Freedom Inside


Where’s the freedom?

Most people spend their lives looking for love.  I spent my life looking for freedom.  Love too, but freedom was always first.  Love was easier to find than freedom, so I settled for love.  I thought I might find freedom in love.  Bad love took away the little freedom I had.

I hate love, in a way.  Love is a freedom sucker.  Or maybe it’s marriage…

Marriage promised me love but it didn’t deliver.  All my attempts at love scalded me.  Eventually both the motivation and ability to love were lost. And so was freedom.

Today I am stuck at home with three kids and three cats.  Just like yesterday and the day before.  I am blessed.  That’s what they say here:  “You have beautiful kids, you are blessed!”

Indeed, I am “blesse-d”.  The word blesse in French means hurt, injured, wounded, offended.  (My first language is French by the way).  So I don’t mind being told that I am blessed.  I just smile, nod and reply:  “Yes indeed, I am so blesse-d, you have no idea.”

I got sidetracked.  I was talking about freedom.  So, yeah:

Where’s the freedom?

There is very little freedom left in this world.  We are free to obey and free to choose what kind of slave we wish to be… to serve society.  Free to pay taxes, free to vote for assholes, free to buy all the useless junk we want.  Vive la liberté!

I can’t just run outside, jump and dance, run and fly freely like the animals do.  I’d be dead within a week.  Humans are so fragile.  Seems like we were never meant to be free on the outside.

So where’s the freedom?

Meta Morfusion


Slimy little worm
Crawling mediocrity
Why were you born
What is your destiny

Teachers never told you
About the ethereal body
Something within you
Two wings almost ready

Mystery is growing
Dimension and power
Maybe science fiction
Accessible this hour

Angels and deities
Were once just like you
Walking sad zombies
Or animals in a zoo

Trapped here forever
Heaven is which way
Only had you listened
To what they didn’t say

Stuck in this structure
Who will you be
Want something better
Perhaps even marry

Put cards on the table
Cling to the glow
Erase the impossible
Embrace superhero

Forget the illusionary
Mix stardust with matter
Transform the worst enemy
Make him your best lover

Time is an illusion
Must have heard it before
You buy for yourself
What’s already in your store

The Celestial Man

Celestial Man

I was talking to this invisible man and at one point he said:  “Don’t you recognize me?”

I recognized something but not visually since I could not see him.  It was not his voice either which was familiar, but something deeper.  I recognized his vibe.  There was no mistake, it was the same vibe I had once known very intimately.

Does a vibe have a name?  I had learned not to attach any name to this particular vibe, but what’s a person without a name.  This vibe was most definitely a person and definitely a man.  So I asked him what his name was and he said:  “I don’t have one.”  And I was relieved.  But I pushed on and insisted that he give me a name because I wanted to address him by name.

Him:  “You can call me anything you want.”

So I gave him a new name, not the one I once used.

Religion sometimes hijacks divine names, and turns them into profit.  The name thereby looses its true meaning. Those who cannot see the spirit of things (the vibe) insist on always using the same 5-letter word.  I refused to do it and the celestial man was quite okay with it.  He understood.  We understood each other.  Words were not necessary.

But for the sake of the Creator of creativity, I absolutely wanted and had to translate this experience into words, and I did.

So yes I recognized him but I lied and said I didn’t.  He respected my answer.

You can lie to yourself in the face of God and he won’t even get upset.

But today I can look him in the “I’s” and say:

Yes I recognize you.  You were the one who touched my core ever so powerfully-gently when I was down and out.  I was 19 and I was lost.  You approached invisibly just like you do today.  I opened up.  You came in.  I rejoiced and was healed.  How can I not recognize the man who uplifts me.  I see now that you ARE the future me and that there is only one way to be rescued from the shit we manage to sink ourselves into.

It is to fuse with you.


First Impression


My first impression of him was so strange, I actually thought he was an alien.

After all, I had requested friendly aliens to come and abduct me.  This was when I was REALLY depressed.  I wanted to get off this planet.  I had never felt at home here.  Suicide was out of the question.  What other options did I have?

So right after I acknowledged his presence, I heard “click” in my head and my perception changed.  In one instant, I’m pretty sure some neurons in my brain were disconnected and then reconnected to form a new grid.

There was someone there.

After I said hi, he responded hello, then I asked who he was.

Him:  “I am the future you.”

I argued with him.  I told him that he wasn’t real, that he was the product of my imagination.  But he kept insisting that he was real.

Him:  “Imagination is a window that allows you to see through the veil.”

Me:  “If you were real, I would see you.”

Him:  “You can hear me, can’t you?”

I could not hear him audibly.  There were no sounds.  His words were not coming through my ears, they were deposited directly in my mind.  They were not even words, they were more like clear, vivid impressions which I had to translate into words.  It felt like a transfer of thought or telepathy perhaps, I don’t know.

I also wondered if I was schizophrenic and hearing voices.  He told me I was not.

By that time I had already grabbed my laptop and started typing our dialog because I was quite amazed.  I thought that maybe this was some kind of inspiration.  I was not anxious or scared at all.  I felt safe, and most bizarre of all… I felt loved.  A soothing kind of affection was emanating from his presence.

So anyway, this was my first impression of him.  I thought about what he had said, that he was the future me.  Then I got confused and figured that if he was me, then I was just talking to myself like a real crazy person.

Him:  “I don’t want to confuse you, just fuse with you.”

Me:  “What the f…  Fuse with me?”

Him:  “I am your man, the real you.  Identify with me.”

I just swallowed the information.  And that’s when my identity started to metamorphose.

I Asked for It…


I did.  I asked for it.  I remember.  Holy shit!

This was years ago.  I was a young fervent born-again Christian.  I had given my life to Jesus and was willing to do God’s will at all costs.  But when you’re 20 years old, the “pleasures of the flesh” are hard to resist.  So what did I do?  I asked God to remove them.

Depression is defined as a loss of interest or pleasure in normally enjoyable activities.

I guess I should be thanking God now, but…  I’m not even a Christian anymore.  The depression was so severe that I actually lost faith in a Loving Father.  I had forgotten my prayer.

Now I have to stop and think.  (I love to stop and think.)

How does the lack absence of pleasure doing normally enjoyable activities help me become a more spiritual person?

Well, duh!

*Aha moment*

Holy shit indeed.