Spiritual Death, Energetic Blocks and How Far I've Come

It still amazes me how quickly and thoroughly my physical world will shift to reflect the changes in my energetic world.  I had written about how I wasn’t the same person I was even three years ago.  Then yesterday as I was headed to work I saw a cool wooden trunk left outside for someone to take – so I took it.

Last night I “packed the trunk,” which involved cleaning the energy of the trunk and its contents, and also “unpacking” a lot of things I haven’t looked at in a while.

I found some cool stuff.

I found a travel itinerary for my first trip to Thailand in 2003.  I found poems going back to 2001 that I thought were gone.  I found memories of my first (second) trip to Thailand when I was creating my new reality that has led to where I am today.  I even found a copy of Jaques Tombazian’s “Path to the 5^th Dimension” that I thought I’d lost, but had apparently kept.  I guess I knew that alchemy was going to be a permanent part of my life – and that I wasn’t ready then for all of it.  (I ended up buying it again, along with the “Philosopher’s Stone” book and meditations, but there’s a certain energy in that old book that’s valuable for me.)

And I found this poem I wrote in 2007, a couple years before I began my journey with Destin Gerek and other masters:

“Trapped In Front of the T.V.”

I could be reading something,

Or writing something,

Or learning something,

Or doing something,

Instead of sitting her in our marital bed

Watching some crappy shows

Like a retarded monkey.

 

I’m flinging poo at my life.

 

I tell myself I’m doing this for her,

Because she’s not feeling good,

Because she can’t go out,

So I’m taking care of her,

Comforting my pregnant wife

By pissing away another evening.

 

My manhood is being smothered by Styrofoam and bullshit.

 

This is how I comforted my college girlfriend

By wasting so many nights

Watching motherfucking “Home Improvement,”

Or like how I comforted myself in high school

When I calmed the pan of my dateless existence

By jacking off to Mexican infomercials.

 

I could have started a band,

I could have written a novel,

I could have learned a language,

I could have traveled,

I could have found a hobby,

I could have found an interesting college girlfriend

Who would actually get out of her fucking bed

Every now and then,

And not wasted so much of those college years.

I could have dumped the eventual ex-wife before marrying her,

Saving myself years of misery,

I could have killed myself

-Anything-

But instead, I watched TV,

Sedated myself with the narcotic

And gave up years of my life

To the fucking TV,

Goddamn motherfucking piece of shit TV.

It was the heroin that let me sit

In my boiling pot,

My mind, body and spirit

Boiled into shit soup.

 

Fuck TV.

 

The few best years of my life happened

When I could honestly say

“I don’t really watch TV.”

I thought she would understand.

We were doing so much living.

It wasn’t until it was too late,

After I’d committed,

That everything changed

And I realized

I was wrong.

Not those days are over

As I sit in the bed,

Not sleeping,

Not having sex,

But hating my life,

Wasted, worthless, watching

Fucking

Shitty

Waste of time, electricity and space,

Stinking

Crappy

Boring

Mind numbing

Idiotic

Bloodsucking

Television.

 

June 11, 2007

 

When I say I don’t recognize the previous me, I mean I have no idea who that guy was back then.  I can remember the suffering, and why I rationalized putting up with that misery when I was obviously very unhappy, but the tone of angry helplessness, the repeating cycles, the disempowerment, the self-neutering attitude and behavior – who was that asshole?

What’s even more amazing is, since that poem, I’ve done ALL the things (well, not the band, but that was never on my to-do list) I listed that I could be doing if I wasn’t wasting my life pretending to care for people I obviously didn’t like.

Yes, including killing myself.  I’ve experienced at least three complete spiritual deaths (including one this year) since this poem – and NONE prior.

And I can honestly say, since I left that shitty marriage, I really don’t watch TV, except for occasional sports and kids’ stuff with my son.  And yes, it makes a HUGE difference in life.

What’s also interesting is something inside me knew I was meant for a greater path.  The poem isn’t really me whining that I’m not doing the fun things I want to do, it was my soul crying out to be freed to live its purpose, to be free of the sedation of a mediocre relationship that isn’t on my path.

I also found the last remnants of cards from my ex-wives.  I thought I’d thrown everything out, but there were still these.  As soon as I disposed of them, and the rest of the garbage bag full of crap that wasn’t serving me, I felt my energy instantly lift.  And when I consciously cleaned the energy of the trunk and its contents, my energy lifted again. 

My environment makes a huge difference in my energetic expression.  For a long time I was stacking the deck against me, trying to elevate my energy while allowing energetic poop to fester, massively slowing my progress.  As soon as I get rid of the crap, I uplevel.

I used to think people who are hypersensitive to their energy field were just weak-spirited people.  Partly because a lot of the people who run around smudging and carrying crystals really are borderline hypochondriacs – sorry, it’s true.  The huge majority of people who are working with energy are just trying to get by in life, so for them “energy blocks” are more self-limiting beliefs and shadows manifesting as “toxins.”  So I took a lot of that with a huge grain of salt – I’m dealing with energy from the universe, who cares about a piece of paper or ionized water?

And while I still question the idea of spending a ton of money on food and water that isn’t any better quality than the cheaper produce and filtered tap water (financial stress is an energy drainer, too, so how is wasting money at Whole Foods helping?), and still see hypochondria as a serious problem in the spiritual community, I have to say environment and lifestyle matters a lot.

It’s like trying to do the high jump with leg weights.

So things like clutter and memories from when I was mistreating myself in bad relationships matter a lot.  And even things prior to a spiritual transformation that aren’t “toxic” can become so if they aren’t reintegrated.  I have to consciously “re-choose,” and often re-purpose the things that are in my life.  Or I need to let them go, not because they’re bad but because they’re no longer of value to me.

And sirens all night in my neighborhood last night.  Always happens when I’m experiencing an energetic breakthrough.