I just sat outside smoking a cigarette on the curb in front of my apartment, while I looked at my website, and read the text we wrote together. My eyes started welling up with love and tears, and I felt overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. It was as if I was looking at it from a stranger's point of view, and in a way, I was.
It was only recently that I finally reached the Individuation — The Magnum Opus, having traversed the 4 stages of the alchemist, like Odysseus, Persephone, Psyche, or the one who has been with me since childhood, and it was only through this process that I finally began to understand why: Orpheus.
He was the tragic hero and this was embedded in my psyche for most of my life, and I never knew it, until I went into the desert 6 months ago because I was led there by The Self and The Creator — the leaf, and the tree — and Orpheus kept coming up relentlessly, until I finally began researching him, saw how fucked up his story was, and asked, "What can this tell me about myself?" And then I let the whole fucking thing unravel, like a giant cable knit sweater that someone keeps knitting, and knitting, and knitting. (Pee-Wee Herman, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, 1985.)
When I was a kid, I watched Black Orpheus alone. I used to watch a lot of weird shit when I was alone.
I had a vision of this — not this exactly. I didn't know how in the fuck it was going to manifest, but it showed itself to me as a finished product, and I knew I had to let it go, so I wouldn't get my hands in there and fuck it up. I had to let The Self and the creator of the universe — henceforth known as "The Leaf, and The Tree" — do their work. When I started reading what had been written, it hit. I'd seen this already.
What I realized in that beautiful moment, was that I couldn't believe how objectively gorgeous this whole experience was. Yes, my website is an experience — and it pulled me in. All that work that I've been doing for years, and even if I haven't opened for business, and haven't gotten a sale yet, what I saw going on was me being completely in the state of receiving, because there was no way it could be anything other.
In the last few days, I've been different. New. I'm not who I used to be anymore. I finally shifted into the real me. It happened because I finally surrendered to the unknown, in every way I was tested to do so. The tests got harder and harder, until they cracked me open like an egg. That's when I saw my two choices — while I was in the crucible.
I saw that I could no longer turn back. I no longer looked at suicide as a back-pocket option if everything goes tits up. God wasn't taking me no matter how much I begged, and then it finally hit me: All I really have to do is trust my Self — the organizing principle who is fully individuated, and is setting up all these chess pieces, relentlessly trying to get me to become whole, and leading me down the path, so that I can live the life I want to live. This is actually my only option, and now I see that the Self wants what I want. It's not a punishing god like the one I grew up with. It's me, and it's the leaf on the tree.
After that, any time a thought came, it was instantly erased or laughed at, because I shifted my perspective so profoundly that I finally slipped through the portal.
Each piece is a door into a different room of the same house.
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