Moving slow in a fast world.
The benefits of being alone.
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It was time for a trip. It had been awhile since I left the acreage and ventured to the world of strangers, so I mapped a day trip to a town in North Carolina. There was a crystal store — NC is rife with them — and was glad for business miles and also to provide my brain with new images. Plus, there’s nothing like flying around the Interstates of the South — where 70 mph is dreadfully slow.
I drove — pushing at the low end of a potential speeding ticket, of course — and upon arrival, immediately found the energy of the town off-putting but gave it a chance. Why bother to get dressed, otherwise? I took my time, walked around, visited a few shops, chatted with a couple of people. Then — with great happiness — I pressed down the accelerator, weaved up the hills and flew on.
I couldn’t wait to get back to the woods. Away from the phones, the disconnect, the glazed faces, the lack of eye contact and hellos. I’m a friendly, open person, so it’s weird to see people avert their faces or bury themselves in phones, for whatever reason. Mostly the hellos are from the homeless, old folks who need directions (I get that in any town), men who don’t have any intuition (I’m gay) or wanderers talking to themselves. Thankfully, I dwell in a state where most are super friendly and genuinely kind, so it’s a bit strange to not to encounter it everywhere.
As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, I do not have a smartphone primarily to maintain the natural connection we humans have and need. I asked several people in town where the shop was located, though I could have easily found it on a smartphone — if I had one — or car map.
There have been many iterations of Raven. This one, right now, does not want to be around humans very much.
That does not mean I am a misanthrope. Not at all. I actually like humans — I work and write about them quite often — and love my friends scattered around the country. Yet I have spent the last few years exploring what it means to be alone. Really alone. Like, by myself most of the day/week/months. It’s part of being a virtual entrepreneur, yes — but I have placed myself in a temporary environment, which I’ll leave next year, to see how well I get along with myself. Do I really like who I am? Can I stand to be around myself? I have purposefully made no real friends here, though there are several nice acquaintances with whom I’ve spent time. Yet that’s not the purpose of this experiment.
Am I lonely? Not often. I really like my company.
This was the greatest surprise and one that brought a deeper level of understanding about myself. I need to incorporate and accept all parts of myself to find freedom. True freedom. Not casting about as I used to, angry at those who slighted me, raging about my sucky childhood, lonely and worried, planning, planning, planning. Those emotions are valuable and part of the whole but not if they run me off the cliff.
Either I control the train — or it controls me.
The only way I could find out was to be with myself — fully — as I am doing now. Remove myself from humans for a time. Sit in the woods and watch the trees. Insects. Birds. Love my beautiful friend Nature. Take time each morning to write my new book. Root down — because I am here now, for this experience — but will soon be gone. With myself, to the next place, the next community, the next level of consciousness.
This is my way. For now. Not forever.
The questions I ask continue to guide my steps.
Who are you now? Do you really love yourself, Raven? How do you know? What do you want now? What upsets you? Why? What have you improved? What can you do to calm/bring joy/make yourself happy? Is it time to relax (always) or fly? How can I best utilize this time?
There are always distractions, worries and 3D stuff. Such is life. Incorporating is key — while knowing it’s probably not real.
If I find myself getting bogged down in this world — slow biz, irritating family stuff, impatience with whatever — I remind myself that this is more than likely an illusion or simulation and it’s probably not “reality”. However, my presence here, especially now, is so valuable for this world. My light, my positive energy, my curiosity. Suck the marrow of life, as I used to say in college. I want to extract as much as I can. This morning as I walked down the road to feed a bratty feral cat, the trees arched up into fog around me — it was truly stunning — and I said to my consciousness, Record. Remember this, even after I leave this world.
I see the grand chessboard of my life during this time.
I may have chosen this particular moment to be alone but I can see — thanks to my abilities — the grand chessboard. Huge chapters are about to close, pieces moving to new positions. I’m ready and consider this time a preparation.
Pictures of my new home were granted the other day as I did a quantum leap meditation. Though it may surprise you, these psychic visions are rare but so strong and powerful that I can literally live in them. Easy to draw up in my mind, easy to remember.
I saw my next home, clear as day, and my next self — so close, as if sheet of clear paper separated us as I merged with her — standing on a hill in the sun with my house and fields around me. I saw my vehicles, outfit and boots, acreage, roads and water. I didn’t even try; it came like the mail, the vision steady and consistent.
Some may prefer to go with the flow or don’t make plans because God laughs but I chose to see this vision as a gift from my future self — while also acknowledging that yes, there remains a substantial amount of mystery and potential. Of course — it’s 3D land!
Forgiveness of myself is a gift. I’ve slowed down enough to understand this. Forgiveness of myself = freedom.
Forgiveness of myself is the remover of all “blocks” (money, relationships, intuition, self-care, etc) in this illusory world or from wherever I’ve carried it in. Forgiveness of myself is the gift of freedom.
I can go anywhere — even after this life is finished — and I will be happy.
This is the greatest gift of this time. I love myself so much that even if I dropped this body today, I will be happy and curious and still say hello as I travel on.