The Meaning of Life...yeah right

Dice living today and blogging (number two in my list of six) came up.  Previous to that I've yoga'ed, cleaned the bathroom and laundry sinks, and worked on the current drawing.   What hasn't come up yet is vaccumming, cleaning the kitchen window and painting the second coat on the ceiling in this office. 

Have always found dice living fascinating.  It must tie in with Tarot, I Ching and various other things which make a connection between the energy sheet and the energy strings (my poor and for the moment unexplained version of the Universe) for what is chosen (or read in the case of Tarot and I Ching) is too appropriate to be explained by Chance.  Jung had it in synchronicity but I suspect it goes far beyond that.  If everything is connected and time, as the linear illusion we perceive, does not exist then everything is happening all the time and all at once.  Why not pick and choose appropriate (for this particular conscious collection of energy ganglia) bits that help to fill or flesh out the purpose of the current Consciousness?

So much I don't understand (a bit of an understatement) but I have always been confused by the seemingly discrete forms of consciousness we take when we become human.  I suspect I have lived and am living elsewhere so why am I only perceiving this particular consciousness?  For a reason.  When we die do we remember other existences, do we experience them?  Does our Oversoul live them all at once?

Just looked up oversoul with Wikipedia.  Emerson wrote about the oversoul and said  (1) the human soul is immortal, and immensely vast and beautiful; (2) our conscious ego is slight and limited in comparison to the soul, despite the fact that we habitually mistake our ego for our true self; (3) at some level, the souls of all people are connected, though the precise manner and degree of this connection is not spelled out; and (4) the essay does not seem to explicitly contradict the traditional Western idea that the soul is created by and has an existence (?) that is similar to God, or rather God exists within us.

1.  The human soul is immortal, vast and beautiful.  When I live and think with less than normal dross, I feel lighter, wider and yes more beautiful.  Even though....
2.  Our conscious ego is slight and limited in comparison despite the fact we mistake it for our true self.  Yes, but what is contained within the larger is still 'of' the essence'.  Still, I had the minuteness of the ego demonstrated years ago.  I'd gone to a movie with my then husband and fainted.  No one knew I'd fainted so when I came to I had no one fussing over me which meant no distraction from where I'd been to where I then found myself.  I woke up with a terrible sense of loss.  Where I'd been had been vast and beautiful and true.  To returnn to my'self' I had had to shoehorn this great being into a tiny ego.  I was grief stricken.  What a disappointment it was to be me when I had had the faint taste of Freedom.  I am coward where pain is concerned but since that moment I have not been afraid of death.
3.  All souls are connected.  All energy is connected.  Quantum mechanics, etc.  What one is we all are.  The difference is in the choices we make.  Energy can be directed.  Energy is just as much thought as 3 dimensional objects.  What we think we make.  It's a heavy responsibility which few of us take seriously, me included.
4.  The soul is created and has an existence, is similar to God who exists within us.  The riddle of this is not whether there is a god and how s/he exists but what makes up the barriers between small ego-constricted us and God?  Was it Aldous Huxley who postulated that the mind functioned as a filter so that we would not be overwhelmed by the reality of What Is?

So, what does it ALL MEAN?  Greater minds than I have not been able to decisively answer this.  What hope have I?  Sometimes I am sure it is only so that we may look and love the beauty we have created.  At other times I suspect it is a game, a trick we play on ourselves, a quest and puzzle that we must solve to arrive laughing and breathless back at the Source saying 'didn't think I was going to get it this time!'

Synchronicity and Cary Grant

Sometimes things happen that have no logical explanation. R and I took the whippets for a walk on our dead end dirt road. Beautiful sunny day, warm after a cold winter night. So warm I removed my sweatshirt and hung it on a roadside reflector to pick up on our return trip. Which I did. The old royal blue sweatshirt has a hole in the back, no doubt the result of climbing through a barb wire fence. Stuck into this small hole was a many branched twig, some kind of Australian native. It has five small twigs jutting out from the central branch. It's only about 10" long. It is also covered with tiny deep blue, almost purple flowers. I've never seen anything blooming in the bush with flowers that colour, nor did I see anything around where I'd hung my sweatshirt resembling it.

So where did it come from and why was it placed so precisely in the hole of my shirt? Only one car passed us on the road and I'm sure the occupant wouldn't have done it. Just not his style. Besides, he would've had to have the plant with him and he's just not that interested in nature.

So it sits beside me on the desk, wilting slightly but with the colours of the tiny flowers still vivid. Is it a sign?

I'm a great believer in signs and synchronicity. When I am in the right frame of mind I see the Universe speaking all the time. Speaking to me in a language which is pertinent to me. That may sound mad yet if the stuff of the universe is mind stuff, why not? What is a thought but a form of energy. Everything solid is a form of energy. It has to be malleable. It has to be coherent. One wavelength amplifying or cancelling out another or just making white noise. It is all so mysterious but at the same time so bloody obvious.

For instance I was born on the 29th (11) day of the 11th (11) month in 19 (1) 55 (1). Elevens and twenty-twos have figured prominently in my life. Strictly speaking 1955 would be a 2 but for purposes of this I prefer to see it as I've set out. Today I was looking at Cary Grant (who wouldn't?). I'd gone there after looking up something else and one thing led to another and then there I was with Cary. Turns out he died in Davenport Iowa on November 29, 1986 at 11:22pm. I hadn't met to find that but I still think it's significant. Significant of what I don't know. My own particular idiosyncracy?

Unfortunately I am often out of touch with the Language and signs. I am too caught up in the white noise of my own mind chatter to see the bleeding obvious. One of the things I hope yoga will teach me is how to lose some of that, to be aware of the moment, to be IN the moment. To be still and know God or whatever you want to call it. Powers That Be works for me. There is Something but I've too many negative connotations associated with the word God.

I've been trying to meditate off and on for years. Much more off than on. Who would've thought simply following one's breath and focusing on that to the exclusion of anything else would be so hard? It is damned hard! I may get one or two breaths where I actually follow the breath, I am in the breath and then bang! I'm thinking that it's time to change birds (change in that it's time for Cornelius to go in his cage so Tachimedes can come out) or remembering some snippet of conversation from work. It seems my mind has a brilliant work ethic. It does not want to sit idle and watch the breath go in and out. It's got places to go (flights of fancy), people to see (ancient history or wishful thinking). Bludging on the job while awake is not in its job description. However. I am determined to rein in my over zealous workaholic brain and convince it that calm quiet attention is not in breach of its Lifetime Contract.