Being Conscious For Evolution

Being Conscious For Evolution

There are times when I want to reach out and there are times I want to recoil.

This is Natural, as I am constantly adapting to whatever is in my Awareness.

Being less ingrained in the past allows Presence to guide thoughts and behavior in the desired direction.

Acknowledging possible outcomes but not being limited by them, allows Focus on taking action on Behalf of myself, which is essential to Evolution.


Reflection: Path to Freedom

Reflection: Path to Freedom

Reflection Questions

What does it mean to be a person?

What does a worthwhile future look like? What am I doing to achieve that future for myself?

What is the theme in my life and what is my role?

What is the purpose of my actions?

Which thoughts and feelings cause me stress?  How do I cope with stress?  Does that hurt me or help me?  What can I be doing differently?

What is the difference between a victim and a survivor?

How do I remove “would”, “could”, and “should” from my vocabulary?

Why is it difficult for me to be present?  What am I avoiding?

How can I appreciate myself and care for myself more?

What does good health look like?  What am I doing to be healthy?

How can I be understanding and compassionate toward myself and others?

What are boundaries and how do I establish and maintain them?

What are some warning signs that I am falling back into old habits?  What keeps me motivated to continue moving forward?
What ideas hold me back and how do I let go of them?

Where do I put my energy and does it benefit me?

Who Do I surround myself with?  Do they build me up or tear me down?

What do I need more of in my life?  What do I need less of?

What is something I would like to learn how to do?  What am I doing to learn it?


Diagnosis by Prescription

Diagnosis by Prescription

This is an all too common story in the US.

When I was very young, some things happened to me that were beyond my control.  It robbed me of my joy and sense of self.  My mom was self-consumed.  She would rather be in a daze than be present with family.  She would rather be passive and irresponsible than be an adult.  When I continued to suffer from her bad life choices, I could not bare to be at home.  That is when I began running away.  I don’t think thirteen year olds run away from home for no reason.  It is really a shame no one bothered to get to the bottom of it, as I was just an ignorant child responding to a bad situation.

I was institutionalized after I ran away from home the first time and placed on three medications which led to me falling down a flight of stairs in high school, because I could barely stay awake.  I was taken off the medication and I continued to suffer at home.  I ran away a second time and was institutionalized again.  I was diagnosed with depression and put on an SSRI called Zoloft.

From there, I walked a path through Hell.  The side effects of Zoloft led to what is termed “diagnosis by prescription” where they began treating me for the side effects caused by the drugs they prescribed me.  Let that sink in for a moment.  I was given drugs by a professional, which I reacted poorly to, and then prescribed more drugs.

The diagnosis was changed to Bipolar Disorder and I was put on mood stabilizers and anti-psychotics.  At one point, I was on 11 different psychiatric medications PER DAY.  I was drugged so much that they were considering changing my diagnosis to schizoaffective disorder.  At 15 years of age, I had been convinced that my brain was broken, and that these drugs with horrible side effects were going to make me feel better.

I was spending weeks, even months at a time in these “mental health” facilities.  I had gained 80 lbs in five months, my hair was falling out, I couldn’t wake up to pee sometimes, I could barely focus to hold a conversation or be present in the moment.  I was numbed into absolute submission and it nearly broke me.

To make matters worse, there was one extended period of time at a mental health hospital where an attendant delighted in calling code greens on me every morning that he worked.  I couldn’t wake up fully at 6:45 AM because of how overmedicated I was, so his response was to call a code green in which the employees gathered to drag me out of bed, pin me to the floor, give me two injections, drag me into the seclusion room and strap me to the bed where I would be left for hours.  Because I was sedated, and couldn’t wake up fully, they sedated me more and restrained me.  Does that make any sense at all?

After years of abuse in these institutions, I have a difficult time being around people.  I have nightmares of being chased, tackled, tied down, and so on. When I am stressed and sleepless, it triggers depression and anxiety, which worsens IBS and migraines.   If you don’t understand how much experience has an impact on existence, then I don’t know what else to say.

I have radically altered my lifestyle to facilitate healing.  I am eating whole foods and staying away from processed junk.  I am moving my body more in order to own it.  I am reading more and watching less TV.  It is important for us all to be able to own ourselves, and to hold ourselves accountable from this day forward.

The details of the past are irrelevant other than to give some context.  What matters is the present moment and going forward in the name of progress.  I do what I am able to do and I challenge myself to do more.

There is only one path and you walk it every day.  Make it count.


Giving Death To

I’ve been thinking about what I need to give death to in my life so that I may live fully.

The main things I need to give death to are: excuses for and beliefs about myself.

My problem is that the Self is contextual and my context has been isolation, institutionialisation, and unhealthy family for 33 years.

I literally don’t know how to be. And because I spent so much time in observation growing up, I never know if I’m doing or saying enough or too much.

That’s an excuse. It may be a fact, but it is still an excuse.

Why is it so hard to let go of what I know? 

Living like this is most likely far worse than just taking more risks and putting myself out in the world.

I’ll just file this under my existential meanderings and sleep on it.

Ancient Psychology

Ancient Psychology

I’ve been studying mysticism, occult, archetypes, perception, and society at large for some time now. I look at reoccurring themes in my own life as well as family themes, fads and trends on social media, and I see how the pieces fit together. 

I’ve endured a lot and I see such depth, such capacity, of what humans are and what they can be. 

For many years, I took the role of warrior and wounded healer. Those archetypes served me well, but it is time to change the narrative. 

Seeing what we as humans do to ourselves and each other, it is disheartening. There is so much needless suffering in our lives. But that doesn’t define who we are. It’s just a part of the narrative.

This story isn’t about what happened to you. This story is about who you are and how you handle yourself moment to moment.

Life is spontaneous, beautiful, and chaotic. And each person has their own unique version of the world. 

As for me, I shall change the paradigm. I am no longer a warrior nor a wounded healer.

I am an explorer, braving this strange frontier and making my own way through the world.

Life Path

At some point, man becomes conscious.

As he looks ahead, he sees the paths of those who have gone before him.

Two paths diverge, representing polarity, duality, opposites. Most travelers pick one of these paths, as likely their parents did, and their parents before them.

To choose division is to give up one’s power in favor of the mob mentality.

A far more difficult but rewarding path rises up between the divided roads.

This path is for the courageous, the ones who want to actively create a better reality for themselves.

It means taking responsibility, being aware, and acting in one’s own best interest, as well as being there for fellow travelers.

Which path will he choose?

The Frog’s Journey

There once was a frog who loved to sing, dance, and play.

He was so full of energy and life, but the other frogs began turning him away.

Getting lonesome, he wandered deep into the woods, in search of a friend.

But there was no one who would play with the frog.

“You’re just a frog.” They’d say.

The frog kept going deeper into the woods, and it began to rain.

He sought shelter beneath a rock that stuck out of a small hill.

It rained. It poured. He thought it might never stop.

He waited and waited.

Then suddenly, the rock slid down the hill and trapped the frog in the mud.

“I’m going to die here!” moaned the frog.

He squirmed and wiggled, he fought as hard as he could. But the more he struggled, the more he became stuck in the mud.

Eventually the rain began to let up and he noticed a raven in the distance, hopping along the ground.

The frog cried out for help, but it was no use. The raven didn’t seem to hear him.

It was then that the frog noticed a wolf getting ready to pounce the raven.

“Watch out!” the frog called out to the raven, to no avail.

The frog closed his eyes because he couldn’t watch.


*tumbling through the leaves*


The frog opened his eyes to see the raven and wolf playing!

It moved his heart to see them so freely expressing themselves and having fun.

By now the rain had stopped, the sun was shining again, and the mud was beginning to dry.

They weren’t  a wolf and a raven in that moment, they were just two souls having a good time!

The wolf pranced and the raven dove, a dance of sorts. And as they did, the frog found himself uplifted and he began to dance too.

He slowly shook off the cracking mud and crawled out from beneath the rock.

From that day forward, the frog sang, danced, and played, no matter what anyone else said. For he was never “just a frog” again.