Frequency relating is an honest revealer.
So too is resonance illuminating repellent of sorts. Lack of sharing frequency. It’s all a thing. I’m actually grateful to see it so clearly. Even in the wake of seeing nobody in this present moment much relates with me. A hallowed gutting making more room for me.
Music heals.
It doesn’t mean it always does, but it can. Like all medicines, some music heals and some music is poison. Some music heals some and is poison for another, and vice versa as well. Some is very much intended as poison for some, and it’s well applauded. Some that is very much medicine for some is constrained, warped, or shut down on the basis of it being medicine where it is some don’t want medicine otherwise to be. Even at times when it’s far away from them.
Exposer of intentionality.
The notion of gatekeepers and strict thought ordering and control, it’s damn laughable now. I understand the larger intentions, but also, where is the clarity that it consciously inhibits consciousness itself in the times we are in? It’s moved beyond traditional labels of gatekeeping now too, hasn’t it?
Celtic hip-hop played a crucial role in healing me. Irish a little more specifically. Helped me tap into feeling shared frequency in all I’ve endured with falling into the abyss of waves of silence and alienation for simply exposing parts of me. The precision of how it has helped me adjust my processing.
“Some of the best talent in our times, practically silenced. With as deliberate of efforts as I experienced, at least in frequency outpouring sensing’s, from my window. For being a little too loving, loving a little too universally, with a strong willingness to be ruthless personally and internally, and here’s the same catch I stumbled into, while simultaneously not self-erasing. Seeing that precise admixture of shared struggle, perhaps the precision of elements coming into view just in this moment of laying it down, it fucking takes my healing to another level.”
What if the struggles I have endured coming at me were never really about not self-hating but more about my persistence to not self-erase?
It’s okay if a few of those elements aren’t present, but the moment that gamut is, that’s when it’s shut down and take ‘em out, isn’t it?
We live in a world of tearing down.
Breaking everyone down.
Anything to prevent healing of severings.
Unless it’s grand and over gestured on and for displays for healing of everyone coming together under precisely arranged agreements, don’t we? When did the pursuit of oneness become so insecure so as to reject universal understandings that perhaps were more organic and encompassing? The Abrahamic and Celtic tensions certainly expose it as far longer a struggle through the works of mystics and artists than many will ever take the time to inquire about.
Are we here to destroy and breakdown, drawdown and deplete, or are we here to heal, mend, cultivate, and create? Are we here to be agents of growing scarcity or regenerating abundance?
Therein for me, resides the entirety of difference. The whole of tension that every war of recorded history somewhat boils down to. Do we want to be reduced to only individuals as cogs in a machine, or do we want to change that story? Find new break throughs and openings? Are we not bored and well traumatized enough of the same old same?
Remembrance reminds us there are other ways of dreaming.
If my loving all that I come from in a right to exist and time immemorial sense, if my recognition of it as someone born in exile and displacement, my mere awe and presence with and therefore rejection of celestial erasure belonging, leads another, any other, to feel that it means then I cannot or could not love them, or worse yet to project that it means cause and effect that I must otherwise then be against or hate them or some other, does that not mean that the sharing for frequency of shared spaces or love itself flowing between in a humanity sense depends on my self-abandonment and erasure to begin with?
Since the debasement of much of any indigenous population of Europe, has this been an element behind persecution and reduction then of our own native lens on universalism. A lens that by its very nature too, inherently rejects and always would have any mode of better than or less than.
Mere difference is simply difference.
Recognizing even into depths of medicines and orientations, that preferences help us find value in differences for others as well. That erasures of differences, self’s, heritages, healthy identity formations with all of it, that that in fact plants seeds for unwellness, bitterness, anger, rage, resentments, hatred. Every ethnic war the world over evidences this. The same too with two siding politics.
Must we fail to learn from the past in this precious moment of potential consciousness growth spurts? Can we not see how consciousness and healing of our own ability to scale in identity from the smallest drop of blood to the outer reaches of the cosmos, without break in spiral of sorts, that it is relational to the same for others? That inherently, any present other would recognize it relates to their healing implicitly or more directly as well?
We’ve all our own roses; don’t you know this? With over 30,000 varietals globally, wild, cultivated, ancient, and modern, perhaps it should indeed start to make more sense.
How little we know of such things.
Certainly not to chase things not meant for us. Rather, are we not here to tend well that which is ours to tend? The world was never meant to function for or from any one center for much of anyone. Even science is catching up to metaphysically recognize this.
I love the way some move some with love. I love the way I was moved as well. Every tear worth it, even those that weren’t. A fool always remembers better somehow. I love how everyone’s hands show how it is they are needed to. I love that I was pushed to my edges as though the universe knowing it would alienate many untruths from me.
My sweet release.
We are not for everybody. For me, too sensitive, that in itself is suffocating. In witnessing how that mask nearly killed me, love of nearing alignment proved in frequency I was never up for grabs. My heart and boundaries were tested by the universe without my knowing. Just as all experience for their own selves, it is no wonder I was led in a trial all my own. Even if for me that meant to the edges of me own madness, to bring me home. I smile now at those who left me alone, wielded and fled in misunderstanding, bitterness, ego, and in love. Each moving towards that which was too their own.
Thank you for returning me to me.
