ramblings

i pick it up every couple of years and am able to comprehend a little more each time.  i've never underwent psychoanalysis formally with a therapist or whatever; i don't doubt that they are intending to do good, but i can't help but think that they are going to bring their personal experiences and biases to the sessions, whether they do it consciously or not.
and as revolutionary as freud was, he still had to incorporate his personaly beliefs into his findings.  and jung (whose work i prefer, even tho freud was a stepping stone; personality-wise i like jung better) and the rest did the same.  it's just human nature. 
i'm speaking from a background of experiences that even if others have shared the same experiences, they affect us all in different ways and make us who we are.  even stuff we forgot or repressed, still means something whether we know it or not. 
and these experiences dictate how we will react in situations, or in advice we give others, or in the art we produce.  hence the repetition of certain themes in certain artists.

i'm not sure what i'm trying to say, if anything at all. 
it seems like a day for self reflection and organizing thoughts.

Tengberg, you're just a sensitive guy. You're right about alot of things, I see. Namely, that there is no "God." No final judgment. No angels, goddesses nor Masters. There is no wisdon, knowledge, nor life. You have perceived well.

However, there is also no death. Sure, you can end it all now, but you will still exist. You have always existed, and always will. And if you commit suicide, you'll still be facing the same issues as you did when you were "alive." Oh, it's true. And you know what? The world is the way it is because we've allowed it to be so. People are just robots and it doesn't look good for the world. The world can't be saved. But maybe you can save yourself.

tengberg,

Hi.  I appreciate your reflectiveness.  At least your are looking at things, and deeply.  Sometimes looking at something too closely creates confusion because perspective is lost.

Having said that, if you really want to know what has happened (in my opinion) to us, we, humanity, I suggest that you slowly read "The Ringing Cedars of Russia" series of books by Vladimir Megre.  These books will shake you and heal you because they speak to the truth contained within your body and soul.

Am tempted to say more, but will not. 

Remember, whether it is apparent or not, love is the glue that keeps this all together no matter how bad we screw it up or........  something else screws it up.  That is a big hint. 

Just read 'em.

I suppose in this density there will always be individuals who say things like:

And there will always be people like me who are compelled to post, in spite of all the marvels of science and human ingenuity:

I don't need to know, but I sometimes wonder, what it is those who say that there is no God see when the look at the sky and see the sun and feel its warmth? What do they see when the light shines through the leaves of a tree, or when they remove their shoes to touch the water, feel the sand, or the grass beneath their feet? What are they seeing, those who believe that there is no God, when they look into the eyes of a child, hear its first words, or when a child looks up to them and says, "Pick me up"? What is it they're feeling at the touch of a breeze against their skin? Maybe they think, "It's just the wind." How colorless. Typically, those who don't believe in any sort of Infinite Intelligence, and my language is a bit informed with that of the Ra Material right now although, clearly, there are some problems with it, but typically those not given to belief in anything greater than themselves reach first for arguments like, "Then why is there war? Why is there disease, famine, destruction, and death?" Questions are raised about the workings of bodies like the religious right or some political party. Though I have some ideas, I don't know the details. I don't know why there's disease but I know that there is a cure. I don't know why there is war, but I know that there is peace. And there exists the means for every being on the planet to be fed, clothed, and housed. Why is it that these these things that I know, and perhaps hundreds of thousands or millions of others know, aren't put to effectiveness, I don't have the answer for that, either. It would be like a single cell attempting to speak for the entire body.

Why it is that the Creator lifts the veil and shows his face to some and not to others? Some have suggested to me that it is because people expect God to work in their time and not in the Creator's time. It may sound strange but it's writings like tengberg's that ultimately strengthen my faith.

I'm recalling a moment of some years ago, so there's bound to be some embellishment. The general sense is the same, and I hope that it's understood.

It may be because I was pressed by such an extreme polarity of negativity, by true evil and not some benign misunderstood action of Lucifer as a water-bearer, that the One Infinite Creator experiencing the Creation and that Mystery at the beginning and end of everything saw fit, when I was in such a darkening place, to put the thought in to my mind that I should never again be in doubt. I'm one of those people Carissa Conti wrote about in one of her essays, someone who appeared as a spike on someone's graph or grid monitoring system, and when I began to come in to both the belief, and the knowing of the fact of the existence of the One God and the work of Jesus Christ, I was like that woman Jesus met by the well. I was at first embarrassed. I was embarrassed because God showed me so plainly in a matter of hours how close He had been to me since the day I was born and I'd never truly realized it, but I had to come to such a desperate place in order for me first to call on God in prayer, and then for him to answer. And it was like, "Oh, so you're calling me now, are you? The lizard people have your back to the wall, do they? Well, finally you're here."

The lizard people, as I sometimes call them, were all over me. Few have seen such interference. And fewer still are able to talk about it because there were some moments when I looked around and I knew that what was happening to me had been going on for hundreds of years. I became the catalyst for some pretty big changes as the microcosmic blossomed into the macrocosmic. The veil works in oddly mysterious ways and I've seen what happens when I try to talk about the details too much. I just come off looking like a crazy person. There are a number of lingering bleed-throughs but I still haven't found a way to satisfactorily resolve them. At any rate, I still get the lizard people always after me to be quiet. I get stalked in creative but ultimately boring ways.

Still, I can recall the weeks that I walked around with this unexplainable peace within me, this calm while negative-oriented beings swarmed about me. They were at the grocery store, on the radio, in cars (and I'm beginning to think that some of those vehicles aren't cars as we know them), and in helicopters. I'd go to look at an apartment or room for rent and a lizard person would open the door. They were all saying amongst themselves in the way they do, loud enough so that I would overhear, "He's got to come back down." I get discarnate beings. I get the play of positive and negative all the way into unseen realms working itself out in my day. Sometimes I get so sick of non-humans working out their polarities that I have to either roll my eyes and laugh or put on my sunglasses and look the other way. I get headaches from invasive and sometimes disharmonious visions in my sleep.

But I do not get depressed.
And I no longer doubt.

One thing I remember always is the color green I saw in the leaves of a tree, and it was as if I was looking at it again for the first time. I'd been laying down in a room with the door locked, not wanting  to get up because I was tired. I was tired of everything. Everything bored me. My friends were not friends. Discarnate beings were using the bodies of children to gather beneath my window and sing disquieting songs. I could see into this other world, and it was ugly. All the while I kept hearing this voice in my mind saying, "Get up. Go and look out the window." I'd say to this voice, "I'm not getting up. I've had it with Earth. I don't know why anyone would want to come here and I certainly don't want to come back. I'm tired." But this voice insisted. So I got up and went to the window. I was at first struck by the brightness of the green of the leaves of a tree just outside. I thought, "How strange. That's so green." And this voice in my mind said to me, "It is. You have never seen a green like that before in your entire life. Because you're eyes were closed. You didn't ask to see it so it was never shown to you."

So, I find myself sometimes wondering some of the same thoughts as tengberg, like, "Why should I bother?" but from perhaps the opposing perspective. Many days now I don't do much, staring at the sky or gazing at children, and at people doing their thing, wondering what there is now for me to do? And so I go on.

tengberg, I hope you don't attempt to take your own life. Once I was close to such a feeling and a drop of water fell from a dry ceiling and landed against my wrist, where I'd intended to make an incision. Let these words then, for you, be that drop of water. Put those thoughts away. You're asking lots of questions and the lens through which you may get your answers may not be Christ or Christianity, but by even the contemplation of the cessation of being here you run the terrible risk of missing some of the answers you seek, and your answers may be, as they continue to be for me even now, Wonderful.

I was going to say, "did I miss something?" but I know better.  It just wasn't there.  I saw no hint of someone suicidal in tengberg's post.  It's too hard for me to express how I knew that.  Just did.