Magic and letting go vs. doing the work. Part 1432

Magic and letting go vs doing the work. Part 1432

I've been big on letting go for a minute here. And am seeing that you could be letting go even as you prepare for war. Not that I am, but I'm not sure that "letting go" is if you are active or not. Okay, it is, but it doens't imply inaction.

What it does imply is relaxation. And probably a radical acceptance. We really are supposed to enjoy all of this. I worked quite dilligently to feel that this morning (Monday) on my way to the gym. Interestingly, it was just as challenging to feel after I was done. Acing the transitions really is a sign of mastery. It's not the getting famous, the rocking her world, the lifting the barbell or singing the song, but how, when and why your return to just after.

Cause if we're really "there"/"here", there isn't a difference. Stuck in traffic or acing the test is the same if you're already happy.

But I'm also being told to lean back (like the Fat Joe song), which implies chilling out. Still walking but enjoying the movement of it. Being along for the ride. On every part. The getting up and brushing your teeth as well as the more sexy stuff.

This, I believe, has more to do with magnetism. Imagine a guy who's so hungry he's starving. He's lost all sense of decorum. Does the universe want to feed him? And, since he is the master of his own universe, does he believe he's closer than ever to getting fed? Not likely. Unless he's Job.

But that's what is required. I heard on ESPN today that Vince Young expects to win every time he goes on the field. Which, of course, goes a long way toward getting him there. Do we wake up expecting to have a great day? Expecting to find wonder and love and enjoyment along the way? And not thinking it, or even affermating it, expecting it. Like it was programmed in us.

Because we are programmed.

I'm working like a miner on the last bits of my programming. They're deep. I thought I was free of them because I had excavated the less deep stuff and thought it was horrific. This stuff wasn't that loud but felt scary. It was almost more insipid. And more physically implanted in my body. Lodged in places.

What if we are truly magic and it takes 10 years of brutal hard work to learn that on a fundamental enough level--after starting from a broken start--to realize it? I know I never thought it would be this much work. But I also don't care about the work anymore. And I'm getting into it. Which may be why it's time to lean back.

If we are magic--and science knows that at the very least we are made of light/energy and that our very observation--our devoted attention--changes the outcome of scientific experiments in unexplainable ways--if all this, then we are magic. And we are creators. Perpetual motion machines.

And if we are magic then what do we create? We must create what believe in. We must make and recreate according to our beliefs and actions. And as our actions are informed by our beliefs, then the beliefs is mostly it.

I'm not saying there's not a physical component to it. Obviously there is. (A side note: I believe that our physical bodies are the physical representation of our beliefs.) I'm just saying that our beliefs appear to be more fundamental than the physical--even though our teachers and almost every aspect of society (except for the better spiritual and religion stuff) tells us doggedly--in both form and content that the physical is superior to our beliefs.

And even when our religions get it right--like mine, Christianity--they still want to hang on the challenges of the physical for reasons of being cool and social control. They focus on Christ on the cross--his pain--rather than his ecstasy. His apartness rather than his togetherness. Religions have been used more than almost any politics as instruments of social control, and god bless them, but that doesn't always serve the truth necessarily.

And what are we capable of when our beliefs and our bodies are in harmony? Is Oprah a start? Is Barack Obama? It Trump? Axl Rose?

I believe they are, but I also believe they are tied to the old world in unnecessary ways. I think it's human nature to excel, but I think it's also possible--if you really forsake the physical, in ways that, god bless them, I don't think that any of these impressively talented people have--to do more with less. To get farther with fewer steps.

As the Dalai Lama said: we have too much to do to hurry.

To do it more essentially is essential. Someone valued at $300,000 a year doesn't do things ten times as fast as someone valued at $30,000. In fact, he or she probably brings more focus and attention to whatever he or she is looking at. This is breaking down as our economy and society goes off the skids, but the point is still valid.

The most beautiful thing in the history of the world is rapidly approaching. It is a time when the creative, the spiritual, will pay handsomely. Not the religious, like the middle ages (or now for some folks); not the famous; not the hardest working; not the most perfect; not the most educated; but those with the most flow.

The most unbreakable flow. Bulletproof flow. Flow to go.

Low flow.

We're still a bit too afraid to spend money on that which we can't take home--on ourselves--but we're getting there. We're rocketing toward it and by the time we see what it lovingly is, we'll no doubt contort out of pure fear and habit.

Because it is, after all, what we have wanted all along. And for whatever reason, ew still don't quite believe it true for ourselves. For our kids maybe, for future generations, for poor people, for good people, for other people. But not for us.

Yes, for us.

What we want.

All the time.

Everywhere.

Not a Krispy Kreme want but the thing the damn KK is covering up. Warmth in that place. Relaxation there. All the way down.

And all the way up.

_________

On another tip. I took a nice walk the other day. I've been walking a bit since I learned that half of my old beliefs seemed to be lodged in my hips (Hips Don't Lie). And since I realized that the gorilla drummer I wanted for my band was going to have to be me.

I was pondering my usuals--a couple of personal archetypes that I've studied around my own personal love styles for years. I go back and forth with amazing regularity. --Why they call it the dark night of the soul, by the way--cause you're going to learn how to see without your eyes.

Anyway, I realized that the answer must be what I want. That otherwise I would have no possible way to discern the truth. That it must be imbedded in my dna and love. Now it may take everything I've got to make it real--or me leaning way the hoonanny bck to magnetize hard enough for it all to manifest--but it's got to be what I want. There's no way I would have to think out things of this importance.

This is what The Love Artist is about, by the way. Is the truth--and by this I mean god's truth--ultimate reality--is it some cruel joke meant to shame us into worship (or anything), or is it what we've always wanted more than anything else in the universe.

And I'm being abstract, but I mean it very concretely. Is our love meant to be locked on to that which we care about (even if we have to remain present and eschew results to keep it so), or is it life more like an art history class--something we're supposed to appreciate because the somewhat cute, young professor from NYC told us to, and we'd rather be at a cocktail party with her than a frat party with our friends.

Are we supposed to feel it all the way, or is the best performance just meticulously phon-ed in, perfectly modulated, wearing the right pants and a bit luscious dans le weekend.

All of which you can boil down to--of course--how long is the sex that good?