So oft in recent years spend my time unwinding storylines are seeming someone's writ script plied and proffered to direct this lila I've been living, channeling or dealving into the "akashik records" to determine the dance as is to be danced, my proper steps as some disturbance in the flow has required more conscious effort on my part, it seems, as opposed to the moksa flow I truly know and know true...perhaps there was a change of directors choreographing this nata, this dance, this play? a revision to the script or screenplay?
Layers of mind and Mind and matter, cidacit and such shit: more than a tad trying to be pressed to attend to details I trusted were already in good yoga with the whole good show, to be weighted unduly with others' karma to be transformed, as I rather thought that yoga flow at work well enough that I had no cause for too much concern.
Tensions raised, I suppose, and uncertainties presented to grant a range of sense vibration and emotion broad enough to accommodate life in this tumultuous time; frictions forced to raise that tejas, that fire, that we need to stay warm in the cold reality of eternity...
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