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Freedom

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I don’t like freedom, I feel like I’m not really alive unless I know what I’m willing to die for; and what trajectory I’m on. When I hear “freedom” I hear “nothing to lose” – which is not attractive to me, especially because I’ve been there, involuntarily. All it is, is hunger.
 
I need a reason to get up in the morning, a sense of purpose that remains constant; something that runs so deep in my bones, I trust it will fuel me for several lifetimes, if only I could live that long. Music did this for me; and my fantasy series, although that has more of a ‘slow burn’ effect during some periods, whereas music is always on red-hot fire mode.
 

People seem to hold freedom as some kind of ideal. To me, freedom exists only within limits. Meaning there’s something I have to do, somewhere I have to be, some deadline I have to meet. Mortality is intrinsically a limit, so our minds are programmed to exist within it; and I’m all too aware , due to illness, that I could die at any time. To me freedom is knowing that while I was here, I lived. I did something meaningful, valuable, highly specific. Something expressed itself through me. I need to know I surrendered to a force greater than myself — the divine symmetry of music; the epic tapestry of my fictional world. The rhythm of life. 

 

Freedom is knowing that if the illness takes me from my body tomorrow, I won’t regret what I did (or didn’t do) with my life.  Freedom is knowing my purpose is strong enough that I can justify consuming plants and meat and other resources to survive. That my life was worth the sacrifice of all those other living entities. (It’s not really worth it, but at the very least, I know those sacrifices didn’t go to waste if my life has meaning .)  Without meaning, it seems more morally justifiable to take my own life. 

 
‘Freedom’ … it’s empty. It’s cold. It’s nothingness, formless.  At least in the sense of being “free of obligation, free of constraint.”  Give me something worth fighting for, something worth dying for. That’s freedom. If I die fighting for it, I’m free to die in peace.

Cognition: SeFi

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~ If it’s not Worth Doing in Excess, it’s not Worth Doing at All ~
 
Over the past decade, I have engaged an obsessive study of typology, with focus on Enneagram and Jungian functions.  Both systems have been reinterpreted ad nauseum, but I took a holistic approach.  Recently, I discovered a more scientific angle on cognitivetype.com, whose basis for typing, known as vultology, rests on the premise that cognition reveals itself in observable expressions.  There, I was typed as SeFi  based on vultology signals, which matched the psychology I portrayed in a video I submitted and the archetypes I highlighted in my art.  Since then I’ve been in communication with the leading writer of this website, and my SeFi psychology has been confirmed on multiple levels.  
 
The four functions in my type are Se, Fi, Te and Ni.  My creative work is heavily focused on Fi and Ni, yet my vultology showed that my Se and Te functions were fully conscious in my typing video.  Naturally, this distinction intrigued me, and I’ve been reflecting on it since I was typed.  After some thought, and interaction on the website, we concluded that I am Fi conscious as well. Here, I will unpack the development and expression of my functions, as they manifested in different forms over the years.  
 
 
~ Music is Divine Symmetry ~
 
Morality, inner compass and ability to form crystallizations are all part of the Ji function.  I suspect this was more developed in my youth.  At age 11, I parsed out music theory on my own, and could sight-read chord charts while transposing at the same time.  At 15, I took a theory test at Berklee College of Music, and my scores placed me in top classes alongside the eldest professionals.  I mastered each modicum of my 4.5 octave range and scored 100% in state competitions which required singing opera in foreign languages.  Additionally, I scored 99th percentile on standardized math tests, won awards for Latin and French, and embodied strong personal values.  Singing was my life path, and at 13, my career began.
 
Everything changed at age 16, when Lyme Disease nearly killed me.  After that, my math scores dropped to 30th percentile and I was unable to remember or learn foreign languages.  Brain scans showed damage to my cognition which improved with Lyme treatment, but never fully recovered.  This brought on disintegration of Ji: I lost my ability to ‘delicately parse things out.’  Worse, I was left speaking in a whisper, with no hope of recovering my voice.  This left me bereft of the music career I had been pursuing for my whole life, stripping me of my hard-earned talents and dreams. 
 
 
~ So Carnal, it’s Spiritual ~
 
As my life path slipped from my grasp, moral clarity evaded me.  I involved myself with men that fell short of my ideals, did drugs even though it was against my previous convictions, and made other compromises to my once rigid standards.  This is how I devolved into my most base form, Anäeia – short for ‘Annihilate.’  She was a conquerer, heartbreaker, hooked on drugs, sex and appetite; an animal.  Anäeia is pictured here with an LSD tablet on her tongue, hungry and ready to feed, with men in the background. Most photographs of her are nude, scarred and bruised, jarring to the senses, yet magnetic. The sheer wildness of her encapsulates the idea that you’re only free when you have nothing to lose. She embodies the myth of the dark trickster which encapsulates my primary cognitive function: Se.
 
Anäeia was a vampire, undead yet not alive; stripped of her humanity.  She was an animal and a symbol of something primal, but not human.  Her trajectory had been ripped from her ruthlessly, leaving her bereft of direction and dignity.  She hunted to fulfill the desires of the flesh, but what she yearned for most deeply was the soulfelt sense of purpose she once possessed, and the innocent wonder that spawned from it.  Without Ji (conviction and purity) and Pi (long term development of an internal map), she was unleashed, hungry, and empty.
 
I longed to recover my innocence and to embody my deeper calling once again.  In a desperate attempt to reorient myself, I studied Jung, pored over my psyche and learned to explore and control my dreams.  I would often take LSD and restrict myself to specific artistic mediums to see what was residing in my unconscious.  When I was sober, I would compare the results to old diaries, photographs and music I’d written, mourning the loss of hope and seeking a coherent narrative. 
 
Over the years, I rebuilt my values and redirected my trajectory toward a purpose.  My reawakening began when I rose from the ashes, singing through my whisper and leading a band to perform my music.  The albums were attached to stories and concepts which were expressed through three manifestations of myself: Erica Xenne (Fi), Prince Ruby Valentine (Ni), and Riki Jane Wild (Te).  I did not know cognitive functions at the time, but this happened organically, and the orientation of each alter-ego is clear.  
 
 
~ Art is the Blood of the Exile ~
 
The surname Xenne combines ‘foreigner’ or ‘stranger’ in the prefix Xen- with ‘not’ in the suffix -Ne. I was alone in an alien world, but no longer a stranger to myself.  I often wore white when I sang in my youth; likewise, Erica Xenne was depicted in white. She resurrected the ghost of my voice and, along with it, my innocence. 

White is essentially Ji: it reflects the colors of the world, but doesn’t absorb them. It mirrors them through music, art and empathy, while remaining separate and true to itself.  My original form was a singer whose music connected to the heart of life; in the Erosia Myth, Erica Xenne embodies this. The magical muse believes in her love for Prince Ruby and holds on to her principles at any cost.  She was born from two people playing music together, absent of any physical contact, and raised by animals in the outer islands of Erosia.  Thus, she was made of pure music and life-force, divorced from any particular species or culture; an entity unto herself.  Since the songs came from her, I wore white when I sang through my whisper.  She embodied the druidic myth of Fi, connecting to the heart of the world in a pure, primal manner, unhindered by social standards and earthly trauma, immune to the corruption in the world, retaining her integrity.  Yet ultimately, she left Erosia, sacrificing her magic power (singing) to follow Ruby into exile. Though she was warned that Dystopia would corrupt their souls and they could never return to Erosia, she was determined, at the very least, to keep Erosia alive in Ruby’s heart.

 

~ Without a Muse, Music is just Math ~

Prince Ruby Valentine was a mysterious man of royalty.  Unlike Erica, Ruby was tied to a wider context from the moment of conception, and he remained determined to untangle its implications throughout his life.  He was born to Queen Onyx Valentine, the best ruler Erosia ever knew, but she died in childbirth.  He rejected the duties and accolades he was afforded as a Prince, as they seemed inappropriate to him under these conditions, and instead took a vow of silence, determined to communicate only through music, poetry, prose and art, resisting the widespread effort to fill the air with meaningless words.  He retreated to a cabin in the woods and lured all manner of creatures with the call of his guitar.  The Erosia myth portrays the story of his exile from Erosia, resulting from his failure to believe in love, but his depth lies elsewhere.

From his earliest days, Prince Ruby contemplated the God of Erosia, known as Nokoma (“Animal” in his own language), who was credited for giving birth to Erosia.  Ruby wanted to unravel the story behind this and to understand Nokoma’s life as a mortal man, to unpack Erosia’s roots and cosmic significance.  It was the “Ruby” inside me who spawned the fantasy series about Nokoma’s evolution from man to God, which became my life’s work.  Together, Ruby and Erica elected to write the series from the perspective Nokoma’s soulmate; they both understood she was his “compass.”  Nokoma’s lover embodies “Ji” and is drawn to white and gold, but Nokoma himself mirrors me.  In contemplating Nokoma, Ruby is drawn to religions, symbols, typology, archetypes and more, to place both ‘self’ and ‘God’ in a wider context and tap into the rhythms of the world that connect all things, embodying Ni.  He views the world on a cosmic scale where everything is connected and remains detached from the present, as portrayed in the sardonic biography he posts on his profiles: “The line – between myth and religion, dream and reality, making love and fucking – is drawn wherever you start believing.  Believe what you will and have your way with me. Yours, Prince Ruby Valentine.”

 

~ Tell me the Odds; I’ll Beat them Senseless ~

The trinity is completed by Riki Jane Wild, the “manager,” of the band. She is excluded from the Erosia myth because she is from Earth, named after my father Richard and my mother, Jane.  She met Erica after she was exiled to Dystopia, heard her struggling to sing through her whisper, decided there was something fruitful and marketable in that fight, and designated herself Erica’s manager.  She was more reluctant to take Ruby under her wing, as he appeared lost and aimless, but she eventually came to appreciate his hidden genius and the way it inspired Erica.

Erica resisted the idea of organizing an album, as the songs were written for Ruby, who was against ‘trapping a song in a cage,’ but Riki convinced her that in spite of his ravings, he would appreciate her compiling memories of Erosia.  If not him, others might remember their own personal utopia and overcome setbacks to achieve their dreams.  Erica was moved by this idea, and agreed to buckle down in the studio.

Riki helped Erica to organize her project and battle her many symptoms, to sing despite tremendous odds. She managed Erica’s band, booked shows, auditioned musicians, promoted events, made fliers, took pictures, photoshopped, edited video, and reminded Erica to stop poring over each note so she could finish larger projects.  Erica was determined to capture a perfect reflection of Erosia in the album, to feed Ruby some life and remind him of his heart; but Riki enforced deadlines and made sure the album was released. She understood that ideals were meaningless without concrete results.  As stated in the myth of Te, she served to remind Erica, “your goals don’t care about your feelings.” Due to Riki’s iron hand, the musicians who played shows with the band ‘Erosian Exile’ lovingly referred to her as “Hitler.”

The mythology of Erica Xenne and Prince Ruby Valentine worked together in tandem, incomplete without the presence of the other, and neither one was capable of manifesting on Earth without Riki, who worked to capture their musings in concrete form.  Riki was dedicated to this pair, but also embarked on her own journey: she wrote about politics and other topics extraneous to the band, found jobs, fulfilled responsibilities, and engaged Earthly activities for their own sake. Indeed, the Te development was independent.  

 

~ A Vessel through which Passion Emerges ~

Anäeia was so hungry and expansive, she left no room for additional alter-egos.  To create the beast, she destroyed the human I had been before.  She is the shadow of my current incarnation, which is more holistic, as it combines destruction and creation, passion and purpose, love and war, now and eternity. 
 
I have come to sense that, at any given moment, I am animal, human and symbol at once.  Animal is my visceral survival instincts (desire, hunger, carnality); human is my conceptualization of my experience (ideas, endeavors, beliefs); and symbol is my legacy (image, archetype, energy).  I cannot control my symbolism, as it is determined by how others view me; however, if my animal and human are balanced, then my symbolism comes to match my sense of self.  
 
Recently, I was informed that my work was reminiscent of the Goddess Kali.  I researched her and discovered that her mythos reflected mine, from my aesthetic to my mission.  Like me, her ‘nudity’ – artistic, physical or psychological – strips others of their illusions, laying their truth bare. Cycles of resurgence encapsulate my life in the manner of a phoenix; likewise, Kali represents the dissemination of the boundary between life and death, illuminating the timeless and infinite.  Kali incorporates my deepest purpose, which is why I channeled her unbeknownst to myself, and she is often associated with the Se-Ni axis in the Gamma quadra.  Taking each function separately, as well as Gamma as a whole, it is clear that the manifestations of myself – which are well documented through photos, writing and music – match with these function delineations and their mythology.
 
 
Anaeia 
The wild pink/red beast, hungry, vampiric and bold (Se)
 
 
Erica Xenne
The pure moral compass wearing white, at one with nature, druid reflecting the heart of life in her song (Fi)

 
 
Riki Jane Wild
The Earthly “get-to-it” manager, sassy bitch and speaker of political truths (Te)
 
 
Prince Ruby Valentine 
The ‘allusion’ or ‘hint’ of something you cant quite see, the shadow, figure in the distance, magnetizing animals and women, raving unintelligibly, weaving a tapestry of archetypes, tapping into the rhythm of the world (Ni)
 
 
Nokoma – Animal – Volcana
The vessel through which passion emerges; the phoenix rising from the ashes.  Timeless symbol of resurrection and fight, holding a mirror to the world to show them the bold, naked truth until their illusions explode; deathless, naked and eternal (Gamma)

Real Self

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There is no “real self” underneath the masks we wear, aside from archetypal themes each individual falls into, which others have occupied repeatedly throughout time. There is nothing unique and individual under the sun, but our potentials exist within a certain axis. At our best we would “align” with a cosmic purpose that our character is able to channel or fulfill. At worst we would separate ourselves from that and force ourselves to enact a rhythm that is unnatural for us, thus falling out of harmony with the world. The “real self” is not something “under” our masks, but rather something that we must strive to become.
 
The deepest “illusion” we fall prey to is that we’re separate from the cosmos; that our individual life is an independent entity.  It is a biological imperative to feel this way, because it results from fear of death which feeds our survival instincts. Due to fear of death, we lie to ourselves in a desperate attempt to individuate. But true individuation and realization occurs when we realize death is just part of a cycle.  We all know this intellectually, but we feel it when we are aligned with a greater purpose, and we see our influence conjoined with others to contribute to the collective. Anything less than that, and the only thing we can do is make our lies bigger and louder, to feel like we matter on our own.
 
The idea that we possess a true self “beneath the masks” implicitly separates us from alignment with the whole. Its a lie we tell ourselves which feeds our survival instincts, but weakens our awareness.  If we conceive of the masks as an expression of self, then we come closer to acknowledging that our performance in the world is fulfilling our connection to the greater scheme, which is the most honest thing we can do.  Humanity will last longer than any single one of us.  We are each one note in a cosmic song.  Playing the wrong note “just to stand out” – or feeling like our real note is something other than the one people are hearing – is clinging to an illusion.
 
There is a real self, but it’s not separate from presentation; rather, presentation is the path toward actualizing it, so that the idea of self is not just empty chatter.  Some people believe their real self lies beyond the masks they wear, yet fail to realize this type of chatter can be empty even if they keep it to themselves.  They have a narrative or some amorphous sense of “who they are ” that they think they’re hiding from the world, but it is merely a fantasy.  A lack of words or “keeping it hidden” doesn’t actually protect this narrative from being false.  It just heightens the sense that the “presentation” is separate from the “real” identity, which is a lie, so the lies build upon lies until nothing is real.
 
To me, we are all animal, human and symbol.  The animal is our instincts, which are the same for everyone.  The human is the mind that decides what we will do and who we will be.  The symbol is the impression we leave behind for others.   Many of us try to control that image, but the symbol is out of our control. The collective will see us how it sees us. We can’t control that, but we can control our actions which lead to choices, which then leave an impression.  If we align our animal instincts with our human mind, achieving inner balance, its very likely the way we see ourselves will match how others see us. 

Misogyny & Misandry

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A friend wrote a post saying she won’t be offended if a man talks to her. She won’t feel like due to the patriarchy, he thinks he’s entitled etc. I completely agree with her, and I find it depressing that this even has to be said. This patriarchy-bashing and man-hating has reached a level of complete insanity.

Men talking to women, men holding the door, men asking you out, being a little determined – so what? Get real people. Masculinity is a REAL force in the world – if you choose not to honor it, you’re living in a fantasy land. Cuckolding entire sub-cultures won’t do you any good; it won’t help you find a balanced relationship. If you want a man who is strong enough to handle you, then stop squandering male expression at every turn.

Unfortunately, both conservatism and liberalism are responsible for this particular modern disaster.

For the record, I’m not anti-religion. However, there is a tendency in some religions, especially more conservative sectors, to want women to cover up. In some cases, forcing them. This is across the board – Christianity, Islam, Judaism. There are sectors that care less about this, and then more extremists and orthodox who cover people up – in some cases, they cover up people of both genders. But there’s a strong focus on ‘modesty’ for women and not being presented as a sexual object, which of course brings to light the problem that it’s ASSUMED that men will otherwise do bad things, think bad thoughts etc; if we present in a sexy way. This makes a sexy woman, or a woman AT ALL – into a kind of ‘taboo.’ Which makes it exciting, titillating, sinful – to get just an inch closer to her and then go home and whack off.

Personally, I’m a married woman very in love with my husband, who is my soulmate. Anyone that has seen his picture would understand why there is no way in hell that I’d want anyone else, and I mean that on every level; superficially, he looks like a supermodel; more deeply, his intelligence and sensitivity is palpable. I am completely loyal to him, and him to me.

Yet both of us enjoy being admired for our beauty, our sexiness. We both encourage each other to wear whatever we want in public. If others want to admire us that’s fine, but we are also compassionate and don’t play games with others or with each other, so we make it clear to anyone we talk to that we’re married and monogamous.

Yet beyond that, why not be admired? It’s a basic human instinct. Knowing I can go out in sexy clothes and the world can be my stage, is a motivator for going to the gym, eating healthy; it also makes it FUN to go out. Usually we go out together.. we have no desire for a ‘separate social life’ – so we make an appearance as a pair. But on occasions where we must be separate, like around work, why not come home with stories about people who admired our beauty? Why not feel good about ourselves?

It’s a human instinct to want to admire others’ beauty and be admired. Some people feel this less than others, which is perfectly fine, but for those of us who get a thrill and connect on the basis of beauty and mutual admiration, and who see life as an art; why not indulge it? This kind of thing – for those of us who want to do it – DEMYSTIFIES the appeal of sexiness, of womanliness – and shows how it’s human. It demystifies the sexual undercurrents in conversation, since there’s literally nothing wrong with lusting a little as long as boundaries are set. Healthy desire leads to inspiration and excitement; breaks the monotony. Honoring the desire to be sexy makes for a more honest psyche, where people aren’t ‘cheating and being freaks behind closed doors’ due to all the repression they force themselves into every day.

If someone WANTS to be modest, let her. Let him. I don’t care. But making cultural rules about it, will never work. There will always be people with high sex drives, with soulful styles, who want to sing like the birds even if they are taken, just because that song and dance is beautiful and beauty is inspiring. There are people who just enjoy being looked at. There are people who are not monogamous. So what?

(I already anticipate the response: STDS! Pregnancy! Yes, these are real issues. I am saying this assuming that in a world with less oppression, there would be MORE focus on how to be RESPONSIBLE about sex, rather than shoving it under the rug and pretending it doesn’t exist, only to have people cheating the system behind closed doors and finding themselves infected and pregnant with unwanted children, which is the real outcome of sexually repressed sub-groups and societies. There are individuals who are pious and are exceptions to this; but forcing it on a wide scale clearly does not work.)

On a wide ideological scale, conservatism represses femininity (in both men and women), whereas liberalism represses masculinity (specifically in men), thus resulting in a need for women to fill that role in lieu of seeking to love and to nurture. To be clear, men also want to love and nurture. But if men are not allowed to aggress, then the average man will devolve into a dependent pussy sucking your titty. That is not fulfilling for any of us.

Conservatism says “men shouldn’t cry” and “women should be modest,” repressing unbridled emotional display and beauty. Liberalism says “men shouldn’t aggress” and “women should not need men,” oppressing very obvious parts of our nature too. It is fine for ANYONE to assert their will, man or woman alike; and if men are socially not allowed to do this, then women end up feeling undesired or unfulfilled by men who aren’t working, aren’t asserting themselves, etc. As for the men, the suicide rates speak for themselves: they feel cuckolded, uninspired, unwanted, ineffective, creepy. Women, this is not good for you either – especially if you’re hetero – but even if you have sons, friends, brothers, coworkers who are male. An emasculated society is a limp world that can’t get momentum, can’t assert, can’t individuate. Having assertive women won’t make up for it, because these women still have an instinctual desire to find lovers, no matter how loudly they insist they ‘don’t need no man.’ Look deeper. Beyond that, if men in society are squandered due to being told they can’t assert their will, can’t “manspread” and sit comfortably, must squash their balls to avoid female wrath – society will have weak links and will perish.

Sexless women and emasculated men are not ideals. It’s fine if individuals express this way, but praising it as some ideal is not the solution to social problems; it is more problematic than human nature itself. People cry, desire, flirt, ask each other out, assert their will, aggress.. your social constructs will not stop them. At best, you will push these acts deeper behind closed doors, where they will come out in extreme ways (rape, cheating, whoring, etc).

All the extreme constructs do is create more divides, oppression, repression and hatred between people, as they identify more and more with this sector or that, in opposition to one another. To speak for myself, I am not “a white, middle class, chronically ill, Jewish, female, cisgendered, bisexual, right-or-left-leaning American,” I’m fucking Erica Xenne, and I will express as such. If all you can see is a statistic, that says more about you than me.

In this world of categories, ideals and constructs, I find that exploring my own nature is paramount. These rules and games will never tell me who I am, nor will they contain me; I have always known this. If you explore who you are, and you express who you are and observe what happens, you learn a lot about the world and it’s easier to see the trends for what they are. That is my theory anyway. Subjectivity and individualism do not necessarily begin and end with serving the self. If you know who you are and assert it, the world shows its true colors in your wake.

Language

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“What if we were never taught as children to associate what we saw, heard or felt with anything particular? What if we weren’t taught to tell time? What if we were allowed to develop our natural impressions of everything around us? How would it be? What if our faculties were much more psychically in tune instead of logical?”

The way culture pans out is a direct result of human nature. Part of being psychically in tune with our nature is feeling the need to create structures and distinctions. Language was what set us apart from Neanderthals and allowed us to survive longer, since their vocal cords were not shaped properly to allow for complex language to develop. It was language which allowed us to accumulate knowledge like “how to build a fire” and pass it down over generations, so that newborn generations wouldn’t have to start over and could acquire more skills. This is what allowed the human species to survive, since physically we are not equipped to defend ourselves and could be taken down by most animals half our size.

Thus language (structure, distinctions, knowledge) was a staple of human society and we built on it, making bigger borders and structures to protect ourselves from predators. Our ancestors did this for us, which now allows us to be born into a fully built house, use money our parents made to buy food, and go to the hospital to get medicines that were created by previous generations so we don’t die every time we get sick.  This allows people like me and you to sit around on our computers in our safe haven, protected by walls that shield us from the elements and from natural predators, with access to food and medicine to allow us to survive, and sit around thinking about what it would be like if we knew nothing. The truth of it is, we would not be here thinking about that, if we had to think about surviving; and if people did not use language to build up cumulative knowledge and apply it, then survival is what we would be thinking about.

That said, I have often wondered if people just stopped talking about race, if racism would disappear within a few centuries. Distinctions like that are pointless, nonsensical and result in holding the species back from reaching its potential. If we didn’t have so many wars we would have more money for space programs to expand, but warring over territory and borders makes sense, as much as it seems we should be past it by now; because species who survive are the same ones who build up power and take down the weaker ones. Racism, however, is nonsensical. It is not natural either; children aren’t racist. It’s an absolutely learned behavior, socially conditioned.

Stress

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Telling a person that ‘stress’ causes their illness only stresses them out more. It’s a load of garbage.

I’ve had a chronic illness for years and “trying to avoid stress” never once helped my symptoms. Working out to expend energy, following the protocols and making sure to get enough sleep, did. I was at my healthiest when I lived in a poor area in NYC in a high stress environment with high stress work and running a band (managing, promoting, booking, writing, rehearsing) ..singing through my whisper. Every second of my life was taken up by work, band stuff, gym and diets, which I engaged on hyper drive in order to squeeze out any ounce of voice I had left. Sitting on my ass making time pass “less stressfully” always makes my health worse by comparison.

World-wide studies confirmed that the secret to long life is a sense of purpose. As MLK said – If you can’t fly, run. If you can’t run, walk. If you can’t walk, crawl. But either way, you’ve got to keep moving forward.

Lust

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When it comes to lust, most people cant touch the outermost edges of my extremes.  Some people need more sex than I, but my lust still knows no bounds.

It’s not just about the body – it’s about a need to own the person completely; to conquer his soul.  To possess, rule and infiltrate every fucking inch of his mind, body, heart; even his dreams and his past.  To have him do the same with me.  I want absolutely no pebble unturned, no corner of his mind that I can’t reach, no lost memory that I haven’t ravaged for everything it’s worth.  I need to be King, Queen, Princess, Prince and people to him.  He is my dominion and I am his.

Lust is even more dangerous perhaps, for me, than those who are purely physical.  Because the physical will never approach the depths I need to infuse in order to feel even a drop of satisfaction for a mere moment and then hunger for more.  The universe is not big enough to compete with the lengths I will go to in order to reach every fucking corner of every past life and every future life; to completely own him.  Limits, boundaries, ‘good ‘ and ‘bad,’ dirty… none of this has any place in this world.  His soul will be devoured down to the last grain until there is nothing left between us but øne.

Sacred Darkness

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I don’t have a lot of ‘scholarly knowledge’ about the Bible. Nonetheless, I view the Bible as a collection of tales that were rehashed from Sumerian tablets and other works which were likely rehashed from even older works (humanity may be much older than we realize, evidence is showing). The rehashing and same themes & names among many stories over time is rather obvious, but the question that piques my interest is: why? What kind of control over the mind do ideas like “original sin” — or sin at all — allow? Is this a tool that governments and institutions have used to control our minds? 

It is beyond obvious to me that the crushing of sacred darkness is a ploy by the powers that be– at any given time in history – to enslave us.

Those who are awake can understand – and embody – the idea that there is no shadow without light. Different people may play a different archetypal role in this balance – so this is not to say that everyone’s personal balance should be the same. But anyone who opens their minds’ eye can see clearly that shadow and light both give form to things. Night and day give rhythm to things. It is insane to try to crush one or the other in oneself, or even worse, in the whole of humanity. To dictate where “everyone” should fall on that scale is to open up a huge pocket that isn’t being filled, leaving space for terrible evil to balance out the light that is being forced on us and translated to repression. When everyone must only focus on the light, they repress the dark, and that space of sacred darkness still needs to be occupied in the cosmos and in human consciousness — so what fills it? — something really fucking horrific that balances “the light.”  This is why those of us who can see, will not aim to repress darkness in ourselves and others.

I have a tendency to repress light in myself– such as love, forgiveness, giving, compassion — I have worked hard on that. I have naturally very strong compassion to the point where I feel the feelings of others at times. I once was told “You have strong mirror neurons.” When watching a movie, I am the characters for that time period. But I learned early on to close my heart to real humans and open it only to music, characters and my own creative work, because otherwise it would get crushed – especially after I lost my voice, which was the direct channel through which I could deliver messages from the aether I live in. I was isolated and otherworldly, and I went through a deep, powerful process to reconnect. This is what Erica Xenne’s white dress is about in Erosia: sacred light. Prince Ruby Valentine is the darkness, and the two illuminate each other and give each other form.

 

Sumerian Tablets

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*Disclaimer: I am not a Bible scholar or a Historian. I am simply sharing ideas about what I recently put together, due to light researching, and my reaction to it.*

A few thousand years before the Bible was written by humans, a different set of humans wrote very similar stories about our origin, using many of the same names. These people were called the Sumerians. People have recently been translating the Sumerian tablets. The biggest difference in the story is the fundamental stuff: the Sumerian tablets claim humans were created by aliens called the Annunaki who came here to mine gold in order to save their dying atmosphere, and mixed their own DNA with that of Homo Erectus. The God Enki was the most empathetic one, who gave the humans knowledge, but his brother Enlil & the other Annunaki did not want the humans to have knowledge because they needed to use them as slaves to mine gold. The Bible was a tale written by the winners of a war, who portrayed Enki as the devil and Enlil as God, but all the wrathful horror stories written about the bible’s “God” were about Enlil in the Sumerian tablets, who was hated by many humans.

As crazy as that might sound, the Sumerian tablets also contain a lot of accurate details about outer space, all of the planets in the Solar system, the atmosphere, Mars, the Moon, etc; and the information checks out completely , scientifically. There is no way they could have known this without any form of space travel.

So to me, it’s not about whether or not I “believe” the stories about our origin – it’s more that I find the tablets interesting because it begs the question: how did they know these highly accurate details about outer space?

The Bible is utterly uninteresting because it is simply a rewrite — it was propaganda created to paint Enki in a bad light. However the way they went about it was quite implausible; they claimed the God in the Bible was omniscient, omnibenevolent and omnipotent; yet they also demonstrated many evil acts committed by this God.  The Sumerian tablets, at least, have a story that is internally cohesive; even if much of it is likely fictional.

It makes no difference to me if we were created by the Big Bang, God, Evolution, Aliens, or the dreams of psychics, as I will continue to live my life the exact same way regardless, even if any of these theories, or another one altogether, was proven to be true beyond doubt. I won’t buckle to a God that created me but won’t accept me the way I am. I’d rather get cast to Hades or Hell or the nearest black hole.

But I do find a lot of holes in the tales we are told about our past, so I enjoy introducing new theories and watching people come up with holes in those. What I find interesting is that given the evidence, this is a strong case, hard to refute, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.. it’s just interesting that people are generally more willing to accept tales with much bigger glaring holes in them.

Judging People

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Having opinions about people — a topic that has been on my mind recently.

People often have opinions about other people. Like what they just did was rude. What a jerk! Etc. I often don’t have the same type of knee jerk reactions, because for me there’s a wider perspective and context.

Let’s use an example: my accountant doesn’t say hello or goodbye. He just gives you the numbers and hangs up. Others might call this rude but I call it sensible and economical – he saves several seconds each phone call by doing this. Add that together and you have a lot of time saved on the job. People might think it’s funny that he doesn’t know how to “human,” but I disagree. He “humans” by making a living and setting his own terms.

We live in a society where it is considered normal to watch tv, smoke, get drunk, have several kids we can’t afford. So in order to have a negative opinion about someone who hangs up the phone too fast, a lot of presumptions need to be made about my mindset. For me to hone in on someone who is doing something you don’t see every day, and say that it’s “rude,” I’d have to start with the basic premise that the things people do every day are “not rude,” or, “compassionate.” Smoking is not compassionate to anyone in the room. Drinking is not compassionate toward your loved ones. Watching tv is a waste of life and it makes ones’ skills at “humans” much weaker, as it subtracts time that could be spent talking to people face to face.

So for me to make snap judgments about people, let’s put this in perspective.

A guy is defensive on the internet. What a jerk! I should hate this moron! Ok, hold up: We are all reading posts on the internet rather than doing something productive. Let’s start with this basic premise and sit with it for a moment before continuing to spout accusations. “I am here on the internet reading a complete stranger’s post and reacting to it without seeing his facial expression.” Fact. I sit with that fact.

This is not a lecture on judgment. I really don’t give a shit. If I hate someone at first sight then so be it. Nobody deserves a second chance, the benefit of the doubt or anything else. I have no guilt about how I do or don’t feel about someone.

But in order to jump to the kind of snap judgments people often expect, a lot of pre-determined premises have to be established. For instance, before I can say it’s rude that someone didn’t say hi, I need to agree that saying ‘hi’ is productive, genuine, worthwhile, etc. And in many cases I don’t believe that these social rules ARE productive, genuine, worthwhile…. in many cases I don’t see the point of them. So, while I may engage them myself in order to save myself from potentially annoying consequences, I won’t judge someone negatively for shunning them.

I have a deeply personal perspective on things and in order to agree, or disagree, with people’s snap judgments of others, I would have to accept the basic premises that the things they are judging are relevant in the first place. This is not about kindness or compassion, it’s about perspective and frankly, self-absorption. I’m more concerned with evaluating my own merit because I’m the only person I can control.