushy? energized? can't find a word. armed? no, that's vermilion. orange isn't a "life threatening fear" response. it's more of a panic scare. the closer you get to yellow, the tighter the nerves get. yellow anger is shrieking screaming wildcat anger. someone "yell"-ing at you, all electric sharp. but no attacking! yellow anger might shove or slap you but that's all. orange anger will push you around, all heavy weight but animated. vermilion anger will throw a punch, a hard blow and colder fire behind it, not much talk. red anger will wordlessly bury a knife in your chest on a dime. WAIT. NO. THAT'S BLOOD. it's darker!! RED anger, javier's color, is INTEGROUS. dude that shows that there are "benevolent and malevolent" sides of color angers! corrupted Red anger is... nothing. there's nothing. if it's pure Red, it's PURE. it;s angry because it SHOULD be. it demands you clean up your act, and tells you how. it feels like a city skyline, like an activist. it knows what it's talking about. active and informed. dark red, blood anger... that ISNT INHERENTLY CORRUPT. that's the sort of anger that will call you out on what you did wrong, but in a pointed way. it stabs right to the heart of the issue. but it won't attack you. no good anger will. gosh this is SO IMPORTANT.
so. corrupted orange is arrogant but not proud? no, not arrogant. corrupted YELLOW is more like that? actually, corrupted AMBER is haughty and proud. like a lion. puffed up, like a prince. amber is a luxurious color so it makes sense. yellow is brighter, the brightest, so corrupted yellow is less warm and more sharp? conceited? but not acrid, that's chartreuse. acid is green hued. yellow is manic almost? condemning? high strung. 
anyhow. orange. corrupted orange is the "i'm being a nice guy!" but he's really being threatening. that's orange. could easily lean vermilion, but orange is less malevolent. not as dark. orange is closer to the self-absorption of amber, but it's still directed outwards. orange is healthily sociable, so corrupted orange takes that and twists it? it's hard to put into words. but yeah. lynne, when damaged by it, gets a very biting sense of bad humor, gets rather "smart"? ALWAYS making jokes at the expense of others. that's the main thing. humor as a mask for straight-up trash talk.


we TRIED to ping Karissa when at the mirror and we got NOTHING. that was scary for a second. HOWEVER! then we realized that we were pinging the WRONG LEVEL???? APPARENTLY THIS IS A THING?
we had to ping her in a VIRTUAL ENVIRONMENT. midspace = dreamspace analogous i think. karissa is NOT PINGABLE UPSTAIRS. but imagine the old pennsylvania bedroom, and she is IMMEDIATELY there and fiercely alive.
karissa is a DOWNSTAIRS PROTECTOR, fighting off the weirdest threat we could have imagined-- ghosters. as in, childhood psychosis attackers. legit seeing demons and devils in the room, "sensing" evil, etc. we still get that when we're really unstable. like when we redid that bedroom to put up that desk, which is what triggered her birth in the first place. so she exists for that. 
and that is a VITALLY IMPORTANT PIECE OF INFO: there are MANY nousfoni in this system with hyperspecific but vital jobs that don't happen often, and so they run a risk of DYING if they don't get to live, so to speak. THEREFORE WE HAVE TO UTILIZE "HOLOSPACE" AND/OR DREAMSPACE TO LET THEM DO THEIR JOBS ON THE INSIDE, if outside instigation of those jobs would be lethal or otherwise majorly harmful. like tonight. however sometimes that's required. we couldn't possibly imagine or emulate this night inside. but it had to happen. it's too organic. life is too organic. but yeah, sometimes we Can do the inside boost and when we can we NEED TO. so keep a note of that.
in any case, this would bolster the inter-level communication we are desperately working towards. socials who have no comprehension of "inside," or even the ability to comprehend it, could LEARN it by being brought into emulated "outside situations" that are really happening inside, and then eased out of it OR letting inside folks enter those spaces to meet them. THAT'S HOW WE USED TO WORK AND I DON'T KNOW WHY WE STOPPED? maybe just daily life terror overload, forcing us to stay in survival/ social mode more often. but hey, that's the stuff we're fixing now that we're safe!
but it has to surface first. only then can you remove it. it's scary, of course, but what's even scarier is letting that shit go unseen and rotting on the inside. it's like cancer. 

...
our body is actually hungry again and we hate this because we have no appetite. the thought of eating makes us nauseous. we have no desire to do so, at all. especially not at this hour.
OH i forgot to mention earlier. with big dinner triggers and the destroyer.
certain foods are SUCH TRAUMA TRIGGERS that the destroyer exists to GET RID OF THEM. it's awful but it is true. we Want to be able to leave them untouched, because they're NOT OURS, but that very concept is still alien to our brain. god knows why. our poor brain sees a trigger food and thinks immediately "i must get rid of it" because it's that shaken up by seeing it. immediate flashbacks, immediate sensory rewind. time lapses, time slides. it's horrible that something as ridiculously simple as a canned item can knock you totally off kilter and into abused-kid mentality. 
there's a lot tangled up in that, especially methods-- some kids destroy food outright, some throw it out, some eat it, some eat and purge, etc. all of them acting those ways based on the situations they had to survive in previously. all of them desperately scared and lost and confused and not know where or when they are, let alone what the hell they're doing. they all dissociate so hard because they're so scared. but they're reachable, now. they're opening up and realizing that, now. they're healing and being brave and trying and feeling even if they're fucking terrified. not so in september, good god now THAT was hell. lord. but that's over, forever. a lapse is just a stumble, due to overwhelm. it happens, mental illness is hellish in and of itself. but we get back up and keep walking. a slip isn't a rewind. we're here now, with our progress and understanding under our belt, and we use that to leap forwards even farther when we're pulled back.
nights like this are slingshots. 
but yeah. we feel awful, AWFUL, because trigger foods are cheap! starving kids eat on pennies and go to food drives and when you're Still grappling with finances that stuff ends up back in the apartment and then you don't know what fucking year it is or what state you're in or what your name is or whether or not you're going to die, metaphorically only i hope! it fucking SUCKS because these beloved kids that we love so damn much it HURTS eat and enjoy these foods no problem, and God we WANT to just let them LIVE, let them be free and untraumatized, but god we're so damned fucking hurt that we struggle. we hate it. we feel like such a burden. we ARE a burden. that's the truth, with this. we're a difficulty, a monkey wrench, an unexpected trial. a frustration. and it's true. and it's unfair to them. and we're sorry. but we can't apologize and keep fucking the hell up. we need to try a hell of a lot fucking harder.
we KNOW that shit makes us sick so WHY do we still et that shit???
because that knowledge doesn't register for them. their minds are so damaged, we still haven't fully felt out Why they can't comprehend that sort of self-care data.
...maybe that's why. maybe self-care is alien to someone who lives in a trauma flashback.
...maybe.

but yeah. i want to list the trigger foods but someone says "no, don't clutter up this entry" and she's brown and angry? not choco's jess, maybe the "don't read" one from before? she's way up, almost floating voice space? but she's all about "social performance" and approval, and "clogging up this entry" is judged by her to be "inappropriate" somehow? like "it's not proper" but THAT pings someone ELSE. someone religious feeling? fears of not being totally nice and proper and a "good girl." maybe tilly. hm!
but no i think we should list them or we will forget to. i know it's scary but we have to! we'll do it together ok

- canned beans. all we had to eat for a while in pa. make our stomach so so sick. also heavy weight food, immediate trauma flashback trigger. yes heavy foods feel like the rape triggers. can i say that? "julie days." but that's unfair she didn't do it. she says she wasn't herself once. oh ok. i'm sorry julie. she says it's ok, it's the truth. so no beans
- canned food in general. again, that's ALL we had at the house most days, in pennsylvania. just shelves full of old expired rusty banged-up cans. the same things over and over and over, day after day, eaten at night under buzzing yellow lights, or hidden in the cellar. every one of those foods is a trigger:
canned corn, canned soup, spaghettios, ravioli, cranberry sauce, canned carrots (taste is a HUGE trigger), etc.
there are also BAD MEMORIES tied to ALL of those which we cannot look at rght now we start shaking. they're triggering young kids like me!! we don't know them though? are they new? are they all new? no they're old. we've just never seen them before. they've been asleep for a long time because no one's woken them up. but we just did! we looke for them and they're awake now. and they're probably really scared and don't know where they are but we'll protect them. we can be their friends. we'll keep them safe now. 
but the immediate fear is exactly what we're typing about. "how can we be safe now if those unsafe things are STILL THERE." no differentiation between thing and associated event. they are one and the same to a trauma survivor. at least, to us. to those hurt nousfoni, scared and shaking, the very sight of a can of soup throws them right back into the situation they wanted to die to get out of. their brain was shaken to the core and it keeps getting yanked back. so we struggle.
it's not fair. we wonder, daily, if we should find somewhere else to go, if we should leave, but we DONT WANT TO. we love it here, we love the people, we want to STAY, we want to heal so we CAN stay. our feelings of "we don't belong" and "maybe we should just go" are NOT OUR REAL MOTIVES. they are the "safe, acceptable" way of saying "i am so fucking sorry we are making your lives difficult; we are drowning in love-rooted guilt and regret and we don't want to hurt you anymore, but we don't know how to stop yet. we're still healing. but we cannot put you through this messy process anymore. THAT is making us feel like we don't belong-- we are disturbing the peace, we aren't fitting in with you both yet, into that harmony. our own actions are alienating us, our own shame and guilt are isolating us. THAT is what doesn't belong but right now we are identifying with it, for better or for worse, from how horribly strong it is. and we don't want to leave, we love you so much, but again we feel so DIRTY and disgusting and (there's axis) foolish and embarrassing, that we feel so unworthy TO stay. we're afraid of hurting you, of you beginning to hate us or be frustrated with our presence, we are so scared of you both expecting the worst of us. so we would rather leave than see these relationships rot by our hand. by our fungal touch.
axis just GLARED at me for that i have never seen him angry i'm sorry.
his reply isn't translating well
effectively: "don't be sorry" in the "you're not being blamed or condemned" sense. the strong powerful insistence of "you will not rot anything by touch. fungus is life out of death" and "rot is decomposition" with a spindly mushroomed finger pointing at this absolute artistically tangled web of data, of feeling, "decomposition is breaking down into simpler things," into essential elements, "if anything rots it is simply beginning again from a simpler state" or something? taphos. taphonomy. "decomposition begins at the moment of death." heart-deep feelings about this topic. if it's not working, why not let it die? if it is a fatal illness, a fatal wound, a mortal injury, why not let it fall embraced (back) into the arms of death? why not let death breathe life into it again? god okay that's what we're doing. chocoloco's girl is responding to this??? not as her heart, no. but as a sister to the other one. where is chocoloco. what do you have to say
"decay is not my topic" he says. "it is his. let him speak"
what is your topic though
sorry 
axis keep talking.
a slight smile, smirk, "what more do you need me to say?"
anything everything anything you want
"i want you to feel what i said and what you know it means" "tell me"
what you meant
"what your heart heard."
well
if we're bungling up this relationship (allegedly) with our mistakes, with-- oh
with our own process of decay
the nigredo
THAT'S infi
that's even more important
what am i doing with the spacebar i'm sorry
hey i don't have a name yet
hey i'm not simeon! i'm a girl, no, i use she pronouns, maybe?
i'm not a boy. leaning the other direction
sorry slipping bye
no not yet he says
finish.
okay.
if we are afraid of rotting this relatioship by touching it we are projecting the wrong sentinemt onto our fear. if it rots it means that it died which means that it had reached a point where it could not continue healthily. so death is merciful and progressive and otivated by hope, by love and hope. now it decays, now it rots back into the world, now it feeds the insects (what about our insects what about them) i'm thinking too much
simple he says, simple. what is the essence of it
if it dies it was unhealthy. if it rots then 
rot it just the process of recycling
a dead body, a dead thing feeds other alive things, feeds new things
a dead thing will seem to stop life around it for a bit but in time it will bloom greater than ever
in short, 
we're not going to kill anything
fungus is good
he smiled at me.
and? 
IS it rotting?
how can i tell.
look, he says. 
but there's more to that "look"
he means,
there's always rot. there's always death. it means things are growing. it means things are changing. it means what doesn't work anymore is passing away and reworking itself into other things that do.
am i thinking too much
you're trying too hard to encapsulate it in language, he says. speak simply, speak from your heart. you will not rot in whole unless it stops beating. and it will not. he says.
tiny deaths happen all the time. fungus grows on your bones. but you are alive, we are alive, i am alive
i am sorry i hurt people
then let it rot, he says. let it rot.


where were we oh my goodness
trigger foods! a list.
NOW the rabbit speaks up
"chocolate" he says, and points ominously, authoritatively. not menacing, just gravity
"write it down."

- chocolate. in all its forms? (look at the data. yes.) oldest trigger food in the book. tied to sexual trauma, femininity fears, bad memories, massive health scares and pain. but touted constantly as a "comfort food," as an aphrodisiac, as something sacred, as a celebratory food, as a staple part of christmas and easter and valentines day. it was something we could not ever avoid, something added to things to make them more palatable, more enjoyable, but we couldn't eat it. it was everywhere, stores dedicated to it, grand gestures surrounded by it, given as gifts, expected to be received. people react with shock when you say you don't like chocolate. alienation, bizarrely. but it happens. it has. it does. we feel guilty, rejected, isolated, unwanted, unloved, all over again. "chocolate brings people together" just like awful family dinners and shit (please don't swear) (sorry i'm just angry too and hurting) but yes chocolate is something we could not have safely. no. we tried so many times. we love it as it is. but our body cannot have it. we love it but we don't like it? is that true or possible?
YOU DON'T LIKE THE TASTE, he says. SOMEONE DOES. 
a pause, a breakdown of coherence upstairs
THIS TOPIC IS TOO TANGLED, he says, looking up. IT WILL HAVE TO BE UNTANGLED BEFORE IT CAN BE DISCUSSED. I AM BEING SILENCED, WHICH MEANS THERE IS GREAT FEAR HERE. GOOD. THAT IS A SIGNPOST FOR GREAT (???) (translating as growth, realization, progress, understanding, etc. good things. all from fear? i guess that's what daemons are/ are for/ are about/ are from)

other trigger foods
- WHITE FLOUR and all that goes with it. cake,
(what about her?????? no one has EVER thought about her i wonder if we can learn more about her now with what happened tonight? i hope so)
NOT NOW. SHE IS TOO IMPORTANT TO TREAT (flippantly/ nonchalantly/ casually/ in passing/ without enough attention/ as a study topic and not a person/ lightly). ALL OF US ARE. ALL OF YOU ARE. FOCUS.
white bread, crackers, cookies, etc. again, a staple food. something we were forced to eat a lot. something given as gifts, again. birthday and wedding cakes. christmas and easter cookies. sandwiches. party foods. god you SEE why this is a struggle for us??? our body CANNOT DO THESE THINGS WITHOUT GETTING SICK
is it because of the trauma or did it result from the trauma?
which came first, the chicken or the egg
god only knows.
don't worry about that right now we're tired. we can't give it enough attention right now. make the list

- dairy products. HUGE femininity fear trigger. sexual. makes us feel super dirty, infantile. infantilization is one of the biggest sexual trauma triggers possible. we've never written about that. add it to the list
also we are lactose intolerant so we absolutely cannot have it anyway our stomach CANNOT digest it that is a PHYSIOLOGICAL FACT.

- canned tuna. WARM especially. very thought makes us shake, want to vomit.
- NOODLES. sexual fear + trauma memories + trypophobia remnants
- HOT DOGS, especially with beans. MASSIVE immediate screaming runaway trauma response
- red sauce. realized at upmc big time. always was tough-- our stomach Hates tomato sauce, it causes SEVERE PAIN but when in treatment we realized it was also a BIG TRAUMA TRIGGER. iscah could do it, she didn't know. didn't experience. but her beloved jessie knew. and those of Us who experienced similar things also knew. and we had that suddenly revealed, something we were hiding from, running from, so now it is a double danger
- lunchmeat. family terror, blackout response, leave it at that
- nut butters
- klondike bars
- energy bars in general, esp. oily ones. AND GRANOLA. BAD BAD BAD and FRIGHTENING. please don't eat it
- grains in general, cooked ones, especially OATS and QUINOA. sad because oats are also ALLEGEDLY a good memory food, but no. only a hoped association. they are primarily tied to VERY VERY TRAUMATIC INCIDENTS and also salt lake city so please pleaseplease do not eat them. someone really really wants them though, but when they try the terror is immediate and choking. not safe yet i'm sorry. maybe get iscah to help, she ate it all the time at upmc. we'll see we'll figure that out later
- CEREAL. the original trigger food. aftertaste is literal hell. flashbacks and panic for as long as it lasts. cereal is 1000% NEVER BUY and we are so so fucking sorry we're scared of having it in the house. 
god we are so goddamned broken
wht do we do?
TELL THEM. WORK WITH THEM. KEEP YOURSELF SAFE. BUT RESPECT THEM TOO.

they're saying it's super late? super early?
6:20 am oh!! the arrows will be home soon!
good i want tomeet them!
i don't know if we know how yet? we only ever type.
but we can figure out how!!
ok! we'll ask infi to show us how.


this is the autopilot. i am smiling. i think i have more of a soul than i ever thought, still.
i feel like the toy soldier, perhaps.
i must thank javier. thank you.

closing this up

all of you are very brave and i am proud of you
i may not feel that but i know it is true.

sleep well today. take care of us. we love you. we love each other


this is proof

(a.p.)

 

 



083117

Aug. 31st, 2017 11:59 pm
prismaticbleed: (held)

 

03:07 am


"my aesthetic is making other people feel genuinely important and loved."

#you know what #this is obviously jay #but i think it applies to the vast majority of us whether we'd openly admit it or not #and that's a really achingly beautiful realization #to the system from the system with love

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04:15 am


I'm reviewing old entries from 2015 and I forgot how achingly desperately I miss everyone.

There's an old concept from Cannon's timeline, I think. The "fear of happiness." The half-cycle terror. The awful dreadful worry that, if we feel too much positivity, too much happiness, we'll become manic. Abusive. Blind. Lost. Hedonistic in the bad way-- obsessed with selfish desires and an incapacity to care about others. Drowning in ignorance. All because we forgot how to bleed.
…I think that's Cannon's true anchor. It, like all of us, is rooted in the deepest aching love. She had such a deep sorrow to her heart that, quite honestly, is what obviously kept us alive during that time. When the outside was all stress and nerves and social overload and noisy hyper-interaction… when that threat of mania loomed over us, almost forced us to become like our birth mother, losing herself in that awful buzzing haze of external static… Cannon was this deep red tearful bastion standing off to the side, bleeding to scare away the devils. That's what atonement always was. Bleed out the corruption. Bleed to open yourself back up. Bleed to remember that you have a heart. Bleed to feel something deeper and truer and more fracturingly fragile than any fleeting false-joys of the day. God bless her.

But… we can't do that now. It doesn't work like that anymore, solely because we don't want to have to harm our poor battered body anymore just to say sane. Yes, we adore every scar. Yes, even knowing why we have some of them. The love that motivates every damn thing every blessed one of us ever does is still present in those marks of pain, still forever evident in the reasons why we took up a knife or a razor or anything else that bit as hard as love. Anything that broke through the veil dividing heaven and earth, dividing body and spirit, dividing inside and outside. Anything that shattered the most literal wall we could and did ever have.

…Anything that "drew blood." Dear Lord. No wonder Razor identifies as an artist. That just hit my heart like a truck.

But we can't do that now. Unfortunately. God knows how sometimes I still desperately ache to see that color painting this form again. And yet, now I also know that despite the beloved marks it leaves, it's not ideal. Not here. Not literally.

So what do we do, when we feel the crushing buzz of everyday life tightening around our throat?
…god, that hits too close to home.

We don't want to die. Not like that. Not literal sorrow-wracked death.
Maybe that's the key? Death is only a door, death is the road to awe, death is the path to bliss… but remember what ryo said once, dearly beloved ryo, in that synchronistic message that motivated that equally beloved triple incident in that equally beloved winter.
"if you want to kill yourself, kill what you don't like. kill narcissus. I had an old self that I killed. you can kill yourself too, but that doesn't mean you got to stop living."

…and yet, even that isn't entirely applicable.
death is transmutation, for us.
we're gonna turn this coal into diamonds.
we're going to use this fire to turn us ALL into solid gold.

"kill them with kindness," the bible wryly says. eschew violence for mercy that burns twice as hard. it's the irony, the glorious beautiful irony, of light. the truth always hurts like hell, but that's how you get to heaven. we know. I know.

…On nights when Oliver works, I think we need to do this. Just… sit down, and start typing. Whatever happens, happens. Follow our heart. Follow our souls. Whatever flows onto this page, let it. Don't hold anything back.

We adore him, we all do, don't get me wrong. But he and his own, as well as all of us, need time to ourselves too. We need those full cycles. Inside and outside. Together and alone, ironically (neither of us are ever ever alone). But that balance is key. You need light and dark alike to be whole. Human existence is exactly as precious as it is because it is the ENTIRE human experience that is so treasured. The tragedy and the hope, the despair and the bliss, existing simultaneously, sometimes incomprehensibly, often jarringly. But that's life. That's the definition of life. It's this wild and terrible gorgeous thing. It's songbirds and centipedes. It's blood and sunlight. It's suffering and ecstasy. Life requires both. It's something our little human minds can't quite grasp, but… our hearts do, I think. The heart loves paradoxes. The heart feels how huge everything is embracing our little ephemeral lifetimes here. We are born, we live, we die. And the universe goes on and on. Not ever quite without us, though, and that is what we must remember. Yes, our tangible existence here is delicately temporary. But… at the risk of sounding trite, we are all made of stars. We are all built of crystal and seawater and sunlight. We are all little tiny temporary temples, beloved sparks of something divine that no religion can ever fully or accurately translate. But that still, small voice that beats in our blood doesn't need to translate a thing. It speaks clearly and purely, dreadfully and terribly. It's the definition of divinity. It's the definition of humanity. It's both at once.

We need to cry and laugh, we need to smile and scream, we need to be healed and we need to be wounded. We need to wake and we need to sleep. We need our beasts and our humans, our men and our women, we need all of those who don't fit any of those categories. We need unclarity and specificity. We need mystery and revelation. We need to breathe and we need to be breathless. We need our heartbeats and the spaces between them. We need all of creation, and we need the void embracing it all.
We need the entire taijitu, God forgive us, and isn't that the exact thing we've been missing here.

…today's tarot cards are the 7 of wands, and… the fool. well isn't that relevant.

…i'm also re-reading the entry from when I first met infi and it makes SO MUCH SENSE in hindsight I am in aching tears.
it deserves its own entry. ALL of that deserves its own entry. i cannot wait to type. i have to stop denying myself (ourselves) the opportunity TO do so, out of old family-toxic-residue obligations to "suffer as much as possible."
well, let's redefine suffering then. suffering is something that hurts, that aches, right? something that causes pain.
no one ever said it had to be negative pain.
maybe this all-consuming blissful burning in my heart, this terribly divine fire, is pain enough to qualify.
if a saint is made by suffering, let's throw ourselves headfirst into this blessed ache.
find what you love, and let it destroy you.

isn't that the story of our system.

…another wonder of tonight. me having that undeniable but terrifying self-resonance with an angelic form. and not just any sort of angel-- something seraphic. even typing it makes me shake.
but… it's fitting. in art, seraphs are always portrayed as like 95% wings. then there's that humanlike face at the center, all of its "form" that is visible. and for me, when I'm in that form, I'm just this… splendor of wings. all gold sheen, white beneath, shimmer and light. tons of wings, but elegantly, trailing like a peacock tail.

and… now I have that unusual physical form resonance, which is STILL me, which is unprecedented. a form shift! how much internal heart-stability that suggests. it's wonderful. humbling, but joyful.
I look like… like another divine thing, good god what are you trying to tell me. is this demanding utmost integrity? sacred devotion? unflinching incandescent love? you know that's the true core of me. now I'm being explicitly forced to live that at all times. good. the best thing. the highest good.
i… look like anubis. I have the jackal head. the tail. the black skin, the pure gold arms and eyes, the pure white robes accented with red. upon my heart is a red-orange scarab, a blatant reference to infinitii that I didn't realize until after I noticed it was there. a literal heart scarab, my beloved daemon. no coincidences. it's staggering.
it's such an old resonance. as a child we identified so strongly with anubis. jewel wore that ankh for AGES. she still does.
how in the world we never thought that legitimately applicable to headspace i'll never know. but the times, they are a-changing pretty quickly, while staying ever the same. what elegant irony. what lovely paradox. everything that ever meant anything to us, still does. i cannot wait to explore this. it's like an eternal sunrise in our heart, blazing and brilliant and saturated with joyful hope and unbreakable promise.

it's all so new. it's all so shocking, so different, so... blessedly beautiful. but terrifying because of that very fact.
i don't know yet. but every day, we learn. i will keep you posted.

so.
we're re-reading 2015.
forgetting how much beautiful terror defined our life back then.

remembering what it feels like to feel people. realizing with euphoric shock that this has become so common… realizing with heartache that we're taking it for granted as a result.
we… we all need to be together upstairs more. we all need to fall madly in love with each other. we need to stop being afraid of that sort of sincere pure intimacy, where we are all so devoted to each other that the thought of separation or ignorance or laxity in our roles of love and protection and healing and service is utterly incomprehensible. we need to be so completely, unflinchingly, genuinely united in love that we are truly unstoppable and incorruptible and indomitably undying.
we're halfway there, to say the very least. thank god.
but every day is a remembering, a deepening. every moment is another gently merciful yet hugely powerful opportunity To love each other all the more completely. and so we shall.

I want to "pause" this entry here for the night. it's 4am and with everything we've felt this evening… with all the hope we have for the future, with all the determination we have to build that future right now… we need to just Be together right now. we need to unite in this feeling. we need to remember what it feels like to just BE us. inside. yes, daytime is sacred now too, with us being able to exist there too.
but there's a special sacredness to our internal life, too, one that cannot ever be denied or overlooked or shunned. It is a key part of who we are. it is intrinsic. it is indispensable. and we have been slacking on it lately. no wonder we hurt.
but every contrite sorrow is a gilded door to deeper compassion. and so we open this one together.

-jay 083117

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11:31 pm.

 

BAND PRACTICE!
learning how to play the mallets. chimes, bells, marimba, xylophone, vibraphone.
TALK ABOUT PERSONAL AUDITORY RESONANCE GOOD LORD.
toy soldier came over to me and asked me how i felt, i think? i was so blissed out though. told him how resonant it was.
gosh i love his eyes though. that look he has. the intensity and stillness that defines him. that music even then. it's amazing.

felt bad though because i have NEVER played mallets before, plus i couldnt figure out the tempo correctly, and didn't know the music yet. so i was faltering a lot. ah well, i tried my best, and have no regrets. MALLETS, BRO
but i will admit, at the time i was swamped with regret? is that the word? felt so bad that i had "let everyone down" by not getting it right the first time. absolutely unrealistic perfection expectations. but oliver reassured us, god bless that kid.

afterwards, shaky but determined, we got to play the electric piano in the band room.
brought our sheet music. haven't legit played a piano in over a year, probably a lot longer. no access to one at the old house anymore.
but. we did our best to play through both "andrea" and "my true love."
our voice was tight from the late hour and stress both, and we're new to electric pianos, but still. i poured my heart into it entirely. and that's what counts. no fear, just love.

stopped at jack in the box? i think. got a breakfast croissant. ollie got curly fries, which are an injoke in our system for ancient reasons i cannot recall. also massive sweet tea and cheese potato things. good stuff.

oliver playing incredibly emotionally significant songs on the way home, for both him and (unexpectedly, belovedly) for us.
mainly coldplay. "fly on," "oceans," "magic."
"fly on" is apparently bird's. we've never met her, but oliver and his people love her, although that love was tragic, and we feel that so strongly when they talk about it. god. and it was audible in the song itself. that tiny distant system of four is beloved to us, too, for those reasons. we love everyone, true, but that is a special thing. someone we love, in love with someone else. automatically we cannot help but love them too.
then i heard the first note of "oceans" and i swear my heart tripped over itself. did NOT expect that.

 

that song is one of ours. chaos zero and i. one of the songs that hurts so damn much in its relevancy that it annihilates any walls that may be up around my heart. almost in tears hearing it. chaos was there, with me, inside. just being close. being the truth. god i love him.
and ollie said "magic" reminded him of us, too?? which is the sweetest thing. but hearing it, we have to agree.
laughing about how "i don't want anybody else but you" is such a poly paradox. it's 100% true, but you say it to Everyone you love, haha. i love that.

...i remember telling oliver that i was "afraid of my messy humanity"? how i'm so used to living inside. to living in quiet secret places. in solitude, in interims, in liminal spaces. how i'm used to literally being angelic, borderline divine, in headspace. how i'm used to barely holding a form at all. so flesh and bone is still so awkward and strange.
but i love it. this fragile strange messy thing, this experience of humanity, i still love it even if it scares and confuses me. and i apologized for how we struggle with it. but i reassured him we were learning and loving and trying.
geez we've been having so many feelings about that topic lately. needs to be typed about big time.

got home late, but sat down on the couch with food and watching neil degrasse tyson universe stuff with kyo!
watched like four episodes. HUGELY IMPORTANT.,

no one ever taught us about space and things like this before. kyo said she was so sorry; that was truly a travesty. we agree.

black holes, spectroscopes, hypernovas, the ghosts of stars. women and islamic astronomers. prisms and event horizons and atomic structures. the ocean and the universe above. spacetime and gravity. all of it so, so gorgeous and so, so dearly relevant to us.

talking about humanity again. religion being used as control against us. the divinity of space. the smallness and hugeness of our little lives. significant and insignificant. how recognizing the vast, incomprehensible reality we are a part of makes living this tiny life so much easier.

did she kiss me?? i think so. she has the best kisses. all soft bright blue and sincere and gentle and so delicate but vast in a way. just like space. like the ocean.
we both love those things so dearly, in our own ways, in the same ways. gosh i love when she's around, she's so lovely.

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11:59 pm

 

phone notes

Core color = COSMIC LATTE???

RECLAIMER CLASS!!
Scalpel, thunderstorm person?

BLOOD= ACTUALLY INFRARED??

 


082317

Aug. 23rd, 2017 05:28 am
prismaticbleed: (held)


082317. 05:28 am

- WALDORF STILL CARRIES THE "SCRATCH DEVICE!!" REMEMBER BRAEDEN GAVE IT TO US AFTER HE MADE THAT STAGGERING TAR/INFI PROPHECY!!!
- JAVIER????? RED REALMS ECHOING 122713

- JAVIER'S TRIDENT WAS NOT HIS WEAPON!!!!!!!!!! TRIDENTS ARE NOT RED.
THIS IS WHY HE NEVER FELT "RIGHT" USING IT; THIS IS ALSO WHY IT WAS THE WEAPON THAT KILLED HIM.
GUESS WHO HAS A TRIDENT???
THE CERISE PROTECTOR.
- BTW IS SHE CERISE OR MAGENTA????? FEEL THAT OUT BUDDY

- DARKSPACE PEOPLE SHOWING UP!!!!!!!!!! BLOOD HUE APPEARED!!!!!!!!!!!!
SCALPEL, RAZOR, CANNON, HATCHET, CLEAVER, ETC.

- LEANNE AND THE JABBERWOCK ARE NOT CHTHONICS!!!!!!!!!
THEY ARE IN AN AREA THAT FEELS LIKE THE PLAGUE ROOMS IN TERMS OF THE FREAKISH "INDOOR" FEELING; POSSIBLY THE SAME AREA AS THE "DARKSPACERS"???

- JAMIE AND ECHO LALIA ARE SIBLINGS AND THEY SUPER WORK TOGETHER!!!
- POSSIBLE NATALIE "SUCCESSOR" WITH MIRRORS?????????
- WHAT IS ECHO'S COLOR????? FEELING KIND OF "TRANSLUCENT GLASSY BLUE" TBH
- REMEMBER SHE FIRST SOLIDLY FRONTED WHEN WE WERE PACKING TO LEAVE NC THE FIRST TIME; ACTUALLY TALKED TO OLIVER!!! LUCID AT THE TIME; HUGELY NOTABLE
(ALSO ALT+J ON THE CASSETTE AT THE TIME TOO)
(+REMEMBER WE HAD MUSIC PLAYING AS WE PACKED FOR LEAVING SLC TOO!!!!!)
- JASON: JAYCE'S BROTHER, THE ONE WHO HAS TROUBLE EATING
- JOSHUA: THE BLUE SAD BOY FROM THE PHONE????
- GIRL IN THE KITCHEN, LONG BROWN HAIR, NOT JESSICA???
- COMPULSIVE LIAR?? WHO IS SHE??

- HARMONIA: BATHING, SELF-CARE, NO BODY DYSPHORIA!!!!

- "DIMENSIONALLY TRANSCENDENTAL" = TARDIS EFFECT
CENTRAL BEING TIMELOCKED?????
SO ARE COLOR REALMS!!!!!!!!!
WEATHER???????

- SPECTRUM "LOOP" ROOM IN THE CATHEDRAL???
POSSIBLE SHAPE ALTERATION WITH THE NEW 11-TRIAD COLOR SETUP????????
- STAINED GLASS
- STATUES; CHANGED TO DAEMONS???????
- HOW ARE THE OTHER SYSTEM FOLKS REPRESENTED IN THE CATHEDRAL???
- HUE SHRINES??? CHAPELS? REMEMBER THE CATHEDRAL IS ACTUALLY FREAKING HUGE; IT IS ALSO DIMENSIONALLY TRANSCENDENT.

- RAZOR SPIRE/ MIRROR OASIS; WHAT THE HECK IS THEIR DEAL NOW, ESPECIALLY WITH "NEW" HUE SLOTS OPENING??? LOOK UP PAST NOTES

- THE OCEAN, THE WOODS, THE SKY

- RE-READ ABOUT THE ANGEL HELMET FOR HEAVENS SAKES
- GOLD/SILVER & BLACK/WHITE ACCENTS IN PEOPLE; MAKE A LIST!!

- ALGORITH CHOSE TO MOVE INTO CENTRAL TODAY; IMMEDIATE "SURNAME" SLOT OPENED FOR HER

- SYSTEM SURNAMES
prismaticbleed: (soniccity)


I've consecrated myself (and Jewel did too) to God as a "victim soul," one who is willing to suffer as Christ did out of love for the conversion of sinners, to take upon themselves some of the debt other sinners must pay, to help their conversion, to save them from damnation.

It's what I've felt obligated to do since childhood, in a collective sense. Even that somewhat foggy-headed girl part of me, the one who stopped living actively around 2007, the one who is perpetually about 14-15, even she is aware of that background whisper, the joint fear and desire, fused in the feeling of scapegoat and martyr both.

In our very very young years, before all memory, we were obsessed with blood. I'm not sure why. It still stands out so much in my head that one of our earliest pieces of artwork, from kindergarten-- age 5-- was of a smiling, rosy-cheeked bat, whose claws were dripping with blood. Our favorite dream ever, in first grade-- age 6-- was of us being a bat, on some sort of adventure, climaxing in my being trapped in an icy, snowy cave, with sharp claw-like stalactites tearing into my chest, pouring my blood all over the silent whiteness, ripping deep to my heart.
I loved that sort of thing. Deep down, I still do. Deep down, THAT is what defines me.

When did we lose sight of it?

I feel today, we were guided to get it back.
Yes, we want an innocent, white, snow-glitter heart, all lilies and tiny flowers and softness. We want that so deeply. But, just as deeply, we want a heart that is rich and red, pierced with swords and thorns, bleeding and joyous, soaking into the cottony fragility of purity and enriching it with a love so profoundly sincere that it becomes a new color altogether, red and white, inextricable.

I think that's what I'm being called to be.
We haven't had a "host reset" in way too long, and I think that is why. We kept assuming the Core had to be White, but that wasn't working as we hoped; guys kept freezing, bleaching, fading, calcifying. Pure White wasn't working; a key piece was missing.
I was researching alchemy for a while and I was shocked to realize that white comes before red, and red before gold.
I keep thinking of Sandmen pajamas.

Anyway. The point of tonight's writing is… when I first consecrated myself, verbally and in total sincerity, I was basically on my knees and soaking the floor with tears and snot, to be blunt. Sobbing and scared and unsure what I was even trying to say, but knowing in my heart what I wanted to do, beyond the crippling fear, beyond the doubts and confusion. My head had been too clouded by thoughts of doom and damnation, I felt incapable of love, I felt lost and didn't know why… and… would you know, it was a simple tag statement from E that broke through my paralyzed heart and left me genuine and weeping.
"he's an absolute sweetheart."
I just…
after several days, weeks, months, of feeling utterly cut off from God and love and those I love here, of being able to love at all, that simple little statement of sincere friendship just pierced my heart and
it was exactly what I needed.

i wanted to live up to that again, more than anything.

I was scared, at first. I thought being a "victim soul" meant living like that forever-- waking up shaking with fear, constantly paranoid of sin, sobbing constantly, never happy, never feeling peace, never feeling capable of love for self, never feeling capable of loving others enough or with any real honesty… it was hell.
I was wrong.
I read a lot of accounts of "victim soul" saints and that did scare me too, to read about how intense some of their trials were, but..
(11:11 just now)
Sickness, stigmata, possession, abuse, poverty, the whole package-- these saints accepted it all with joy and patience, many of them even entering ecstatic states during the worst of it, despite being bedridden and in agonizing pain.

I thought of Laurie and I remembered how I used to adore when she "beat the sh*t out of me" because it made me feel loved for some reason. I took the 'abuse' because it was penitent and she didn't hate me, she hated that I was acting against love, and her violence was a way to not only expunge my sins but to tune me back into a selfless mindset.
It's so weird. Pain, for me and many of those saints at least, is weirdly… holy?
I think that's why part of me is still struggling greatly with the end of the hacks. Yes, it was literal hell for over a decade, but in that struggle, in that seemingly endless suffering, we grew. We did penance, we offered it up, we thought, "if our suffering this can save even one soul from suffering this instead…" we bled and cried and prayed and we became better people and looking back, as weird as it sounds, I wouldn't sacrifice any of that journey for what it accomplished. Yes, thank God it's over, but also praise God for the good he wrought through it.
Then it stopped cold turkey and we were left reeling in the sudden absence of pain.
I think THAT'S why we started abusing so badly with the eating disorder. We were desperate for suffering, for the compassion it brought with it, for the empathy, for the penance, for the lifting up of the mind above the body and to God. We weren't sure how to get it anymore though, now that atoning was forbidden by the family, and was no longer needed for its original purpose anyway. So in a desperate, lost, addled mess, we just started beating up our body in a "non-violent" way, longing for some sense of purpose again.
Does this make sense?

I wondered, momentarily, if God didn't want me to carry heavy bloody trials because I'd enjoy them and maybe I'm supposed to actually suffer first, or carry some totally different kind of suffering for people out there. I personally think this mental agony of screaming floating voices and psychosomatic terror is a big part of our being a "victim soul" already, and God willing it's not only doing penance but also saving other people from suffering the same. That's all I want.

But I said the Rosary twice today, once in the prayer space and it took an hour to battle past the pain and fatigue and scrupulosity-driven do-overs, and once kneeling by the bed with the grandmother. That second time was easier because we said the Sorrowful Mysteries and by the 3rd (the Crowning with Thorns), I got the sudden idea that "hey, if it's so hard to meditate on the Mystery while speaking (a mental multitasking that, currently, personally detracts from my fully devoted attention to either), why don't I take that duality completely out of the equation, and feel the Mystery?"
Meaning, put myself through sharp pain while saying the decade.
It worked. And not only did it work, it annihilated all feelings of spiritual dryness. I cannot properly put it into words but the instant I dug our nails into our forehead, wondering what the thorns felt like, the shock of pain made me totally, completely willing to suffer an actual piercing crown, blood and all, out of love for the God Made Man who suffered that for love of us, and of love for the people He died for and who I, too, wanted to see brought safely to heaven. I thought of my friends, of my family, of the people I loved, of people I'd never known but who needed prayers and intercession, of all the souls in Purgatory… and with a different bunch of nails biting into my skin, I was completely and selflessly and lovingly willing to take my Cross all the way to the hill for their sake.
All because I felt the pain that our Savior felt, and in that participation, also felt his love.

That's why I'm not scared of being a victim soul anymore. I finally, finally tasted that love again. After only being able to tap into it after Communion on weekdays lately, in states of ecstatic weeping praise, suddenly I had it in what was potentially all the trials of my earthly life outside the walls of the church, in the place I had lost it for so long.
Suddenly I'm… not scared anymore. Deep down, where it matters, where headspace resonates, where Infinitii was born, I'm not scared anymore. Deep down, where God lives and washes everything white by virtue of the red he spilled, I'm not scared anymore, because my heart gets it, and now the only thing is making sure I NEVER forget it-- incorporating that resonance into every aspect of my existence, every word and action and thought and feeling, because it IS me, God me praised this IS ME, this is what I've lost touch with for so long, this is me, you have no idea how I feel like crying with joy right now but I'm alive again and I'm so bloody happy and even though there's a LOT of work to be done in this world yet I feel like I'm finally back in tune enough to do my part fully again.

God, continue to strengthen us in Your love. That's all we need, is Your grace, to follow in Your Word and to be salt and light for the earth. It's natural when you get down to it; sin is unnatural and if we just… sweep it away, really tap into the Source of Good, even just for a moment, you can feel that. Again, words do it no proper justice but the sentiment, fumbling as it is, is there. God, thank You for all You have done for us so far, for all You have done through us, and I humbly ask that You simply continue to guide us on this path, away from temptation and confusion, in all light and holiness, as You wish all Your children to walk in always.
Continue to guide us, so that we may always be a beacon to You for others, to that Truth which we know at the very core of our heart(s) to be life and love and light itself. Amen.

I have nothing else to say for right now. I need sleep before work tomorrow, and every morning is another battle, so to speak-- virtue vs vice, as long as we live in a world where the Enemy is indeed trying to stop everything truly Good. But we'll pull through. We won't give up. I can promise you that.

Have a blessed night, everyone, and may the Creator of all that is fill you with the serenity and strength you need for the dawn.
As for my part, I send all my genuine love and compassion to all of you. May God grant me the grace to always be there for you in your need as well.

 




prismaticbleed: (scared)


july 20th.


morning= the "sandblaster analogy" with hackers, and julie being "built rusted" but still fixed.

later on, laurie's hopeful comment to me that that fixing is "how I love?" how salt (plague) gets into things, eats away at everything, but I'm willing to put the work in and fix those "cars" up again. no matter how devastated they are.
told me I'm a source of hope for her too. how she doesn't want to fall into hatred anymore. she wants to learn to love and forgive and hope as unconditionally as I do, on my best days. she told me not to get lost either.


lynne took a hack tonight.
the androgyne was out, lynne realized this person actually WANTED "sex" (that damned undefined word) but in a way that had nothing to do with lust or lasciviousness? so lynne took the chance to see what in the world they were doing.

i can't talk about that it makes me sick to think it HAPPENED

androgyne obsessed with the "breakage/leakage" concept. getting it confused with hellish human sexuality.
jay and infi are the main persons interested in that concept, for the record, but they have total inside roots enough to not get hacked or manipulated. plus jay is absolutely sex-repulsed (no malice, just "ew") so we're not worried about him as he is.

lynne then decided to atone.
profusely sorry, but not self-hating-- just sad that she had let herself be dragged into this, that she hadn't had enough wisdom to stop this.
but that's why these keep happening really. we don’t know WHY there's such potency behind the androgyne's motivation, we keep trying to find out.
laurie said this was why she was so terribly lenient with those "fallen" voices (we can't rightfully call them "hackers" because they ARENT malicious, just terribly lost); she realized they were trying to accomplish something totally different, something sad and hopeful and confused and wanting of affection, and they had no fucking clue what else to do. laurie realized the more she yelled at them and told them no, the more we had to deal with ACTUAL negative hackers because they fed on that shit.
laurie helped atone as a result of her guilt over this. she wanted to protect people but she also didn't want to become ruled by near-hateful rage and violence anymore. (she's really torn up about that, her anchor is a MESS and she's very scared so we're all worried as hell about her.)
razor was also intrigued that there was like no pain sensation today so she jumped in too, knife had to speak up and stop everyone because frankly lynne got REALLY carried away (she felt she owed that much but still geez).
sugar was also out to clean up.

laurie realized, the androgyne legitimately thought there was NO OTHER WAY to be close to someone.
so laurie told them, "I love everyone in this entire system, and I'd never sleep with any of them" then "don't you realize there are other ways to show your love?"
androgyne paused, replied with something like "but I want to be this close to people, and share myself with them, and that's the only way I know how." in short, "if i care i HAVE to sleep with them" but not feeling ANYTHING, even the affection was dim and distant and buried under the numbness required to shove hirself into such situations.
at this laurie cut her wrist, showed the androgyne the blood, said that this was how she "shared herself with people." there WERE other ways.

lynne realized that the BLOOD gave the SAME FEELING as what the androgyne was after!! (intimacy of it)
idea, maybe we can start using "atonement" to PREEMPTIVELY stop hacks.

laurie had another idea. we need to TEACH these kids WHAT IT FEELS LIKE to be close to people in non-sexual ways.
she said it "broke her heart" to realize that these kids KNEW NO OTHER CONTEXT to closeness, to human affection so to speak. they literally thought that if you love someone SO much that you want to break yourself open and pour yourself into them, really, they only knew ONE way and that was through a sexual context. which was why they kept going after that, but STILL dissociated totally, or cut out all physical sensation except pain and heartbeats.
the lost kids DON'T SLIP, they don't harm people, they run on a lustless basis, just like eros/cupid did.
but the problem is, this programming is the wrong context. this is the wrong way for them to look for what they want, it will never really work. we all know that people SHUT DOWN when hacks happen, no matter HOW hard they try to purify them or stick around afterwards. the body can't deal.
so we all agree, we have to start HEALING THE HACKERS and the fallen ones, it's going to take a LOT OF TIME AND EFFORT but hey, if we can heal JULIE of all people, we can heal anyone else.

 

 

 





.

May. 25th, 2015 12:09 am
prismaticbleed: https://www.deviantart.com/teacosies/art/celebi-420071633 (tears)

 

God, give me the strength to protect this kid.

I don't know if the prayers of people like me get heard, or by what, or whatever. All I know is that I'm bloody torn up right now over this, about how terribly
scared these kids are, how they're legitimately losing hope, losing the will to fight, to carry on..

God help me I don't know what to do. I'm crying here.

God give me the strength to PROTECT us, all of us for life's sake, ALL of us in here.
Just... I hate hating things, I really do, especially now that Julie's with us. I don't want to hate these tarbrain hackers because geez, what if THEY end up with us one day? And who knows, enough love and effort and they might.
Except that's how Jay thinks. I hope. Used to think, at least. But look what they did to him.

There are a couple of 'psychopaths' in this System, at least. They've got frighteningly brilliant masks and when they take them off it's just bloodied teeth underneath. Eating our hearts out, basically. And at least one of the Jays is
into that torture apparently, so that's even MORE opportunity for these bloody hackers to get at him.

Geez look at this word salad. I'm rambling. Guess I'm more nervous than I thought.
Heck, of
course I'm nervous. The body's dying for God's sake. I'm so nervous I'm shaking. I don't know what the heck to do.

We're trying. God knows we're trying. Those of us who can still fight are fighting. And apparently, this is really bloody sad but at least it's got a silver lining, apparently the 'body' is learning how to be afraid again. How awful is that. We had so many numb fronters, so many dissociated 'optimist' hackers, that we somehow got inundated with this hellish anaesthetizing numbness thing. Now it's cracking, if only because there are still people on the inside looking out, and even if no one's
feeling anything we can still realize what's going on.
It's the most bloody ironic thing. "Logic will save us." Emotion is useless right now. It's corrupt. The knowledge, the experience, the people up here doing the "blasphemous" thing of being "logical" and "analytical" and "judgmental," THEY'RE the ones feeling 'emotions' now, THEY'RE the ones trying to SAVE people for crying out loud,
THE BLEEDING ARCHIVISTS CARE MORE ABOUT HUMAN WORTH THAN THE GODFORSAKEN SPIRITUAL FRONTERS DO.

God help us.
Spice is right, this body is really sick. We've really gotta crack down on that too.
I don't know. I'm literally just unloading my brain onto this screen. Needed an outlet of some sort for all this pain I'm dealing with in silence, ha ha. Bad habit of mine.

God give me strength. That's about it in a nutshell.

I'm out of here for the night. Nothing else I can type that doesn't involve me shattering in tears. I can't do that in the body, the bloody emotion killers step in. My heart actually
hurts, and I can't feel that on the outside because this demonic social programming has deemed it "unacceptable." No emotions allowed in the body.
Then again the hacker residue doesn't help. When the body looks like the abuser, or IS the abuser in some cases, seeing IT cry when
you're heartbroken is more than a little jarring, so I've heard.

Anyway I can still cry my stupid eyes out inside if I want to. Pretend I didn't say that. God. I'm so bleeding scared of being
scared and sad. I guess it's 'cause I know it means I'm at a loss. When I'm at a loss you know there's trouble, heh. Don't like this at all.

Infinitii's gotta help me out here. I've gotta talk to Knife, I haven't seen him in a while. Maybe chill with the girls. Something. Gotta connect with people up here, feel a little alive while I still can, feel that SOMETHING matters more than this...

God all we've wanted is to have this on the
outside, that's it.
Who the heck decided to make us "normal?"
Who the heck decided compassion and integrity and individual worth were useless in the face of "popular opinion" or whatever similar garbage? Who the heck decided to just throw everything meaningful to the wind because otherwise they'd be the "freak," the "outcast,"
geez.
We need to get out of this house, I guess. God I don't know. I'm really bloody hopeless and scared right now, I admit it, no use hiding it. I'm slipping really freaking badly, I've gotta go yell at Jewel about this or something.

I don't want to lose my anchor. God I don't want to lose my anchor. I don't want to be forgotten. I don't want to be erased. I don't want to lose who I am like I've seen so many other people do. I've seen too many people die in too many ways. I don't want to be next, not when people are counting on my stability to
survive.

God I need a Core to talk to. A Host, whoever, whatever. I need one of them here right about now. It's been so frighteningly hard to find one lately, it's been so bloody hard to function without that constant kid around to yell at and guide around and care for, you know? I haven't been able to figure out who the heck's been around lately, if anyone. I miss Jay. I miss Jewel. I miss Cannon. I miss all the kids who knew me by name and looked up to me as their guardian angel or big sister or best friend or knight in shining armor.
God I am bloody
crying. I cannot handle this.

"I'll go wherever you'll go," why on earth is that song playing in my head all of a sudden. Just... come on.

Soeeone's hacking the LEAGUEWORLDS. God, just... what the actual hell, WHY, why won't they freaking STOP, I PAID IN BLOOD FOR THIS, SHE DID, WE ALL DID,
I almost
died, I wanted to, because of this trauma, because of all the innocent kids who were paying the real price for this... Ashen and Moxie and all those others we can't find, God, just... why is it always kids, why is it always the sweet ones, Jeremiah and Jay and Julie even, just... why? WHY?
I can't, I can't stand for this. I
can't. I need to go get a bunch of Retributors and just straight-out depthcharge this demon, whoever in hell is hacking THEM, hurting those OTHER kids and sweet hearts, I swear why are THEY always the targets, why the blood do you people always touch the innocent ones and spend the entire freaking time smiling and trying to convince them it's OKAY???
What the hell is wrong with you. What the hell is wrong with
us that that sort of evil thing is propagating in our head? What sort of messages even took root in here? Who the hell DOES that?
I can't take it, I can't take all these
kids being hurt, Sugar's gotta help me with this, Sugar and Wreckage, God forgive me but she is so hard to deal with, I can't bloody handle being around Wreckage for long because she deals with terrors I could never touch, and never WANT to touch, it would tear me to shreds. But she's hard as nails, just like me, but worse. She carries all this pain that doesn't scar.
God help us all.
There is too bloody much
pain in here. Why the heck can I feel it, I'm not even enduring any of that, why aren't the kids allowed to be afraid for God's sake?? Who the heck is stopping them? Who the heck tried to convince them it was "okay" to be hurt? Who in hell keeps CONFUSING them??
This is why my boy loves pain. Jay. Poor kid has a legit addiction and I don't understand it but it worries the wits out of me, there's such actual
desperation in his eyes when he's bloodied up, it's this need for this sort of heartwrenching compassion he only seems able to really crash into when the pain does too. I don't know. I just keep wondering, what in hell happened to you for this to be such a constant in the Cores, why is our biggest weakness pain, why do the kids keep calling me when they're getting hurt, and for all the wrong reasons, is this why it's so bloody hard for some of them to fight back? Because love is pain, and I'm tied to pain, and when they're euphoric from it they look for me? Not realizing that someone is using that pain as a bloody trapdoor to hurt them like I never, ever would?
Then they call for me again when it's over.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize." They're hysterical,
terrified. They didn't understand or even freaking know what was going on. All they knew was that it hurt and in some way they thought it was worth it, only to be proved wrong.
Geez. I shouldn't be looking at this. The apathy is kicking in out of despair, don't you
dare take away my compassion and anger. Don't you DARE.

God it hurts so
bad because I KNOW, I know how bloody confused they are, I remember one time I found Jay totally debilitated, dazed and dissociated in a hack attempt and I flat-out hit him, I gave him real pain, and all of a sudden he snaps to attention, jumps away, runs to me. Scared out of his mind.
I'm rambling. It is so hard to type right now, I'm trying too hard. All I'm saying is that... blood is still the means of salvation here. The Retributors are still God's Angels if you want to put it that way. We're... heh, "we're" still important and holy here. We are. This... this is so bloody complicated but we're
alive, and we care, God knows we love these people we protect and if anyone DARES say otherwise they've got a bone to pick with me.
Bottom line is I don't want to hit a kid, and really I think a lot of these kids are too freaking young to be tied to that association yet. Who can save
them? Are they still afraid enough to save themselves? God I hope so, if not I'm telling Sugar and Wreckage to get the heck in there, me too for the record, I should tag along with them on their missions too.
But... it's the older ones, really it's the older ones that I'm personally the most worried about, because Sugar and Wreckage still work through violence, through brute force and that's really important up here but sometimes, the situations get really disturbing and twisted, and brute force doesn't do a thing. I know, I've tried. That's why I started carrying lanterns too. Sometimes the older ones are so messed up from pain already that you've gotta show them the light somehow. Talk them out of danger. Remind them who they are, what is happening, what they're worth... then drag them right outta there if they don't wake up within zero point three seconds. Because I'm not gonna stand by and monologue while someone's life integrity is in danger. Sometimes even a direct threat, those are rare but those are also when brute force works just as well so hey.
What am I talking about. I'm rambling again. Sorry, I'm really out of it today. Overlay isn't working so hot, the time and pain are making it tough too, lot of dissociation going on.

They're hacking the Leagueworlds again. That's unbearable. What do I
do.
I can't handle seeing Jewel and Jay react to this, that's worse than anything I could feel on my own, that alone is reason to fight until my bones break for this cause. Anything to save those tears from running down their faces.
Anything to keep them safe.

My heart is breaking. I can't deal with this. I might have to talk to someone.
Have a good night if I don't, it's all I can do for anyone right now is wish them the best. I'll do what I can.

 

 

020813

Feb. 8th, 2013 11:07 am
prismaticbleed: (shatter)



I haven't been updating, have I.
There's quite a simple explanation for that though. Since December started (probably even earlier, but the first week of December is when the serious terror started to happen), I have been an absolute psychological mess, to say the least. I've been fighting existential meltdowns and suicide attempts. I've been destroying relationships and people alike.
I've been staying up late, staring into nothingness, then sleeping for up to 15 hours at a time, never feeling rested. I haven't been eating, I get sick when I do, I'm constantly exhausted, and I'm having trouble thinking straight in school, let alone at all.
I have 58 new scars on my arms.
And to top it all off, when it all hits I simply do not care. I don't.

I am trying so hard to be happy-- for no reason, like a kid-- but it's not sticking. Genesis actually yelled at me today for doing that again. Central has adopted my term of "jester mode" for that manic phenomenon of mine, which first became apparent in like 2004 for heaven's sakes, during our obsession with those very things. Still, the term remains extremely fitting: like a clown, in that mode I pretend all my personal problems are completely solved, and go running around in a bleary rainbow hype until the sugar crash hits and I end up minutes away from being dead. I am still Pagliacci, I guess. God help me.
But yes, I can go for days with a genuine smile on my face and not a problem in the world. I did that yesterday, actually. I wrote a new song for Event Horizon, didn't lose my cool despite my car breaking down on the highway on the way to school (basically my rear right tire blew out and this car had no spare), and overall had quite a brilliant day. But, yesterday I ignored every single one of my relationships. I didn't miss them.
This is why Central thinks my metainomen has mutated. You can't love without a heart, and you can't have a heart without blood... isn't that horrible irony? They're thinking I now hold blood, like my daughter, but in the wrong sense... blood is thicker than water, and when my heart tries to shut him out, then what the heck is it going to do to the rest of reality?? For such a red soul I've been as gaunt as a corpse lately, unwilling to associate with life and warmth anymore because it's too horribly close. I bleed everyone out, I bleed myself out, and all that's left is icy silent death. Even after ten years I can walk out on a person with no regrets, and keep walking.
...Well, maybe that's not entirely true. I've been getting some weird reactive symptoms to flat-out expressing this passive destruction lately.
First, whenever I say I don't want Chaos in my life anymore, that I wish I had never met him, I get an immediate inner response of "you know that's not true." I can fight that feeling as viciously and angrily as I want, but there's an undying sense of guilt when I do so. I don't know if it's overattachment or something real. Either way it's there, whether I like it or not.
Second, I can't seem to let go of Laurie. Only Laurie. I can ignore everyone else in the world, kick them out of my life, pretend they never existed. But even when I'm shoving Chaos out the door, I can't get the guts to do it to her. Still, the biggest thing haunting me with this is the night of Tuesday the 15th. I tried to kill all of them, her included. I came seriously close. It was the first and hopefully only time in my life I didn't care whether she lived or died. And I know why. I know exactly why.

The problems that I have been struggling with for the PAST TWO YEARS (possibly even three at this point) are still 100% intact and unsolved.
Do you remember this entry from April last year? Go re-read it. It's almost exactly what I am dealing with now, to the letter.

Last night I tried to set her on fire. You know, the green one. I had every intention of killing her on the spot. But Boss kept telling me not to, and God threw a few really loud signs at me. So the flames were put aside, and she was tossed out into the cold instead.
Okay, I won't kill you. But I don't want you around anymore. Get out.
It's too dangerous, for the both of us, with you here.

Laurie will not stop insisting that I am able to literally alter and edit time up here, not just space. If that's true it would be the most ridiculously ironic thing ever.
Wouldn't I be the biggest freaking risk to everyone's survival? Do you really want to give a destructive maniac like me access to the rhythm of everyone's life?? Or are you betting on my lingering inexplicable concern for you? Are you betting that I won't run a magnet through the motherboard solely because it will erase you too, if you can't get out in time? Don't you remember when I tried to scratch the disc into oblivion? Just because the real data runs deeper doesn't mean I won't still plunge a sword through it when my eyes are red enough.
Have you already forgotten what I am capable of doing when my emotions completely dissolve? Have you already forgotten that I nearly killed you?
Or do you care too much?
What the hell am I even talking about?
I do not want to be so important to anyone, let alone everyone. I want Laurie and Chaos to be the central players, not me. They're important. I'm tired of mattering so much. I'm tired of mattering.

I'm too tired to write anymore either.

This isn't me. I don't know what this is. I can't see.
Most days now I wish Julie had never switched sides. At least then I'd still have a working conscience.
Now I've forgotten what's right or wrong and everyone is bleeding for it.
I've considered creating another shadow to take her old place, but I'm terrified that the role is already mine.
Or I would be, if I could feel anything genuine anymore.


I'm going to call a therapist tonight, come hell or high water. There's one about a half hour away that hopefully will be able to treat my condition. We shall see.
Something needs to be done, and I'm grasping at straws at this point.

Something needs to change, if I expect to stay alive.

--------------------------------------------------------------------


@ 06:03 pm


i cannot deal with this right now.
my mom came home from work for once, noticed that i had started self-abusing again (sorry but its the only coping method i have left) and immediately started shouting for me to "stop acting like a baby and grow up"
now my grandfather has joined in and they're both threatening to ship me off to the psych ward again if i don't stop "trying to get attention" because i'm "just being lazy" and a burden on the family
for sanity's sake i have been dealing with this hell for 6 nightmarish years straight
you saw the diagnoses they gave me, but you don't care.
and i'm afraid to tell you that i honestly cant deal with life at this point, when you act like this.
the last two times i slipped too far i was told to pack up and leave.
god help me i cannot deal with this, i am so sorry.


prismaticbleed: (shatter)



This is a very mature entry.
I just felt I should warn you; I've been wanting to write this stuff down for a while but I've been very nervous about it. It's controversial material, really, but here it is regardless.



So I've found a way to throw my empathy/catharsis through the roof.
Shock sites.
Yes, you heard me. But let's explain some history first.

Nowadays I am forced to spend my day working on computers, standing at a cash register for 7 hours, or researching subject after subject within voiceless pages. I often find myself listening to minimalist music until I lose track of time, getting lost in daydreams and altogether disconnecting myself from the world.
It's frightening, to be honest. I'll wake up some mornings and it'll take a while to realize that I'm actually seeing objects around me. I've been losing the feeling in my body, too. I'll touch things and the sensation is there, yeah, but I don't feel it. It's hard to explain. I'm aware of my sense of touch, but it's so dim that it doesn't register. I hope that makes sense.
Anyway, because of that, I often drift through life in a daze. I don't feel, I can't truly see, I don't eat. I hear things and forget them immediately. The only redeeming factor of my senses is that I talk to myself often, which keeps my auditory recognition from falling through completely.
Long story short, I unconsciously make myself almost immaterial, haha. I exist on sound and mental sight most days.
But... I'll be honest. Sometimes I find myself completely enthralled with the experience of physical sensation. I find it almost alien; something delicately frightening and amazing all the same.
I'll lock myself in the bathroom some days, and I'll just... I don't know. Do things. Not bad things, mind; but weird things. I'll turn off the lights and open the window, and maybe I'll just stretch for an hour. I'll stretch every muscle I can find, sometimes contorting myself so much that I don't know how I'll get out of it. Sometimes I'll find glitter in my mother's drawer and just cover myself with it; methodically, but naively. Sometimes I'll find a comb with a sharp edge, or a new razor blade, or some scissors, and I'll use them against my skin in whatever way I think of. Tiny little cuts, maybe just a thin scraping here or there, just barely enough to leave a little red line. Just a surface scar... it'll be gone in minutes. Then I'll make another one. They originated as a way to quiet Laurie, and that's when I used to bleed.
I don't bleed often; no, not at all. I only bleed when I'm not looking... at work, I'll handle a paper bag a little too carelessly, and suddenly there's a thin line of blood on my arm. I'll tear out a hangnail and watch my nail turn red, wondering in surprise at the sting. I'll drag a razor across my leg too quickly-- which happens often-- and within seconds that familiar red will appear, seemingly out of nowhere. I'll sit and watch it blend with the water, maybe. I never bandage them. I'm proud of my legs; they have the most scars.
Laurie is different. She's not fragile, she's not curious or white. She loves the other end of the spectrum; the sharp points... and she's clever. Almost beautifully, frighteningly clever. Her greatest accomplishment, she laughs, is outsmarting the doctors. You won't find any visible scars on my physical exams, no sir...
I love scars, yes. But Laurie knows about how dangerous they can be, and she won't give them to me; pain works better. That's where the story begins, back when the war started, back in 2008.
Some nights she would become very angry, and at 12AM with only the yellow light above the sink, she'd quietly lock the door and tell me to find that purple comb. That thin comb with the bit of torn plastic at the bottom. She likes that one because no one would ever suspect it... and it doesn't cut; no, it drags. It bites just enough to set nerves ablaze, leaving barely visible crosses that cause me to flinch and bite my lip against the shock. She'd leave one, two, twelve, waiting until I had to stop from the burn, and that would be it. We'd put everything away and quietly walk back out, the skin of my abdomen on fire with those tiny marks. Concentrate on the burn, she'd say. Concentrate on it. It's fire; it's punishment. Think of what you've done that causes such pain, and never do it again.
It didn't work the way we thought it would. At first it was great; I wasn't used to pain and I was scared. Both her and Julie's attacks would leave me shuddering on the floor, crying soundlessly and wishing I could just sleep it all off. But sleep wouldn't erase the past, and Laurie wouldn't let me get away without a lesson or two. It worked, and for several months I remained strong most days, afraid of her retaliation... but as the incidents added up, a sick trend began to appear. I began to force myself to give in to Julie, no matter how much it hurt, because I wanted that other sort of hurt. I wanted to feel physical pain. My daily life was becoming so monotonous, so devoid of the vivid moments I thrived upon, that I was turning to desperate measures. I would willingly torture myself just to feel the bite of that unorthodox razor, just to feel real pain, even if it was fleeting.
Laurie caught on quickly enough, and in a fury, refused to punish me any longer. If I screwed up, if I kept giving in, my guilt would be the only retaliation I would receive. It took me a while to stop; I was still so blind and desperate, and I kept pitifully looking for the pain, the sick reward I would receive for self-destruction. It never came.
It took a long time to stabilize, and then when we thought we had finally made progress, the attacks became mental... severe. They began to hit from the outside. I had no way of fighting it; attacks would ravage me in the form of unexpected art classes, in my mother's words, in every corner of the internet, in the pregnant women that would appear at work. In some instances I could quickly turn away, heaving, shaking, my arms wrapped tightly about my stomach... but most times I would be trapped in a classroom for two hours with a promiscuous professor, forced to stand by a woman whose stomach bore the result of an act I had nightmares about. I was no longer able to escape, and it was slowly driving me to the edge.
I began to abuse myself again... mentally, physically, emotionally. Most nights I would be locked in the bathroom again, where no one could see me, where no one would interrupt. I'd kneel on the floor and quietly sob, uncontrollably, terrified of the mirror, terrified of the body I was in, of the thoughts and words and pictures and expectations that went with it. That's when I started having the nightmares and the breakdowns. I couldn't escape. Everywhere I looked there was danger, danger, danger. I refused to give in or give up... so what could I do?
Then one day Laurie took me aside and looked at me with tired, solemn eyes. She only said a few words.
If you can't escape... you need to desensitize yourself.
That started it all.
It was hell; pure hell. I only wanted to run, but now I found myself with my legs chained to the wall, the horrors of the world directly before my eyes, and the only way to stay sane was to simply become blind to it.
Or so I thought.
I don't even want to talk about it here... but... I guess I have to.
It started very slowly; get used to mirrors. It made me so sick at first, but I trusted it would eventually change. What I didn't know is that in order to get through hell, I couldn't just turn around... I had to walk straight through the center of it first.
Julie saw her chance and became almost murderous. Her idea was that desensitization involved 'giving in.' She was wrong, but I was scared. I began to look at the dangers and wonder if maybe I was the one who was wrong. I was so painfully naive. I was too frightened to stand up for myself or fight back. I was so broken and had so little faith in myself that I figured that I deserved to suffer... so I did.
I began to force myself into the mindsets of others. It was so horrible... I began forgetting hours, days, sometimes weeks at a time just to save myself from the trauma. My self-image and mood hit an all-time low. I was almost chronically depressed, and for the first time in my life, began to honestly wonder if suicide was an option for me.
The most frightening thing about that entire time period for me, though, was that not only was I lost, but Laurie had no idea what to do. She'd scream at me, mentally tear me limb from limb, leave me crying and begging for another chance. Some times she'd ignore me, and leave me there to drown in guilt and desperation... but some times she'd listen. Those were the times that shook me.
Yes, I was hurting myself horribly. Yes, I was practically overriding my own moral code and personality. Yes, I was only doing it for the sake of 'fitting in to society' and doing what my family said was 'right' and 'normal.' But the fact that it hurt so damn much was scaring me to the point where I swore I'd never do such things again. Laurie would be silent, and then she'd uncertainly reply, well maybe that's a good thing. Maybe if you show yourself just how awful this is you won't have to worry about it getting to you? But there was no guarantee, and we were both at a loss.
It went on like that for a while, until the one night when I got so bad that I started sobbing again, asking myself why I was doing this. That's when Laurie showed up and told me she had seen enough. I wasn't desensitizing anything; I was causing myself horrid amounts of pain and compromising who I was. She then offered a different tactic: if I found myself trying to do that to myself again, I should run to her, and she'd take care of it. I wasn't sure if it would work, as I had turned pain into positive reinforcement, but... it did. Surprisingly enough, if I overloaded myself with the sharp physical pain I was addicted to, my sick need for the torturous mental and emotional pain would almost entirely disappear. I hit middle ground for a while, a sort of interim... I dulled my nights with pain until I couldn't take anymore, and I'd go to sleep dreading the morning.
I couldn't run forever, though, and I was still too weak to fight, so Julie took the most horrible route she could find... art. No, I had already run from the figure drawing classes, but she had a different idea. What if I should take them? What if my teachers were right? I should just bite the bullet and 'get used to it...' besides, that's what everyone else is doing. Everywhere you look, that's what people are drawing. So you should too.
I couldn't see how painfully wrong that was. You forget, I wasn't standing up for anything at this point. I was so confused that I was simply following whatever orders were given to me, because 'maybe they know better than I do.' I didn't realize that some people are corrupt, that some people would send me into hell for fun, that 'everyone else' didn't have the right idea after all. I didn't know that then... so I forced myself into it.
This is going to be very hard for me to talk about.
Trying to get used to what I saw in the mirror was one thing. Now I was forcing myself to see things I would never, ever have wanted to see. I began trying to figure draw... but it made me horribly sick. I kept doing it. It was at this point that I began to think I was a lesbian, because although I was horrified of men, I wasn't so disturbed by women. I didn't realize that this was because I was 'technically' used to that already (not to mention that women couldn't hurt my current form in the same ways men could, if you get my drift), and began to warp my personality further. Eventually, though, there was one 'good' aspect... I did become desensitized, but in the wrong way. I became 'used to it.'
I didn't want to be used to it.
I don't know what happened then... like I said, my memory would regularly 'purge' itself so there are literally frighteningly huge gaps in my recall of the past two years. I do know what's happened recently, though.
A month ago, I tried 'traditionally' cutting myself... got a razor and tried that. Unfortunately I couldn't get it to do anything unless I literally 'shaved off' a layer of skin. That would result in a painless, bleeding line, about 2mm wide and almost 3cm long. I gave myself two on my right arm, and was sorely disappointed by the lack of pain (other than the vague 'sting' when the blade cut deep enough to bleed; I recognize it instantly) until I tried to wash them out. It was almost euphoric, I'll sadly admit, and they bled like mad. I watched them for about 10 minutes before throwing a large bandage over them for three straight days (it took them that long to stop bleeding on and off).
I didn't want to go through the whole bandage ordeal just for a good painshock whenever I was near water, so I gave up on that immediately... and I haven't cut my stomach in quite some time too. However, although I've been going for long stretches of time lately without feeling the directionless need to hurt myself mentally, some days I still force myself to give in. It's become so awful though that I rarely go all the way through with it... and almost every time, intriguingly enough, I am interrupted. I'll be forcefully abusing myself and suddenly someone will knock, or the doorbell will ring, or a bug will smash into the window, or I'll simply come to my senses for a moment and think 'wait, why the heck am I still doing this to myself?!'
See, at this point you might be asking yourself 'if you're suffering so badly, and hate doing that to yourself so much, then why don't you just stop??'
I wish it were that easy; I truly do. However, for some sick reason, whenever I get that destructive 'urge,' I go into a sort of locked-up mindset. All I can think about is what I'll do to myself, and often times I disassociate. I'll be destroying my body or my mind and the entire time, I'll be cut off from all my immediate senses, and imagining that this is happening to someone else, maybe in a completely different way. It's scary. I honestly won't see, hear, or otherwise notice anything that's going on around me unless it strongly catches me off guard, hence why it's hard to break out of those bad states, those 'Julie hacks.' Maybe I'll imagine some poor child being mangled by an attacker, who's telling him that unless he lets them hurt him, they'll kill his family. Maybe it'll be one of my characters, caught up in some nightmare they can't escape from. Maybe it'll even be me in another form, me as a Celebi, being ravaged by some brutal Pokemon-catcher group. God only knows... but either way, once I finish up whatever I'm doing, I invariably end up in one of three situations... 1, curled up in the corner and sobbing hysterically, 2, standing in front of the mirror and screaming at it... maybe picking up another 'weapon' and 'punishing' myself in a vicious cycle (sometimes I turn on the faucet until the water is scalding, then burn my hands several times... one time I even hid a knife on the towel rack so I could saw at my chest with it)... or 3, silently walking out into the living room, lying down on the couch, and blankly staring at the wall. Thoughtless, numb. Unwilling to even remember. When I wake up tomorrow I won't recall the evening at all.
If I could turn off this horrid drive, I would have done so years ago. It's a day-by-day war for me.
However, two days ago, on Wednesday night, something happened. I 'lost' that night... I don't remember how, as usual, but I knew something had happened. Laurie confronted me later, she always does, but she wasn't screaming this time. She was tired, silently angry, and visibly determined. It's a hard expression to describe... the look you get when you've made a final decision on something, and you know there's no going back on it. Crossing the Rubicon. She told me once again to stop compromising myself, but then quoted FROST* at me.
"You're the one."
It's a new mindset for me lately... it requires a huge amount of faith, not in my 'self' so to speak, but in my purpose as a single individual, as a single soul. I'm the one. Before I wouldn't have even dared think that I could be significant, that I could be important... I was too concerned in meeting the fleeting whims and perversions of every blackheart around me. Now I'm stronger. Now I know who I am, I know what my limits and morals are. But now I can't stop thinking about the lyrics of that song that saved my life... that song that lifted me up, that made me fall in love again, that kept me from ending my life when I had truly hit rock bottom, the worst night and the best night of my entire life.

And you know, you'll always be the first in line.
And you know, it's all about the life divine.
A hero's ending, all the signs... you're the one, and the one you must survive.
And you know, it doesn't matter what you do.
And you know, the luck you feel will pull you through.
The never-ending light you find... you're the one, the one who must survive.


Faith, martyrdom, forgiveness, love, everything. There's no such thing as coincidence. I can't possibly begin to describe the multiple, deep meanings those lyrics hold for me, but the moment I first heard them whispered into my ears, on that black night as I contemplated the end, I knew more than anything that they were speaking to me.
To me. Only me.
I stopped walking then, I did. I stopped and my eyes teared up, and I swore to myself in that moment that I could not give up. It was a prospect I had never dared imagine... but if I must survive, then survive I would.
Laurie spoke those words to me again, as she does so often now, and I found myself swallowed up in guilt again, the guilt that, months ago, I numbly thought I would never feel again. Do you believe them, she asked? Do you believe those words are yours? Yes, I do. Her voice hardened. Then why don't you listen to them? If you're the one, then no one else knows what you should do. No one else's expectations apply to you. No one else can be you, and you know that.
I thought about that for a while. The freedom that would bring to me was almost incomprehensible. I was so used to living by a pre-written script, so to speak, that I hadn't dared to imagine what it would be like to just toss it aside and ad-lib for a while. Would the audience be shocked? Sure. They might even be scared, furious, offended that I would do so... I wasn't supposed to do that, not in their opinion. But I'd stand before them, wearing the wrong outfit for my assigned role, and speaking words that no soul in the auditorium had ever dreamed I would speak. But I knew, despite the rabble and rage, that I was the only one who could do this, and if I didn't have the guts to do what I knew was right, then God help me but then all would be lost. That's the mindset I have now, and as I fell asleep that night, I wondered why I couldn't just live it and to heck with all this pain I was inflicting upon myself.
On Wednesday night I dreamed of hell, and it scared me more than any other nightmare had ever dared. I was safe that day, but only because I was shaking with fear, terrified of what I might inflict upon myself. It was a sort of sick drive... I was so shaken that I wouldn't let myself think of anything else. But I couldn't possibly go on like that forever...
It wasn't until I woke up Friday morning, my Celebi doll in my arms, that I found it... a working solution. See, I needed motivation. Not something fleeting and yet unrefined, like this basic will I had... I needed something else there, something better than scars, something more painful than blood, something I couldn't possibly break. That's what I realized when he spoke to me.
My guardian angel, Chaos Zero. He'd been showing up in almost every one of my recent dreams, always protecting me, always asking me if I was okay. It had struck me as unusual, as he's typically a rare sight, but it seemed this time he had a reason.
I have been thinking about him quite often lately... and always in negative situations. What if he and I were turned against each other? What if one of us forgot who the other was? What if he went Perfect again, and I couldn't figure out how to save him? The only solutions I could possibly imagine all centered around one thing, one final, desperate chance... and it was the same solution, the same final decision he confronted me with in those early morning hours, still reeling from my visions of hell, still desperately looking for a way out.
I know what you've been going through lately. I know how scared you are, he said. He's always known. I know how much you hurt, and I won't let you do this to yourself any longer. But how could he help me? I've tried everything I can think of. That's when he looked at me, and I recognized the same expression Laurie had worn a few days ago. They had been speaking... they had thought of something. I knew it in that instant, and I was simultaneously full of hope and fear. What have you decided?
'If you love me, if you love anyone, you'll stop doing this.'
An ultimatum. One I couldn't possibly break.
I wondered why they hadn't given it to me before, but then I remembered how weak I was, how willing I was to toss everything away. I remembered that day I decided my life was beyond saving, and I remembered waking up the next morning.
Patience is a virtue. It was a matter of waiting, of suffering, of not giving up until that exact moment, that last second when the light suddenly broke through.


Shock sites.
I started visiting them a few months ago, during the 'rebuilding' stage, when I was beginning to find myself again. The first step was coming to terms with what I truly wanted, and what the hidden motive was behind all this pain I was causing myself. It took a good deal of self-introspection and painful analyzation, but I think I've found it. Ironically, it's the exact thing that started all this.
I need pain. Oh yes, I need it. I need moments of extreme, gut-wrenching emotion, that shatter everything around you and force your perspective to change. Pain.
I was getting it confused with other things for so long; awful things that lied, that pretended to be what I needed. I started looking into 'dark' pages during my failed desensitization stage. I tried to force myself to take on the worst and simply get used to that. I stopped at Dramatica a few times, but always ran from there quickly... it was too dangerous. However, I did find Documenting Reality, and that helped more than I realize. It was a site full of blood and horror; awful gory things that I suppose some people get a kick out of looking at. Not me. For me, DR was a place where I could look into the darkest, most painful aspects of life and really think about them. That was not me suffering... that was some other poor soul, someone I had never met and now never would. There were men mangled beyond recognition... young women lying dead with blood pooling around them... suicides, murders, diseases, everything. I slowly began to feel again. No, I was not sickeningly amused, no, I was not looking upon their broken bodies just for kicks. I was actually feeling... empathy, pity, some sick sort of understanding.
Let's cut to the chase. There's no way I can tell you everything that happened to me over the past two years; like I said, most of that is now lost to me, scratched out of my memory in hysteric moments I'm ironically glad I've forgotten. But I can tell you what the end result was.
I was never truly desensitized, and I was never truly 'used to it' either.
Today I found a video of a man beheaded. I told myself to watch it, not to 'numb myself' to it, but to feel it. The exact opposite of my old method. So I watched. I saw the shirtless man bound, blindfolded, seated under a dim light and surrounded by four men... covered in black, holding guns, faceless. I could not understand their speech, but it continued, almost businesslike, for 75 seconds, as I watched anxiously. At 1:15, one of the men pulled out a knife, and suddenly the three others were holding the blindfolded man, pulling his head backwards. That's when the man began to plead. I don't know who this man was, what he did, or why he was about to die, but I could hear every note of fear in his voice, and my heart broke. I waited fearfully for a few more seconds, and at 1:23, there was a sudden movement and a scream. I won't go into details, no, but my entire body was frozen in empathetic horror... my muscles knotted, my knuckles against my lips, eyes wide and fists tight. I've seen many disturbing things at this point in my life, but I have never flinched so hard. I could barely watch the next three minutes, but I forced myself to anyway... not because I was expected to, not because I had been told to, but because this was real, this was wrong, and I knew it.
Catharsis. Extreme emotion. The pain I need.

There's one more thing I want to bring up, because it's what triggered this.
I've been accused of being sexual more than once, and I don't know why. That confusion is what played the largest role in my desensitization attempt, and it was difficult to deal with. Remember I mentioned the figure drawing? Yeah, I literally put myself through that. Art class forced me to deal with unclothed individuals, and I was terrified-- still am-- but at that point, I still thought it would 'help' if I forced myself to look at them regardless. Let me summarize that experience for you: I did not enjoy it at all, and there was no sexual anything. That's right, I'd be looking straight at some gal and I'd be wondering how the heck anyone would be attracted to that in the first place. At first I was fine with that. Then I brought it up to my mom and therapists, and they said something was wrong with me. So I started trying to 'force' myself (again; what was wrong with me??) to see something in it, although the very thought of it made me ill. That was the lesbian stage, yes. But then I discovered Jena, and something weird happened. Yeah, I could just barely handle the figure drawing thing, but I didn't know those people. The art objectified them, which I loathed. But Jen? Forget it; I love her, and she's not taking her shirt off around me. See the difference? Having that direct, intense conflict between what I was feeling and what I was being told to feel forced me out of that stage pretty darn fast. Sure, I'd still have my moments of 'but what if they're right?', I'll admit it, but ultimately it all came down to what I was unwilling to compromise, ironically.
I've discovered one other thing during all that nonsense, which is what played directly into my weird obsession with actual sensation lately. I am still oddly attracted, albeit non-sexually, to certain girls. I don't know why, but it might be that, with guys, it feels 'wrong' because that's the sort of body I wish I had. So it's like a mirror, or something. I really have no idea. It's probably just aesthetics and not a gender thing at all. That sounds more accurate.
Still, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm omniromantic, meaning that I am able to fall in love with anyone in terms of gender/species/what have you, but if you look into other aspects, things start to change a bit.
I am physically attracted to very, very few individuals. Yes, I do think Celebi and metallic cyborgs are amusingly attractive in the physical sense. I'll also be brutally honest and admit that I find Chaos Zero to be one of the most gorgeous beings I've ever seen. However, although I've never felt any sort of physical attraction for men (when I see one I actually think 'I wish I looked like him,' instead), I still have this unusual weakness for boyish girls. Throw in short hair and a bit of boniness in the right places and I am literally hooked. It's really weird.
Personally, I don't know how you guys define physical attraction, but for me it just means I am aesthetically drawn to a certain body shape/ structure/ whatever. That's a given, I suppose, but... well, this is odd for me.
Yes, I am asexual. No matter how much I'm 'attracted' to someone, that will always come into play. I may joke about it, but it's the honest truth when I say that I probably could never realistically 'be with' a curvy woman, aka what I view as a 'typical' female. The whole chest size thing that some guys obsess over? It scares me. I can't handle sexuality, even if one doesn't act upon it. If you're visibly showing something that I perceive as sexual, such as a large chest or a promiscuous outfit or big hips, I will likely act a bit panicky around you. This doesn't mean I can't love people like that, I just... physically I'm going to be frightened. It's just how I run, sadly. Still, that doesn't explain the last bit of a problem I'm having.
I don't like being touched, but I make exceptions for friends. However, as long as I don't perceive a threat, my personal space can get ridiculously tiny. Even at work, if I have to get change at customer service and there's some other person standing there, sometimes I'll find myself three inches away from leaning on him/her, ha. The only way I can explain this is that, although I don't like things like primal instincts and all that, 95% of the time I consciously feel this very deep spiritual connection to all other people. I can't hurt people, nothing like that, no matter what my mind does, which is why I'm very scared of being hurt and tend to be obsessively paranoid about it outside of my 'safe zones.' It makes no sense to me, that a person could want to hurt another person. But I digress...
Here's the list. 1-I'm asexual. 2-I typically like boyish girls. 3-I have a smaller personal space (within reason) around people I trust or don't perceive as dangerous. 4-I tend to be slightly obsessive when it comes to actually perceiving the world around me (there's even an entire entry dedicated to that point in this journal). See all that? Put it together, and I guess you get what I've noticed.
I've seen girls without anything on, unfortunately (but not in real life, heck no). I don't like it. However, you know the andro point I keep bringing up? Well, if I see a girl with a small chest and no visible... um, femininity (in body shape or whatever), I will actually have almost no problem with it, as long as it stays nonsexual. I'm not 'aroused,' but I'm not numb, either. I get this weird thing; that perception thing.
See, I like the deepest elements of things, the most truly personal things. I like bones, I like scars, I like tendons and veins and freckles and eyes and the way people move. I'm asexual, but... I'm addicted to intimacy. Extreme intimacy. You ever wonder what Chaos Zero and I mean when we talk about '2005?' Yeah. That's basically it.
I have this weird addiction to fragility, to things people take for granted, to hidden things, to secrets. I get it for most things, really, and sometimes it'll hit hard and out of nowhere. It's the reason why, when I got Apollo (my Macbook), I first looked through every file I could find on him, learned what everything on his keyboard was, put my nose up to his screen just to see the individual pixels... turned him off, turned him over, took him apart. Looked at every little piece. Put him back together and memorized every different texture on him. Details. I do it to music, too... I'll listen to the same song, over and over, for hours... maybe repeating the same two seconds just to hear a certain chord, or a certain echo, or the way his voice cracks, or the way she breathes in, or the way I can hear the musician's finger touch a string on that one note. Maybe I'll just listen to every instrument individually, maybe I'll just hold my headphones against my ears, close my eyes, and lose myself.
I'm not typically 'logical' or analytical about it. Sometimes I will sit and think about something small and strange until my head spins, yes, but that's an entirely different thing. I don't know what causes this addiction of mine, really, because it encompasses every sense sometimes. Sight, touch, and sound are huge. They overwhelm me most days.
But... that strange need, sometimes I get it with people. I get it with those girls, the ones I feel close to.
I'll want to memorize the exact color of her eyes, the way her hair feels through my fingers. I'll want to run my fingers over her shoulder blades and feel her heart beat and listen to the way her breath catches sometimes. Is that romantic? I don't know what to call it; it's almost a drive. It's like I need to feel that even if I can't explain why.
It gets really bad, almost desperate, if it's with someone I love intensely-- although I do become more scared when I'm around them. I'm just so addicted to fragility, if that's even the right word. It's the same reason I used to hide a stethoscope in my room as a child, and when I was sure the door was locked I'd just listen to my own chest for a few minutes, until I was shaking from the overwhelming being of it. Just the way it was, simply. I don't know how to explain it. To this day my heart is still the most intimate thing about me, ever. It's also an extremely meaningful theme in all my work. Look for it.
I don't know what I'd do if someone here felt that same sort of need with me, that innocent intimacy. It's always one sided. Always one sided.
Maybe it's simply because I don't feel I exist in the physical world, not genuinely. Maybe it's because I don't see myself as a 'lover' or 'partner,' just a compassionate and selfless observer. But I don't want to be seen back.
I only want the other person to know that they are deeply loved, that's all.
Could I make the exception for someone else? Could I ever identify with this form briefly enough to let anyone else near it?
Perhaps I am destined to be forever disconnected by a thin wall of glass.
Something like that. What is it?


There's so much I still haven't said, which is beautifully funny. I've already said so much!
Still, maybe that'll be a topic for next time. Dreams. You never know.

I hope you all have a beautiful night.








Train whistles, a sweet clementine
Blueberries, dancers in line
Cobwebs, a bakery sign

Oh, a sweet clementine
Oh, dancers in line

If living is seeing
I'm holding my breath
In wonder, I wonder
What happens next?
A new world, a new day to see

I'm softly walking on air
Halfway to heaven from here
Sunlight unfolds in my hair

Oh, I'm walking on air
Oh, to heaven from here

If living is seeing
I'm holding my breath
In wonder, I wonder
What happens next?
A new world, a new day to see



 

 

 

 

 

 

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