re: fear is not a delusion

Aquarius - Awakening the Divine Feminine 

As we enter the Age of Aquarius, the sign of Aquarius facilitates the cleansing of consciousness and the transfiguration of energy for widespread change. Aquarius is the Mother of Humanity, a sign whose qualities become progressively potent during a shift in frequencies. The energy of the Aquarius Age promotes the loss of ego so Blue Light Christ Consciousness can be activated singularly for all beings. Part of this shift releases the Divine Feminine, the feminine energy present in everybody that has been suppressed into the unconscious and painfully exorcised. The Age of Pisces swept the mass delusion of religion and religious authority. As we move deeper into the Age of Pisces we find no mention of the Goddess or Mother as supreme being, that who had been worshiped for centuries. It was now ‘Our Father’, and the demonisation of feminine sexuality or energy. Aquarius energy enables the loss of pride, self serving corruption, and gluttony to re-connect with the soul of humanity, to realise the destructive nature of our fear and containment, the loving consciousness of the Great Mother to reignite the magic alive in every child. The plants come alive with faces and messages from the divine. As we have become more trapped by ego, we have lost our inherent relationship with nature, and the Mother’s purity of consciousness allows for this intimacy to again exist between nature and humanity, so we can be guided once more by the wisdom of Mother Earth. Aquarius is the vessel of consciousness that activates this perception. The Divine Mother is born from harnessing this vessel in its purest form. The Goddess was anciently worshiped as the ultimate creator, the essence of creative sexual energy that underlies all living being. As this sacred energy became tainted through ego, hatred, and religious patriarchy, so did the depravity of our sexual nature. Too many women have been victims of this imbalance, suffering oppression, assault, and abuse. Aquarius rebuilds the temple of honour and protection, Isis guards the vile animal from entering. 

Heracles was revered for his inhuman acts, his works were extraordinary, and yet this was because Heracles was partly divine. His death was remarkable in the sense it was violent and painstaking because everything impure had to be incinerated to mark true death. When Heracles ascended to completion, spiritual divinity, he was rewarded with a wife. This wife was the young daughter of Hera and Zeus. She was beautiful, youthful, and virtuous. Her name was Hebe, and she is the cup bearer for the gods, holding 2 vessels in her hands. It is she who serves fine fruit and wine to the Gods, she is Aquarius. She was the gift of purity, after ego had died its true death, she is the portion of consciousness that awakens the Divine Feminine. “While the sign of Gemini represents “equal rulership” between the masculine and feminine energies, Aquarius harkens to the divine power inherent within an act of co-rulership between these two polarity expressions in the divine image and similitude.” - Maia Kyi'Ra Nartoomid

-C.

(art - Jasmine Beckett-Griffith)

Do you know what it’s like to live with a psychotic disorder? What it’s like to live daily experiencing delusions, hallucinations and voices which you can’t distinguish whether they’re real or not? What it’s like to live in constant fear because you can’t work out whether the person standing in front of you is real or because you can’t figure out whether the voice is coming from another person? What it’s like to not recognise your loved ones sometimes because your episode has got so severe?
I suffer with schizophrenia and let me tell you it’s fucking petrifying. Some days, today being one of those days, I want to give up and end it all because I can’t face the fact of having to live with it for the rest of my life, I feel trapped and so so alone.
Mental illnesses are a complex and complicated thing, and we don’t have enough awareness about them. There are so many misconceptions about mental illnesses, people are so quick to judge. Why are we like that? That is one of the main reasons why people who suffer feel so incredibly alone, and that is wrong. We should not hide when we are struggling in fear of being judged, we don’t hide physical illnesses, and they are basically the same thing. Your brain is part of your body so surely it is the same thing! People forget that a mental illness can have severe effects on your physical health.
Suffering with schizophrenia leaves me in constant fear because I don’t know what will happen if I have an episode whilst out in public, or if I’m alone, so I don’t ever really leave the house and if I do I make sure I’m not alone. It’s had a huge impact on my life, and I’m constantly worried that my friends will leave me because they can’t deal with it, I constantly worry about other people’s opinions of me, especially when I’m really struggling. And why? Why should I? My disorder is part of me, and it’s not going to go away!
This is a random post but I needed to get a few things off my chest, people who suffer with mental illnesses are not strange, weird or abnormal, we are normal people who want to lead a normal life. We need to support each other, not judge and certainly not make misconceptions! One that I constantly hear is that all schizophrenics are murders?!?!? (We are not!!!)
If you don’t suffer with a psychotic disorder or any mental illness I honestly hope you never have too! But please support those who do, we need your support! But if you do please know you’re not alone and keep fighting, you deserve to lead a happy, fun filled life! ♥️♥️

Compassion can be a tough sentiment to sustain sometimes, especially when it involves someone you care about, someone you know has the ability to see and understand their own hurtful patterns but “chooses” to repeat them anyway. Of course it’s not exactly a choice for them, not yet at least. They’re still caught up in their fear and delusions and defense mechanisms, still chasing whatever scenario they imagine will bring them love, or safety, or security, or whatever it is they imagine they lack, and unfortunately they have not suffered enough to genuinely apply themselves to affecting the necessary changes. Your heart breaks for them. You want only to help them see and understand and stop their self-destructive behavior. But of course you cannot. Only they can do that. So all you can do is look on with love and understanding, and perhaps be there for them when they fall again, and hope that this time they have seen and felt enough to have no choice but to change. But until then, all you can do is love.
— 

The Mystical Lion

Hypno-Scorpio

No secret can be kept from a Scorpio. And they have brilliant, hypnotic talents for drawing the concealed truth from other people. Scorpio’s innate reflex is to defend themselves from perceived rejection or trauma. Their survival instinct is reactive and programmed to scrutinise anyone who crosses their path. And this scrutiny generates from tremendous perception, a sixth sense unmatched by any other. Scorpio are acute observers. In every moment, they are secretly, consciously, or unconsciously surveilling everything. The individual typically remains intensely private. Trust is difficult to gain, and it’s not so much given but earned. Inherent fears of betrayal and deception create natural suspicious. There is an inborn fear of betrayal and treachery in Scorpio. Visions of past and present life trauma re-enact themselves in everyday life, the shadows that dwell in the mind and body are projected and worn of the faces of those they pass. 

Scorpios are fond of anything that involves penetrating mental depths and delusion. Their x-ray eyes have lenses that read the language of soul and spirit. A deep lulling stare into the Scorpio eyes could make one mesmerised. Their natural love of legal and criminal justice, psychoanalysis, investigation, forensics, and secret agent work reflects the cryptic and subliminal Scorpio expression. Their natural psychoanalytic gaze draws the truth from people like potent truth serum. And they spend copious time analyzing their own - and other people’s psychological behaviour. All is revealed to Scorpio. Actions speak the loudest words.

-C.

anonymous asked:

Is it a delusion when you feel like you could lose control of yourself? Like say sitting in a classroom listening to a lecture and the whole time you're trying to focus on keeping your mouth shut because you're sure if you don't you're going to scream for no reason. Or the fear of getting close the the edge of something because you might jump off without thinking about it. Or hiding knives from yourself because what if you randomly stab the person next to you..

These sound like intrusive thoughts and impulses, not delusions.
- Mod Alex

I can’t hate you. All I see in you is innocence. You hide your emotions, but I know your vulnerabilities. You want to belong for once. They make you feel understood. You love the intensity. They give you a taste. You fear the intrusion. They believe in you when everyone else belittles you. You let them in. But just you wait, dear. They’ll do it to you too. Will it be a day? A month? A year? Either way I dare you to get closer. I dare you to let them console you after I “abandoned” you. I dare you to adopt her perception of who you are. Let her tell you I’m crazy. Trust these people who’ve told you they’re ruthless. Let them fill your mind with their poisonous beliefs. Excuse their evil actions. Give into the delusion that you’re special and you can handle it. You’re just as pathetic as I used to be.

I know you’re not like them. You have a heart in there somewhere. You’re not as big or as mean as you think you are.

Journal Entry - May 22, 2017

You are all so pathetic to me. You fear death and murder and wrath and suicide. I almost want to laugh at you. I’m so disconnected and you are so weak. I could watch someone’s brains splatter all over the wall and not even blink, but you… You motherfuckers so much as HEAR about a tradgedy on the news and you’re in tears. People like you are meant to be challenged by people like me. To be taken out by people like me. To be ruled by people like me. I should be your God and you my victims. I am more than you could ever be. You make me sick and you make me laugh. You poor fucking fools, I will destroy you.

anonymous asked:

Sometimes it feels like some inanimate objects around me can feel things. Sometimes I feel like my old stuffed animals hate being in the closet, and are going to get back at me. I also don't throw rocks like other people sometimes do, because they'll be seperated from their rock friends and the landing will hurt them. Are these delusions? I never really paid attention to it before, but now that I'm seeing someone and they're bringing up the smallest details... Should I tell her about this?

These are delusions I have too, I fear that inanimate objects will hold a grudge against me if I mistreat them or drop them and may take revenge on me.

I think it’s worth mentioning to the person you are seeing if you’re comfortable enough to do so.

anonymous asked:

Anon that asked about the whole Islam thing earlier. I agree that Islam NATIONS need a reformation cos things are bad, but that's not what I meant. I mean judging the entirety of Islam based on a few, whether it be followers or nations. Your response is interesting, though. Do you actually agree with people's advocacy against Islam? And do you criticise Christianity or any other religion just as much as Islam if necessary? Sorry for the kinda spam, but I just like knowing your thoughts

I think equating Islam and Christianity’s modern day practice is idiotic. The two are obviously incomparable. Islam in muslim-majority countries is filled with extremist policy and allowing people to come into countries having these extremist beliefs is dangerous. However, I’m not some “rah rah no Refugees!” idiot.

I do fear that people’s complete fuckin delusion over standing for Islam is deplorable and wrong. Because they’re defending Islam (which by majority is practiced or holds awful beliefs), and NOT specifically Muslims. I don’t defend Christianity (even if it’s not anyway close to the dangers of Islam), I defend Christians. It’s not a religion of peace. At least, not right now, Islam is. So that’s why I think we should reform it. The problem is, hardlefters are literally dubbing Islam reformers ISLAMOPHOBES or fuckin WHITE SUPREMACISTS. That gets me so mad!!!!

People on both sides of the equation refuse to see the other half’s valid point and, in short, are only complicating the situation.

Though, with the length of this response, I’m sure you could say I’m complicating it too.

Living amends means caring for my future self

One thing I learned by growing up as a girl was that I wasn’t a person. Another thing I learned was that if I wasn’t vigilant, I wouldn’t survive. I learned that I might not survive anyway, despite my vigilance, and I’d often lay awake in the odd hours rehearsing what to do when a violent male came to end me. The best thing I came up with was to not give him the satisfaction of the expected reaction. I would be preternaturally calm, I decided–no tears, no screaming. In the end, if overpowered, I would refuse to act like prey. I might even act as though it was my own idea. Nod sagely and say, I’ve been expecting you.

Looking back I see this clearly as the dysfunctional coping tool of a powerless child. I also see it as the underpinning of most of the third wave. I’ll do it to myself first, before you can do it to me. You’re going to rape me regardless, so I’ll “consent;” it’s not rape if I say yes. If I say it was my idea.

When I was a child and someone asked what my favorite color was, I became anxious and tried to figure out the correct answer. It never occurred to me that I could have preferences, that a color might please my eyes. I didn’t know how to see, let alone how to tell what pleased me. I didn’t know there was a me to please.

When I think about these things now, it makes me sad. My life is safe and stable enough now that I can afford to feel more of my grief, and so it comes up in small waves and I’m left with greater compassion for myself and for other women, too.

Today I’ve been feeling a little more of my grief about what I put myself through when I transitioned, and what I put myself through initially when I changed course on that. I hadn’t been a self to begin with, and “transition,” working from the outside in, didn’t get me there.

When I stopped transition, there was no self to “go back to,” but a terrifying void to confront instead. So I didn’t exactly detransition, at first. It was something else. More “gender” aspirations and rules and words and supposed tos, more “identity” in place of self.

I’ve made oblique references to this before, but when I initially stopped transitioning ftm, I believed that I’d ruined what ability I had to be recognized as female, and couldn’t “pass” as such anymore. This pushed me into a different extreme, modeled on mtf transition, because I assumed I’d be interpreted that way. It wasn’t about what I wanted. It wasn’t about what I liked or how I felt comfortable. Again, I didn’t have a self to consult about these matters. I was mostly a disconnected brain and a dysfunctional nervous system. I based my course of action on a series of “if-then” functions. It was algebraic, not about anything like real desire, as I understand desire now.

The first few years were awful. Whereas “masculinity” had its pitfalls for me–endless striving toward a horizon, re-inscribing self hate into my body, feeding toxic delusions–it was, at least in some ways, fairly comfortable. My body was covered, and I could be as minimal and no-frills as I liked.

When I initially changed course and started to try to do “femininity,” my nervous system went into shock. It was abject humiliation, and didn’t feel any more like a choice than any other desperate measure taken under duress. My “gender expression” was borne of sublimated rage: You want “target?” I’ll show you “target." I was in constant fear of being raped and killed. At some point I started packing again, to cope. (As an aside, my sex dysphoria ran riot regardless of "gender”–it wasn’t solved by trying to pass as male or by this behavior.)

Like drinking, or drugs, the lifestyle humiliation of “femininity” was a way to end myself, though I would never have said so then. It was all choice and empowerment, of course. It was defiance, not compliance. Fierce.

In translandia, I’d parroted a lot of drivel about my future; drivel that I believed because I had no experience of authenticity to compare it to. The only future I can see is being a man. Half-truths that wouldn’t stand up to a moment’s scrutiny or curiosity about why:  I can’t see myself ever being an old woman, only an old man. If I can’t transition I will die or lose my sobriety.

The truth was that I couldn’t see a future at all in any instance. In fact I never expected to live past 20 at the outside. It was just inconceivable to think of ever actually living long enough to get old.

I had to keep moving, making more and bigger distractions. Transitioning was a primary emergency until I needed another one. My initial method of “detransition” became another one. What was underneath was screaming and my whole life strategy was a suffocation of that breath, a willful not-listening. 

I did not believe in a future self. In the moments when I glimpsed her, I wanted her punished, or dead–and did what I could to mark my current pain indelibly onto any future I might live to see.

This is the primary thing I have changed about how I live. It’s what I finally reversed. It started as more of a formula. An equation. Faced with a decision, I began to settle it based on what decision would most greatly benefit my future self as an old woman. At first it felt surreal and hypothetical at best. I practiced it. I did get older, and lived long enough for perspective to cast this method with a credibility it never could have held in my twenties.

Now my future self is the woman to whom I give my greatest gifts and for whom I make my most costly sacrifices. Oddly, when I treat my future self with love and care, the effect ripples backward in time to pieces of me that are still caught in being that frozen child who did not know she had a self or could prefer one color over another, or that she might live. I am continually becoming the future self who gets to reap the benefits of what I’ve paid forward in time. The fragments cohere. The body I live in now doesn’t need to scream to tell me what it likes, wants. My life is listening.