Saturday, 29 December 2018

"Jesus Christ Superstar" - Laibach edition...

Laibach, the Slovenian "goth / industrial rock" group that once said, when asked if they were fascists, that they were as much fascists as "Hitler was a painter", and that once played, by invite, in North Korea, took a silly musical number and gave it an awesome spin with this cover.  Andrew Lloyd Webber has never sounded so good... really.  He never has.  ("Phantom of the Opera" is lame, and I'm sick of people considering it real opera.)

(I love Laibach, but I wonder how they reacted to the alt right?  Their far right/far left imagery seems entirely for artistic shits and giggles.  Nazis have gone from Hugo Boss uniforms and Wagner to tiki lights and polo shirts.  Evil isn't stylish anymore... it's just tacky and stupid looking now.)


The new habit...


Here are some (not very good - for they were taken with my shitty phone camera) pics of me in the newest nun habit I have acquired.  When I get nicer pics taken, I will upload those as well.  This habit was an affordable buy from Bodyline, a Japanese lolita fashion store that sells budget lolita items that are of decent quality for the money.  This came out to about $35.00 US in total, shipping was free.  Not bad!  The veil's elastic is a little snug for my cranium, might have to adjust that by extending it with more elastic, but that's an easy task I could do some day.  I wore this out to a goth dance party last night... sipping beer and praying away in the corner.  Ha!

I think I shall refrain from making that many updates about my spiritual condition until I have a better sense of clarity... seems I am still being deluded, and fear making a fool of myself on here.  This has been a strenuous battle, and I know not everyone is going to understand it... all I can say is that things are, for the most part, going well, and I'm not going to quit fighting.  Mostly, I am going to focus my time on Christian style prayer, because it has been the most helpful method, thus far.  I am also using sweetgrass to smudge again.

I think I will go to the cathedral today before my shift... that deacon I had the religious debate with said hello recently, glad there is no bad blood!


Thursday, 27 December 2018

Farewell, Sister Wendy...

Feb 25, 1930 - Dec 26, 2018

I was saddened to hear about the passing of the epic art nun, Sister Wendy Beckett, which happened only yesterday.  She was 88.

I knew about this interesting woman back in my high school days, in art class, where we would watch videos of her, where she'd often gush over the eroticism in the paintings she would describe in detail, which made it all so amusing, her being a Carmelite nun.  She apparently developed quite the following from her BBC documentary series, and seemed like a genuine human being.  There were some comedy show parodies of her as well - not sure how she felt about those, but she was a compelling speaker and again, it was amusing to see a nun discuss nudes to the degree that she did.

Carmelites are my fave to read about, I think, of the nuns I have been interested in.  St Teresa of Avila was also a real character, and I might have to do a blog post about her and her work sometime too.


UPDATE:  Found this interesting video of her discussing the saints - one of my favourite subject matters.  Enjoy!

Thursday, 20 December 2018

My rosary...

This rosary was gifted to me by a friend of a friend (who has also become a friend - though she lives in the States, so I keep in touch with her online).  She is working to become an Anglican priest, and as a hobby she likes to weave rosaries and gift them to people.  Because I tend to pray the Catholic version, she made me this St Jude themed Catholic rosary, complete with a St Jude medal hanging from the cross portion.  Prior to owning this, I would use some cheap boring rosaries that were pretty typical looking... this one is much nicer.

A friend of mine and I are such spirituality nerds that he sometimes texts me to invite me over to pray the rosary, and I respond with "Fuck YES... I'm fucking AMPED for that.  Lemme grab some WINE!" - some people get together to smoke dope, play video games, run a DND campaign, or have casual sex - we do Druidry rituals and pray the rosary.  Interesting what he and I consider fun, I know... at least it's a cheap hobby.

Often when I start the ritual of the rosary, I will utter several prayers to various sources at the crucifix portion, to set my intent for the prayers.  I have memorized most of the ritual, just the Apostle's Creed is a bit tricky for me to remember.  Sometimes I pray it at the cathedral with everyone else there in unison, but usually I just like to do it on my own, or with my friend the Anglican Druid.  It's been a while since I have, I have kind of taken a break from it.  Gotta be in the right mood!

(This rosary was also something I carried around with me at the convent - I wonder what those nuns thought of me, honestly... one time during silence at meal time, I started snickering because of some oddness popping into my subconscious, and tried passing it off as a hacking cough... how embarrassing!)

I'll probably post some articles on other things I tend to use ritualistically, including the smudge feather I made that helped me destroy my demon.


Sunday, 16 December 2018

Automatic handwriting...

Automatic handwriting (or spirit writing) is one of the channeling gifts that I have been developing for many years.  Basically, as one could imagine, it equates to allowing unseen spiritual forces, or the unconscious, to take control of one's hand with a pen to write messages.  I also receive automatic drawings a lot, some of which I have discussed here before.

It all started back in 2006, when I was puffing away on a joint.  My right hand lurched up on its own and began gesturing like a ballpoint pen being clicked, indicating that I should pick up an implement and start seeing what came out of it.  My hair stood on end at the time, but I am so used to this now it's as natural as breathing to me.  In the beginning, the messages were a few words and squiggles mostly, but since working on myself and ridding myself of much of my spiritual problems, I now receive complete sentences and passages.  It's a sort of guidance to help me know what to pray for, to encourage me, and to give premonitions of events to come in the near future.  Often these premonitions are accurate.

Today I experimented with automatic handwriting at the cathedral - since tarot cards in a Catholic church is a recipe for disaster, having a notebook looks like I might just be journaling.  I found the "spiritual reception" to be even clearer in this location, due to the amount of devotion and spiritual service that goes on there, I'm sure.  It's probably going to be something I do often now, nobody could tell I was channeling notes, tarot cards would be way too obvious and I might even get scolded or kicked out if the wrong person saw me using them.

Some of the regular symbols I receive through automatic drawing include: the cross, the cross in a heart, the Eye of God, the Eye of God with beams coming from it, the spiral of Akasha, the Infinity symbol, the Eye of Providence, the Chi Rho, the Star of David with an eye in it, a smiley face (I guess to indicate that all is well), the Medicine Wheel, and a series of other symbols, both religious and non religious in nature.  It feels almost like a kind of game of Pictionary with the Spirit, trying to make sense of what the messages are trying to tell me, as I also fine tune my vocal channeling.  Vocal channeling, BTW, feels like a kinetic response in the body where the mouth forms and speaks words on its own, the ego not involved as it steps aside for a moment.

Right now I seem to be overcoming a lot but also fine tuning, as I take on and develop new skills with this.  It will be interesting to see how far this takes me - some very powerful psychics I know already say I'm pretty darn good, and I only opened to the Akashic Records a few months ago!


Saturday, 15 December 2018

Where I'm at: The Anahata update...

It seems I made a false assumption, that there is still a negative field of energy with me, but it's dead consciously, and only affects my ability to perceive psychically and channel.... it is not in and of itself a conscious thing trying to mess with me anymore.  Good information still finds a way to make it through me, but is peppered by nonsense.  Fortunately, this illusionary nonsense is quickly seen for what it is, anything "demonic" has a kind of cute and cuddly vibe (like Jim Henson studios stuff - not "Dark Crystal" though, more "Fraggle Rock"), and any evil seems about as threatening as this pug dog in a bumble bee costume.

The burden seems to be affecting Anahata, which, on the soul, is the gateway to Divinity (many see Sahasrara as this, but Anahata is at least as equally important), which causes me a spiritual burden, where I breathe heavily throughout the day, heaving heavy sighs, and makes me feel tired all the time, like a weary octogenarian, no matter how well I eat or exercise.  But the burden has faded, and the channel (when it is not confusing me) reiterates that I just have to wait this out, that it's going away, this is a kind of decaying of dead energy and even smudge can't clear it out quicker.  I was worried demonic "minions" were out to get me yesterday, and smudged the shit out of my apartment and energy field, but that was again an example of the kind of illusion this brings.  I have a feeling these illusions may abound for some time, so be prepared for me to describe some stuff on here that I will later retract as I grow healthier as a soul.  I'm sure many of you think I'm nuts... I am not, it is what happened to me that is truly insane.  I am emotionally and psychologically holding things together, when something is weird it's more of an eye roller than a nail biter for me.

I felt some stillness come over me since the "DIY baptism" event, so I guess that actually was legit!  It'll be interesting to see how this unfolds.  I feel even more quiet in my mind than I did before... the source of any strange info is through vocal channel, which is not the same as hearing voices (though I don't think of hearing voices as only a sign of madness... clairaudience is a real thing).  But when I sit in stillness, my mind is very quiet... at peace.  A very good sign.

I have decided not to try marijuana again until it is absolutely clear that this field is gone, and I am not sure what that will look like, but I have a feeling I will know it when I see it.  It could just get extremely disturbing with this still here, and I may have a panic attack if I jump the gun.  Marijuana lowers the barrier between the conscious and the unconscious, and with this affecting the unconscious, it could be ugly if utilized too soon.

My Jungian analyst once joked that I am in the Crone stage of womanhood at 36, because of my interests, what I perceive as relevant, important, and what drives me.  This makes quite a bit of sense to me.  I skipped the Motherhood stage altogether - I am not the maternal type at all, at least not with human babies.  Cats, on the other hand, are my little sweetums, and one day I will probably get another lovely feline to have around as a familiar... but for now, on my budget, it's just plants for me.  :P


Tuesday, 11 December 2018


Though I have come to a point where I function quite well in society, despite the psychic assault, and though it appears the assault is over now, it looks as though I will require a substantial period of recuperation.  This has been 12 and a half years of brutality on my unconscious, and under the strong facade of whom I present to the world hides a fragile side to me that is very tender.  It was as though my mind had been under constant attack, and though medication made it easier to ignore, anxiety was intense because my unconscious was in constant pain.  Now I am coming down from this, shedding cathartic tears while I gather my thoughts, picking up the pieces while I decide on how to proceed in life.

It seems like I am going to need to focus on relaxation for a long time, and on anything I can think of to heal.  I no longer trust the CAMH women's ward as a therapeutic place for what I am dealing with, should I get too overwhelmed... I will have to find my own answers, at home.  The hospital will only be used if there's an emergency, clearly it was a bad idea to go there last time.  One thing I use is a weighted blanket sometimes to chill out, that helps.  Hot baths are nice as well.

It's probably best, now that I think of it, to give any pot consumption some time before making that attempt, and it's probably best to not come down off of medication until my psyche is 100% confident in itself.  I think part of the reason my channel can be tricky and all over the map is that the psychic region of my soul became sick from the battle that was going on, so now it's a bit beat up, and I can't exactly do what I want to do with it pitch perfectly.  Provable truths do come out from it, but there is a lot of stuff that comes out that is also ungrounded.  Maybe the vayus in the soul need to work out some bad pranic shit... I am also praying like mad to get things in check again.  I'm sure it will all be fine, but it probably needs time to level out.

At this point I would prefer a safe life over an exciting one, if an exciting one meant I was unsafe, so I am willing to work and wait for things to improve before any real fun comes my way.


Sunday, 9 December 2018

My life: What it's like now...

Perhaps it's worth posting something about the positivity in my life right now, considering the darkness I have discussed prior.  Things are actually quite good, and I seem to make everything work, even on a lower budget.

I have a cute little one bedroom apartment in the core of the city, which is hard to come by considering the housing crisis.  Finances, though low, are good, I have no debt, I engage in low budget activities to maintain my financial balance, and am even able to put away money for retirement every two weeks.  Though "poor", I have two phones, and I eat out all the time (I am not much of a cook, that's why), and I am still with a disposable income.  So finances and housing are great right now.  Also, I can get away with only part time work, so I have much free time to engage in art, spirituality, and social activities.  Stress is quite low.  Also, my health is good.

My hobbies are inexpensive - I like karaoke... I have a passion and an eye for thrifting, and often find remarkably cool stuff at thrift stores (the hunt is fun for me).  I tend to only take and buy what I need or perhaps absolutely want (but this is not common, I realize, thanks to the practise of non-attachment, that I don't care to have it all now), I look for sales and deals like a good Taurus, and I am excellent with money.  Sometimes I get to take a trip, sometimes I treat myself to something luxurious, but am not upset if that is not consistent.  I am a Westerner who does not need to constantly be pampered to be satisfied.

My circle of friends is broad and wide - I have more than I can count now.  Certainly there is my core posse, but I do have a great deal of wonderful people in my life whom I consider quite close.  I am also a member of various groups, including the Toronto Comic Jam, and (to a lesser extent now) Mad Pride Toronto.  I designed the Mad Pride Toronto logo, which has since taken off as an internationally recognized symbol of the movement, in various incarnations - now even Mad Pride Paris (France), Mad Pride Derbyshire, and Mad Pride Netherlands, to name some examples, have adopted logos based on my original design.  So that's kind of cool, to have created something that is an official icon now.

My art career isn't booming, but I get the sense it isn't something I want to be in full swing right now.  I have to focus on my soul, that's the most important thing for me at this stage.  Spirit, I get, senses what I need, and provides me with it.  An involved art career would overwhelm me, so I need this downtime.  I am also an indie artist, not a commercial one, so it's never going to be the workload of a commercial artist.  I still plan on working with that television director on the Asylum Squad short film we're planning (the working title is "Madder" - I'd say it's kind of like "Jacob's Ladder" meets "The Craft" in tone and style), it's just that we are in a stage where we need to find the budget for it, and film can in fact take a long time to move forward.

It's nice that a big contingent of spiritually minded people has suddenly landed in my lap - for years, I felt like the group weirdo with what I was living with and feeling, and now these new friends are receptive and it's lovely.  Though I do have atheist/agnostic pals, it's limited when it comes to what we can discuss, since I am so spiritually involved, it is one of the biggest aspects of my life.

So, despite a lack of extravagance, life is good, and possibly even the ideal, considering everything is in balance, money is not a concern, my home is comfortable, my job isn't something I despise.  I plan on stepping up my game when the time is right, but things are not broken, so why bother fixing anything?  I kind of live in the moment, make plans for the future, but don't fret to the degree other Westerners do about this stuff.  I get the sense things will happen as they are meant to now.


Friday, 7 December 2018


The Kundalini (a latent Shakti goddess energy that resides in the Muladhara/root chakra) is an intelligent spiritual power that, when awakened, leads people closer and closer to full spiritual development.  (This is a subject I have discussed briefly on my last blog, but it's worth discussing again here.)

"Kundalini Syndrome" was something I feared I had for a very long time, after psychiatry had convinced me for a while that my demon did not exist.  It is when Kundalini awakens abruptly, or through an imbalanced nadi (channel) and generates painful psychological, physical, and/or emotional states.  Though it's true Kundalini was a part of my journey, it was not the true cause of my suffering, but certainly what I suffered from would have aggravated any strange states Kundalini may have caused, thus it was a perfect storm situation for my unconscious.

I took Kundalini Yoga for about 2 years, until I decided it wasn't doing much more than giving me some exercise and causing me mild hyperventilation while doing Breath of Fire.  A yogi I talked to suggested that this yoga only be practised by those wishing to initiate the Kundalini, not kundalites who are active, as I was.  Once or twice, I came home from a yoga session, with some strange psychic states that caused me anxiety.  So, I put it to rest, and later took up my own brand of Bhakti Yoga (the "Yoga of Devotion"), like the lazy Taurus I am.  My practise involves consistent prayer and devotion to various gods and figures, and using channeling, tarot, and other means to obtain hidden knowledge so as to know how to proceed in growth and development.  Opening to Akasha was the watershed I needed to receive true knowledge to get this wretched, son of a bitch demon to finally die - prior, I did often channel the Spirit, but without the Akashic Records open, the knowledge was limited.  I was rather cut off from it.

Some of the Kundalini phenomena I have experienced includes: mudra hand gestures, kumbhaka breathing patterns, psychic phenomena, strange yogic postures and movements, stronger ties to Divinity, glossolalia, and some weird convulsions that were so intense I actually had to get an EEG scan done because doctors thought I was having seizures (my brain is fine, BTW).  The way I got the stranger stuff under control was through prayer work - for some, their yoga would require extensive stretches, physical postures and breath work... for me, it was about prayer and contemplation, which is in some ways why I identify a lot with Christian mystics I have read about.  St Teresa of Avila's book, "The Interior Castle", discusses the metaphor of a crystal castle with seven mansions... clearly, the castle is the soul, and the mansions are the chakras, and this is her western mystical interpretation of the same process.  (It's a good read, if you can tolerate how she has a tendency to throw womankind under the bus, but as a clever woman living during the Inquisition, she had to play her cards right and act a certain way to preserve her work, and her life.)

I feel I have gotten past the treacherous, tricky stage of Ajna chakra, which can be hard to get by for some, I have read.  I am not yet at Sahasrara, but instead at some point in either Upper Ajna or even higher.  The demon seems to have been an effect on my Anahata, so with that blocked off, it made things pretty tricky.  Now that it seems to be clearing, so is the picture getting clearer, and I get the sense things will be more of a cakewalk for me, at least when compared to the horrors of the past.

I may write more about Kundalini stuff later, as I make further progress in my growth.


Wednesday, 5 December 2018


Now that pot has been legalized in Canada, and now that my demon's energy field seems to be waning, I am beginning to consider that I may one day again be able to consume this wonderful plant.  I am even beginning to channel that this will indeed be a possibility.

Cannabis has a very peculiar reaction in my brain, where I go into these amazing visionary states, rather like ayahuasca trips, only that my unconscious is such a ludicrous place that I get visions of mostly cartoony stuff that is wild and over the top.  I have described some of this prior, as "active imagination", and marijuana only makes it all the more lush.  If I pop on a pair of headphones while this is happening, whatever I am witnessing visually dances in sync with the music, as though a music video is being created on the spot, and I am mesmerized.  All of it is drenched in hilarity and the fact that pot turns people into laughing idiots anyway adds to that effect.  There are cuts and edits like in a film, transitions, sometimes even credits roll or something... I have even had visions all pixelated like from a 16 bit video game.  I really do hope I can safely explore this again, because it was so amazing and pot is pretty affordable and easy to obtain - all of Toronto basically smells like a skunk's hindquarters because of the new laws in effect.

Now that I am reading the Akashic Records, I bet it will be even more amazing - before, it was just my personal unconscious, from what I gathered.  I will definitely be generating art based on any trips I take if and when I start smoking grass again, and post these works to my blog.  (I also got something that called itself "The Poetry Task Force", which was crazy disjointed poetry that had little to no meaning but rhymed beautifully and had excellent rhythm - often it would sync over the beat of any music I was listening to... so let's say I was playing some silly 90s eurodance number, like "Rhythm of the Night" by Corona, I would hear added lyrics over the beat of the song, often poetry, while I ignored the main lyrics with my conscious.)

I am slightly worried this could become an addiction, because of how incredible smoking pot is for me... I certainly don't want to become one of those potheads who smokes so much grass that they begin to look like the plant itself.  You know the type... white person with dreads or green hair, green army khakis, pot leaf bandanna, yellowing complexion.  These types smoke so much their farts probably get surrounding people high... they want to become the plant.  No, I don't want that to be me, after MY journey.  <_<

At least now it's legal, though.  Psilocybin is probably a real trip for me now too.  I'll consider eating mushrooms sometime, maybe.  Better start downloading some Israeli psytrance or something for the psychological journeys I might soon be taking!


PS: To anyone agitated by my lack of recent Asylum Squad comic updates, sorry about the delay... mild block in my drive to create.  A new page is being finished right now, and I may even have it up by tomorrow.  Just the backgrounds need adding, then it's off to the copy centre for a reduced size page, and then scanned, toned, and posted.  Hope that eases any frustration!

Tuesday, 4 December 2018

Homosexuality and the Bible...

Here is that sermon I mentioned from the Metropolitan Community Church of Toronto about homosexuality and the Bible.  It brilliantly shoots down homophobic arguments people often use against LGBTQ+ people when citing the Bible as some sort of moral source.  Long, but worth it, if you're interested in religious studies.


Sunday, 2 December 2018

Working with angels...

Angels started to become a prominent feature in my spirituality after invoking Christ.  Certainly, I have a feeling they were a part of things prior to that, based on having seen the apparition of an angel with a trumpet after St Jude came into my practice.  There have been quite a few I have prayed to, including some lesser known ones (such as Lauviah, Seheiah, Mebahiah, and also Jeremiel, Mitzrael, and Lamechial, to give some examples), but the big three for me are Metatron, Gabriel, and Michael.

Metatron is the angel I invoked through Christ, and seems like the strongest influence.  He has been the finest influence on my psyche, bringing me to a higher state of intelligence, a saner mind, and a general feeling of calm and clarity within the psyche, a feeling of being less overwhelmed.  He also seemed to send energies into me using the smudge of sweetgrass when fighting the nasty thing I have been dealing with.  He is a seraph, the highest order of angel in angel lore, and though not discussed much in Christiandom (I think this is because he is not brought up much in the Bible, if at all - don't quote me on that), he is a big deal in Judaism, especially Kabbalah.  Some think Enoch became Metatron, I don't know what I believe in this matter, but I know this influence has been a gift to me.

Gabriel was an angel I felt I channeled when my Dad was dying, and I wonder if it was the reason his passing was so graceful, quick, and smooth.  Apparently, he was lying peacefully asleep when he suddenly passed, and he never even suffered any pain throughout his decline (some mental anguish, sure, but no physical pain at all).  Not sure what Gabriel might have done for him, if I did in fact work with him for Dad, but I like to think he supported him as he crossed over.  I also prayed to Gabriel to watch over my stepdad, who had his own recent set of health struggles, and now my stepdad feels somewhat more connected to "something" than before.  Not sure if my prayers for others always work, but I like to put them out there anyway.

My Mom is a major Michael fangirl, so when I finally invoked that angel (it took a lot of trial and error) I asked that he increase her workings with him.  Michael seemed to be a powerful aid in finishing off this dreadful pest of a demon.  At one point when I worked with him, it felt like the temperature of my soul had suddenly gone up - this was a kind of strengthening effect, I think.  A St Michael prayer card now sits on my shrine, and I like to recite the St Michael prayer at the church I often go to.

(I wanted to get a Metatron statue for my shrine, but the only one I can find in the city is too big for it, and pricey.  There's a smaller one I have found that I may order from the web, but right now I just represent him with a cloth with Metatron's Cube on it, and a card of him.)


Saturday, 1 December 2018


Having been through the strange spiritual horrors of my youth and early adulthood, there are many regrets about the conduct I have demonstrated throughout all of this.  Some mistakes have led to alienation from friends, peers, and associates.  It's really sad to see the (hopefully not permanent) damage that may have been done to some relationships - apart from the suicide attempt scars on my wrists during a particularly dark spell, not much harm came of my body, but I lost friends to strange and sometimes nasty behaviours that I demonstrated when this all began, before I learned how to handle things better.  And to those I alienated, I say to you now - I am sorry.

Certainly strong feelings about others were demonstrated in the comics of "The Psychosis Diaries" - I consider that book the literary equivalent of an emotional enema.  Having no genuine therapy while in hospital for that year (it was a dreadful place), no one to turn to for any real counsel other than reminders to accept a diagnosis I did not have and to behave myself, looming issues in the outside world, and little to no friends who cared to visit me, life was punishingly hard, and so comics became my outlet of expression, because to raise my voice or even cry could mean punishment, or at least higher doses of medication.  Looking back at that book, it is a very angry piece, and hard for even me to read through again, it is certainly not how I feel about things now.  I would say, what remains is a kind of sorrow, not anger, and perhaps mild fear that there are some bridges I can never repair now.  Everything I went through was just too brutal a psychological experience to consider the long term effects of things I would express in my comics, certainly the dark one had heavily influenced the emotions and beliefs about my situation.

Now that things are growing lighter, I feel like I am coming out of a panic-stricken, emotional spell.  It's not quite completely gone, but it is far greater than it has ever been since this began, and certainly I have grown greatly as a human being.  I feel I have mostly, if not entirely, made peace with my shadow psyche, and have a better sense of self now as well.  Thank god for (affordable) Jungian analysis, which has been one of the greatest blessings.

I shall have to make another post once I am convinced any "residue" from the dark one is gone completely.  Its death seems incremental.


Thursday, 22 November 2018

Hospital idiocy...

So I thought I knew what was going on with me spiritually at this point, now I'm not so sure, still trying to figure things out.  It got ever so slightly weird with my channeling at work on Monday, so out of fear and caution, I finished my shift, collected my things, went home and packed, and took a cab to CAMH.

The ER was an absolute zoo, at least two other patients had been hauled in by the cops, the rest  came in seemingly on their own, or with family.  There were no available beds, so once I got formed, I had to sleep on a gurney in the hall.  Then I was transferred to an EU bed until a ward bed became available.  Basically I spent the whole time drugged up so that I was asleep all the time, and the food was so bad I could barely eat anything but cheese sandwiches and fruit cups.  When I finally got a bed on the women's ward, I had already figured out that nothing good was going to come of this stay, that it was an unnecessary venture and that I had jumped the gun in going to a hospital.  But I had to wait to talk to a shrink to get the form voided, so that took more waiting.  (Oh yeah - my first sign this was not going to be a good stay was when an ER doctor brought up electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT, as a viable treatment option for me - NOOOOO!  My memory already sucks!)

When I finally did see the ward doctor, and ended up having to bring up channeling as a part of my experiences, he made some smart ass quip about having read "Harry Potter" (which I found incredibly insulting - does he mock First Nations women for their ceremonial practises, too?).  The remainder of the questions I mostly answered with "I'd rather not talk about that", until he agreed to end the form.

To add insult to injury, the hospital LOST the medications I brought in with me, and had the audacity to deny having done so.  I raised my voice and demanded that they fix the problem until they wrote a new prescription, that I thankfully did not have to pay for.  What an utter waste of my time.  I will only ever go to a psych ER again if I am convinced I am suicidal.  That's it.  This was bullshit!

I am disappointed a bit by the women's ward this time - last time it wasn't so bad.  They were pretty swamped to be sure, but the incompetence with the meds was inexcusable.  I am so done with all of this crap, but really, in this heartless shithole of a city, there aren't many options for poor people like me.  Toronto is motherfucking Terry Gilliam's 'Brazil' to me, when it comes to bureaucratic protocol.  So glad I can at least afford my top notch Jungian for therapy - many wouldn't even be able to swing that.  (My therapist was the kind, helpful voice of reason over the phone throughout all of this - what a great man.)

Bell Let's Talk?  Nay... Bell, Let's Burn CAMH To The Ground and Start Over!


EDIT:  I am doing well again... back to being on track.  I had a great session with my Jungian, this was just some weirdness through channeling I received and I got concerned and assumed things were going to get rough again, but they didn't.  I think this is just transformative shit at play.  I'm praying that the dimethyltryptamine that is likely active in my brain increase in flow... we'll see what that leads to, perhaps it's a neurological, developmental shortcut, rather than just focusing on chakras 'n shit?  I'm kinda seeing some fractal-esque stuff on and off in my mind now so maybe it's moving things along.  I will likely discuss this further in the future.  (I have never taken ayahuasca or anything like that, but DMT runs naturally in the brain anyway.  It's triggered during an awakening, but also during near death experiences, and when the body begins to die.  I know enough about it from my kundalini studies, but not much from a biochemical standpoint.)

Thursday, 15 November 2018

CTOs (and the pricks who administer them)...

(This post is going into Mad Pride territory again... not sure if I wrote about this on my last blog or not, so if I'm being redundant, sorry... this subject is important to me.)

There's something so incredibly infuriating about the level of power psychiatrists are granted to really cause conflict in people's lives, all in the name of treatment.  Most people who see a psychiatrist will never see this level of oppression, if it's for something like depression, anxiety, or even a milder form of bipolar disorder.  However, if things go beyond a certain point and one is deep enough in the system as I was, the uglier side of this branch of medicine can emerge, depending on who is treating you.

I was under what is known as a Community Treatment Order for a time (or a CTO, for short).  This is when medicine is given carte blanche to strip you of your bodily rights, allowing enforced treatment outside of hospital, in the form of an injection every two weeks, administered by a psychiatrist and a nurse who come to your door to administer it.  If you are not home when they arrive for each appointment, the police are called and you are hauled into hospital in handcuffs to get the injection.

My CTO came about because (god rest his soul) my father was manipulated by a psychiatrist into signing my life away because they were afraid I was going to do something harmful (not because I actually had).  To add insult to injury, a nurse advised me, in my fragile state, that although I could fight it, I shouldn't, because I would lose - nice advice, bitch.  For the next six months, I had to endure the watchful eye of a shirty, nasty prick of a man as my doctor, and an accompanying nurse, coming to my door, yanking down my pants, and shoving a needle in my ass, proceeded with a series of tedious questions while I would sit on my deck outside and haul away on a cigarette, hating life.  There was nothing therapeutic about this procedure, it was a chemical strait-jacket that flattened out my personality, and made me want to do little more than sit, smoke, and cry in my room.  Also, it had the effect of eliminating any self worth and feelings of independence I might have once had, and instilled in me a sense of distrust of psychiatry's ability to help me in any manner, so that when that thing expired, I did not seek any kind of follow up treatment, and went into withdrawal.  The withdrawal then meant that I did in fact cross legal lines, and eventually became the kind of patient they deemed I would be without the CTO in the first place.  I guarantee, a gentler approach instead of the CTO would have meant no crime, no problems for anyone, but I was afraid and so I did not seek out help from them.  They really fucked up with me.

Perhaps it's because I was not a victim of police brutality that I feel this way (sure, there were handcuffs involved, but in general, apart from an AIDS joke about my fragile 98 lb frame, the standard strip/cavity search at the precinct, and having to sleep overnight in a women's penitentiary while I waited for a hospital bed, the officers were lambs) but I am more enraged by the power that a psychiatrist has in ridding one of their rights at the stroke of a pen than I am about a cop going rough with me.  Blacken my eyes, break my bones... at least then I know where I stand with you, a pig is a pig, and most people hate cops and would call that abusive.  But that bougie, white collar way of signing my life away on a piece of paper and convincing my entire family it's for my own good is a whole other level of systematic evil.  It is not as insulting to be physically beaten as it is to be written off.  I know it does not come from a place of true compassion when a doctor does this - it's to cover their ass and prevent getting sued.  I have heard of so many people getting screwed by psychiatrists with these CTO things, others have lost their driver's licenses simply for going to an ER for help, willingly, even if their illness is unrelated to impaired driving.  It's fucking horrible.

The CTO failed me, it was the worst approach possible.  Perhaps in absolute worst case scenarios they may be necessary, but these things are given out all the time for all sorts of silly reasons, and they cause more problems than they're worth.  Fuck CTOs, and fuck what my CTO did to my life.


Wednesday, 14 November 2018

"The Host of Seraphim" by Dead Can Dance...

Just a truly beautiful song that reminds me of my Dad when I play it.  He did not know this band, but I got the sense he'd like this song (we had similar tastes in certain types of music - mostly sorrowful stuff) so I played it for him in recent years, and he fell in love with it.  I played it again for him during his Bardo, when he was visiting.


Sunday, 11 November 2018

Oh yeah... the Hallowe'en pics...

Forgot to add the pics of me in my latex habit from Hallowe'en - not that you don't know the costume well enough already, since it's all over this blog!  (One of these is also now being used as my profile pic):



I actually ordered a second nun habit - a polyester/cotton one from Bodyline Japan, which I will call my "3 vow habit" - the latex one is my "2 vow habit".  I like to wear this garb to show my devotion and love to God in a way that suits my character... I may not be a real nun, but I probably would have been one in another time, in another country, because of the amount of time I spend thinking of Him.  I'm too much of a modern woman and an independent thinker to be one in this era.

UPDATE:  Added a rather intense pic of me I snapped on my computer cam before going out for the tarot group... enjoy, sinners!

SECOND UPDATE: Some more pics!  These were taken at a monthly fetish party a while ago, actually.  The lovely lady with me is a friend of mine.  The photographer's website can be seen at


Saturday, 10 November 2018

My religious bling!

Thought I'd share some images of the stuff I have a tendency to wear around my neck, most days:

This is a St Benedict medal crucifix, Benedictine crucifix, or, as I started calling it, my "Benny Crux".  I had another one, which I had blessed and wore, but I gave it to a friend once I got this one, which was gifted from my lovely step dad (it was his mother's).  This kind of crucifix is said to be the most powerful of them all when it comes to warding off evil forces.  So, knowing what I was battling spiritually, once I got this, I wore it almost constantly.  Now that I feel I am free, I still wear it, but more as a comfort thing, and as a statement of devotion.

(This pic is kind of messed up, because three of the items are on one loop so I could not adjust them to  all be upright.)  Here we have another crucifix, which I wore as "backup" protection, a Santeria-based Sacred Heart charm, which I bought because of Sacred Heart imagery I would channel in the form of drawings of a heart with a cross in it.  Also, a Star of David with an eye in it, which I wore for protection and get the sense was a powerful aid, and the Om, for my more Hindu-centric spiritual devotion.  (I would say that although I mostly have a Christian-esque way of going about my practice, my ideas and many of the sources I pray to are more Hindu.)

My Catholic "dog tags"!  The St Jude medal was the first one I bought, which was right before I was able to invoke Christ through this saint.  When I bought it, I put it around my neck and immediately heard the voice of a child whisper "St Jude" into my ear... within a day, the Christ was invoked.  Also, we have the Virgin Mary, whom I see as a powerful aid and guide (and a great source to pray to for self love, among other things), a cross from Sedona's Chapel of the Holy Cross, a St Gabriel medal, and a St Michael.

I have other pieces of religious jewelry but these are the main items I wear.  Those that I don't usually wear tend to find a place on my shrine.


Friday, 9 November 2018

Hallowe'en 2018 Karaoke Fun...

This might have been better suited for my Mad Pride themed blog, but oh well - a friend shot this video of me at karaoke on the Monday before the 31st of October.  I wore my strait-jacket (sleeves loose to grasp the mic!) and took a shot at "Institutionalized" by Suicidal Tendencies.  I guess you could say this is dedicated to all the foul, oppressive psychiatrists and nasty nurses who deemed me a slow, broken individual - I actually outclock the fast parts of the song here!  The video starts out shot from behind but my friend eventually moves around to the side for a better angle. 

I love karaoke!  <3


Sunday, 4 November 2018

PWR 2018...


 They censored the boobs on the goddesses!  :0

 More deities!
Langar time!

So... I had a blast at Parliament of World Religions 2018 today!  My generous friend fronted my entrance fee, which was pretty steep, to get me in there.  Sadly, I only really took pics of the Hindu Nithyananda setup, and also this selfie of me sporting a Langar headscarf for lunch at the convention.  It's a shame I could only go this one day, as there was so much to see and do and I barely got to do much of it.  I got an Akashic reading from a sadhvi, did my own readings for a couple people in the sacred feminine space that was the "Red Tent", went to some panels, did a puja ceremony, bought a United Church Medicine Wheel/Celtic cross necklace, and generally just explored the premises.  Afterwards, my friend and I went to dinner at a nearby pub with my other friend the United Church minister and his husband for a nice conversation.  All in all, it was a swell time, and had I the money, I would have bought a pass for the entire length of the convention.  It's nice the convention made it to Toronto this year.  This sure beat the pants off of the annual Yoga conference!


Friday, 2 November 2018

I, Fag Hag...

I have always been a fag hag (or "fruit fly", if you like the more cryptic, politically correct version)... of this I am certain.  My dream car as a preteen was a vintage yellow Mazda Miata... my favourite band, the Pet Shop Boys (they still are).  (Actually, I spent most of my teen years at the "wrong" end of the 90s spectrum of music - it was all about eurodance, some britpop... a bit of alternative, but mostly I wanted a catchy bassline and some synthy melodic formula with banal lyrics to dance to... it was only long after the 90s were over that I discovered I actually did appreciate a lot of what grunge had to offer.)  In my locker in high school, I had pictures of David Hyde Pierce up, as well as European fencing champions (they have nice asses), instead of Brad Pitt or some other boring straight guy.  Most of my crushes have been gay men, or at least men who seemed gay, or were countercultural in some way, or quirky or cultured or unique or somehow different.  In fact I have been so obsessed with gay men I was convinced I WAS a gay man in a straight woman's body, had a resulting genderqueer phase, but grew out of it as I embraced being a woman, but a very, very lonely woman who finds the "available" men who might actually consider me attractive to be unbelievably boring.  Also, straight guys have a tendency to treat me like a used condom - once they are done using me in some way, or if they can't get any use out of me at all, I am disposed of immediately.

Don't get me wrong - straight men have made fantastic friends.  Some of my finest pals have been hetero guys... as long as it stays platonic.  They are very good at helping put together IKEA furniture, moving couches, they make great drinking buddies, they give me a run for my money in a belching competition, and they even have a sweet side, often enough.  There's also nothing more riveting to behold than a straight guy singing his heart out to an Erasure song at karaoke... gay guys give an honest, sincere performance, but straights are just hilarious about it.

But many straight men who are looking for love, far too often enough, want a woman who, let's face it... isn't quite as SMART as they are.  I have noticed gay men often love the company of big, bold, funny, intelligent women... that's kind of how I am, personally.  I have come to the realization that if I ever am attracted to another man again, it will likely only be to a gay man.  I just don't trust het males at all now.  Also, being asexual, there's no pressure for sex from a gay man... even a bisexual might crave it from me, a gay man likely wouldn't, and I would have no problem with him going off to fool around with a boy toy on the side.  I would make a proud, happy Beard.

I jokingly refer to myself as "God's Fag Hag" on here because of some wild visions I had one time while smoking a joint.  I immediately saw a limp wristed Hand of God extend from a set of clouds, followed by a sassy lisp, commanding a rather flamboyant version of the Pope at the time (it was Ratzinger) to come out of the closet.  It was among the funniest visions I have ever had, so I put on some Pet Shop Boys remixes and watched the Pope figure dance to it.  No wonder I got so hooked on weed for a while!  *_*

It is my hope that, if I become a top notch professional tarot card lady, it will be the kind of camp, novelty schtick that would attract a gay male audience, and I might actually find a nice lad to laugh with over the absurdity of life.



Thought I'd do a quick little post on the topic of smudging, something I practised ever since a First Nations family friend recommended I engage in it regularly, throughout my struggles.

The subject of cultural appropriation is a big deal on the web these days - some of it I agree with, some of it I think is going a bit far, and is stifling the "rules" about what creative types are allowed to engage in when expressing themselves, as an example.  Anyway, it's interesting to note that the only people who have ever given me a hard time for using smudge plants were non-First Nations, usually whites... First Nations people themselves all seemed to encourage it.  So shut up, whitey... apparently, we're all supposed to do this if there's a need for it!

The first plant I experimented with was the standard - white sage, burned in an abalone shell gifted to me.  White sage is a powerful clearing agent, but also good for cleansing the energy field, kind of like a spirit bath.  I burned a lot of this, and though the spirit within would writhe when I did so, it would never leave.

I also "smudged" a lot with dragon's blood (I say this in quotations because it's a resin, not plant leaves, so I had to burn it on a charcoal), which also seemed to cause the spirit discomfort - imagine Linda Blair writhing in The Exorcist when the priest splashes holy water on her... that kind of reaction.  Also tried were cedar, palo santo, and on and off I played with sweetgrass.

It was only this year that I experimented with a smudge mixture I concocted I liked to call "Die, Devil, Die" (though perhaps "Devil, Get Out" would have been better, considering it was probably better suited to driving evil out, rather than destroying it) - the mixture combined white sage, cedar, palo santo chips, and dragon's blood (and eventually copal added as well), which I ground together with a mortar and pestle, and burned over a charcoal, wafting it all over me with a decorated stray hawk feather I, oddly enough, found on the streets of Toronto.  Though this seemed to really torment the spirit, as it would scream through me, and cause my body to convulse and writhe in reaction to it, it didn't ultimately get rid of the problem.

I remembered I had a braid of sweetgrass, a plant I hadn't used much for smudge.  Sweetgrass is known more for letting positive influences in, rather than driving negative influences out.  So I prayed to invoke as much aid as possible, and smudged with that several times - suddenly, those bliss states I had described in previous posts came over me, through anahata chakra, and it seemed as though change was imminent.  Before bed, there was that glorious Eye of Providence vision that had me cry out "oh my GOD" because of its intensity... I suppose that was a signifier that things were now going to finally get better.  I needed to let good spirits into me, to destroy the bad.

It still feels like it's gone... there is a mild anxiety to me, because of how long I have been fighting this, but so far, so good.  The real test will be coming down off of medication, but I don't want to start doing that until I am at a slightly higher developmental level, so I am less within the mind over this.


Sunday, 28 October 2018

St J00d's Feast Day...

Today was my patron saint's annual feast day.  I went to the cathedral I regularly attend with some flowers to lay beneath his statue - a friend came with me to the mass.  I texted to him, as I waited for his arrival: "Yo - I'm the only one who brought flowers for St Jude!  This sure as hell ain't Mexico!"  It surprised me... even outside of Mexico he's kind of a big deal as far as saints go, and during mass he wasn't even mentioned!  Shame!

The liturgy was lovely, but then the priest had to suddenly drop some anti-abortion message into the sermon, to which my friend and I exchanged glances like "ugh... awkward!" because we're definitely both pro-choice... ahhhh, Catholics.

(The Panty Dropper was not the presiding priest today... glad I didn't have to hear his glorious voice utter such diatribe... that would be a major letdown, I'm sure.  T_T)

Later, we met his friends for some yummy burgers and went to the United Church for an organ recital, which was lovelier than it might sound to some people, but I started to fade because of too much wine from last night at a Hallowe'en party so I left during intermission.

(BTW, apparently Catholics pay more attention to the feast days of their saints on the Mondays that follow Sunday mass should a saint's feast day fall on a Sunday, I was told.  Bummer, man!)


Cobra stuff...

I know a lot of honkeys are in love with the idea of having a spirit/power animal or totem, so on the surface, talking about this seems irrelevant to legitimate spirituality, considering I'm a honkey myself, but it seems like I am one of the few who actually has a real one, because of the kind of path I am on.  I sought what animal it could be for many years, had some Eagle and Coyote symbolism come up here and there in visions and experiences where I felt like my energy body was perhaps "shapeshifting" (the body of course did not, but it felt like another layer of me was taking on the form of various animals).  So for the longest time, I really thought I was an Eagle, because of some crystal clear visions I had of a bald eagle while smoking ceremonial tobacco.  I later found out that according to medicine wheel spirituality, tobacco is associated with Eagle, so that's probably why - plus I get the sense I saw the eagle because it was Spirit's way of presenting itself.

It was only around Christmas time of 2017 that Cobra presented itself to me, while I was having a spiritual flare up.  It was jarring at first - my spine would arch like an erect cobra, and I felt the sensation of the hood of the animal growing from my shoulders, plus a vision of the cobra came to mind, but in such a way that it felt like I was the snake, not just seeing one in my mind's eye.  This happened several times until I began to worry it was a negative sign, then it seemed to back down.  Once things levelled out again, it returned, this time I was calm enough to take it in, and I began to realize it was my animal.  The channel described it as such as well.  I later bought a wooden cobra statue to place on my shrine to represent it.

I don't know enough about my relationship with Cobra just yet, only that it has strong ties to both Shiva and Vishnu - Nataraja (the dancing Shiva of consciousness) and Vishnu both being gods who sit on my shrine, as those whom I work with.  Also, snakes are related to the presence of active kundalini, something I suspect plays a part in some way with my growth, and how I was able to mature.  Here's what else the web says about cobra people, take it or leave it, because this may be some silly plastic shaman shit for all I know:

•Cobras are associated with deadliness, danger and threat, magic and protection, royalty and power, and strength.  I hear cobras are actually relatively gentle unless provoked, and then they're among the most venomous creatures in the world, able to kill a full grown elephant with one bite.  I consider myself a gentle person, but once enraged, the legendary Taurean temper comes out, and then I am a bit like a Bond villain or something, but that's incredibly rare.  I have learned to tame my anger.

•Cobra people are proud, self-reliant, persistent, determined, intelligent, and mysterious.  They do not give up easily.  I would say that a lot of that is true for me.

•They have strong personalities, are committed to their goals, are charismatic but controlling and not necessarily easy to deal with.  They should not be provoked or could retaliate to protect themselves and those they care about.  That also makes sense!

There's also some stuff that comes up about being artistic, magical, knowledgeable and wise.  There's talk about both craving solitude but also being social, which is true for me, being an ambivert.  It also mentions a strong and strict personality, which is true as well, a quality I grew into as I began to discipline myself spiritually - I have no patience for cowards who make excuses, for one thing.  I may be a clown in many ways but I do not tolerate bullshit very well.

I am still trying to figure out what this animal means to me personally, but that's what the web had to say about it.  I have to admit I was kind of thrilled to learn I had an affiliation with such a strong, magnificent creature - I was expecting some bird or something.  Again, this seems legit - it's not like I found this out from some guided visualization CD or anything... this was an extremely powerful experience.


Saturday, 27 October 2018

Some Hallowe'en costumes...

Just in time for Hallowe'en 2018 - thought I'd do a rundown of some of my costumes from previous years that are somewhat relevant to this blog's themes.  I have already shown the Nataraja costume elsewhere, so here are some others of mine:

I believe this one was my 2014 costume - the god Mercury!  The bodysuit was some silver spandex thing I got at a sex shop, the toga made of more silver spandex, with some metal shoulder brooches and a silver cord around my waist.  The shoes were platform Vivienne Westwood Melissa sandals with wings on them, which inspired the entire costume.  The caduceus was made of a wooden dowel, the snakes on the staff made of old coat hangers with silver spandex covering them.  The ball on top was a foam ball, the wings made of cardboard - all painted silver with breakdown work in black.  The helmet was a Roman style plastic thing I added the cardboard wings to later.  I painted my exposed skin with silver body paint and wore silver gloves.  I went to a Wiccan Samhain event with some friends in this, then we hit up Church St for the annual Hallowe'en street party.

This was 2015 - I went as the Flying Nun.  (I certainly like dressing up like nuns - I swear it's NOT A FETISH... I just think it's cool!)  Only the older crowd seemed to get the reference.  That cornette was such a bitch to construct - I think I fiddled with it three times over in a major way until I got it to take the right shape.  The shirt was an off-white linen blouse, the habit portion made of off-white bedsheets I hand stitched into a kind of tunic.  The rosary hung from the belt, just a find at Value Village, along with most of the things that contributed to this costume.  I wore black leotard and some little brown shoes with it.  We took pics of me holding a bottle of alcohol and posing outside of a strip club in this.

Here's some Neil Gaiman fandom - a group of us went as some of the Endless from comic series "The Sandman" in 2016.  I wanted to be Destiny.  We also had a Delerium, Dream, Death, and were going to have a Desire but she had to bail for health reasons, sadly.  The tome was made out of cardboard with two blank canvases from Dollarama pressed together for volume, paint, and duct tape, and the chain was a big plastic thing, also from Dollarama, the cuff made of cardboard, foil tape with black paint for breakdown work.  I got the robe from a Hallowe'en costume shop (a monk's robe) and sewed decorative trim to it, for some more detail.  Only one person figured out I was dressed as Destiny - not the most popular member of the Endless!

And now - for the grandest costume I have ever worn - Queen Elizabeth I!  This was last year's costume.  I did not make this - I am not skilled enough a costumier to craft such a thing... a friend of mine who is a drag queen made this, and he uses it for his drag and burlesque performances.  I dreamed of one day dressing as this monarch (one of my favourites from history), told him, and he mentioned he had this and loaned it to me, free of charge.  It was pretty crazy, the reactions I got while wearing this - I could barely move through the crowds.  Though I don't know all of the materials that went into it, I can say a lot of it was stuff from thrift stores and Dollarama, according to my friend.  I could not sit down or easily go through doorways with this on, I needed a friend to help me along through entrances, and down the street.  I lasted through 2 and a half hours of paparazzi madness on Church St before calling it a night.  It was a blast, but exhausting!

And this year I'm Sister Penance, the latex nun... so there will be pics going up later of that as well.  Stay tuned!


Blasphemy and devotion...

I often joke with spiritual friends that I am simultaneously the most devout, and yet the most blasphemous person I know.  I am devout in that I spend a substantial amount of time dedicated to my soul - I meditate up to 5 hours a day, utter prayers under my breath even when I'm at work or walking down the street, I try to go to the cathedral daily if I can help it, the Divine occupies my thoughts at all hours... I live it.  But, at least according to the average religious person, I would assume, I am going about things the "wrong" way.

First off, there's the latex nun habit - this is not a fetish thing for me, it's not my kink - it's a joke, it's my schtick, I joke that I'm one vow short of being a real nun, so I dress like the naughty, disobedient "Sister Penance" and have fun with that.  Poverty and chastity wouldn't be that hard for me to follow - I am very fond of the concept of non-attachment (it's good for the planet, for one thing), and hell - I am used to being poor anyway.  Chastity is easy because I'm Ace.  It's obedience that trips me up.  Going to the convent, I found out I couldn't even wear my zany cat's eye lenses if I was to become a nun, they're too "sexy" for nunswear.  That killed the deal for me, having to dress down... I'm an artist, I kind of need to express myself in various ways.

Also, I curse and swear like a sailor... I say "Oh, Jesus CHRIST" a lot, too.  I just get the sense no loving God would ever care about such things.  Basically, it boils down to me making light of all things humanity regards as being "sacred" that don't even seem ultimately relevant to true Divinity.  I snicker in church, I call the priest with the sexy seraphic voice "The Panty Dropper"... I drew Ganesha on a toilet one time.  But I keep going back to these things, not like some atheist who collects religious kitsch for the sake of novelty, but because there's a genuine draw there, and I can't stop paying attention to it.

I know religion seems absurd to many people, and much of it is, but at this point I feel such a strong connection to a higher source that I need some kind of model to follow to make sense of it, and the sciences are not going to provide me with that.  When people deem religion and spirituality obsolete due to the sciences, I remind them that religion and spirituality serve an entirely different purpose than science.  Certainly, religion sucks at describing the creation of the natural world, science is superior in that regard.  But religion gives people hope, purpose, and community, among other things, when done right.  Saying we don't need religion because we have science, to me, might as well be like saying we don't need the arts because we have science.  Different things altogether.  Also, I see religions as being like languages - depending on the goal of the seeker, and the way they go about their spirituality, one path might suit them better than another.  I do not see any religion as the "one true religion", however, some do seem better than others to me.

So yeah... I would say at this point I have gone from identifying as being merely spiritual to flat out religious, although my way of being religious isn't rigid, or even that traditional.  I follow models of things, rituals of Catholicism and ideas of Hinduism, but as a mystic I am constantly questioning everything, including my path itself.  I am willing to change my views on things as I grow.


Friday, 26 October 2018

My convent experience...

The stay at the convent was one of the more refreshing experiences I have had in recent times.  I was a bit wary of the idea at first, worried it would not go over well, that I'd be too much of a weirdo for that kind of environment - but the channeling insisted it would be a good idea for me, and I even drew a kite symbol through automatic handwriting, indicating metaphoric flight in some way... a lovely sign.  I thought I'd do a post about it - I am not going to name the convent on here, for fear that if one of the Sisters were to find this blog, I would not be welcomed back, because of my latex nun habit, and my tendency to drop F bombs... not very proper.

The convent itself is quite postmodern looking, so it wasn't like the old world kind you typically see in a Hollywood film, but it was still very lovely, and extremely clean.  Upon walking in, there's a very strong sense of Spirit, and the whole place radiates this.  There are religious books and items the nuns have made on sale in the hall that leads to the guest house.  You have to check in at the front desk, and then again in the guest house, where you pay your fees - there's a fee for each day you stay on a retreat.  (My retreat was private - I just wanted to get away from the city for a bit, and reflect on my own terms.) 

There's a main library (and a smaller one in the guest house), a chapel, a cafeteria for meals (and the food was actually quite good!), some gardens, various rooms for activities, also - a stone labyrinth to walk for meditations, and the stations of the cross are in the woods, nailed to trees, which I found very unique.  All the guest house rooms are named after various saints, which is both cute and an easy way of remembering which room you're staying in (I was in St Lucy, the patron saint of people with eye problems).

At meal time, we had to stand for prayer beforehand, and then eat in silence, except on Sundays, where it was open for discussion.  The Sisters have their own section where they reside, and guests are not permitted to enter that part, obviously.  There are various prayer services in the chapel throughout the day... I only went once, as mostly I was in contemplation and private prayer.  There's a spiritual direction service, of which I had one session.

I stayed for three nights.  It was a really lovely experience, and I hope to return when I get the call to do so again, perhaps it will be an annual thing.  I don't recommend this kind of retreat for people who are not serious seekers - it's a very quiet place, if you want to listen to music it must be through headphones in your room, for example.  It's a place of reflection.  But a lot of Anglicans are pretty chill these days, they even had Harry Potter books in the library, and they are welcoming to people of all paths, from what I hear.


Wednesday, 24 October 2018

Dealing with skeptics (and other assholes)...

Skeptics of my experiences are some of the most insensitive people I have come across since this began.  Not just psychiatrists (but mostly psychiatrists) have tried to explain away my phenomena as a product of my mind, and only my mind, and have done great harm to my recovery in the process.  Because of the influence of skepticism, I ceased to believe my spiritual attacker was real, and as a result, I gave up on trying to get rid of it, believed myself to be a broken human being, and strongly considered suicide a viable option when medications, therapy, and just hoping it would go away didn't work on their own, for MANY years.  I was told that I would NEVER leave the asylum, that my life would be bleak, that perhaps I could be moved into a nice care home somewhere... this was the hope and prognosis that psychiatry offered me.  I refused to accept it, I worked with the Spirit, I got better.

I have been both physically raped and spiritually raped, and let me tell you, I would gladly take the physical rape again, on any day, over the spirit rape I endured, hands down.  The physical rape only harmed me on a physical level (because my mind is so tough, I brushed it off as something that was unpleasant, and after tests were run, proving I was clean of disease, I didn't give it much more thought - nor did I take it to court, knowing the losing battle women often face when sexually assaulted) - the spiritual rape harmed me on all levels... mental, spiritual, and physical, and lasted 12+ years.  Also, there was the "lovely" fact that people in western society refused to acknowledge that it was something that had actually happened to me.  Everyone believed the physical rape was real... only seekers believed in the spiritual rape.  Imagine the loneliness and pain I suffered, knowing that everyone dismissed what I had endured, save the odd kind and respecting soul who actually got what I was talking about.

To all skeptical assholes who think I am just one who suffered something of my own mind's creation: do you also go around telling trans women they are not really women?  Do you tell indigenous societies that they are all savages for their cultural beliefs, because they don't seem "rational" enough to suit your ideology?  Do you have any idea how much of a prick you sound to me, telling me what I lived was not real, when you do not have the wisdom of the experience to know what on earth you are talking about?

A scholar I am not... a mystic I am.  I speak from experience, I speak from having lived something so uncommon and yet a subject of so many horror films... the lore comes from somewhere.   Prayer works when it is meant to, when the correct sources are invoked and worked with properly.  "Thoughts and prayers" bullshit is not what I speak of here... this is the real deal.  I am so tired of so-called "rational" minds trying to explain away these experiences, as we learn more and more that the universe we live in is in and of itself an irrational entity.

Skeptics don't sound "rational" to me, even... they just sound blind.  I am done going around in person and talking about this with just anyone at this point... it became evident that this wretched city of mine doesn't comprehend experiences like what I have lived.  However, I felt like making this post just to vent my frustrations over typical western thinkers and their ways of perceiving this.  Sometimes, the pain of skepticism was almost as bad as the spiritual problem itself, knowing how misunderstood I was, and how it harmed my recovery.

Thank God I now seem to have found my tribe.



Visions are mostly toned down for me these days, thanks to medication.  But sometimes, like recently with the Eye of Providence that followed after the sweetgrass smudge, a strong one will still come through - when this happens, I take it as a serious sign that I should pay attention to.

Witnessing a vision within the window of the psyche is a bit like envisioning something in your imagination, only that the "volume" of the image is at full blast, so it's just like watching a movie in your mind.  Active imagination probably played a major part in many visions I had, which is something else I talked a bit about in a previous post.  Active imagination is something Dr. Carl G Jung discusses in his writings, and is an experience that influenced 'The Red Book', which is a fascinating (if a little challenging) read.  Basically, the unconscious becomes conscious, and the imagination becomes interactive, allowing the perceiver to play with it at will.  Normally, this is safe for a rational mind to engage in, but because of the asshole spirit inside of me, my active imagination became very dark, and I was swamped with horrifying shit.  I would try engaging with it in a whimsical way, but then something nasty would happen to it, at full volume, often causing me to writhe and cower, at its worst.  So, unfortunately, the "video game of the mind" I was playing with had to be toned down with antipsychotics, to get any chance of functioning in this society again.  Now that the spirit seems to be gone (here's hoping this sense of peace continues) I may try weening down off the pills in the months to come, little by little.  Psych meds take a very long time to come off of properly... withdrawal is a bitch.

Some of my visions were so damn hilarious I was constantly snickering - for example, if I was with a person at a restaurant and I concentrated just a little bit too much on the imagination, I would get a still image of that person in my psyche, often with a bewildered expression on their face, as if from an unflattering Polaroid picture, and then some scrolling computer text would comment on them in the third person in some way.  Floating icons and graphics would appear, as if from a software interface... it was like some strange computer game.  Other times, if I imagined someone, I would get this crazy animation of them, as if only 2 or 3 frames of animation of their face (again, often very unflattering stills, making it funnier) paired with some hilarity coming through in the form of scratchy voices, cheeky disjointed poetry, unwritten musical symphonies set to techno, or bizarre cartoon animations.  So if I wasn't screaming in pain because of uncomfortable sensations, or crying out of fear, I was laughing my head off... hence the idea that I had mania.  No, it was never mania... it was the funniest Adult Swim cartoon show of all time running through my mind at all hours of the day.  Idiot psychiatrists never bothered to ask what was going on in there... they just drew their own dull, biased conclusions.  Boring people with boring minds making boring decisions about me.

Though I miss the good stuff that came of this, I am not sure if I could cope with this crazy shit constantly in my head again, even without the bad influence in me, so I am reluctant to leap off of the meds at this point.  If only I could just get it once in a while, say, when smoking a joint or something.  That would be enough, because it could inspire some amazing art, that's for sure.  It probably is just a phase in growth, anyway... a phase I will move past as the soul makes progress towards Sahasrara.