The only-I

 

I was always a little bit open to all things New Age. I was never one who dived in fully to reiki and light and shamanic visions, but, as they seemed to be so similar in sensibility to many other magical things that have transported me over the decades, like art, poetry, song, dance, and the ritual practices of so many other people’s folklore and culture, I felt, that the world of possibility deserved as much credence as the world of fact and science.

I kind of had a red-light warning when my brother died three years ago, and a very thpiritual (sorry, Mike, I stole that from you!) wrote me a very long essay as a private message. Her essay did express her well wishes, but more importantly she wanted me immediately to understand and explain to other grieving family members that what was happening was simply a trick of the mind, a powerful illusion and that in fact, my brother was simply perfectly alive in another form. The problem, she insisted was that we, were simply looking at the problem from the wrong dimension, and that it was an urgent call to shift to the 4th dimension and we would immediately resolve the issue of grief and loss, and that we could thank her for her guidance.

Actually, I laughed. And I remained reasonably open, that at some level there might be some truth to her words, and that who was I to know of the unseen, eternal. I found her timing to be terrible, but then of course, someone locked into this dimension would take timing as a serious matter. I did not remain friends with her, and thought she would evolve and refine her thinking, and hone her delivery over time and if she worked with patients or clients, this would all get slightly more nuanced with time. I still believe that to be true, and hold no bad feelings.

Over Christmas there was a lovely animated Gif that was doing the rounds. An outstretched hand was holding in it, a ball of sparkly light, and the animation passed the light to another hand. It was sent around, as good wishes, that we may pass the light to each other, and I shared it with the reminder, that we may or not even know it, but maybe we were the light!

A friend I had known for many years, was outraged. And felt the post to be almost in the realms of dangerous and evil. She went on to explain, that in her healing work, she deals with energy blocks and she ‘removes’ these energy tumors from people all day long, and she did not appreciate the post as it was what she dealt with in her work. My first line of reason, was that she was bringing her work issue to a subject that was outside of work, and so the context was different. She would not consider that her idea was simply a reflection of her own experience, and that bundles of light were without question, dangerous, harmful, toxic and that she felt no choice but to unfriend me as I was so unaware of the dangers of this Gif. My final attempt to discuss this, was something along the lines of the process of animation itself. That a geek at a computer had taken an image of light, from a data bank of images of light, and they had NOT gone to a healing clinic, and actually stolen some light from a patient’s neck.

My reasoning did not work.

Today, I read that George Michael was in fact abducted by the Elite in the United States, and they murdered him, because he was going to disclose facts about the wrong-doing of the Powers on Earth.

Orwellian double think was along the lines, of truth is lies, and lies is truth. I feel it is present in daily life. I have stopped reading the news, and am training myself to stop getting reactive and hysterical to USA media/politics and just take time for my writing and painting, and to breathe and try to relax and live my life without this constant bombardment. I am not entirely cured yet and still read one or two short articles if I can. So, today, I read a reasonably articulate, factually presented document comparing two known charitable trusts that were in the popular news all of last year. One of them paid taxes, and has provided specific evidence of the donations made over ten years to actual projects that have served human development. The other charity shows documentation of not paying taxes, not making many donations, and using the charity money to pay legal fees for non charity matters. And, yet, the times we live in, the choice has already been determined. The Charity that paid the taxes and operated in a transparent enough way to have even shown it’s wrong doing, is the evil one, and the Charity that has failed to  abide by basic regulations, is the MOST amazing decent humanitarian charity that ever existed. (Truth is a lie. Lies are Truth)

There was another small news item that caught my interest. Facebook published an alert that an incident had occurred in Bangkok and they set up a report Safe site. The account was then deleted as there had been a mistake. In the statements that followed, they said, the news had come from “a trusted third party”. And yet, all the rules of journalism used to require at least two verification’s.

It seems something like we are now moving towards the age of the only-I.

When we were young kids we dreamed of a star trek future with hand held gadgets that would provide shortcuts to life, and give us instant connectivity to work, and play. We are pretty close to having arrived at the far off imagined destination. The 20th Century was considered the Age of the I, as mass consumerism enabled us to become free to do as we wished with our labour, our money and how we lived. This new age of the only-I, seems to be something more like, I think it, it is my reality, it is my experience, it resonates with me, therefore it is truth.

It seems that we have a severe case of what was known as the Johari Window. That was the blind spot, that we could not even see was our blind spot, and it could be revealed in sincere work with others, who may be able to point to it. This new age, seems to be trained on the micro level of self. The other I, you, me, them, us, we, the planet, has been eclipsed from view. It is as if, the only-I can vaguely hear the words of another, vaguely say, Uh, Huh, yah, got it, but cannot actually accept the reality of another human manifestation. It is a ghost like memory, a hologram. I think that other shape is a human, they are speaking, and walking, but they are actually outside of my personal domain, so they can remain as an unaccountable; merely an external ghost possibility. Not to relied upon as verification, or as part of an entangled, collaborative shared reality.

The only-I needs only the cellphone for visual development. The only-I can now manage without intimacy or love, and instead can get quick fix oxytocin from likes from strangers. It is more than enough now. Like space food. Maximum nutrition in a micro delivery system.

Ah, Douglas Couplland, you have certainly said it, written it so much better than I, for several decades you were uncannily brilliant at poking our generation of all that we were missing. I believed you. I figured I was immune. And that the world would be made up of your readers and your non-readers. The reader community would be all be living together, working on amazing life giving projects, and sharing amazing home-cooked food together and celebrating our hard won connections in real time and real place with each other. It did become apparent to me that not so many were your avid readers, but I did not make the connection then that I too would be living in a pod like experience, where those in my sphere of worldly distance would have phobic reasons to remain disconnected.

I have to explore it for a while longer. I have to try to not take it all personally, and see it as relationship troubles. Or cultural differences living in a continent that is alien to me. I have to see that is something bigger, more barren than my only-I can understand. We have truly become Avatars only.

We have a very dearly loved friend on FB that we think we know. We think we know their look, their cultural message, and their values, and actually, if we bumped into that person in real life, without make-up, without title, we would have to face our own stunning disappointment.

I do joke that if I wrote these pieces and attached a bondage girl with a whip and a corset, I could possibly achieve cult-like Indian men following! As just me, I write because I still feel that words, art, acts of real friendship mean something and my world is limited to the people here, that I consider real friends.

Interestingly there was recently published an article that showed art experts falling for the age-old trick of deceit. Works of unknown origin were given a MoMa stamp of approval, and the critics rated the works higher with the false stamp than without. We endorse the fake, and we reject real hard work that goes into the creative process. And we do not feel shocked at our own gullible, superficiality.

There was a critical moment in my life earlier this year, that whilst not critical, is still shaping my words, thoughts and actions, as well as pointing me to consider my own ambitions, hopes, and doubts and jealous fears.

A young writer was gifted the words, “I am dragged here by the power and beauty of your words”. It touched that chord in me, that needed to know that words could do that. That in this fantasy world, we could still affect people, and we could still maintain the spark of humanity that has propelled us this far through several thousands of years.

In a lucid, jealousy free moment, I doubt those words were ever really about the words. The image that went with those words was what called. The avatar that represented those words, spoke of a divine celestial power, the intoxication of love and lust, the music of the gods. That image spoke of a thousand ancient Indian miniature paintings, of history, of Sita and Ram, of the great gods, in their dance of abandoned wanting. The only-I can dream. The only-I can fulfill every dream at the touch of a button.

Human touch, smell, pulse has no longer the power to evoke what can now be experienced only in a section of the cortex. Other centers in the physical world no longer operate and respond in real time. Only-I screen time is the world of the entertained, and the entertainer.

And whilst, much of what I write may be poetic or a story-tellers’ distortion, I see that Do Not Disturb sign only too often.

If only it were only my imagination.

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