Love VS Conditioning
Nothing more beautiful than being sweetly fucked
by your own imagination...
Films show us 'girl meets boy' scenarios, all luscious with wonder & naive hope, innocently reaching out for a 'cure' for something that itself is the 'dis-eased' cause. This, ‘Big Eyes’ vibe, draped in so called, 'LOVE', depicted in Disney films, & thrown at you every moment, as an expectation from society, friends & family, is seriously taking a back seat in my world...
Thinking back to Apu, from Aladdin, mouth watering fixation on the Radiating Red Ruby Gem, & the glorious dream dreamt as result of ownership collapses thought. The thirst takes over & quickly becomes the prime focus & end of security. The fault lies in heeding no hesitancy to warning, continuing pursuit regardless of known truths. What makes us crave with such determination, willingness to loose it all?
For What? Who is happy being at the mercy of something so easily made up?
A craving so sweet,
yet covered in the richest of poisons & still we fold,
we are no better than any monkey or Disney character
The activation & now deliverance of this blog induced for, by & with Reverence
Upon first meeting, I too fall into "Big Eyes', so deeply fixated on the prize, but this time a recent life shattering awakening of my default issues occurred, & in revolt,
Told me to dunk my head in a bucket of ice, dive into the ocean head first & sober up.
Unwilling I am.
It’s a Heart to sacral conversation, the winding in, using every hook, deflection & wise I can possibly conjure, but a part of me argues vehemently with similar wise. I so rarely have given respect to this voice of guidance, a much stronger preference to succumb to flavours imagined in my mind setting fire to anyone who speaks of caution including me. Witches cast spells, I however paint people in what ever mood I crave, I’m so completely coated in my mind & the possible Art / Beauty of it all, that, I am sold the instant I see a possibility to play a game.. Heart, Body, Mind explosion of confusion. Shitty habit, the pay off gives me back my comfort zone,
- DRAMA -
Yet to my own delusions on love, I continue to dream partners sweetly packaged in someone who ’feels like home'... Yet, I know too well the feeling of home bores my mind, heart, body, soul & causes anxiety to whomever I am with. I don't want this 'mess' in my life but a part of me can’t wait for it.
Most people crave the connection in meeting themselves in another, the security causes a type of 'settledness' or achievement of the expected conditions of societies acceptable life choices on how we must live, just makes me want to run...
‘Awwww! Where did you meet? Do you think he/she is the one?'....
‘No mate, no I fucking don't...'
That prick of a heart I keep trusting, that goddam intuition when it comes to who I dive into is an absolute fool, an inconsiderate asshole at that. The bullshit I have wept through all caused by me following an illegitimate calling. Those 'callings' 'cravings' & 'Big Eyed' fantasies all came from only one section, the beginning... Childhood, & conditioning associated, pain/pleasure & reinforcement of patterns. Childhood trauma creates for a dramatic life of highs & lows, that IS 'comfort' to me/us. It is
NOT, I repeat NOT, the content to engage with when seeking a perspective partner
I will always Gamble in Love as I love to engage play. I love to fantasise. I love to push boundaries. I love to flirt with people & ideas in my head. I love making out teenager style & plenty of sex, it’s all just goddam healing, all connection is…But relationships? I just don't recon that's the way forward for me... I just don't crave that kind of security... I crave freedom on fire soaring through the skies across the globe meeting my every extreme. I know myself. To keep this woman still will take a man or woman as engaging & changing as I, that can evolve & emerge themselves in truth changing in an instant, willing to jump into the true gamble of life. Till then. I will be all of me. No excuses made. If you fall in love that is your call. You know the score.
By Elicia Ward