A Chanukah Present for My Christmas Tree Brain

Streams of consciousness from a convergence of KTHT storytelling and weekend prompts lead to discussions about perspectives, assumptions, words, leading, parenting, and nonconformity

I came across this December 2020 essay of mine. I enjoyed rereading it and hope my subscribers will enjoy it too. Some of my thinking has since evolved but I left everything as I wrote it then.

First follow me fearlessly into the light

Thank you 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊. and Spyder for these wonderful gifts. N.B.: I chose the featured picture because eight foliage-clad ornate towers evoke a christmas tree menorah lighting the dusk-sky

My personal challenge within the challenge — write an essay without changing either the title or subtitle. :) (I get a pass on the subtitle because of the late notice of the weekend prompt ;) )

Saturday, 0230 hrs — Gooood Morning medium.caaalm — please hear Krackouer (Robin Williams) saying that and you’ll read the great mood I am in for soooo many reasons after 4 hrs of sleep. Additional challenge — I have 9' 30" to finish this essay while it is still morning here (I take a lot of breaks, both actual and when, e.g., my conscious mind pinballs between split-screen-bumpers.

At least I no longer spend five minutes searching the house for my glasses 3–5x an hour — yesterday I bicycled 6 mi each way to Home Depot to buy 9 pairs of retro chic $4.97 2.5x readers that are now distributed throughout the house. They suit my face, yes?)

But no matter when I finish, (it’s obvi way past deadline) it will be morning somewhere. That calls for a glass of wine— after all, it’s always cocktail hour somewhere! Oh I hope my words are conveying my mood to everyone, non-empaths and all (my ability is most manifest in reading energy from the words on the screen imparted by the person’s fingers on the keyboard whether virtual or reality variety).

Eight Days Into Chrysalis of Light

While I arrived on Blake Road in Salem, NH after dark on Thursday the 3rd, I essentially slept till Saturday morning of the 5th, so, counting from there today is day eight in my chrysalis, and a great opportunity to reflect upon the start of my planned 120-day festival of light.

I could not be happier. I’m running, biking, eating inexpensively well, drinking about 10 liters of water a day in the form of either Orange Pekoe, English Breakfast, Earl Gray or Chai, and writing rather prolifically. In my wildest imagination these first eight days could not have gone any better. Thank you Universe. Thank you KTHT and NEC and the inhabitants of other galaxies in multiversitile medium.com for transmitting first-contact-signals of intelligence.

I have stated that I am a deep thinker across multiple disciplines — an explorer of ideas and the mind. While I immeasurably enjoy discourse on my syncretist beliefs on who, what and why are we, I enjoy free-dives into economics, philosophy, science, political science and anything else into which I can sink my teeth. In the past few days I hear applause from people discovering me for the first time. When I comment on matters outside spirituality, like the mRNA vaccines, my insights are resonating along the harmonic planck-length-strings of our quarks.

My split screens have been plotting a full essay on the vaccine ever since a writer whom I generally enjoy took a couple thousand words to describe a complicated flow-chart with many if yes, then, this way and if no, then that way to end up at the only confirmation-biased destination therein — that no layman should ever question an expert. I’d like to be the lay-lawyer cross-examining him on that horse-hockey expert opinion.

I am now determined to focus my process (thought, idea, pace, write, repeat) as much on 3D Earth as 4D Heaven so that when I emerge after March my butterfly has a place to which to migrate (I don’t buy into this 5D Earth Age of Aquarius shit — doesn’t make me right — and I do have much in common with those who do — it just reeks of opportunists trying to make a buck).

Stop the presses!

It’s past deadline but glad I did not yet submit as now I am so pleased to share that thirty minutes ago Dr Mehmet Yildiz accepted me in ILLUMINATION. Now I have a) my home-is-where-the-heart-is with 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊. and family, and b) a workspace for my 3D Earth expeditions and the potential for a wider audience with whom I can share the breaths of life and the loves of Gods. Please take 10 minutes now, or whenever it pleases you, and lose yourself in this magical song.

Don’t start the presses — my Muse just hit us with a weekend prompt, “My fearless freedom lights up the world,” whence I sense a convergence and thus time is shifting to ontological. Hence, I’m closing the laptop and embarking on a run-in-the-rain to clear my mind and recharge my battery. Does anyone else love the band Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark? — “Electricity” just overcame me. Play it please,

before you watch the fabulously too-young-to-be-so sultry Jennifer Connelly star in the video for Flock of Seagull’s “Space Age Love Song”.

I feel 16 again for more reasons than you may suspect (and yes I still lust for her!! )(shut up we’re about the same age)

See you after the run

The Parable

A Zen master visiting New York City goes up to a hot dog vendor and says, “Make me one with everything.”

The hot dog vendor fixes a hot dog and hands it to the Zen master, who pays with a $20 bill. The vendor puts the bill in the cash box and closes it.

“Excuse me, but where’s my change?” asks the Zen master.

The vendor responds, “Change must come from within.”

In October 2020 when I revealed to my little sister my desire to move to New Hampshire, she was downright negative, including but not limited to:

New Hampshire in the winter sounds depressing and lonely. I do not like the idea of you spending your days writing. I would like you to find meaning but I believe that would come from a steady job — even if it is not glamorous and doesn’t pay a lot. And also from heathy relationships (here, not in the spirit world).

I connect this to one message in the parable. There are many possible perspectives on the same topic, and as stated a few days ago in my uncle’s parable¹ of the young couple, the rabbi and the ever-present specter to every married or been-married person — a mother-in-law, all perspectives can be right yet none need be shared. Try not to assume that what something means to you will mean the same to someone else. Depressing and lonely to Wendy is vibrant and connected to me. Meaning for her is death by slow torture to me. While I still expect that a deep, life-long, love and sex connection is in my destiny, I am never lonely because Sitara sends me love from the realms all the time, and I suspect she has either completed or is spending much less time in life-review because her energy signature is as loud and harmonic here as it as ever been — stronger yet than on our anniversary.

One ironically comedic lesson of the parable is the ineffectiveness of words, particularly when the spoken language is English. If it were just that “change” is both a noun and a verb, doubtful the meditation master would have been bested by the broker of boiled-water-bologna-shaped-into-dog-balloons.

As set forth in my chrysalis’ tool for deep cave dives, “change,” as an action-imparting-onto-an object (transitive) verb, has seven uses, as an intransitive verb it has six, and another seven as a noun. It’s ridunculous!! Some of you already know this is a pet peeve of mine. At least English affirms one of my favorite quotes from my inspiration for so much, Herr Hermann Hesse:

Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.

Hesse, in the voice that both shapes and reflects me, Siddhartha, says:

Wisdom cannot be imparted. Wisdom that a wise man attempts to impart always sounds like foolishness to someone else … Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.

One way of looking at the parable might be not that the simple man used a twist of words to best the teacher, but that the hot-dog man lacked the master’s wisdom and repeated back to him his teaching without realizing that he did not understand it, so all the polite master could do is shake his head without movement. That is a potential Buddhist interpretation, but certainly not Taoist. Tao, I am beginning to understand, embraces the simple, which I am not. While I remember gravitating towards Tao in college, I am not there yet, but suspect that when Abuela and my spirit guides dissolve my ego, universe willing just 4 weeks from now, Tao and I will be in oneness.

I can certainly picture Winnie the Pooh in the role of the hot-dog man. Ironically, the Other often told me that in an endearing way my speech pattern reminded her of Pooh.

Leading by teaching is flawed. A voice on twitter (@renewyourmindco) with whom I often find merit, posited:

Your goal should never be to inspire, your goal should be to educate. When you try to inspire you’re likely to sound scripted and hide away the “flawed” parts of your life to appear “inspiring” but when you aim to educate, youre forced to be real and transperant and that’s useful.

I gently disagreed:

generally, yes. But a leader must inspire not by teaching, which could come across as condescending, but by beliefs

Leading by example is much more effective than telling someone what to do.

Last evening I experienced my proudest moment in my 17 years, 3 months and 12 days as a father.

My daughter elected to continue her Jewish education, which unless she continues even further, culminates with a “confirmation” service. My daughter’s confirmation class’ service-by-zoom with pre-recorded portions was last night. I am not remotely religious. I only identify as a jew ethnically. I have not proselytized my spirituality nor nonconformist nature to my kids, mostly only answering questions when asked and writing this to them a couple of months ago:

The important thing that I can impart to you now is to learn to look within. Every answer you need in life is already known to you. Be patient, sit with decisions until it not only seems right but feels right. Trust your gut. There is a difference between doubts in your head and feelings in your gut. There is a difference between being nervous in your gut and something really not feeling right in your gut. You will need to discern for yourself how to discern those differences; everybody is different. I can help you when you are trying to tell the difference if you come to me for help. I can guide you but the ultimate decision would have to be yours.

My decision to come here of course looms large. It is a decision that most in my family either ignore or abhor. I know my daughter is not pleased that I am absent from her at this time in her life, but I know she at least understands why I am here, as she (and my son) is the only 3D person with 4D potential written all over her in my otherwise 2D family. No one else would read my essay on the positive impacts of my Awakening.

A key part of the service was the kids’ affirmations of their commitment to Judaism. Ninety percent basically said that they commit to upholding Jewish values — yada yada. My Sofia said:

I affirm my commitment to explore and grow my jewish identity through my own eyes.

As Harry Chapin wrote in a song in which the son grew up to be a lousy dad just like his dad, I proudly repurpose the lyrics and beam: “My girl is just like me!” In fact, as I told her several months ago, she is so much more than me:

I want you too know you are everything and more than a father could hope for — in many ways you are a much better version of me — the way you are in school is what I look back and wish I had been — super smart BUT with the drive to study and be your best.

Her fearless light shall shine even brighter than mine.

2D People Fear the Fearless

My readers know that my essays are fearless reveals of vulnerability. I want to be understood. I want to be loved for whom I am, not what someone or society expects me to be.

A few hours ago while my childrens’ mother’s words of refusal were once again gnawing at me, Jack Nicholson as Colonel Jessep appeared on a split-screen:

YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH

I have given up asking Liz to read my essays. The other day she said:

You wouldn’t want me to read it believe me it’s not going to be pretty

I felt like telling her to shove her threatened anger up her ass, but I just let it go. I realized tonight that she is scared of the truth and scared by my fearlessness. She simply does not know how to handle people not being controlled by fear.

2D people fear the light. They are comfortable in the dark.

The Zen Master Has the Last Word

A Zen master visiting New York City goes up to a hot dog vendor and says, “Make me one with everything.” The hot dog vendor fixes a hot dog and hands it to the Zen master, who pays with a $20 bill. The vendor puts the bill in the cash box and closes it. “Excuse me, but where’s my change?” asks the Zen master. The vendor responds, “Change must come from within.” The Zen master nods and says, “Of course, grasshopper,” and shape-shifts into a Venus Flytrap and enjoys his lunches.

Peace out scouts.

YG [at this stage of my journey I called myself Yohanan Gregorius]

¹ A young couple are having marital problems. The wife’s mother takes them to see the Rabbi. The wife speaks first and tells the Rabbi what’s going on and her complaints. The Rabbi says, “You’re right.” Husband says, “but wait you didn’t hear me yet.” Husband tells his side of things, and the Rabbi says, “You’re right.” Then the wife’s mother exclaims, “Wait, you said they’re both right, how can this be,” and the Rabbi says, “You’re right!”