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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYDRHoyfSp7ImA9WhRVGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557</id><updated>2012-01-18T00:49:35.495+11:00</updated><category term="christianity" /><category term="miscellaneous" /><category term="control" /><category term="decide" /><category term="personal" /><category term="discouraged" /><category term="books" /><category term="God" /><category term="quotations - lyrics - poetry" /><category term="bliss" /><category term="void" /><category term="humour" /><category term="surrender" /><category term="detachment" /><category term="ego" /><category term="forgiveness" /><category term="joy" /><category term="links" /><category term="visions" /><category term="clarity" /><category term="awakening" /><category term="meditation" /><category term="synchronicity" /><category term="mysticism" /><category term="dreams" /><category term="non-spiritual" /><category term="reality creation" /><category term="zen" /><category term="video" /><category term="guidance" /><category term="epiphanies" /><category term="love" /><category term="balance" /><category term="unity" /><title type="text">Spiritual Adventures</title><subtitle type="html">"For every human there is a quest to find the answer to why I am here, who am I, where did I come from, where am I going. For me that became the most important thing in my life. Everything else is secondary." - George Harrison</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" 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href="http://www.addtoany.com/?linkname=Spiritual%20Adventures&amp;linkurl=http%3A%2F%2Ffeeds.feedburner.com%2FSpiritualAdventures&amp;type=feed" src="http://www.addtoany.com/addfr-b.gif">Add to Any Feed Reader</feedburner:feedFlare><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYDRHs6eCp7ImA9WhRVGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-1703092952706148927</id><published>2012-01-18T00:49:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T00:49:35.510+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T00:49:35.510+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dreams" /><title>And yet more "house" dreams!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/1703092952706148927/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=1703092952706148927" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/1703092952706148927?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/1703092952706148927?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2012/01/and-yet-more-house-dreams.html" title="And yet more &quot;house&quot; dreams!" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Lately, I don't seem to be able to dream anything that doesn't involve the "house" symbol. It's getting a little frustrating, mostly because I do know what the "house" represents (self) but I don't know what the dreams are indicating.

First "house" dream was set in my parents' house. They were not present, but my husband was. The house as represented in the dream was nearly exact to the real 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cx9G1O2FJoQqtVr84l7sx-7Im-s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cx9G1O2FJoQqtVr84l7sx-7Im-s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cx9G1O2FJoQqtVr84l7sx-7Im-s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cx9G1O2FJoQqtVr84l7sx-7Im-s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0AFRXk5eSp7ImA9WhRVFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-5100005018385679058</id><published>2012-01-16T18:41:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T18:41:54.721+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-16T18:41:54.721+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dreams" /><title>Another "house" dream</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/5100005018385679058/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=5100005018385679058" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5100005018385679058?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5100005018385679058?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2012/01/another-house-dream.html" title="Another &quot;house&quot; dream" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">This dream had several versions, and most of the details didn't stay with me.

The first incarnation of the dream, however, involved my husband and I going to a house to meet someone who lived there (or something like that; details are foggy) and when we got there, we found the corpse of a recently murdered woman. Somehow we knew she lived in the house, and that the man who was still there, whom 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IDiqzKPReJoJ5v97UGJDgYSkaB8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IDiqzKPReJoJ5v97UGJDgYSkaB8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IDiqzKPReJoJ5v97UGJDgYSkaB8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IDiqzKPReJoJ5v97UGJDgYSkaB8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEHRn04cCp7ImA9WhRVFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-7903999893086254528</id><published>2012-01-15T21:17:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T21:17:17.338+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-15T21:17:17.338+11:00</app:edited><title>A Dream of the Sun</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/7903999893086254528/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=7903999893086254528" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7903999893086254528?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7903999893086254528?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2012/01/dream-of-sun.html" title="A Dream of the Sun" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">In this dream, I was inside my home (home in the dream, not my actual home), with curtains drawn. One of my kids was apparently at home with me. The other child (my youngest) was at school.

Without warning, the sun outside became extremely bright. It was like someone flipped a switch. Light was flooding in, and it was, frankly, nearly blinding. I didn't have heavy curtains, and the curtains I 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MIciIJV5pAQPOMh3yBoqkpFt0l8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MIciIJV5pAQPOMh3yBoqkpFt0l8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MIciIJV5pAQPOMh3yBoqkpFt0l8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MIciIJV5pAQPOMh3yBoqkpFt0l8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8FQ3kzfSp7ImA9WhRVFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-5465009846925371801</id><published>2012-01-13T17:06:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2012-01-13T18:46:52.785+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-13T18:46:52.785+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dreams" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="visions" /><title>Another Strange Dream</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/5465009846925371801/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=5465009846925371801" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5465009846925371801?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5465009846925371801?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2012/01/another-strange-dream.html" title="Another Strange Dream" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I found myself in a strange society/culture, having been transported there without my will or knowledge. In waking life, I'd say it was a sort of sci fi dystopia, but in the dream, it was just this weird place. There were all kinds of corridors and boxlike rooms and trains ran in somewhat unpredictable ways to move people from one area to another.

It was very difficult to navigate. Very little 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/24vQRfZWQLYUDBwPK2MFu06THII/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/24vQRfZWQLYUDBwPK2MFu06THII/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/24vQRfZWQLYUDBwPK2MFu06THII/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/24vQRfZWQLYUDBwPK2MFu06THII/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkICSXgycCp7ImA9WhRWFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-7264145540409672605</id><published>2012-01-04T02:29:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T02:29:28.698+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-04T02:29:28.698+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="synchronicity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="guidance" /><title>Signs and Messages</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/7264145540409672605/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=7264145540409672605" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7264145540409672605?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7264145540409672605?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2012/01/signs-and-messages.html" title="Signs and Messages" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">For some weeks now, I've been getting continual little messages and signs and so on. The last time it happened was some months ago (probably more than a year, hard to recall precisely), and the message then was, basically, that I was awake (or at least lucid). Now the message is that I'm ready, I've graduated, it's time I took up my power and got on with things.

It's kind of surprising to me how
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EsdrQQTenir9pJiTFC03rwo5NCI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EsdrQQTenir9pJiTFC03rwo5NCI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EsdrQQTenir9pJiTFC03rwo5NCI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EsdrQQTenir9pJiTFC03rwo5NCI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AHRn04eip7ImA9WhRWE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-4270132763167954575</id><published>2012-01-01T15:22:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T15:22:17.332+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-01T15:22:17.332+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dreams" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="guidance" /><title>A Dream in Which I Was Dead</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/4270132763167954575/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=4270132763167954575" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4270132763167954575?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4270132763167954575?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2012/01/dream-in-which-i-was-dead.html" title="A Dream in Which I Was Dead" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I dreamed that I died. Of course, I was still there, walking around,  self-aware, etc. I was in a school setting, like undergraduate level  university, in a classroom with which I was familiar. I knew the  teacher, a man, and I  could talk to him and he could see me, but for the most part, I was  invisible. None of the students seemed able to see me or hear me, which I  found kind of frustrating.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ioOew273X9HxNkIL1VyVDLBmf2E/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ioOew273X9HxNkIL1VyVDLBmf2E/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ioOew273X9HxNkIL1VyVDLBmf2E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ioOew273X9HxNkIL1VyVDLBmf2E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMNR3Yyfyp7ImA9WhRXGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-6796910002971403016</id><published>2011-12-27T22:14:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T22:14:56.897+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-27T22:14:56.897+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="decide" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="synchronicity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="control" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="surrender" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awakening" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="detachment" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>Fluid Reality</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/6796910002971403016/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=6796910002971403016" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/6796910002971403016?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/6796910002971403016?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/12/fluid-reality.html" title="Fluid Reality" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">For the past few months, I've been observing certain patterns develop in my reality. I used to say that reality is reflective, but now it seems that it's actually more like a manifestation of my own thoughts, beliefs, desires, and my subconscious mind. It's an extension of that. The reality around me, which I experience, is like a three-dimensional, all-way screen, and everything that manifests 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Z2ucPqHZq64ynVsZ3aUxSaJUQ38/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Z2ucPqHZq64ynVsZ3aUxSaJUQ38/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Z2ucPqHZq64ynVsZ3aUxSaJUQ38/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Z2ucPqHZq64ynVsZ3aUxSaJUQ38/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUBRXs8fip7ImA9WhdbE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-8040516695501090963</id><published>2011-10-11T19:04:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T19:04:14.576+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T19:04:14.576+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="decide" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awakening" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="epiphanies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>Blank Pages</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/8040516695501090963/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=8040516695501090963" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/8040516695501090963?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/8040516695501090963?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/10/blank-pages.html" title="Blank Pages" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">So, perhaps it is the case that the default is that reality is shaped by and filtered through individual beliefs, and hindered by things like attachments and so forth. I've seen this and understood it, and have proceeded as if this is the case. Only.... I don't think I understood until now that this is only the default. It's what happens if you're unaware and unconscious.

(I want to add that 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yZZh19EcZEwHLNAlTrbVGiIYco4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yZZh19EcZEwHLNAlTrbVGiIYco4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yZZh19EcZEwHLNAlTrbVGiIYco4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yZZh19EcZEwHLNAlTrbVGiIYco4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUMQHs9fSp7ImA9WhdbEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-7467971428098703060</id><published>2011-10-11T02:24:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T02:24:41.565+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T02:24:41.565+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="decide" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awakening" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="epiphanies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="detachment" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>I've Decided I've Had Enough</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/7467971428098703060/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=7467971428098703060" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7467971428098703060?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7467971428098703060?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/10/ive-decided-ive-had-enough.html" title="I've Decided I've Had Enough" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I can't believe this one. Really. It's the most obvious thing in the world, in the universe, in the multiverse, and I haven't seen it until now.

When you wake up, while it might be interesting and even useful in some cases to analyse your dreams, they're still just dreams. You're awake. The dreams may be meaningful, sure, no argument there, but there's no need to dwell on them, delve into them, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AdcJIuVy3ZsJ-vnb0W9V2fhNLf4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AdcJIuVy3ZsJ-vnb0W9V2fhNLf4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AdcJIuVy3ZsJ-vnb0W9V2fhNLf4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AdcJIuVy3ZsJ-vnb0W9V2fhNLf4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QDSXk9eSp7ImA9WhdUEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-3624922250506146279</id><published>2011-09-28T18:42:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T18:42:58.761+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-28T18:42:58.761+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="decide" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="surrender" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="balance" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>Reality Flows</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/3624922250506146279/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=3624922250506146279" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/3624922250506146279?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/3624922250506146279?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/09/reality-flows.html" title="Reality Flows" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">My experience of late has been that of reality flowing in interesting ways, including the spontaneous manifestation of various desires and thoughts and interests. This appears to be a combination of the sure understanding that there's nothing I (I-Me-Mine, ego-self, material self, etc.) can do (surrender) and the directive to "decide", which seems like a paradox, or it did, but I'm starting to 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dW8yGKA1L5F8wyTP01C8vJPywBY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dW8yGKA1L5F8wyTP01C8vJPywBY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dW8yGKA1L5F8wyTP01C8vJPywBY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dW8yGKA1L5F8wyTP01C8vJPywBY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UGQXw8fyp7ImA9WhdbE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-5725884017942215081</id><published>2011-09-20T18:16:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T19:20:20.277+11:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T19:20:20.277+11:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="decide" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="surrender" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>Decide (Word of the Year for 2012)</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/5725884017942215081/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=5725884017942215081" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5725884017942215081?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5725884017942215081?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/09/decide.html" title="Decide (Word of the Year for 2012)" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T8HIQWw61jc/TpP8Nq79zuI/AAAAAAAAAbE/3MQkE94WGe0/s72-c/decide.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">It's the middle of September, so it's a little early in the year to find myself directed toward a new "word of the year", but that seems to be what's happening. I guess I got the previous one ("surrender") sorted out well enough that it's time to move on, but the thing is, I never really "move on". It's not like one thing slams shut or stops and the other begins. It's a continuation, a layering, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AjUWuVv7WPWODwB537rUD8py_mE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AjUWuVv7WPWODwB537rUD8py_mE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AjUWuVv7WPWODwB537rUD8py_mE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AjUWuVv7WPWODwB537rUD8py_mE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUCR3k8eCp7ImA9WhdWEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-5272516228806287672</id><published>2011-09-05T00:24:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T00:24:26.770+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-05T00:24:26.770+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="joy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="control" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="surrender" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="epiphanies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="detachment" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>There's Nothing I Can Do</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/5272516228806287672/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=5272516228806287672" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5272516228806287672?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5272516228806287672?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/09/theres-nothing-i-can-do.html" title="There's Nothing I Can Do" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Lots of struggle lately. Attachments that haven't yet gone, became very apparent and very obvious and started to chafe. It caused me a lot of frustration and annoyance because even though I know those things are optional, where attachment is concerned, it's easy to forget. The attachment makes you forget, I think, or at least, drags you in so effectively that you can't see past it, even if you do
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1soHe43yFHCMbz7UDrPiuNuIzEI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1soHe43yFHCMbz7UDrPiuNuIzEI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1soHe43yFHCMbz7UDrPiuNuIzEI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1soHe43yFHCMbz7UDrPiuNuIzEI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UAQXY-eip7ImA9WhdXFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-5634204666837641663</id><published>2011-08-30T16:20:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T16:20:40.852+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T16:20:40.852+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awakening" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="epiphanies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>Even the Structure of Reality....</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/5634204666837641663/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=5634204666837641663" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5634204666837641663?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/5634204666837641663?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/08/even-structure-of-reality.html" title="Even the Structure of Reality...." /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">So, it appears that even the very structure of (my) reality is illusory, and defined by my own beliefs and perceptions. I know, that little sentence seems entirely innocuous and even bland, doesn't it? But it's actually reality-shaking.

I can see, very clearly and unmistakably, and without me having to "think it out" or reason it or anything else, that the "reflective reality" (of which I have 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SSKoFngXOsQRv8qZ7VpAyK2v7K8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SSKoFngXOsQRv8qZ7VpAyK2v7K8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SSKoFngXOsQRv8qZ7VpAyK2v7K8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SSKoFngXOsQRv8qZ7VpAyK2v7K8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQHSHo8fSp7ImA9WhdXE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-6174936628388863940</id><published>2011-08-26T14:18:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T14:18:59.475+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-26T14:18:59.475+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="synchronicity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="quotations - lyrics - poetry" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="guidance" /><title>Another Sync/Answer</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/6174936628388863940/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=6174936628388863940" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/6174936628388863940?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/6174936628388863940?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/08/another-syncanswer.html" title="Another Sync/Answer" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Just saw this quote: 

Nearly everything you do is of no importance, but it is important that you do it. - Mohandas Gandhi


Lately, I've been questioning - a LOT - why I bother doing certain things, particularly things that have to do with communication. Why do I write? Why do I talk? What point is there? Indeed, it is pointless, I know this, so why am I doing it? (I suspect plenty of people 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9vX9z4dRpjv4CW4kiUIQSCOH1pU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9vX9z4dRpjv4CW4kiUIQSCOH1pU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9vX9z4dRpjv4CW4kiUIQSCOH1pU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9vX9z4dRpjv4CW4kiUIQSCOH1pU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcERXYyfip7ImA9WhdXEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-382806969580899896</id><published>2011-08-23T18:26:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T18:26:44.896+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-23T18:26:44.896+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="video" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ego" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="balance" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="detachment" /><title>Okay, so I guess I do have something to say</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/382806969580899896/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=382806969580899896" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/382806969580899896?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/382806969580899896?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/08/okay-so-i-guess-i-do-have-something-to.html" title="Okay, so I guess I do have something to say" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/5sqbSqtDsa4/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I find it remarkable how every time I think, "Yeah, I should just pack it in. I'm keeping this journal thing and it's getting tiresome, and not doing anyone any good, anyway, so why bother?", it's never long before some unsolicited and unintended message comes to my awareness that says, "Nah, it's okay, it's mostly pointless, sure, but not entirely so..." Heh. 

Thank you to the person who wrote 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ckUWUWhpJpTf18EGX_fyNnnDR0Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ckUWUWhpJpTf18EGX_fyNnnDR0Y/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ckUWUWhpJpTf18EGX_fyNnnDR0Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ckUWUWhpJpTf18EGX_fyNnnDR0Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MFSHk-eCp7ImA9WhdQFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-2191757133863291138</id><published>2011-08-19T03:43:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T03:43:39.750+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-19T03:43:39.750+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="detachment" /><title>Not Very Talkative (or Writative, as the case may be)</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/2191757133863291138/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=2191757133863291138" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/2191757133863291138?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/2191757133863291138?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/08/not-very-talkative-or-writative-as-case.html" title="Not Very Talkative (or Writative, as the case may be)" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I'm not feeling very talkative of late. I'm feeling even less talkative when it comes to matters "spiritual". I'm seeing, more and more and more, how utterly futile it is to even try to talk about this stuff. Now and then, I guess, someone succeeds at it (like Eckhart Tolle, whose work I have not read, but who is an international best seller many times over, or Deepak Chopra, some of whose work I
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N0jxeFoZMPsMEIYM6TAwqpDrcH4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N0jxeFoZMPsMEIYM6TAwqpDrcH4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N0jxeFoZMPsMEIYM6TAwqpDrcH4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N0jxeFoZMPsMEIYM6TAwqpDrcH4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MGRns6fCp7ImA9WhdQFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-4104550473736710046</id><published>2011-08-16T17:57:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T17:57:07.514+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-16T17:57:07.514+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="video" /><title>Chris Hedges: What is Religion?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/4104550473736710046/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=4104550473736710046" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4104550473736710046?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4104550473736710046?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/08/chris-hedges-what-is-religion.html" title="Chris Hedges: What is Religion?" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/waNM0VF4ZBQ/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Interesting food for thought:



&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2gc9SvGcu9f8Tc-xKdfMfoGEnW0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2gc9SvGcu9f8Tc-xKdfMfoGEnW0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2gc9SvGcu9f8Tc-xKdfMfoGEnW0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2gc9SvGcu9f8Tc-xKdfMfoGEnW0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4NQH49fSp7ImA9WhdQEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-7534663701977071979</id><published>2011-08-13T16:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T16:29:51.065+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-13T16:29:51.065+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="detachment" /><title>Release of Old Energy</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/7534663701977071979/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=7534663701977071979" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7534663701977071979?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7534663701977071979?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/08/release-of-old-energy.html" title="Release of Old Energy" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">It's been an interesting few weeks. Everything sort of came together from all different angles to effortlessly create a sort of "perfect storm" that allowed for the release of some quite profound attachments (blocks, beliefs, energy, whatever). I won't go into all of what happened and how it unfolded, but I will note that the more open I am to receiving guidance/input/revelation/epiphany/release/
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i8OG_zoVkgjRFXkaGgZF4vKWYOI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i8OG_zoVkgjRFXkaGgZF4vKWYOI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i8OG_zoVkgjRFXkaGgZF4vKWYOI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i8OG_zoVkgjRFXkaGgZF4vKWYOI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQBRH46fSp7ImA9WhdRFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-249281746488698574</id><published>2011-08-05T01:39:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T01:39:15.015+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-05T01:39:15.015+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="joy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>Just a Note of Gratitude</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/249281746488698574/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=249281746488698574" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/249281746488698574?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/249281746488698574?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/08/just-note-of-gratitude.html" title="Just a Note of Gratitude" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I'm so very grateful to now live in a reality that is free of demons and devils and inflexible, limited ways of seeing and experiencing, of powerlessness, of victimisation.

I lived that way for a long time. It has taken many years to unfold, but the freedom is real, and tangible. When I look back and then look to the present and to the future, I can hardly believe the difference.

Grateful, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L0y2Yeonkp7QqYle-Ek7bTj_Gh4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L0y2Yeonkp7QqYle-Ek7bTj_Gh4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L0y2Yeonkp7QqYle-Ek7bTj_Gh4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L0y2Yeonkp7QqYle-Ek7bTj_Gh4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkICR3cyeSp7ImA9WhdTFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-473173769949239643</id><published>2011-07-14T19:09:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T19:09:26.991+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-14T19:09:26.991+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="surrender" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="balance" /><title>Tremendous Inner Shift</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/473173769949239643/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=473173769949239643" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/473173769949239643?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/473173769949239643?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/07/tremendous-inner-shift.html" title="Tremendous Inner Shift" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I can't go into everything that led to this, because I'm still not sure how it happened. I will say that it has to do with being a natural introvert (in the sense of being centered internally rather than externally; I am INFP on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator). I don't want to go into the whole introvert/extravert thing, but this is not about social skills or shyness (I have entirely acceptable 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ri7VLH-_ZAkuuJlwx6T6bqNEWL0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ri7VLH-_ZAkuuJlwx6T6bqNEWL0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ri7VLH-_ZAkuuJlwx6T6bqNEWL0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ri7VLH-_ZAkuuJlwx6T6bqNEWL0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8BQncycCp7ImA9WhdTFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-4400269913599576064</id><published>2011-07-04T17:28:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T18:40:53.998+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-14T18:40:53.998+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ego" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="detachment" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>Attachments and Resistance Part Gazillion and Two</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/4400269913599576064/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=4400269913599576064" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4400269913599576064?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4400269913599576064?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/07/attachments-and-resistance-part.html" title="Attachments and Resistance Part Gazillion and Two" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Anyone who tells you that awakening is the end of all pain and difficulty is full of it. I'm in considerable discomfort today for reasons I won't go into. It's yet ANOTHER attachment, or place of resistance, within whatever is left of this material self's perspective. I can't express how incredibly sick of this I am. I mostly understand the purpose of hitting these pockets of resistance and 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S2noTE5qTGsrUXmaf_nPsl1Liq8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S2noTE5qTGsrUXmaf_nPsl1Liq8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S2noTE5qTGsrUXmaf_nPsl1Liq8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S2noTE5qTGsrUXmaf_nPsl1Liq8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEFQHgycSp7ImA9WhZaFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-7085015018273504910</id><published>2011-07-03T03:10:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T03:10:11.699+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-03T03:10:11.699+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ego" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="surrender" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reality creation" /><title>My Relationship with Money</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/7085015018273504910/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=7085015018273504910" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7085015018273504910?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7085015018273504910?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/07/my-relationship-with-money.html" title="My Relationship with Money" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I have had a lifelong problem with abundance. As in, I never had much of it. I was raised with a very obvious and clear "lack mentality" and I adopted that and my reality has conformed to that (because it can't do anything else, only what I allow).

I used to live in victim mentality, and so I was a victim and I was victimised. When I broke out of that mentality, that worldview, my reality 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UaxK9UcMpCCqZOgd3JSAaS6--1I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UaxK9UcMpCCqZOgd3JSAaS6--1I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UaxK9UcMpCCqZOgd3JSAaS6--1I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UaxK9UcMpCCqZOgd3JSAaS6--1I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYMQX46eCp7ImA9WhZaFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-7085170261237756185</id><published>2011-06-30T23:42:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T00:29:40.010+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-01T00:29:40.010+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="unity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="synchronicity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="quotations - lyrics - poetry" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ego" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awakening" /><title>Yet Another Reminder</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/7085170261237756185/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=7085170261237756185" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7085170261237756185?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/7085170261237756185?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/06/yet-another-reminder.html" title="Yet Another Reminder" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I mentioned that two themes are coming up over and over and over in my reality. One is the nature of reality, itself (quantum theory, spiritual insights, even joke references). The other is the non-existence of the separated, discrete self. 

And honestly, it's starting to get creepy. It's entertaining, sure, but it's getting really weird right about now. 

Tonight while watching a recorded 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rfbwL_mfFwKkirbQeqaxqaXxpc8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rfbwL_mfFwKkirbQeqaxqaXxpc8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rfbwL_mfFwKkirbQeqaxqaXxpc8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rfbwL_mfFwKkirbQeqaxqaXxpc8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQFQXo-fip7ImA9WhZaFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-3471543624620607349</id><published>2011-06-30T18:41:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T18:41:50.456+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-30T18:41:50.456+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="unity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humour" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="personal" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awakening" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="meditation" /><title>Melting</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/3471543624620607349/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=3471543624620607349" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/3471543624620607349?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/3471543624620607349?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/06/melting.html" title="Melting" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">So, this is a strange perception. Lately I find that I have the sensation of melting into the world around me. Not just the physical world, but anything and everything that I can perceive. It's most noticeable when I close my eyes, because my hands and feet immediately seem to kind of dissipate, that is, all sense of distinct "edges" just vanishes. I feel like if I wiggle my fingers or move my 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AQyI6UAT4xahAxaybqm_X8sG65w/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AQyI6UAT4xahAxaybqm_X8sG65w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AQyI6UAT4xahAxaybqm_X8sG65w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AQyI6UAT4xahAxaybqm_X8sG65w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UBQHY8fCp7ImA9WhZaE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8099920743877983557.post-4598043857646266335</id><published>2011-06-30T02:34:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T02:34:11.874+10:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-30T02:34:11.874+10:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="unity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awakening" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God" /><title>Stream of Reality Consciousness</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/feeds/4598043857646266335/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8099920743877983557&amp;postID=4598043857646266335" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4598043857646266335?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8099920743877983557/posts/default/4598043857646266335?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://journal.notmyself.org/2011/06/stream-of-reality-consciousness.html" title="Stream of Reality Consciousness" /><author><name>ButterflyWoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02948934071019630463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQA3L0U4kqw/TqBYTGh9cZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/HRr1-noPI-8/s220/ButterflyWoman120x120.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">A couple of themes are repeating over and over in my reality/awareness. I don't entirely know why. 

First, the theme of "non-existent self" keeps coming up. Now, I saw the non-existence of this "me" person years ago, accepted it, and that was that. There has never been wavering from the knowledge of "I don't really exist". There is also plenty of subjective experiential knowledge of not-self (
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pEAHtJa0rN_OGMrNd3GXVFFZPhU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pEAHtJa0rN_OGMrNd3GXVFFZPhU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
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