Echo

lordy don’t leave me
all by myself.

People often ask me what I do for a living. I feel that what someone does for a living is sometimes different from what someone does for money. What I do for a living is try to make the world a better place, one connection at a time. Dropping knowledge. Peace, understanding, compassion, truth, hope, reflection. Every connection, every person, every moment is different. What is needed is what defines, and I’m lucky in that through these connections, I learn many things myself as well. But really, it’s about giving. Time and depth. I find awe and beauty in big things and small, inspire people when their eyes get cloudy, they inspire me by being inspired. I hope they pay it forward. I’m a realistic person who can see positive potential, and I’m tireless with communicating it to people when they are willing to listen. I am willing to give that, to put a great deal of energy and myself into it in that moment, if it means it might make a positive difference.

What I do for money? Nothing. Little things. It balances out for me. I tend to have what I need when I focus on my random connections. I used to think I had to make my way like everyone else. Now I find, that my life works out better when I do this work, when in my wanderings, I have these strange but beautiful connections. Living. Being. Creating change. Inspiring. Comforting. Believing in people when they sometimes don’t believe in themselves. And knowing that we are beautiful, eternal spirits who sometimes get lost in illusion, but by becoming conscious of our true selves, we help the universe become conscious of itself…these are the things I live for. These are what define living for me.

david gray, nov 5th. a 9 day. i’m so happy about that. like looking forward to a meeting with an old friend. he has a way of bringing me to tears, in a good way.

moby was amazing tonight. i couldn’t wait to hear extreme ways, which he played in the encore. it was the song that kept me strong and got me through my time in amsterdam, when it became a matter of survival. to hear it now, reminds me how far i’ve come.

i had to close down everything
i had to close down my mind
too many things to cover me
too much can make me blind
i’ve seen so much in so many places
so many heartaches,
so many faces
so many dirty things
you couldn’t believe

“Why do you go to the garden?” he asked.

“I don’t know that many places in this city yet, but there are a few places I know. They’re personal landmarks, in a way. Safe places. So I go there sometimes, spend time, see if there’s anyone looking for me.”

“Like people who know you?”

“Not exactly. Strangers usually. People seem to have a way of finding me when they need to talk to me.”

I’ve been waiting all night to ask…
Do these meet somewhere, these dreams?
Are they memories?
Or are they really the unrealities of my mind?

In my dreams last night, I was looking for my pants.
Or maybe I was looking for yours…
I don’t remember.

“If you know the guy’s game so well, tell me what’s the secret to a woman’s game?”

This guy was a lower vibrating one. Quite douchie. Asian–I wish I hadn’t made that comment about Asians not approaching me, because that probably made this meeting inevitable. This one was sadly cheesy, though I will not punish a whole category of men for his ignorance. But, clearly, he was never going to understand me.

“A strong woman knows that the secret to a woman’s game, is to have no game.”

His brow creases. He gets irritated when he gets frustrated.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Does it not make sense, or do you just not understand it?”

“You’re basically saying that a woman’s game is to have no game, but by going out of your way to have no game and act aloof, is still a game.”

“Of course, if you’re going out of your way to be aloof. By resisting the game, is to still be playing the game. The key is, to not even engage in the game.”

“That still doesn’t make any sense. I don’t agree with you.”

“Then we’ll agree to disagree.”

“Fair enough,” he said, but I can tell he’s irritated. I’m nice enough not to point out the fact that he was here was proof of what I said. I don’t engage in the game. I go over or under any false pretenses that any man presents when he approaches me. I let the men approach me, thinking it was their idea when what really draws them is a curiosity as to why I’m not “in it.” I’d ignored all of his “lines” and “ploys” and talked to him like a human being. And because of it, he hadn’t been able to put me on tilt. He had no hold on me. In the context of the game, he was failing to dominate. In the context of real life, he was engaged in an illusion, a projection, and I was watching him the way one watches a dog chase its tail, careful to not engage and get bit.

“Do you agree that the key for the man’s game is to take advantage of a woman’s insecurities?” he had asked me earlier. He said it like he hoped it would shock and offend me.

“Of course,” I’d said. ” That’s the most effective way. But it’s in your genes. It’s like why hunters go to watering holes. A deer is most vulnerable while it’s eating or drinking water. The hunter is taking advantage of a vulnerability to increase his chances of the kill. In a bar, a man is looking for the vulnerabilities of a woman, whether she has it inherently, or he creates it via her insecurities. It’s a strategy geared to increase his chances of success.”

But if a woman can see a man trying to use negative tactics to his advantage, then she should immediately know: 1. the kind of person he is; 2. the level of his own insecurities; 3. his intentions.

The game speaks for itself. As does its players.

The rewards occur between those who don’t engage, and talk to each other like equal, powerful human beings. Through conscious recognition, it becomes a natural filtering system for quality control.

the truth is, i haven’t met anyone here who has moved me or even impressed me.

addendum:

I am many things to many people. And to many people, I am things I am not.

i went to a micro-roaster and let the barista order for me. it was a rainy day, and he said i looked like a small americano, for here. the coffee was excellent. i sat outside at a table under the awning so i could watch the rain.

a man named dion invited himself to sit next to me, and over the next 3 hours, talked to me about his life–being in a gang as a kid, being thrown in jail for 3 months for a false accusation of robbing a transvestite prostitute in hollywood, a charge which was finally dropped when the case against him fell apart after the facts didn’t corroborate and the real criminals were arrested.

he tells me about his time in the navy, and how he sees that the political climate between things brewing in the middle east (Iran, Israel, etc), and the unreadiness of the US government will lead to a world war within the next 2 years. he talks about religious fanatics, how they ran our country for too long, and now we’ll all pay. he talks about how we are losing our freedoms as a society when you see all the homeless people on the street and how each generation is so used to it, that there is a growing rift of indifference to our fellow man.

he’s an intelligent man, but very focused on the negative.

i ask him what he feels his purpose is, to create awareness, or to create openings for solutions. he says to create awareness and solutions. i tell him that it is true, most people are sheep. many make more decisions out of fear or emotionality than out of rationality or knowing what is most likely to yield a best case scenario. it’s the human condition–we are emotional creatures who are not particularly comfortable with change. that it is important for people in the world to serve in creating awareness, but he has to be careful of learned helplessness.

sun tzu in the art of war said to always leave your opponents a golden bridge to retreat across, because desperate men will fight the hardest. the same, you can make people aware of negative, realistic problems in our society, but you have to give them room to believe in a potential to work for a solution, no matter how bleak.

you have to be always conscious of your purpose of communication–he had complained of the bush administration’s tactics to use fear to manipulative conservative voters. but the way he had been communicating, was also using fear. as he told me of the alarming factors in the political landscape that points to war and the decline of the united states, i pointed out factors that would need to be addressed and ways the social climate was becoming more aware; that there were changes–that sometimes, society takes a step back before taking two steps forward in evolution. but he would go back to the doomsday scenario rather than discuss these. most people, when you trigger a fear reaction in them for the sake of triggering a fear reaction, they feel cornered and will scratch at anything to not be in that corner, even if that includes rejecting the speaker and what has been spoken, throwing out the baby with the bathwater. there are some serious problems that many people are not aware of and these problems will inherently be uncomfortable to face, but if you communicate it to people in a way that these problems need to be solved, even if the problem is complex and the solution is not immediately evident, it at least opens a potential for positivity in the face of unwanted realistic facts. to make them feel that the negative is inevitable, really excludes any positive outcome of the interaction.

i get it. i am focused on making people aware of the problems. but once i make people aware, i need to push them towards an active moment, he said.

i was impressed.

that’s a great way to put it, i said. i couldn’t have put it in any better way.

from that point the way he spoke changed. he told me he likes to “fuck with” people who are closed-minded and who are ignorant, but he sees that with people who are more open-minded or willing, he could get more by getting them onboard to at least realizing that our country has problems, but also by thinking about how each person, even if just by being more conscious, can contribute to a solution.

it’s about the bottom line, i said. it’s steps. you’re very good about the analysis. you have an idea of an outcome that collectively we don’t want. so you’re motivated to create awareness of the problem because it’s true–most people are unaware of what’s going on politically/socially because we have untrustworthy media and it’s hard to put together what’s going on. but remember, once people are aware, then what? what do you want? always know your purpose a few steps ahead, and everything else falls into place. if you ultimately want us to not give up complete control to our government which would infringe on our freedom, then this would require citizens to be more aware of our government, to start change and reform from the bottom up. the first step is awareness, and the second step is making people believe that they have the power, at the very least, by living more consciously, to actively create positive change. and then you are passing your intentions positively forward. if your bottom line is you want to see positive changes, don’t manipulate negative emotions. let your passion for positive action light a fire under people. you won’t awaken everyone, many won’t even be able to hear you out of fear, but those who do, will pass it forward. The seeds of change take place one conversation at a time, one connection at a time, and never, ever underestimate the powerful alignment of words and intention.

today i am humbled. i am alive and well. my heart is overflowing with love for the universe and everyone in it. a big smile and a beam of light into the sky.

We’re just a million little gods causing rain storms turnin’ every good thing to rust.
(So let’s just stop it)

Why has everything gone back to Arcade Fire since the Alaska Cruise?

I finished writing the last post about what happened yesterday, and this song came on the radio. I wanted to look up the lyrics because it fit well with what I was writing, but I didn’t know what it was. It sounded like Arcade Fire, so I looked it up, and indeed, it was. A song called Wake Up, which played on the radio as I wrote about awakening. It’s on an album I’ve had for years, but I don’t know the song. The lyrics fit eerily with the things I was telling the guy yesterday.

We walked by this old stone arch with no gate. People were standing around it in raincoats, waiting for the bus. We had been talking about how people are closed, they stick to their projections and sometimes never get down to speaking eye to eye with truth to another human being. I said, “Look at that arch. It just stands there. Even if you put a gate with a giant lock on it, what would be the use? It’s an arch with no walls. You put a bolted gate on it, I can still just walk around it. It’s the same thing with people. They put up these walls, they’re so closed. But we share the same world. We share the same being. So these walls people put up are like the arch with a bolted gate. Anyone can still get in because we’re all connected. So why bother putting so much investment and fear into pointless locks and walls and gates and the illusion of them, when every one of us is wide open? Fear is only as great as fear itself. Truth is complex, both beautiful and tragic, bitter and sweet, but at least with truth, you are never alone because in truth, we are all connected.”

I also realized, I’ve gotten really into Arcade Fire since this new chapter started. Never really paid attention to them. The song that fit everything together when I got off the cruise was Cold Wind. Last time, it was only the lyrics to Black Mirror that could soothe me. Perhaps there’s a creative alignment here. It’s inspiring. Comforting.

Somethin’ filled up
my heart with nothin’,
someone told me not to cry.

But now that I’m older,
my heart’s colder,
and I can see that it’s a lie.

Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.

If the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We’re just a million little gods causin rain storms turnin’ every good thing to rust.

I guess we’ll just have to adjust.

With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’ to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.

With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am go-goin’

You better look out below!

-Arcade Fire, Wake Up

things strangers share

“i saw you watching that kid at the bus stop. i was trying to catch you to see if you wanted to get a coffee with me,” he said, an edge of panic to his voice. “then you turned left so fast into the street and that bike hit you. Was it because of me?”

i had suddenly turned left to cross the street, because i had noticed him following me and this was my evasive measure (sudden change in direction, duck into a public place).

“if you were trying to catch me to get coffee, then getting hit by a bike is kind of embarrassing,” i laugh.

he can’t believe i’m not hurt. the rider was catapulted off his bike a bit of a distance and had been pretty shaken up. i’d felt really bad about the accident and apologized profusely. the rider kept asking if i was okay and i said i was fine, so he took off. i think he realized he was more shaken up than i seemed, but i’m just stoic about pain…my left leg was throbbing in the places where the bike had struck me, and i suspected that i was bleeding under my knee. he’s probably cussing me out tonight.

“you made a perfect landing,” the guy following me said. “i can’t believe you’re not hurt. he was flying down the street. you couldn’t have landed any better than that.”

he was looking at me like he was afraid any moment, when the shock wore off, i might collapse.

“i have cat-like reflexes,” i said. but i know, deep down, i’m very lucky.

“i was just trying to ask you if you wanted to grab coffee or lunch,” he said.

we suddenly burst out laughing about the situation, until we both had tears in our eyes.

“that was crazy, what just happened,” i said almost to myself. ” this is the shit that happens to me all the time.”

“accidents?” he asked.

“no, that was the first time i’ve been hit by a bike. but just, really random unbelievable things. welcome to my world,” i said.

“your world is incredible,” he said. “i can’t believe you’re not hurt.”

*****

he came with me all the way to the waterfall garden, which had been where i was headed. he told me about how he has always had a way of thinking he should be in a place, and somehow, life just brings him there. he believes i’m magic because he’s glimpsed my world and his belief slipped him into it. he’s also looking at me like he’s afraid the moment he loses sight of me, this world will disappear. i believe he’s magic (either he’s awakening, or he’s already aware), because he can see me…not just julia or another faceless human like a movie extra in the background of a scene, but me. i tell him this world, is so real…real life is stranger and more synchronized than fiction. that most people live in projections, like actors playing out various scenes, so they don’t see everything that is actually around them until they stop buying into illusions. we spend a couple of hours together and i never answered his question, about getting a cup of coffee together. he stays as long as i don’t tell him to go. i’m wary of him because i don’t know him, but i welcome the company because we ask each other a lot of questions. i ask him what time it is. i tell him i’m 10 minutes late…i have to go say goodbye to an old friend. he comes with me, street after street, the heavy clouds overhead, wet, people like the whispering trees of a forest. we get there in time to see the boat making its way towards the horizon. i sit on a stone ledge and watch that familiar giant body move through the gray water, parting the fog. my heart is flooding.

“were you saying goodbye to an actual person?,” he asked.

“the boat,” i said. “it symbolizes something positive and meaningful to me. the end and beginning of a new chapter of my awakening.”

he watches me watch the boat with a respectful silence. the breeze whips the air around us.

“is this something you do a lot? come out here and watch this boat go?”

i laugh. i can just see this image he has in his head of me, this melancholy solitary figure in black faithfully bidding farewell to a ghost ship. like a heartbroken widow or something.

“this is the last time it’ll be here. it’s not always here, it’s just been docking here the last few weeks, but this is the last time. it just felt really fitting that a day like this should end with me saying goodbye to this boat.”

we watch the horizon.

“where’s it going?”

the wind swirls loose paper in circles on the sidewalk.

“no idea.”

*****
he promised that my accident wouldn’t be in vain, that it had inspired him to buy a notebook and write about his life. he said meeting me made him realize that the magic in life is real and that without realizing it, he’s been on a quest of some sort, even if he’s not sure what it is exactly he’s seeking. and he thinks it’s time he starts writing it down, and feeling okay in believing that there’s a deeper meaning in life. so many people will say this–it’s a product of the jolt that opens their eyes, even if briefly–but as soon as the initial surprise and inspiration wear off, they sometimes go back to a state of routine numbness and role-playing. but some do follow through, using this opening to raise their awareness to new levels, finding new doorways of their potential, becoming aware of a wider range of beauty and magic in the world. it really becomes an awakening. i hope steve follows through. especially since i realized that because i’d already noted him following me, there was no way he could have talked to me without me thinking he was a creep. i wouldn’t have been open to it. getting hit by a bike and him coming to help me, was probably the only way the universe could open a window that would allow me to feel safe enough to talk to him. it made me wonder if this connection, on some cosmic level, was non-negotiable in the eyes of the universe.

*****

we parted on a handshake.

“until fate crosses us again.”

i don’t know if we’ll see each other again. my gut feeling is that the most important component had already been put into motion so we were done…if we were to see each other again, it will be far down the road as an epilogue to compare results of the meeting.

i walked home. i did take a roundabout way despite my knee hurting and kept checking through store windows, etc. to make sure i wasn’t being followed. i collapsed as soon as i close my front door, all public eyes finally off me. now i can feel everything. my body, that old stoic, faithful horse, feels broken. i finally check my leg and it’s swollen and cut below the knee (bled through my pants) and on my upper thigh, but nothing too serious. nothing broken (got bones of steel). i’m proud of how tough my body was today.

i spent the rest of the night happily on the couch.

how the hell did i manage to get out of amsterdam without ever getting hit by a bike, and then i get hit by one in seattle?

getting hit by a bike feels like getting hit by a car, but is better than getting hit by a bus.

why don’t i talk more to women in my daily searches? i actually talk to many, but deeply connect with few. men are more open to truthful deep connections with me, maybe because i’m a woman, maybe because less dysfunctional ego comes into play or they’re more open to being disarmed. sometimes women don’t connect truthfully or are unwilling to let down the barrier–i attribute this issue to the fight me, fuck me, be me issue. through centuries of being assigned (inaccurate) roles as second class citizens in patriarchal societies, there’s a very subconscious wounded ego issue with women that translates an underlying insecurity to the evolution of women. once upon a time, we were recognized for our true essence, our connectivity to life force; but the wrong script has distracted us from our true essence and made us forget. we bought a bad piece of propaganda as our reality, so to speak. women who are more open tend to be either more conscious of this ghost of ego pain and so they know it is not a true part of their core identity and can disentangle it, or they are so naive, they step above it without realizing it hinders many women, because they don’t relate to it (“woman” = negative connotations). i know it took me years to separate the role from who i was as a person and understand that it’s not mine. a woman who can harness her connection to mystical rhythms and their emotional depths can harness the mystery behind weather and storms. just as with the cycle of life, we can create life and sentience out of non-life. spiritually, we can influence outcomes beyond the mundane world.

i do talk to women. i’m always relieved to meet a “sister.” real women. strong, open, beautiful women who speak truthfully, expansively, rather than through their human wounds, wounds that often aren’t even theirs personally, but a traditional psychosomatic cultural/social scar created by infant cultures driven by fear. it’s not about the sex or gender, but about the soul of a person, and the level of self-awareness they’re on. someone who understands their true identity and the nature of this world we’re opening, won’t have time for the petty shit. they will know a projection from a truth. and even though we are all part human and emerged from the reins of these illusions, our beings are the truth, and even when we fall, we quickly rise back towards our recognition of truth. that said, I don’t have time anymore to battle swords with illusions. i need to get as far as i can without wasting time or getting distracted.

i don’t care whether the people i connect with deeply and truthfully are men or women. i am only in it to create an opening of greater awareness, which creates a greater opening of my own awareness, which i in turn bring into future reactions. it’s a cycle that’s building something. it’s not just about me, because it goes beyond me, though because we are all connected, i and all future manifestations of i (and you) will benefit.

in terms of life partnerships, sexual explorations, i’m pretty fixed. surprisingly because gemini’s are known for being sexually fluid (it’s a dimension of our androgyny), my fluidity seems to run the spectrum of feminine/masculine energy balance within men, but my interest is limited to men. i’ve felt great love towards women, but no sexual curiosity. i feel it has less to do with my being closed to a woman, but because deep down, i was born into this world knowing who i’m looking for and his currently physical manifestation, even if unconsciously at this stage, i haven’t been able to raise a full picture of him in my head yet. it’s the same way i’ve never felt anything for blue eyes or blond hair. inherently, i know these physical attributes are not him. now whether he’s dark-haired white, black, asian, hispanic, whether he has green, hazel, brown eyes…i haven’t been able to narrow it down. i suspect he’s not asian because asian men do not approach me. it’s quite the phenomenon. unless that is the surprise, if he’s the one asian who will. my guess is he’s white with dark hair and there’s something about his eyes.

but i’m not fixed on the form. all that matters is that it’s him. i will know him by his being.

a writer i met in amsterdam told me that when he gets out of the navy, he wants to take a road trip across the us and visit hometowns of famous american writers, drinking what they drank when they wrote (careful of the bukowski black hole). every writer has a vice. some say it’s what gives them the juice to write. as a fellow writer, i say, it’s whatever they need to contain the voices in their head long enough to release them in an orderly fashion. i often wonder, are writers those who bring life to voices? or those trying to silence the voices which haunt them? are we bringing spirits to life or are we releasing ghosts?

if ryan wants to go to fremont and drink what i drink when i write, he’ll be drinking gatorade. even in creative endeavors, i’m still an athlete at heart.

by the way, i made a graph:

standing up………………..sitting down…………….laying down

julia’s power graph

Yes, it is a parabola. I find that my power is at its peak when I am standing up or laying down, but not so much while sitting. Infer what you will. This is science.

Episode 9 of Season 4 of Bones is outstanding. They’ve definitely gotten fresh blood with the writing because the characters have really great depth and their relationships are endearing. I went to school with one of the writers. I had certain reactions to him, but it’s hard for me to understand if it was a negative reaction towards the way he used his power or childish envy. But it was a strong reaction.

The first few seasons of Bones I watched out of mild entertainment and obligation (I like to keep abreast with media to know what’s interesting the collective masses). There was one season that had a god-awful twist. And then recently, it changed. Whereas before, the show seemed run by adolescent boys (want to know the work of an adolescent writer? Remember how boys talk about sex when they pretend they have but really haven’t? That’s the mark of adolescence in writing. Every writer will experience it when they’re challenged out of their comfort zone, but Bones wasn’t great for a while because of it). Now there’s such a beautiful God running that world. An understanding of the best parts of each character, their heart and soul, and bringing them to the surface like a sun magnet. I can always see in a man’s eyes when he has a good woman in his life. The same, I can always tell characters who have a writer who loves them and understands their evolution, wanting to challenge them while bringing out the best of their nature.

Great job, Bones. Whoever brought about this change in you, is a keen and powerful writer.

You’re a Taurus, aren’t you?

tell me, why am i here?