Weekend Prompt — WowsaDay

A day like no other experience profound emotions from hidden pain pockets to sheer joy small and tall I share with all

The Universe is full of unimaginable splendor. I hope I can honor it and my feelings. I hope that this essay allows my reader not only to understand but feel the day I am continuing to experience. The synchronicities have synchronicity. The emotions have emotions. The subtitle is my second ever tanka…

Comprehending Coincidence

Awareness holds the key to so much in life. I use the word in its most basic form. Nothing of which one is not aware can have any meaning. Awareness begets more and more awareness. Being aware that I am a spiritual being here seeking human experience helps, but it can also hinder — complicate — I could tend to look for the profound and miss the subtle. I can also be aware but not act in accordance. The extent to which everything is connected astounds me. If I see but ignore messages about one thing, I either won’t see other messages, or more likely, they will be withheld until I am deemed ready by my finally not acting as if I know better than the Universe.

MV

MV and I were practically inseparable for 25 months. As far back as early May, the Universe started to tell me that our friendship had served the purpose for which it was intended, but I could not let go. Even when I discerned for myself MV’s shortcomings that I should not tolerate, I continued to tolerate her. I discerned messages clearly channeled through practical strangers, yet I could not act. Finally the other night she said something small but so out of whack that I discerned that the Universe put the absurd statement through her lips and I finally cut the cord. I literally did a spiritual cord cut, and once I snipped that source of energy leakage, positive energy started flowing my way in abundance.

What life lesson should I have learned from previous skits and hopefully will remember without frying pan whacks to my oft-too-hard-head: a person with no friends and pity me excuses is a red flag waving; a person who has zero self-awareness nor willingness to improve on any terms but their own misguided ideas is a vampire — narcs do not have exclusivity in that realm; a pot who repeatedly calls the kettle black is dark and scared of the light.

The Attraction Chakra Cleared

Once she could no longer suck energy from my neck, I immediately started attracting lights of the medium-verse to my light. In less than a week I have: grown from about 15 followers to 43; been invited to write for Political Sense; been lit up by ILLUMINATION; started answering poetry prompts from Lucy The Eggcademic (she/her); and been accepted to climb mountains with The Ascent and fight for The Queen’s Children. I hope I am seen as sharing my joy in these regards and not tooting my horn. In the week of 12.4–12.11 I had 166 views; this past week I had over 1,000. My joy tempered to tears because I received zero reaction to that news from mommy or my sisters. Why can’t they be happy for me (I can barely see my beautiful new keyboard through the welling in my eyes)? They are so fucking myopic. Oh well, move past that Greg, and be happy that the lovely souls in KTHT recognize you and that you are not bragging and that you inspire:

Henery X: Great usages of words, Greg. Me: Highest compliment Is there any greater one For a writer’s eye? Henery X: Outside of, “Your words helped to save my life,” I think not, Greg. Continue to be a light in this dark world, as well as a light I look towards for outside inspiration.

I love writing, I truly do, but I am working towards a purpose and a goal that my art has something to impart on 3D Earth as well as spiritually. At the moment I seem to be the only person on Earth willing to stand on a soapbox and call out Pfizer, Moderna and the government for the money-grabbing hoax of the vaccines, which may work, but the claims of successful trials are patently false. See these PLEASE, I ask with love not desire for glory so all can read and then make an informed of being uninformed decision. As I will soon write, they are following an MLM playbook to a tee.

Synchronous Synchronicities

For 30 years I have been moved by this song by World Party, and now I know why:

And if you listen now You might hear a new sound coming in As an old one disappears See the world in just one grain of sand

…

Put the message in the box Put the box into the car Drive the car around the world Until you get heard

Right on the healing heels of MV’s removal, the light of Adam Borowski entered my magnetosphere and we have developed a mutually beneficial rapport. With the shroud of MV’s darkness lifted, yesterday I was able to catch and discern a heavy yet subtle nudge from the Universe delivered unbeknownst to Adam with him as the vessel.

Why I canceled my father, redux

Before I had declared my decision permanent, I excised him because, in regard to another difficult relationship, the advice Rama gave me was to weigh the totality of the good versus the bad in that relationship. If it’s net positive or a close call, let that person have their opinion and be humble for the expansion of my character. If it is significantly negative, then that person no longer belongs in your life, and let go with humility and release with love. I decided to apply that advice to my relationship with dad and shut off the energy drain.

I have stated that the decision to make the excision permanent was based upon the knowledge that this life-cycle of his is a throw-away life. That reasoning has gnawed at me as unsatisfactory as I could choose to accept rather than cancel. Yesterday Adam asked:

In your opinion, are men with BPD as toxic as women?

I replied:

I’ve never met one, maybe. The line between malig narc and BPD is quite fine. Now I have some thinking to do. But I think I can give you a partial answer — it depends on the relationship.

I am still getting chills almost 24 hours later. My brain lit up like a Christmas tree — the lionizing and demonizing; the efforts to split me from my sisters or one of them from me and the other depending on who he needed to isolate; the psychopathic jealousy of a 3yr old boy and his mommy, explainable by unresolved oedipal complex but less salaciously by an intensely irrational fear of abandonment — MY FATHER IS A FUCKING RARE MALE BORDERLINE. ALL THE PIECES OF THE JIGSAW PUZZLE FIT!!!

The tears and guttural screams that ensued did not hurt — that was simply the release of pain and anguish from the last pockets in which he had his hands. The realization of relief brings more tears. The enormity of that I was raised by a borderline still setting in, and it's ok. Now my decision makes total sense. That vortexual energy drain had to be capped or I never would have attracted any of you dear souls nor be writing with such courage and purpose.

I think that says it all.

Peace out cub scouts.

With love,

YG

PS: those stunning images came from the search “Oscar Madison.” Clearly, the Universe wanted me to find those images for a deeper reason than my identifying with Jack Klugman’s character because he’s a writer who loves the NY Mets and eats sardine and peanut butter sandwiches

PPS: I forgot to work in the great small joy I wanted to share. My new keyboard arrived two days early!!

PPPS: In two hours Anne and I have an appointment with Rama and Linstara and I bet you dollars to donuts that my grandpa and perhaps other dearly departed souls will pop in to send their love and that Linstara will spend the ensuing 18 hours with me (I feel she is already here). Those are great joys. I hope you can empaths out there can feel it.