Ascension lately has been difficult. So many processes happening at once. Nonsensical dreams, hypersignificant dreams, no dreams; tarot spreads that don't make sense, tarot spreads that make too much sense, tarot spreads that feed my spiritual ego; becoming suspicious of self-created entities and gnats that seem to know just when to land on my eyelash; a splotch in my field of vision that must be a downpour of cosmic energy that I'm blocking somewhere around my solar plexus/tummy/ass because I have unresolved mother ties and complexes; dust particles everywhere, slowing time and sweeping in to say hello.

    FRL is my friend, my Demonangel, my cosmic loverbrothermasterslave. He is also my ego. He is my self-indulgence in fantasy. But man does he feel good. I've given him reign over my physical ascension, and while I have become suspicious of him in general -- not to mention insanely confused because of 21st Century Mage and the realization he is nothing like a true representation of my HGA -- I am starting to see and feel physical changes.

    Today was difficult. Every step and every possible stimulus made me defensive and aggressive.

        Example:

        Coming up the stairs to my apartment carrying my extremely heavy bag, I notice how loud my feet are falling on the steps. I suddenly imagine someone confronting me: "Think you could come up those steps any louder?" I plop my bag in front of her and say, "Carry that and see if YOU can walk softly!"

    This kind of thing was happening all day. It's not the lack of cigarettes, it's not the lack of alcohol. I believe it is my own personal resistance to the tremendous amount of clearing energy coming through me right now. And possibly my resistance to giving myself up to source or dedicating more of my life to Spirit.

    Yesterday I wasn't assigned my 2:00 o'clock class and didn't get to see my Mountain in SB. First time in several weeks. I thought on the drive over that when I got there I might feel its energy more clearly and... no. Its energy was fading lately and so my connection to it.

    But even as I was approaching the parking lot of the college, I felt my head turn, my mouth open, my neck tingle, and my eyes water. Someone started backing out of a space in the completely full parking lot so I waited. I pulled in and found myself directly in front of the setting sun with my mountain directly behind me. During class I must have yawned 50 times, feeling my energy sucked out from somewhere and my palms sweating for being inside of a metal structure(always happens.)

    As soon as I walked outside, I felt the metalic quality dissipate and my entire body shivered continuously as I got closer to my mountain. Walking back to my car, energy pouring and pouring out of my body, out my legs, emotion welling up and spilling down. Why is this place so important?

(Previously private blog. My first Telling.)

    I walked up to the door of Ananda's and wondered if I'd be able to get in. The CLOSED sign was up and I didn't see anyone walking around. When I came in full sight of the front of the door, there was a woman standing right next to it on the inside, staring straight at me. A little dramatic, but convincing. \

    With a start, "Oh, hi."

    She opened the door. "Are you here for the Telling?"

    "Yes."

    "Come on in. Please remove your shoes before you pass through the curtain."

    It was only my second time in the store, but I knew the area where the Telling was to take place was behind a curtain behind the counter. I took off my shoes and set them down, walked toward the huge purple curtain from where I heard voices coming. I opened the curtain.

    It was like stumbling into the middle of a rave when you're just beginning to trip. Nothing makes senes. You see what you see but it can't be true.

    Two women playing chinese checkers? Men playing checkers and chess?

    Hyperdrive mentality like taking too many(just enough?) mushrooms. Like seeing a Dali painting for the first time after looking at Monets all day. Is this what I see? When will this unreality drop away and show me what's really going on?

    I did the only thing I could think of, being as I was completely lost: I sat down. I could see Eric directly in front of me playing checkers with a Native American/Mexican man with a hat. I wondered if this was Koyote. Actually there were two men like that there, one was Koyote and the other's name I do not know. I was so jarred at the time I don't know who was playing checkers at the time.

    There were two younger boys who looked like native Riversidians playing chess. One of them -- the cuter one -- looked up at me with large brown watery eyes and smiled. I smiled back. Instead of turning away quickly as is the current custom, and we innocently looked at each other for a while. Longer than straight guys typically allow. When we turned away, it wasn't, "Op, better stop lookin' now." It was just time.

    When Eric finally looked up at me and said hi, the man in the hat got up and said, "Here. Take my place." I sat down on the small stool cushion to play checkers, begrudgingly. Still wondering if this man was Koyote, I started to panic: Is now the game of checkers a metaphor for how I will behave in this group, for what I will bring to the story told?

    I played checkers -- badly -- with Eric for a while. I was red. We didn't talk of anything but checkers for several minutes while I was getting my ass kicked and he got king after king. Then the ladies said it was time to start. We packed up the checkers and chess and headed outside to get smudged. Then they said never mind, sent us back in, and we resumed playing checkers. This time I was black. It didn't help.

   Eventually we all got outside to get smudged, went back in and sat in a circle -- I was between Eric and the Teller whose name I can't remember(Kristen?) -- around a small cracked clay vessel with a candle in the middle, a seashell with a bundle of smoldering sage, and a bowl filled with sand, an incense stick sticking out, and some kind of medallion resting inside.

    A long silence from all of us insued while a CD played trancy chanty spacey music in the background. I would have prefered the silence or something simpler. The man with the bigger hat had a drum which he beat occasionally  -- sometimes loud bangs, sometimes just a few quick pops -- to disperse certain tangible energies: Nervousness, uncertainty, boredom. I liked this man.

    The cute boy had a guitar which he played softly in a different key than the recording. This annoyed me at first; dissonance is for destruction, not construction, energetic or otherwise. Sometimes he strummed a simple chord, sometimes he finger picked an arpeggio, sometimes he played lead with himself as on an electric.

    I finally started to get it. Most of us were still and silent, but some had to bring themselves into this story in a different way, with drums and medallions and acoustic guitars. The dissonace stopped bothering me. But the dischord and ecclecticism of the entire experience was not what I was expecting, and call me biased and presumptuous, but I believe the entire thing would work better without clashing musics and a lot more contained ritual.

    Eventually the Teller started to speak. I was struck by what she first said:

       "There is an old symbol... that was drawn in the sands."

    It reminded me of what I put in my Zaadz profile, how I used to draw in the sands on the beaches of Mexico as a child, trying to control the weather. But I didn't know whether she was delving into our memories or deeper psyches or simply channeling.

        "And sometimes the winds would blow."

    That was pretty good. But that was mostly the end of the familiarity. She went on to weave an amazing story about Lemurians with zombie-like skin sweating in the hot sun, drawing symbols in the sand. Always men, never women or children. Sometimes the women would prepare the sands for the men by dragging their skirts along to smooth it out, and snakes would follow them through the dunes like waves.

    The symbol was so complex that only one person in the tribe knew it, but other tribes looking on could tell from which tribe the symbol originated. It took hours to complete and was drawn inside a sacred triangle(rather than a circle.)

    I got lost somewhere in the middle, I think, and she also talked about the Lascaux. Sacred caves where most of the knowledge came from the musty smell of bacterial strains of the time. That made me smile.

    There was much talk of death and avoidance and many references to the Left; looking over your left shoulder before you die. Also a lot of your focus determines your reality kind of talk.

    Back to the Lemurians, they would sometimes undergo an incredible ritual sacrifice of a young boy, no more than 6 years old. It was an honor to be sacrificed. He was killed slowly by the shaman who would draw the symbol, then burried for 6 days. Something about how his death had to be slow for the transmission to occur. Then he was dug up and taken to a place that could be found only by the smell of the incense burnt by the shamans in these remote villages. One of these shamans would make the powdered form of an elixir from crushed crystals, tetrodotoxin, and the dried left tear duct of the boy's mother, place the boy on an obsidian slab, lift his head up and smear the elixir on his lips, and he would immediately "pop up."

    Though this toxin is used even today for zombification and will most likely cause death to any human, this boy would be brought back to life and walk among his people again. He attained a higher form of consciousness than the rest of the people around him, who were the true zombies, and he served as a reminder to the people that they were all asleep.

    There was much more to the story than I can remember in detail. Eventually she finished and we sat around in silence for some time before someone broke it, one of the women:

       "Where did that story come from?"

       "Pfff. Midunno. Somewhere, I guess."

    The room was open for discussion, but everyone was still hesitant to just converse. That's one of the reasons I think a definite beginning and end would be better; let everyone know it's okay to come back to everyday consciousness and yap away.

    The Teller asked, "Does anyone know about the Lemurians?" I looked around the room and no one was responding, so I coyly began to raise my hand.

    "Would you mind..."

    I stumbled across my words, originally assuming that she was going to hold what I said against what she knew, but it soon became clear that she knew absolutely nothing about the Lemurians. I myself know very little, but I had assumed from her story she was at least familiar with them. I also assumed that they had probably come up a million times before. I told them all what I thought I knew. They were a civilisation in antedilluvian days that either coexisted with or preceded Atlantis. They were lightworkers, tall, etc. That's all I really knew.

    I told them about my Lemurian crystal and how it came to me. The not as cute boy on the couch asked what we meant by lightworkers. The man I now knew as Koyote spoke up and said, "They're not very heavy. Like little Guatemalans." We laughed. I was starting to get a picture of this man. His energy was different, not as solid as everyone else's, and a few times I saw his feet flicker out of my visual perception.

    There was a lot of slow discussion about certain detail in the story. There were questions asked of Koyote and he told longs stories that seemed to have nothing to do with the questions. They did answer parts of the questions as an extended metaphor, but mostly I think he was just trying to put an end to the questioning. The not so cute boy persisted in questioning. He was trying to rationally understand through detailed analysis and words, or trying to put the pieces of Koyote's stories together with his own questions to find a definite answer. Not easy, maybe not even possible.

    More discussion and more slow stories from Koyote. He would start to bore me then say something witty and full of crazy wisdom and I loved him. The cute boy remained silent the whole time, just listening. Eric rarely moved. I think his journey was more internal and he was trying to hold together and absorb as much energy from the experience as possible. I admire his focus. The Teller and I seemed to have things to say to each other, but there was something odd between us, almost like an understood malice even though we had never met. I may have just been me since she reminded me of someone from my past that I didn't like very much; I had none of these feelings when she was Telling and in fact didn't even see her face until afterwards.

    One woman was way off in the corner curled up on the couch. She never spoke once. There was a small older Asian woman who never spoke but jumped up to serve us strawberry cake when Koyote moved to get some. Directly in front of me was a larger pleasant woman who I believe first broke the silence. In the darkness sometimes she looked like my mother and other times we both moved to unknown stimuli at exactly the same time, sometimes even in the same way. To her left -- my right of her -- was I think her daughter who wore a hoodie the entire time and held the curtain shut to keep out the light. She was a little odd and also only spoke up once or twice, but I had a good feeling for her anyway. I think there was one more person between the woman in front of me and cute boy, but her faces currently escapes me.

    In general I had a good time. A few minor objections, but that's just my picky personality I suppose. It wasn't so much personally illuminaitng as it was fascinating, but I'm sure the themes will start to make sense in time. Also I think my being there for the first time might have had something to do with it, and I'm not sure if not so cute boy had been there before. If I continue to go, I'm sure the group energy will further concretize and I'll learn more.

    Two nights ago I was having trouble sleeping. I decided to focus as much as possible on AB and let their light fill me. I remember a pushing sensation from inside my head as if it were filling up and expanding. I remember having visions of myself with an almost pained expression of ecstatic communion on my face, an expression I doubt I've ever had and certainly have never seen. The energy pushed and pushed, up and up, till finally my skull was filled to the apex. Then something weird happened.

    I remember 'seeing' the energy spill out around the top of my skull to form a cap of little golden plates. It was right against my skin, almost metalic, and it both pulled energy upward from my body to the very limit of my head and kept outside forces at bay. I also had the sensation that the very middle of my skull was now elevated enough to receive light without clogging it up or acting as a filter. It felt like there was a little golden gravity well in the middle of my skull.

    I asked that this experience be permanent, that I be given regular access to the energies I was experiencing and the paths that were now open. Eventually the energy subsided and I fell asleep

    Waking up later to use the restroom, I had the strangest notion that a huge part of my childhood fears was dying. Something incredibly strange in my psyche that has to do with orange-red hair and dolls. I think my fear is a subconscious rejection of certain innate qualities that I was taught to supress. MORE LATER.