Do you allow yourself to be sad? On the first spring day?

springI was feeling blue today. I opened the windows, and the noise from the outside was deafening… compared to the silence I have enjoyed all winter. I got a headache, I started to think of moving to someplace where it’s quiet… no grass mowers, no road repair, no people.

I felt the sadness. Grieving. My mind was digging up stories of sadness. One of my favorite book characters is sad, and is attracted to sad women… Henry Bosch.

Especially around a character, Cassie Black who later re-appears as Lena, if I remember correctly. Sad. Loss. Aloneness.


seress-rezsoI could not remember the title, so I went on Amazon… Void Moon. And saw a ton of one-star reviews.

More than anything else, Amazon reviews tell the whole story about you, your shallowness, your lack of compassion, lack of attention, knee jerk reactions. Not a pretty picture.

You live about… read books about, watch movies about, and even though you could, it takes the same amount of time, you don’t live more, don’t experience more, look for likeable characters, avoiding looking death and the passing of your life in the eye.

You live on the surface, and use everything to escape the life you hate, but are unwilling to do anything to live it fully.


One of the victories I am most proud of is being able to kick the habit of having to be needed.

It was hard work, and I went at it at least twenty times before I came out victorious on the end of being self-sufficient, self-directed, self-evaluating…

The horizontal plane, the plane of society, the plane of the other, the plane of needed is a thinly veiled slavery, and I want to be free: free to live, free to experience, free of other and free for doing the work that I believe matters. Matters to me.

I have been thinking and meditating over this whole phenomenon: I say that entrepreneurs, the ones that invent, create solutions for the fun of it are individuals, living alone and on the vertical plane.

Most people work for money, and hope that they can find something they can become passionate about, but they put the cart in front of the horse: it is not something out there that makes you passionate, it is that you bring your passion to life.

Being passionate is a being, and it is on the vertical plane.

Of course I don’t mean the “passionate” you know, the loud, self-asserting, ego based “look at me how passionate I am” type of state: that is all doing, all fake, no being there.

No one without a crystallized center, without a clear sense of who you are, can have access to being… and doing does not lead to being… does not cause being, they don’t belong into the same paradigm.

Being is eternal, being is not changing depending on your urges, or on your experiences: it is a solid center, needing nothing and no one to cause it.

But you have no center. You identify with the “flavor of the moment” urge or desire, who you are changes with what you do, what you feel, what you desire.

The first level of humanness that you need to strive for, if you want to be in the game of becoming an expanding human being, is developing your center, developing who you are, regardless of what you do, or what’s happening.

funny-pictures-cat-does-not-want-schoolLandmark Education comes closest to teaching it, but their effectiveness is pitiful. They say: The possibility (being) I invent for myself and my life is the possibility of X.

The X can be any type of being, generous, authentic, passionate, caring… whatever. But, it seems, that inventing something from the vertical plane, while you are firmly rooted in the accidental, impermanent, miserable horizontal plane, the valley of the shadow of death, inventing the vertical plane and the being from there is like throwing seeds on the sidewalk. Even if they germinate, no plant, no tree is going to come out of it.

Instead of the ego dying into the plant… the whole seed rots…

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Author: Sophie Benshitta Maven

True empath, award winning architect, magazine publisher, transformational and spiritual coach and teacher, self declared Avatar

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