Sunday consciousness, all my self-questions, and the sounds that space makes
Sunday consciousness, all my self-questions, and the sounds that space makes
What kind of worship is this?
I’ve been playing with Midjourney to illustrate my dreams and scenes from psychedelic journeys. I’ve been figuring out how to kill an outdated God. I read all of my diary and dream entries from this year so far and my findings were this:
Life continues to break through me in dreams and signs and symbols. I normalize everything as sine waves. This is just the way life feels sometimes. Take notice of the sounds your heart makes — of the cracks inside of you. The bottom has yet to drop out, but it will. You are an infinite abyss. There is nothing bad about this. What is next, I always ask. But there are never any answers, only more questions.
A poem or a self-baptism:
HOW TO PRAY TO A DEAD GOD OR SUNDAY CONSCIOUSNESS
I have been there — on those Sundays
standing on the cathedral steps
when the sun is bright and pious
and it blinds me
What kind of worship is this?
When even in my Sunday dress
and frilly socks
and Mary Janes —
I feel unworthy
What kind of worship is this?
Beams of light dancing on a little girl's skin
and still she feels shame
What kind of worship is this?
This God must die
I have been there — too many times
standing on those steps
sinking into that Sunday consciousness
Here is atonement
Here is absolution
But why must I answer to anyone or anything?
I go back there in my mind —
to those blinding Sundays
to those pious steps
to that sinking consciousness
I pray to a dead God
and I create a new one
What kind of worship is this?
The sun continues to shine — pirouettes on my skin
and even though the sun is outside of me
it warms from within
and this is how my new God
chooses to love me
I copied and pasted all of my diary and dream entries into Clive Thompson’s only the questions online tool. Questions propel and expand your consciousness. Master the art of asking yourself questions.
ALL OF MY SELF-QUESTIONS FROM 2022 SO FAR
What are the next god/guide posts? What did I learn in that lifetime and how can I bring that here? How to merge dimensions? What portal am I creating? What form are you holding now? Where is the rest of me? What is my soul reaching out toward? Am I still a stranger to myself? Why does love do this? Was that unkind? What are the consequences of love? Can my heart be boundless? Why does it hurt? Will there be love? Who is guiding me? Am I pure? What is this wilderness inside of me? What does a new beginning mean to me? What is true freedom? Who should I confess my sins to? Or can I have sovereignty over my heart, mind, body and spirit? Can I be absolved or is the freedom from needing to be absolved more than enough? Whose rules am I living by? What is worth fighting for? Is this a mistake? When is the next moon phase? He is still on the first rung of the ladder and where am I? Why do I have to get my footing again and again and again? Why can’t I start from where I was last time? Are you a comet or are you a planet? Is there anything you've been working on for many centuries? Do I have a stupid heart? What is the one thing I can control? What have we unearthed here? What kind of worship is this? What was the whale I threw out the window? How many times can I transform before I die? What is the difference between human love and divine love? How do you pray to a dead God?
SONIFICATIONS OF SPACE
Sonification is the process that translates data into sound. Here are some sounds created from images of Space.
I’m humbled by the sound a black hole makes. I could dance to the rhythm of the Whirlpool Galaxy. My heart amplifies itself like the Tycho supernova. I drop to my knees to worship the tones of the Pillars of Creation. If someone could take the data of my heart and turn it into a song, I wonder what it would sound like.
I dream every night. I am becoming more adept at interpreting the language of my dreams. Dreams want to come to life. They want to be paintings and poems and they want you to pay attention to them. Here is the universe communicating with you every night. You are a conduit for creation and evolution and it begins inside of you.
A STILL-FRAME FROM A DREAM
I’m out in the backyard of a strange home that is my home. The sky is dim, like a French noir film. There is a little girl bathing in a kiddie pool. She is not mine, but she is an aspect of me — the young, feminine psyche baptizing herself in the shallow end of her subconscious. I look up and see an inflatable pool toy in the shape of a butterfly floating across the sky. It is colorful and striking against the grey light. The butterfly is both the spirit and the psyche and it belongs to me. It has broken free and glides across the forefront of my mind and thoughts. I reach for my phone to take a picture. I knew it would make a beautiful picture.