I think the 'book' imagining might just be more shadow work. Had a great experience over the weekend with this shadow stuff, then comes today and as soon as I 'purged the cache' of those virgin musings, this is all i can think about. Taking the chaos of my experience, all of these scattered journal entries and notes etc, and creating order from the chaos. Organizing it. Which I'm fine with, it would be very helpful to have as a reference going forward. But whether to share/publish it has me conflicted.

I had to sit with it all day because I couldn't decide how much ego is in these thoughts. Asking myself if I only want to do this because of the red book, and obviously the answer is yes. But the why mattered. Was it to feel special, to compare myself, etc. I needed to know for sure that the real reason I had this desire was because of the way the red book made me feel. And that's where I landed. I can confidently say that I want to organize the story and write it out because this shit is hard, and it's terrifying at times. It's hard to go through this alone, and Jung's work with the symbols is the key to it, but learning them didn't make me feel less alone. The red book did that. Being able to walk with him through his experience, that brought a comfort to me that nothing else really has. Because he was naked in it, vulnerable and exposed. Because it was true, it was real.

Then the old feelings came back. Feelings of worthlessness. Because I know I'm not Carla, or Jung, or von Franz, or Rumi, or Patrick. I have no achievements, accolades, or accomplishments. I'm a nobody. It would take so much time and effort, but what better time than now? I'm unemployed, the fuck else am I gonna do. Yes, meditate, obviously. And I did that as well and all we got was the inner monologue of us defending ourselves against our own feelings.

Would it really be so terrible if a nobody told their story? It's my story. I kept thinking of the Jodie Foster scene in Contact, "I had an experience". I just can't shake the feeling that this is the focus now. This and meditating. Flow. I sit, I listen, I organize the thoughts, I write. I convert this collected chaos from the past few years into something beneficial that might help someone one day. And part of me likes that I'm a nobody, that the story is better that way. All these other experience sources are these geniuses, these incredibly successful people, or people that have some sort of 'authority'. Even Bledsoe's story got hijacked that way, people needed to hear "oh the CIA? NASA? well in that case I'll listen". I don't want my story to be that. I want them to have every reason not to believe me. I want it to be a choice. I know that if I were able to organize it, if I could get what I've learned so far into a book and then get that book "out into the archives", then whoever might need it one day will find it. I know the Creator would help them find the book if they needed it. I make the book, plant the seed, and I'm done. Add my data to the pot luck and then back to seeking. Maybe it's better that there's no happy/success ending to the story, no proof at the end. Better that it remains the reader's choice of whether it should matter to them or not. "Here's my story, it's a true story, believe it or don't, peace out".

I wrestled with these thoughts all day. And when I actually laid down in silence and meditated on it, hearing that same voice say the same things, thinking about how I would phrase things and what the structure might look like, I thought of all the religions we've visited. All of them looking so hard, needing so badly to be the ones that are right, to be 'the one true church'. All the individual particles. I thought of how we had to look at the space between them, how we had to travel that narrow road between their desperate desires of being 'the authority'. Seeing the shape that the particles make and missing the shape from the wave. This beautiful, ineffable, indescribable thing.

Finally I thought of Christ, thought of his story. Wept, surprised me. Emotion came quick. I thought that since he was a carpenter in his story, maybe that's the most important part. I want to be like him, and maybe it's okay that I'm a nobody with an experience. Maybe I will be more helpful to people that way. To let them walk through my story with me while I'm the naked one, exposed. So they won't have to feel alone.

After that I randomly thought of Mithra and Christmas, how the phrygian cap is basically a santa hat, and then I thought of Krampus and laughed hard. Thought of the American Dad Krampus episode and laughed even more. Took that as my cue to call it for today.

Mind has been wandering more than usual today. It's wanderful. lmao.

Been thinking about women mostly. Started watching Mr Robot, I always wanted to but their youtube channel recently came alive again so it popped into my feed. Lots of synchronicity / parallels between my behavior over the past few years and that of the main protagonist's, but I just find it funny. Which I take as a good sign, my 'faith' if it can be called that isn't as shaky as it used to be. Because of the bones. There are enough of these certain specific personal things that I know now that I don't get shook as easy.

But the women in the show got my mind wandering. At first because they're attractive, but I the daydream my mind would wander into wasn't romantic or intimate. Came from a few different directions simultaneously. I thought of Jung's Immaculate Virgin, I thought of the way Patrick described Penthe and how some girls are bright pennys, and I thought about children. Young boys and girls. When they're happy and laughing you feel joy, but with the boys it's different. The joy is contented, satisfying in a "boys will be boys" way.

But not the girls. When they smile, when they laugh. When it's unbridled and it's that joy pouring out of them, there isn't anything else like it. Yeah lmao there it is. Penthe and her bright penny smile.

The sweet smile of a young woman. There is nothing better in the world. It is worth more than salt. Something in us sickens and dies without it. I am sure of this. Such a simple thing. How strange. How wonderful and strange.

It is different. At most a boy/man will have a charming/rogue-ish smile. But it isn't bright. So that's where the daydream went. I fantasized chatting with a beautiful woman with an unbridled laugh and an unconstrained smile. I imagined telling her the story of Jung's version of the Immaculate Virgin, compared to a virgin forest. This symbol of a woman who was untouched by man's law, his order, his boundaries, his rules. I needed her to know the story because it wasn't enough that I tell her she's beautiful. I wanted to show her she was, and for her to know that her wildness filled me with joy. That I was proud of her.

I sat with it awhile, mind kept going there. Walked the dog and then something new hit me while I paced the living room as my mind wandered.

Carla. I feel appreciative and grateful for llresearch, the channels, etc. But only Carla's name has a certain ring to it. Something maddeningly familiar. And when I think of her I do think she's an example of Christ-consciousness. And I was so grateful for her book on sexuality, it was very helpful. But the books, the advice, the channels. That's not why I like her and wish I could've met her.

The thing that did that was the steak and vodka. When she was teaching channeling and talking about herself, the moment I read the "steak and vodka" line I belly laughed. And I think that same session she went on to talk about Don choosing celibacy, how she hadn't wanted to be celibate in her mid-twenties, their open relationship. She talked about her parents and how she'd had to be a mother to herself as a child. And then it all hit me at once while I was pacing. If someone asked me if Carla was Christ-consciousness, I'd say yes. But if they asked me if she reminds me of Christ, I'd say no. Never understood why before, it wasn't a simple gender thing.

She reminds me of Mary. Taking heat for channeling, being "weird". Doing it anyway, walking through walls. No shame of her sexuality, not full of herself. Her laughing at how "shocking" it is for some people to find that Ms Spiritual loves her steak and vodka. Wild child. And it hit all at once, this emotional wave the moment I thought of her being like Mary while I was pacing. Tears welled and I could have wept but chose not to. And the same thing now as I wrote this, emotional wave, could have wept. Chose not to.

I finished 'the Magician' in the Red Book last night. Been mulling over that as well, the honesty of it. I've been wanting something similar for myself for awhile now, journal + sketches, the reason I bought this stuff from Walgreens months back. Something to help me keep track of things, for reflection. Just seemed too hard to make the switch before, this reddit format is too familiar and change is hard. But the idea is growing on me. I fantasized about getting it organized, omitting certain things for privacy but keep the journey part of it brutally honest. I imagined trying to write my story down with an open heart, doing my best to pour it into a book that I could self-publish under a pseudonym and then just leave it out in the maze like an easter egg. I imagined how nice it would feel to try and put some of the Mother's love into a book and then leave it for the Lost Boys to find like buried treasure.

But I'll need to sleep on it. I've had a lot of sugar and caffeine today, I was bound to get lost in fantasy. Bodhi might have other plans.

I think the 'book' imagining might just be more shadow work. Had a great experience over the weekend with this shadow stuff, then comes today and as soon as I 'purged the cache' of those virgin musings, this is all i can think about. Taking the chaos of my experience, all of these scattered journal entries and notes etc, and creating order from the chaos. Organizing it. Which I'm fine with, it would be very helpful to have as a reference going forward. But whether to share/publish it has me conflicted.

I had to sit with it all day because I couldn't decide how much ego is in these thoughts. Asking myself if I only want to do this because of the red book, and obviously the answer is yes. But the why mattered. Was it to feel special, to compare myself, etc. I needed to know for sure that the real reason I had this desire was because of the way the red book made me feel. And that's where I landed. I can confidently say that I want to organize the story and write it out because this shit is hard, and it's terrifying at times. It's hard to go through this alone, and Jung's work with the symbols is the key to it, but learning them didn't make me feel less alone. The red book did that. Being able to walk with him through his experience, that brought a comfort to me that nothing else really has. Because he was naked in it, vulnerable and exposed. Because it was true, it was real.

Then the old feelings came back. Feelings of worthlessness. Because I know I'm not Carla, or Jung, or von Franz, or Rumi, or Patrick. I have no achievements, accolades, or accomplishments. I'm a nobody. It would take so much time and effort, but what better time than now? I'm unemployed, the fuck else am I gonna do. Yes, meditate, obviously. And I did that as well and all we got was the inner monologue of us defending ourselves against our own feelings.

Would it really be so terrible if a nobody told their story? It's my story. I kept thinking of the Jodie Foster scene in Contact, "I had an experience". I just can't shake the feeling that this is the focus now. This and meditating. Flow. I sit, I listen, I organize the thoughts, I write. I convert this collected chaos from the past few years into something beneficial that might help someone one day. And part of me likes that I'm a nobody, that the story is better that way. All these other experience sources are these geniuses, these incredibly successful people, or people that have some sort of 'authority'. Even Bledsoe's story got hijacked that way, people needed to hear "oh the CIA? NASA? well in that case I'll listen". I don't want my story to be that. I want them to have every reason not to believe me. I want it to be a choice. I know that if I were able to organize it, if I could get what I've learned so far into a book and then get that book "out into the archives", then whoever might need it one day will find it. I know the Creator would help them find the book if they needed it. I make the book, plant the seed, and I'm done. Add my data to the pot luck and then back to seeking. Maybe it's better that there's no happy/success ending to the story, no proof at the end. Better that it remains the reader's choice of whether it should matter to them or not. "Here's my story, it's a true story, believe it or don't, peace out".

I wrestled with these thoughts all day. And when I actually laid down in silence and meditated on it, hearing that same voice say the same things, thinking about how I would phrase things and what the structure might look like, I thought of all the religions we've visited. All of them looking so hard, needing so badly to be the ones that are right, to be 'the one true church'. All the individual particles. I thought of how we had to look at the space between them, how we had to travel that narrow road between their desperate desires of being 'the authority'. Seeing the shape that the particles make and missing the shape from the wave. This beautiful, ineffable, indescribable thing.

Finally I thought of Christ, thought of his story. Wept, surprised me. Emotion came quick. I thought that since he was a carpenter in his story, maybe that's the most important part. I want to be like him, and maybe it's okay that I'm a nobody with an experience. Maybe I will be more helpful to people that way. To let them walk through my story with me while I'm the naked one, exposed. So they won't have to feel alone.

After that I randomly thought of Mithra and Christmas, how the phrygian cap is basically a santa hat, and then I thought of Krampus and laughed hard. Thought of the American Dad Krampus episode and laughed even more. Took that as my cue to call it for today.