So tonight I went to acupuncture, as I have done twice a week now for more than a month. It’s been very… reducing. A lot of ephemera has gone away, and unexpectedly with it went the physical cells in which it lurked. When emotional clutter drops the cloak of matter, there is only energy left, and it leaves me, and I am literally physically smaller. I am ten pounds lighter than when I started, and every pound of it was mental baggage that had become physical, weighing me down. Matter is a simple default for energy that has had a C² cat bed made up for it in a human body.
The small amount of weight (~7g) that disappears from the body at death must be something similar; matter uncloaking as energy. Simple yet inexplicable. Like Gauss said, I have my results, but cannot as yet arrive at them. Unlike Gauss, I am under no obligation to try.
I can’t get enough of the view inside, but I find I’m not really that interested in specifics.
it sounds silly, but I’m frankly not very interested in myself anymore, and I am even less interested in exploring the whys of the things that have happened to me. Who cares why? My life isn’t full of big questions, anyway. I just want to pay attention to the present. The inner view I am actually enjoying is one of space. Clear space. Plenty of room to hold people close. Acres of room. I think about Bill. About my children. About the way the warmth feels on my skin, about the way a peach tastes, about how it feels when someone is cruel to me; about how it must feel when I am thoughtless to others.
I put Bryan Ferry on again tonight during the session, like I often do anytime there is a lot of mental or physical work to do. He sings my body electric, he sweeps out the rubble I have put by the doors. I allow his voice to probe the corners of my rooms, to sing out the chimeras, the shadows, the doubts, the dust of the alias copies of any old L.O.G.s lying around pretending to be real.
Tonight I said, “Larry, remember that night you said you were going to ‘take off a layer’? Do it again, take me down.” He smiled, and said “Sure,” and that’s what we did. As the needles went in, I felt my body sparkling with life; first on one side, and then the other. When they were all in, he said, “You seem like a person at the top of a rollercoaster.”
And I was off, my body and mind sparking, my cells dancing, aligning, sorting, and best of all, making space. I looked up an hour and a half later, and there he was, smiling gently at me, saying, “OK?”