Timeline of self

Okay I would like to ask the assistance of everyone on an upcoming project, many of you may have heard me use the term 'retrodentification' or understand that I sometime struggle with laspes of memory regarding details of personal history, now I do think that we are all connected to something beyond, personal or even cultural history, and there are threads of interlation that can be followed back to earlier points of origin. So what I would like to do is develop a timeline, find a place where my personal history and the one observed by others meets up. It appears at times that when I examine my concept of self, it seems that there are to many angles for an individual to observe, for the longest time I belived I knew what I was not, and a seething resentment of all of these things was sufficient, I knew what I was not, I was not one of them.

Well I've found there to be a certian falacy in that thought, that was a projection of my own ignorances and fears, I've lived so long with my headphones on, shutting out the outside world, conversation, not wanting to make a mistake or not be taken seriously. I've been caught with the feeling of being trapped inbetween two worlds, one uniquely my own which is to me even at times both fantastic and terrifying, and then the one that is shared, and now I find that I do have to walk between the two, that one does affect the other, and there is something to be learned. The twin fold ego trap of fear and desire, beyond which there is something that is not seperate, the truth, that what I think, or what I think I know, but just to experience life and not exclude myself from that. And my concept of self is such that it is beyond just my own perception, there is something of me that me will never see, and has to be experience in that outer world the one I share with others and throught shared experience.

So the persuit is knowledge of ones self, both within the realm of a personal perception, and from the one of outside, shared experiences, and maybe just being able to better transition between the two, to avoid projecting my ideals on the outerworld, and to be able to share more of my inner world, so I just keep digging, peeling away at the layers, and this is something that althought the brunt of the work is done alone, I am constantly finding aide, and the more I open my ears and eyes to the world, the more I realized that in the words of the mantra Doma shared with me 'there is love all around' , that kinda beautiful-ugly sorta thing, and that to really life there are times that you just have to let go of anything you could think or begin to know of life and walk outside of your own definitions of what is real...

now back to the 'purpose' of this post, which is simply I would like to fill in some of those gaps of my personal history, at least just for the purpose of dissolving their hold on my idea of self, but also perhaps gain an awareness of self on a cyclic nature, personal cycles......so if there is anyone out there who can help me with putting some of these memories that I've been exploring in order, perhaps dates would help, so for all those I've lived with, and have been a part of my life and can give me some objective data, help me answer questions like, what summer was it that I lived with Michelle, or when was it that I went to live in Myrtle Creek, please email me at dimensionsofperception@hotmail.com. TY

Repetition is a form of change

the arm reaching for the my grave to pull me in is my own
a mountian of memories the foundation for a castle of dreams

transparent spider web

The spider sits on a translucient web,
the threads that support him,
instictive in design...okay so I started this post with an attempt to draw out some metaphor about a spider on it's web, or at least the web, and something about interconnected nature of blah blah, I started this post yesterday, and when I thought about it today what I really wanted to post about was my friends, if anyone is out there reading this on a even someone consistant basis, you will notice additional links added on the left, that will connect you to other blogs, part of my expanded network of really fascinating people, there is FireAngel, who's company I miss quite a bit, even the occasional disagreements and her hogging my PS2, but these things are pretty typical when you live with someone, and I really have to thank her for offering me a place to stay when I really needed one, which allowed me to recover my year spent in hell, or well one of the most boring backwater nowhere white trash towns in Oregon, and also I have to thank her for putting up company I was keeping at that time. Then Doma, the prismatic puddle, in my lifetime I could not offer up enough apologies for all the horrible things I have said, you been my best friend, and given me the chance to learn to be a better friend in return, and your mantra,you are loved and there is love all around you, which has helped, and for the curse, which well, hey maybe I deserved it, and thanks for laughing at me when I have been ridicolous and not taking me to as seriously as I've sometimes been known to take myself, now get outside and go for a walk or something, read a book. Also, Shar, one of the most hospitable people I know, I her to thank not only for a place to stay, but also for many hours of conversation on topics from the mundane to the esoteric, and for much good council. She to like many of the individuals that have woven themselves into the thread of my life, particularly those of us that are in our mid to late 20s, is also on this path of change, with the end of a relationship, and a new life ahead. Demongund, hasn't been blogging longer then I have I believe, and I've had a link up to his site for quite some time. My friendship with John has been one of mutual respect, and mutual interest, we both where DMs, storytellers for our groups of roleplayers, so much has changes since those days of sitting around rolling dice and describing monsters and god, demons, and arguing over the rules of the game, yeah there what more then a bit of that. John my respect for John goes beyond his ability to lead players through a tale, many of which he conjured up from the depth of his dreams and nightmares, which has always impressed me, but also because he really is a fair and decent guy, who despite his demeanor of utilitarian self interest, really does care about deeply for the people in his life. So that's a bit about some of those people on the threads of this web, to which I have links on this page. There are so many other lifes that have intersected with mine, friends, coworkers, relatives, and so many have added in so many ways to my life, either by just tollerating me, I look back and realized that I was pretty self absorbed at times in my life, so to those in that web, where part of the inner circle or outer ring, thank you.

everybody gets it, in the end...

today I woke up with little doubt in the possibility of a multipliticy of hells,
most of them not so unfamiliar, there you are sitting and your desk, staring at the computer screen, and thinking to yourself, what did I do to deserve this hell,
well, may of us are just lost, few of us are aware that this is a choice, not one made for us, but one reinforced by the individual, the choice, trap of our own choosing, not to say that it is not possible that there is such trap, such spendid hell that would be worth an eternity of torment, the romances suggest as much, so many choices, so many path, but they all lead back to the same point, and the circiut continues, If you could span the gap of the infinite realities, and find the you that exists in the highest state of bliss, he would still be entrapped in one of these hells. Sarte says hell is other people, I belive it has more to do with the process of differentiation, or the inescapable feeling of seperation, which is only at rare moment overcome in this life, love is an active persuit of shedding the ignorance of this differention, seeking those experiences. I know I have tried to express this before but I think one of the most beatiful loving expression of life is the smiling face of an elder who's has eyes with the depth of many tears, something I associate with The Blues, and great blues performers....I have to say it took me a while to get the blues, when I did it's just sorta hit me, like oh, something very different from an intellectual experience, that touches the depths of the human soul, and again shed the illusion of seperation that traps us in this field of time and space.

there is nothing left to do, just hold your breathe and hope it's true that we'll arise

seem to have misplace the box to the game of everything in it's place

I was once on a midnight walk with Ben, in Cottage Grove. Ben was an very interesting character, a cynic among cynics, who considered most formal curtosies with contempt, his manner would was considered quite rude by most, he was prone to a number of compulsions, one of which was to curl up strips of paper. Well, I the instance I was getting to was most likely like any number of nights where we where debating some issue relating in general to the world is really f-d up, social inequity, or some fictional history related to any number of roleplaying games, or character concepts, well this night our conversation was interupted by an old man on the street, we had not heard him approach, I belive he spoke to us for sometime, but the words that I remember are this 'growth comes in spurts, and this is evident in the rings of a tree' , from which you can see the amount of growth with each passing year.

a prayer of the finite

I don't know if I can do this, been positive of my uncertianty for so long, from chaos I was born, and nursed on a flame that flickers around my heart, what beast guards my soul,
I feel there should be some purpose, something more then longing, something more then clever self deciet, how can I trust this, I have woken perfectly content in my dreaming to long, chased by memories of a wretched beast, and everyone smiled and carried on like there was nothing wrong, and now, there seems to be something more, that the questions that have lingered, and if there is some understanding to be reached, for all the lies that they preach, something of a purpose must exist, some goal more then the one that will be discarded for the next, some hand that hold mine tightly as I breath my last breath...

don't let that stop you

well its been a few days since I have posted anything, feel like I've been avoid it, I do have at least one dream I would like to explore, which to me vividly illustrated a personal insecurity, one that I can't claim to having been consciously aware of. But that is the nature of dreams of a gateway to the unconscious. Honestly I know I'm not saying any that hasn't been said before, some of the thoughts that I find so profound at times do seem a little cliche, like yeah but everyone knows that, but for the is just that I get it, or it click in a way that seems more real, more applicable to everyday life, or I feel that tingle that runs throught me when something just hits and everything is good, there is a clear path, all the doors stand open. Now there are just as many if not more moments of uncertianty, like am I supposed to feel this way, like the world is senseless and no matter what you believe it is just a trick of the senses...I know that there is no peace found just by letting the gears turn, but that doesn't mean they won't turn...the more I study the more I find I am embracing a philosophy that has always been my own....

Part of personal journey has been to confront the me of a decade ago, or at least that became part of, along with ideas of family and home, and that his taken me back nearly a full decade to the point where I confront the me of that time, which I try so hard to love, someone I have wanted to destroy, been ashamed of, and now that I have pictures recenty aquired from my mother......I have struggled with memories of my past, feeling like there are too many gaps, my brain learns to quickly to wipe, block off, repress, and start fresh, many cycles of rebirth, transplants, see Metamophosis.... I can find parallels which the person I was, the manic poet, who was grasping at some explaination for a life that seemed to be so wretchedly cruel, filled with people where so easily deluded by obvious lies, I was filled with a rage I had learned from my father, a man who to me seemed to be so frustrated with his inability to live the idealized life that he imagined for himself and his family, I thought I knew something then, I think this is typical of being a teenager, knowing something they don't, and I did, or so I thought, but also I struggled with that anger, found ways to channel it, prominently was writing and music and romantic obsessions....I remember days when I would walk and words would just come to me one after the other so quickly that I didn't have chance to remember and write then, and when I did stop to write they seems to flow faster then I could have spoken. I spent at least a year writing like this if not more, spend much of my class time writing instead of doing any actual class work.

Well here I am, looking backward and forward, trying to confront my fears from both ends, knowing my ignorance, is my responsibility and blaming others for theirs is just falsely justifying my own.

a dream

I was in the desert with an old man, and we where climbing a mountian of sand. It is possible that there was another with us I get the impression there may have been, if so it was a young lady. There where obvious foot and hand holds that stuck out, curved ridges that could be easily grasped. As I climbed I started to climb faster, but it seemed as if no end was in sight, and the climb was almost straight up. Stopping for a minute I realized it would be a long way down, then I realized that I had no time to stop because the sand would not hold if I stood still, and I would fall.

this one tear will follow another

it's not the road ahead,
or the shadow of trail that has lead us to this moment,
nothing learned, nothing known,
all blind of virtue, shouded in false belief,
should we live for a dream, or dream for a life,
will any words speaken in any tounge grant passage ,
move slowly, caution, study and observe,
re-read the virtue of not knowing who you are,
remember the two lines that intersect,
all roads lead to one ends,
many paths, many branches, many lifetimes,
have these questions been asked,
why now struggle,
the body remembers what I have forgotten
no need for hesitence, let is pass
question each step, take each step,
let the tears wash away,
I will feel my pain.

I call for rememberances,
give me passage through the storm
let me not lean to heavy
those that offer their strength
take time to reflect upon those eyes
that sees thought the torrent

I call for dreams,
herald me to sights unseen,
deeper threads of the mystery
pieces that where damaged, restored
a wall comes down, a false god dies

I call for apologies,
to those that deserve them,
old wounds buried deep in history
some scars fade with time
tears cleanse hearts mend

I call for redemption

funeral dream

I had this dream a few days back, or nights rather, the details I remembered on waking are vague so all I can offer is a rough sketch of what I dreamed...even the order of events I am uncertian, but it's a dream so it all could have happened at once, or really time is not realevant. at one point I was waiting outside a towering building, what looked like it could have been one of those building that firefighter's use to practice putting out fires, only much taller, the proportions of the building seen to alter at different points in the dream, I was waiting for old friends, I remember that Jonas and Jessie did show up, but there where other's that didn't Brian and Josh, this makes sense since they are in the Navy, and I have not seen the in several years, I think others showed up as well. At another point I was running up a stairwell that seem to go on for quite some time until it opened up into a room with a large window, outside the window was a woman in dark robes floating in the air, her face was one that I have become very familiar with, a form of angelic beauty. I believe this figure was trying to tell me something, but I don't know what it was. Later I was walking around to the other side of this building to where I was supposed to assist with burying my grandfather, but when I got there it was too late, he was already in the ground. So I sat next to my father while others spoke. My father was poking me in the stomach, with long finger nails, not intentionally cruely, something he thought was amusing but I did not, I was as a young boy, and I in turn took his fingers and popped the joints. The response to this was affection, and I was pleased, althought I meant to act in retaliation.