Category Archives: Self-empowerment

Dreaming and Past Life Remembrances

[thoughts from    ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

When I first started on the path of awakening to self-empowerment I began to dream strange new dreams. I filled pages of records of dreams I made it my task to interpret for myself. I had been dreaming before, of course, since as far back as I could remember but these new dreams were teaching dreams, many having nothing to do with Earth or this life.

From these strange dreams I became aware of memories from past lives. As I worked at developing my new nature and a topsy-turvy different understanding of life and a possible purpose in having become a participant in it, those dreams began to subside in proportion to how much I entered into past life remembrances and adapted what I remembered to my current and ever-changing circumstances.

Was there a connection between increased past life awareness and the negative effect on my dreaming? Being the curious type I wanted to know why past life remembrances should negatively affect quantity and quality of dreaming.

Obviously the first question was, why do we dream anyway? What’s the point?

The point, I realized, is that dreams are the mind’s safety valve. The mind cannot be contained within a strictly material, single life event, nor even within a religious context which amounts to the same thing, what I’d call, based on personal experience, a state of mindlessness. (I’m talking about religion, not spirituality.) Dreams I realized, serve as pressure reliefs for an enslaved mind. They remind the mind being that no matter what is believed, there is more that the Matrix mind prison cannot contain, deny or explain.

Once we break out of the “thou shalt not” programming and allow our mind to develop cosmically, outside the totalitarian bounds of the Matrix and accept that we are more than we are allowed to know, dreams have served their purpose. Now we can contemplate our own remembrances of past/future lives without listening to the very loud societal voice that says, “You’re crazy!” We know that crazy is refusal to look in photo albums and the old diaries because the System says they don’t exist. The Voice of Reason that says there are no such things as past lives, never mind future ones. We are not supposed to have other lives than this one. Only two possibilities officially allowed: annihilation at death for the materialist or the permanently removed zombie state of heaven or hell for the religionist. That’s all she wrote, says the priest-psychiatrist, now go shopping.

What are dreams then? Until we awaken they are the safety valve that prevents us from complete mind death. They cannot enlighten, however, just prevent, keeping the mind on life-support until the Eureka moment that changes everything and from which there is no turning back. Until we dare trust ourselves rather than the System as we learn to explore ourselves through our past/future lives, deliberately and purposefully choosing to remember who we really are, remembering hidden lives we have experienced however brutal or insignificant they may have been.

It’s not what we did that matters, as psychics like to emphasize, it’s that we dare give the System the finger by remembering ourselves though we were never given space to appear in any official history book; we dare rise from the common grave of the ignorant, forgotten, enslaved, trod under and murdered unwashed masses.

Because I have worked hard at penetrating the wall of lies erected by the System to separate this me from all other “me’s” of past/future lives – the process is not a linear or chronological progression – I have achieved something that has taken me beyond the need to vent my mind through dreams that needed interpretation. I have shattered the time mirror to see myself in myriads of dimensions and shapes without having to feel foolish about it, or the need to hide. My mind is no longer on life support. I no longer have to to choose between religion and materialism.  Best of all I no longer need to be an Amazombie Googleite Facebookian!!!

I grew up from the ground as a slender shoot, extended leaves through my dreams, then shot up a seed head through past life remembrances that is now ready to scatter its seeds over time and space when the wind of death blows over me. Within my own seeds I will take flight and go on and on and nothing can ever stop me again.

That is what I call freedom.

Traveling in Space, an Essay

[thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]

Quote: “To travel in space you must leave the old verbal garbage behind: God talk, country talk, mother talk, love talk, party talk. You must learn to exist with no religion, no country, no allies. You must learn to live alone in silence. Anyone who prays in space is not there.” — William S. Burroughs

Perhaps one of the hardest “lessons” for the Avatar to learn is to proceed as if one were utterly alone in space; in the universe; in the Cosmos. To cut off all ties with all the known, to refuse any thought of neediness. To realize and accept how absolutely necessary it is to never open one’s thoughts to, or ever utter a single word of, any sort of prayer.

That is what it means, primarily, for me to be self empowered. Of course the argument immediately turns to the fact that my life is circumscribed by all the things needed to make that life possible. Yes, those things are there indeed. But the Avatar knows that they are not there to make her life possible, but to surround her with chains and to eat her flesh, then her mind. That is what it means to live in a predatory system.

That does not invalidate the earlier claim that I must not allow a word or thought to express neediness. That is done by refusing to enter any debate, support for, or defense of, any system purporting to be “for” me. To believe that a religious, state or financial system is there for me is akin to the steer milling about in the loafing barn believing that the agri-business that owns it is there for its survival and long life. An Avatar must be a bit smarter than that. To know how the System operates and what it uses as fuel is certainly the beginning of wisdom.

I am free to discuss with anyone the state of the economy, or regime changes and resource wars; to commiserate over on-going genocides and people’s fears over their particular nation’s political trends or the death of a friend or happiness over a planned trip or wedding or birth of a child. In all of that I must remember that I am no longer a part of it; that whether it impacts large numbers or one individual it does not affect me in “that” way. I must remember to remain emotionally detached from these issues with the understanding that if it turn out to be a problem, when it approaches me; comes home to roost, I am expendable in the next step: providing what help I can muster for the losers, victims and survivors.

There is much (deliberately infused) misunderstanding about detachment. It is usually understood as a state of not caring. In fact it is the opposite: only a detached and self empowered individual can truly help another. When I approach someone in a detached state I am pure giving; the needy predator within is effectively shut-out. In a detached state I can see a need and know what has to happen to alleviate it. I know what my personal resources are and how best to apply them to the situation. Having learned not to express neediness, any other-than-myself “help” avenue is closed off. I take full responsibility for whatever I am about to commit myself to doing. For the Avatar that can translate as giving up everything, including one’s life. So be it because at that point it’s all about me, and I am in control of my own life.

Giving up one’s life in service of others: is that such a big deal? In a crisis where so many are losing out; where many poor are literally dying on the streets of the richest countries and richest cities, is it “extraordinary” for an individual to participate fully in becoming part of the downfall? The Avatar’s question is, why should my life be worth more, or be more precious to me, than his, hers, theirs’? People in general tend to talk up a good game about love. Everybody except me seems to be in love with love. But what does that translate as, when push comes to shove?

I’m sure if I lived in a theater of war and attendant atrocity I would see real examples of love expressed courageously by many. But as always, I would know that such examples, such efforts, are not usually motivated by a changed and permanent mindset but rather by circumstances. That’s the problem with love: it is dependent, weak, transient and exclusive.

The self empowered, detached, responsible Avatar eschews love as a too uncertain an emotion. To live as if one were already dead so as to function fearlessly the Avatar requires something much more reliable than an emotion. Enter compassion.

Again, as with detachment, there is much misunderstanding about the concept of compassion. Generally it is considered to be just one of a list of ‘virtues’ a person should exhibit, such as decency, love, caring, kindness, patience. Certainly nothing wrong with expressing such but honestly they have little holding power. A change of circumstance can drastically alter the response. This I have seen.

Compassion is never circumstance-dependent because it is entered into by self empowered personal choice. It is a personal commitment to a way of life and it is inclusive. It may well be what the Buddha had in mind before his teachings were hijacked into a religious enterprise, before it became “Buddhism” which, like any religious enterprise, possesses no power to change anyone’s mind. Compassion, before it can be claimed by anyone, must become the purpose of one’s entire life with the ultimate goal of the individual becoming pure compassion, however many aeons of time that may encompass.

To be compassionate is traveling in one’s own space, living alone in the silence of one’s sacred self-awareness, able to filter out the shallow and ever present ocean of socially-induced noise.

A Short Walk in a Denied Reality

[thoughts from ~burning woman~ ]

Billions of mind slaves are daily driven to do “stuff” no normal person would even think of thinking about or doing. These slaves are whipped along their self-destruct path by a tiny bunch of psychopaths who have arbitrarily placed themselves in charge of the planet and declared that all of it belongs to them. It’s always been that way but it seems to us the more obvious today. Yet this untenable situation is not just tolerated, but the majority actually approves and quite often cheers on their predators.

Being, in my own estimation at least, reasonably intelligent, such a fact forces me to ask, “Why?” Why do people put up with this deadly charade? Why do they allow the psychos to eat them alive while destroying the only world they, and their children, have to survive on? Why can’t they collectively say, “Enough!” without having to wait until they’re all starving to death, or dying of various preventable plagues to plunge into pointless bloody revolutions?

Every question is based on an answer, not the other way around. So taught the Teachers. When I ask “Why?” I don’t expect to hear an answer, I expect to find one depending on how I ask the question. It’s like pointing a rifle at a target. The rifle isn’t going to find and lock on the target, I have to do that first. The target is the answer I’m shooting for.

Why are people so dummied-down and collectively stupid as to accept being their own worse enemies? I asked and replied to myself, over the years, “Think!” The answer was rather obvious: propaganda. Official lies is another name for it.

Which begs another “Why.” Why does propaganda work? That was a bit more complex. Well, people are predisposed to accept the propaganda and to reject any other idea that doesn’t fit into the official lie. That’s the basis for the success of brain dead organized religion, the deception of government (in any guise) and the banditry of banking.

Which brings up the next “Why?” Why are people predisposed to lean favorably to official lies and reject common sense? The answer to this third and last “Why?” is where people go running for the hills, their collective ears solidly plugged with any substance found so they won’t have to hear.

The answer is as simple as it is unacceptable to the rank and file: programming. How to put this simply?

Basic foundational question: What is an Earthian, that *ISSA creature that insists on calling itself “human” when it can’t even demonstrate a humane life; that creature that revels in gratuitous violence? It is not a natural creature and it’s lifestyle proves it beyond any shadow of doubt. It is totally dependent upon its life-sucking systems to remain alive – and that is no contradiction: being alive does not necessarily mean being alive.

Take away all of the “benefits” or “advantages” of civilization this very day then come back in a year to count the ones still alive and functioning as normal, natural creatures.

The Earthian creature is a cloned and programmed entity, designed as a slave to serve masters. It can’t help itself. If it breaks free of one master it will seek another and begin serving again. It cannot imagine itself as a free and autonomous creature. In fact it resents the thought of real freedom because that entails taking full responsibility for all aspects of its own life without relying upon social support systems.  Wild animals can do this because they have more free intelligence than Earthians hence why Earthians are programmed to kill off the wilderness: nature is always a threat to Cyborgs.

Being unnatural, it cannot comprehend nature so must rely on its masters for its survival and knowledge. This is where it get truly touchy. The creature is “endowed” with a wonderful thing it calls a soul. Even among atheists the concept of “soul” keeps its validity. It is variously thought of, or spoken of, as some natural aspect of the creature or a gift of the gods, or God; the repository of consciousness or mind.

All of which is of course total BS – in capital letters.

The real story?  The soul was designed as a controlling implant. It is used to motivate and to generate and maintain an endless array of repetitive and cycling belief systems within the implanted ISSA creature. It is programmed to keep the creature believing in “something” (basically anything at all) that is always superior to itself, something that holds the carrot and the stick. The foremost of soul laws are: obey and never question. The ever-present hope is that through obedience one receives the carrot and not the stick. When the creature sees others getting the stick it doesn’t hear their cries; it hears the propaganda that says, “Hey, they deserve what they’re getting, they are disobedient.” The nature of that “disobedience” is not questioned. Or they hear the other line: “They are the enemy and must be subdued or they will come “here” and take what you have.” If it wasn’t pure programming control, how many would fall for those inanely simplistic explanations that condone theft, mass murder and genocide?

Some say, I don’t believe in the soul like that’s supposed to be an answer. Not believing makes it go away? Closing your eyes to danger makes the danger go away? Billions of Earthians are crowding the world with their heads solidly stuck in the sands of denial hoping that denial will make the bad go away. Billions have their minds hacked on a daily basis, filled with dis-mis-information, salivating when the soul message dings and passing social media lies with likes and hits and clicks blissfully unaware they are frantically contributing to their own demise.

Isn’t it time to wake up to reality? Isn’t it time to realize if something has never worked it isn’t about to miraculously start working just because we are approaching dire straits? Protests, wars, revolutions, changing of the political guard: none of that is going to resolve our current dilemma because it never has.

Time for something truly new, like new thinking; like a new idea?

*ISSA being: an intelligent, sentient, self aware person.

Dialogue with a Teacher

[thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]

“I would be a catalyst for change, a change agent.”
“Why?” She asked, her back to me. She seemed to be staring at something beyond the horizon only she could see.
“Why?” I replied, “It’s this world, Teacher; it breaks my heart.”
“So you would change it then?”
“Yes.”
“You understand how change happens, do you not?”
“I think so… but there are so many ways…”
“No! Not if you desire good change. Yes, many ways to bring about change that nurtures unhappiness, misery and endless grief. But the good change, how do you make that come about?”
“I do not know… I simply do not know how.”
“Very well. I am going to reveal some ancient wisdom to you, then you will understand though it may change your mind about being a change agent. Have you ever fallen in love with someone? Ever been so in love that nothing else mattered?”
“Yes I have been, long, long ago.”
“Can you recall your feelings of that time?”
“Somewhat, yes. Pure madness!”
“Madness yes, but all good change comes from that sort of madness. Life proceeds from that madness. Children are born because of it. Now for the great secret but first you get one guess: where does this madness originate? What is its genesis?”
“Trick question, Teacher? I honestly do not know.”
“Such a seed can only be found in one place in the entire universe: in your heart. You must mine for it, extract it, grind and polish it, love it above everything else, desire it more than anything else then give it out freely and completely to the world you wish to see change come about in.
“Know this, that once you give it away you must die. You know the truth of it, “unless a seed falls to the ground and dies it will not produce fruit.” You were taught this when only a child and you remember that lesson. Of all the lesser teachings you received from your tribal parents and teachers, you kept this one and one other.
“Now remember this also, my Avatar, there are many ways to die. Dying is easy but there is only one way to live: with compassion through complete detachment. You understand?”
“Yes Teacher, I do understand.”
“Does it make you want to change your mind?”
I was very slow in answering her, not because I was unsure about my choices but because the moment was so charged with “sacred” energy. I suppose she would have said my reply was predictable.
“On the contrary, Teacher, this is an affirmation. As to that second lesson you alluded to, I remember it well also…”small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”
“Be sure to remain on it.”

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #17

[begin blog post #17]

‘And what’s your name fellah?  I’ll call you Blacky.  That will do.’  He does not read thoughts at all so I don’t have to do the ‘white noise’ thing with him.  The centering trumpet blows.  I move across from where he should be but he does not move.  The handlers have to come back and push him to stance.  Could they not have taught him that much?  We wait, my sword raised up, his he holds tight across his midriff with one hand, the blade over his left shoulder.  He’s mocking proceedings, that’s it.  Showing he despises not just me but all of Hyrete, all of Elbre.  A roll of drums is followed by three trumpets announcing the beginning.  My heart gives a loud thump and I get ready to… do what?

He does not move.  I have to attack him but I know it’s the play dumb trap.  He wants to decapitate me at the first move.  ‘Good luck Blacky and take this.’  I lunge at him only to be parried with a lighting move.  Ahah, now we fight?  I whirl and lunge again, a bit higher and to his left.  He has a little more difficulty but also parries my blade easily.  Now comes the really tough part.  I have to make him chase me.  But he knows that game and won’t move.  Damn.  I have to buzz him like a fly then.  Jab, thrust, jump back, turn, move in.  I may as well be fighting our wooden man in the compound for all the reaction I get for my efforts – except that the wooden man doesn’t have a lightning fast reaction to my thrusts. 

The only way I can get him to move is to make him angry.  For that I must cut him, make him bellow, shame him.  I know some tricks.  I come at him full front as if I’m going to throw myself in his arms.  His sword is still across his chest.  I feint a stab at his throat, he parries but neither I nor my sword are there.  I dive under his blade and sliding my sword down in rapid motion cut a slash down his thigh then jump back on a low crouch while his blade passes over me with an angry vibrating whine.  I feel the displacement of air.  That was too close.

The mosquito has drawn blood and now he’s going to try to swat me.  Of course, being a female mosquito I can’t leave now.  I need a full belly of blood to reproduce.  I stare at his face and when he finally looks at me I smile, then laugh softly.  I have to anger him and get him to move or I’ll be so tired I will become a sitting duck for him.  ‘Come on big boy, chase me.  Think of that juicy female meat you want to cook and eat.  Did they promise you could barbecue me in your snake pit wherever they be keeping you?’  He knows I’m teasing him but can’t understand.  But at least I’ve got him moving.  His sword is slashing through the air as he comes for me.  I stand still until he commits himself to aim for my neck and duck, spin and cut him across the back before he can turn. 

Now comes the bellow!  He literally charges at me, flailing the sword, throwing up sand.  I dance in front of him, my breasts bouncing slightly.  That seems to enrage him even more.  I raise my arms above my head, holding the sword as if it were a dagger, pointing at his chest and continue to dance back, watching.  This is dangerous: I don’t know his moves yet, or if he has any more to display.  He sees this slim female body completely exposed and lunges low.  I hadn’t expected that and barely escape the heart jab followed by a cutting swath.  I jump as high as I can – and damn that soft sand to hell – turning and throwing myself down and just out of reach.  I’m still fresh and not cut.  His own cuts are superficial but I can tell he is becoming truly enraged, dangerous now.

Seems all he knows of fighting hand to hand is with killing blows.  No feints, no skill, no finessing around.  He approaches me as if I were no more of a challenge than a fence post.  I’ll have to trust my intuition on that and offer him more tantalizing openings and feints.  I continue to tease, following through after his predictable jab and swing, and cutting him a little each time.  So much like a bull, I feel I’m a toreador, as much as I despise that particular “sport” of Túat Har. 

I’m totally into the fighting now, dancing, enjoying the feel of breeze and sweat on my skin, feeling the sword in my hands as it becomes more a part of me with each stroke, the carefully crafted handle absorbing the sweat from my hands, keeping them dry and the grip firm.  At this moment you’d think I was the one bred to be a fighter.  Well maybe I was, in some distant other life?

Yes, I remember that one.  In what was called Nippon, later Japan, C-14 Old Earth, I learned how to use the famous Samurai sword then, and what a deadly weapon that was.  I was a woman then too, a Geisha in training, and what I did was considered immoral.  When they discovered my secret I was forced to commit seppuku with the very sword I’d used to fight men and kill men while defending a women’s compound from slavers and head hunters.  If remembrances are good for anything, this is as good a time as any to incarnate my ancient skills.  May they serve as well today as they did then.  I was able to save the lives of a dozen women that night so long ago, but not my own.  Now I can even that score and save my own life.

From mosquito I’ve become the wasp.  I buzz around him, seeking to sting, for the wasp is not bound to one sting.  She can bite over and over and my sword sings when it connects with his.  I pull back, draw him out, swing to draw his eyes away from mine, then whirl, pulling the sword tight against my body to present hardly any target.  When he lunges I use his great weight against him, going with the thrust, letting him believe he’s got me only to roll around and cut again.  This time deep in the right thigh, a real cut.  The blood pours out freely.  He turns to look at the damage and I get him across the forehead, bringing blood into the eyes.  He raises his arm to wipe his eyes and I swing with all my strength at the exposed wrist, cutting off the left hand. 

From then its just finishing strokes.  When he is finally down I raise my sword to the crowd to ask for mercy for their fallen champion.  He could still live.  No mercy is forthcoming and I kill him, turn and walk to the end of the ring to be escorted back to the compound. 

As is customary and absolutely necessary, I inventory the damage done to my body.  In these fights the adrenaline runs so high we often overlook many severe cuts or other damage.  My damage?  A blister and broken toenail that’s bleeding.  ‘Well Blacky, wherever you go I hope for your sake you don’t ever underestimate a woman again.  It’s not healthy.  Size, speed and the ability to roar does not a fighter make.’ 

[end blog post #17]

What is the Cost of Maintaining a God?

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

Quote: “God, help us all to wake up and learn to love as community and not organization.”

This I’ve learned and this I’ll take with me to my next level of understanding: God (or whatever lives beyond the reach of mere Earthians and parades as creator) will not help “us”. Quite the contrary. The people who believe in God are often the worst kind to have around. And that is as it must be. “God” is, if one bothers to study Earth history, a monster. He is a hater of the feminine principle and destroyer of life, mostly of innocent life.

It is because Earthians have been programmed to “wait upon the Lord” that they cannot, will not help themselves, or one-another openly and freely; cannot break free once and for all from their slavery to “trusted” systems that have now supplanted religion, in particular monetary schemes.

“Man” is what God made him; “woman” less so, for she in truth, rebelled against the original programming. Some say that God is what man made it… if that is true, that only makes man worse for that makes God the scapegoat for all the man-perpetrated evil done in God’s name since the beginning of civilization.

It is said that God is also the author of love and what is that but a chameleonic emotion? A powerless concept, except within collectives where it can be practiced in the most exclusive and selfish ways? People should remember that it was the God of love who instructed His people to go throughout the (known) earth and kill all those who refused to worship Him – man, woman and child. Who instructed his fanatic followers to rip open pregnant women and kill their unborn children before their very eyes. To plunder, enslave, rape, torture and murder — all in the name of His love.

It is the same God, make no mistake, who directs the ways of the New World Order or call it predatory capitalism, the “new” religion of greed that incorporates the old patriarchal “values” based on exploitation, suppression, enslavement, plunder and general destruction of the planet and its life.

It is said that “man” would never know the ways of the Lord God. True. Few men have demonstrated an evil so utterly depraved as to rival God’s though many have tried. Hitler was one of those, a name to remember on the anniversary of the freeing of Auchwitz by the Soviet forces in 1945.

The awakened INDIVIDUAL does not need to know such ways. The awakened looks into the cosmos and knows life. The awakened is free to look in the face of evil and call a spade a spade. Such a one has no soul to worry about, or to feed with emotions and passions. The awakened knows logic and common sense, though not devoid of feelings. Conversely the soul-being is prey to endless roiling of passions and emotions that fight against one-another, for the soul, that precious gift of God, is the container for Earthian madness.

Few can accept this. To most, God is a sacred concept. To know God is to know love. To possess a soul is the mark of life, of belonging. But what is the historical evidence from maintaining such a belief?

If you look at history, you will find that all efforts, bar none, to find “love” – sharing, community, acceptance, freedom, peace, etc., have failed. Even in the tiny groups that survive as “Christian” (or other kinds) in “communities of brethren” have failed to spread and are now rife with dissension and pointlessness. Think of the Quakers, the Amish, the Hutterites, the Mennonites – and many others… they are dying anachronisms in this society. Few are attracted to their ways because they make no sense and their interactions with the modern world are full of contradictions.

What would make sense, then, in today’s world? Only an individual can find that answer, test it, and choose to walk in such a “sensible” way. Only the one who has learned NEVER to cry out: “Help me!” Only the one who has seen beyond hope; who has exposed the mockery of faith; who knows that love is a chimera. Only the one who’s quest for more of life is untrammeled by belief systems, whether such are based on God, Money or raw Power.

Detachment to Life

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

“I’ve always felt that what we are taught of detachment at home is an illusion.  I think the ancients know this too, but let us discover it on our own.  They equip us to go with a story that makes sense only until it is tested.  A truly detached ISSA*, seems to me, at this point at least, is an oxymoron.”  (Antierra monologue speaking of her teachings on detachment while on her home world of Altaria – Antierra Manifesto)

Once the basics of one Earthian incarnation have been experienced – surviving, satisfying desires, experimenting with physical senses, what’s left but death, or entering upon a quest for the greater meaning of Life as a self aware being? 

If one chooses “death” which to me means going on repeating experiences pointlessly, then that’s that.  If one chooses the quest, there has to be a sure way to enter into that which guarantees one will not fall back into such silly behaviour as being a sports fan, chasing the opposite gender for sexual gratification, “making” money, hating, fighting, killing then dying to find out it was all a chimera.

Seems to me the way to freedom is opened through detachment.  What keeps us enslaved to the wheel of the System is an array of attachments each one justifying and strengthening the other. It behooves us therefore to relinquish all our attachments to the things this world offers more as bait than as satisfaction (since none ever completely satisfy, and that should be a very broad hint). 

OK, so I want to learn the meaning of Life, not just the meaning (if there be any) of one little incarnation on this little world but the meaning of Life as expressed through an infinite and timeless cosmos: that meaning! Only a free being can ever hope to enter into such a quest.  Attachments are all those things, big and small, that translate as chains, shackles, stanchions, locks, doors, walls, perimeters, limits that take one to termination.  In this situation, death becomes the final attachment. 

Before one tackles the difficult concept of death, one should consider the pattern of lesser attachments that enslave us to our body and its world and how we are connected to the pattern.  As long as a single attachment remains unexplored and connected, death remains the final enigma. Yet unless one can know all about death, even if the words to describe this certainty do not exist, the quest for Life remains closed.  Death was invented to create the impression that there is no such thing as “Life” as an infinite concept; that “Life” had been conquered. All attachments are lies and death is the final and greatest lie of all when living under attachments.

How then does one person achieve a place of total detachment?  As said above, it isn’t easy.  To my heroine (granted she is under extreme stress in that part of the story) it seems impossible.  But nothing is impossible! Impossible is just another attachment!

Detachment, once decided upon, comes through self empowerment.  All my choices are mine and I take full responsibility for the results.  Sure, there will remain many little itches of attachments, like cold sniffles or skin blemishes, but my immune system is self empowerment and that is how I heal myself, as much and as many times as it takes.  I learn not to repeat stupid or pointless moves. I learn to be satisfied with an experience that I know will not improve the more I do it. 

Prayers will not be answered with greater alacrity or better overall results.  Hockey games won’t improve. TV won’t demonstrate a higher level of intelligence. Cigarettes or booze won’t taste better. Crossing borders won’t become easier or safer and sex… well I think we all know the answer to that one.

I learn not to waste my time on the treadmill or the merry-go-round and I learn to use that salvaged time to better my understanding.  If I have any problem on how to direct this new understanding, I cradle it within compassion thus guaranteeing a successful continuation to the quest I am on.

Yes Antierra, it is possible to become totally detached.  You have to learn to take the broader view of the concept.    

*ISSA: acronym for intelligent, sentient, self aware