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6 Impossible Things Before Breakfast

17 Jan

I too have dreams. Below is a update of a few recently created BeMused by Design graphic designs that mirror that transcendent place:

Bassnectar Live NYE!!

12 Jan

Dream Journal [FREE WRITE/ RE-WRITE]

11 Dec

I have been There before in dreams. This Twilight Kingdom exists unbounded to time and space, residing in the immutable framework of what remains when the constructs and illusions of permanence all fall down. The infinite potential of its landscape is an eternal ideology. There exists in perpetual obliquity: There is, independent from the tenants and dwellers, thoughts and ideas,  that There supports.

I am Transient. My lifeline is a current that flows through the creek of a the crease between the layers of a folded world: the realms of Energy and Matter, or more lucidly, the realm of appearances and the realm of the illusion of appearances.

My life struggles to collect cohesive presence in either world all together. Thoughts, behaviors and cognitions can communicate beyond the divide but this has its disadvantages. Every thought falls from beyond the shadow of a doubt. Every feeling feigns an hysteric syndrome of unjustified dismissiveness, leading to sentimental expression weighted with the conviction of a parachute,  fastened to pack a punch in its articulation on the masked backs of thoughts or behaviors in order to cross back into the common reality. Typically, I express my feelings into the common reality using the cognitive-behavior anchor points grounded there. Thus, how I feel makes itself known in the common reality as either pieces of jigsaw logic or hasty, impulsive reactivity. Feelings are more often than not the odd man out left alone in a world outside of time in infinite space.  As a transient, I have gained access to trespass beyond the partisan, corporeal divide.

Here I appear again, as soon as I loop-swoop-disappear from There. What am I? A flippant holographic effect? An illusion? A lucid shoelace? A Pioneer? A purl stitch? Imagination my engine, feelings fuel the timeless travel, and a secret is masked behind the sensation that I am just as alive as a fragment of imagination as I am in this freckled sack of skin and bones.

I have been to this timeless location before, specifically. The dream is recurring with more depth and detail each time. Last night I was aware that I was dreaming: a transient dream and transient state, a Wanderer into a permanent place.

I: Fluxes :: There: Stasis.
I : Time Traveler :: There : Infinite Landscape.

For this reason, my subjection to my fear informed me that I am part of the corporeal, common reality world, simultaneously. There is void of fear. The present absence of fear stands out like silence within a song. I pause and my heart palpates as if it were compassionate for the stillness set in the lack of beat outside of myself, accordingly. The Fearless face There inform me that because I am experiencing fear There because I perceive the contact with one archetype that served as a fear evoking stimulus. My ear would fall deaf to the cry of my fear if my fear realized its own petty perception. If I could activate my 3rd eye to see the invisible presence of the great everything, I would see that the one fearful stimulus is actually everywhere, and all around me.

There was a snake by my foot in the dark, dusk lair of There. I was within the confines of my landlords dilapidated wooden, sunken ship of a broken series of bungalow settlements. There was a snake by my foot and I yelp for my landlords help in fear. He was working on a mast to mask the gusts of harsh winds from breaking an entry in the form of a great howl through the cracks between the wooden panels. He mentioned something about filtering  magnesium and oxides  through the mast (magnesium trapper) that the wind carries. This, he said definitively, is for our own protection.  He laughed at my irrational fear. Look around you, he said. You are surrounded by snakes. I did look, and I was surrounded by an astounding patchwork of piles of coiled snakes. He grins. How dumb to be scared of just one snake, that one snake, he said pointing to my original referent. You see one, fear that one, and are too blind to notice that what you fear is so much greater, the fears lie in piles around you. He said all of this with no fear of his pant leg touching the rattler of a snake. Get over your fear, and you can be free.

With that he vanished, and I awoke.

Dream Journal Free Write

10 Dec

I have been There before in dreams, and I am positive that this Twilight Kingdom exists beyond the relative: I think it exists; therefore it exists. Perhaps There is an archetypal idea, and the infinite potential of its landscape is an eternal ideology. Existing in perpetual obliquity: There is, independent from the tenants and dwellers, thoughts and ideas, There supports.

I am Transient. My lifeline walks the crease between the layers of a folded world: the realms of Energy and Matter, or much lucidly, the realm of appearances and the realm of the illusion of appearances. My life struggles to collect cohesive presence in either world all together. Thoughts, behaviors and cognitions can communicate beyond the divide but this has its disadvantages. Every thought falls from beyond the shadow of a doubt, every feeling feigns an hysteric syndrome of unjustified , leading to sentimental expression weighted with the conviction of a parachute,  fastened to pack a punch in its articulation on the masked backs of thoughts or behaviors in order to cross back into the common reality. Typically, I express my feelings as either intellectualized pieces of jigsaw logic or brewed into a hasty impulsive reaction. Feelings are more often than not the odd man out left alone in a world outside of time in infinite space.  As a transient, I have gained access to trespass beyond the partisan, corporeal divide.


Here again as soon as I loop, swoop pulled out of There: a lucid shoelace, a purl stitch. Imagination my engine, feelings fuel the timeless travel, and a secret is masked behind the sensation that I am just as alive as a fragment of imagination as I am in this freckled sack of skin and bones.


I have been to this timeless location before, specifically. The dream is recurring with more depth and detail each time. Last night I was aware that I was dreaming, a transient dream in a transient state as a transient passerby. For this reason, my feeling of fear informed me I was part of the corporeal, reality world, simultaneously. The people with no fear in this told me it was because I was experiencing contact with one archetype and I would numb to the fear if my fear realized its own petty perception and that the fearful stimulus as all around me. There was a snake by my foot in the dark, duck lair of this dream. I was my landlords dilapidated wooden sunken ship of a broken series of bungalow settlements. There was a snake by my foot and I yelp for my landlords help in fear. He was working on a mast to mask the gusts of harsh wind from breaking an entry in the form of a great howl through the cracks between the wooden panels. He mentioned something about filtering  magnesium and oxides  through the mast (magnesium trapper) that the wind carries. This, he said definitively, is for our own protection.  He laughed at my irrational fear. Look around you he said. You are surrounded by snakes. I did look, and I was surrounded by an astounding patchwork of piles of coiled snakes. He grins. How dumb to be scared of just one snake, that one snake, he said pointing to my original referent. You see one, fear that one, and are too blind to notice that what you fear is so much greater, the fears lie in piles around you. He said all of this with no fear of his pant leg touching the rattler of a snake. Get over your fear, and you can be free.

With that he vanished, and I awoke.

My Purpose: Divine Celestial Astronomy Reads My Birth Moment

2 Nov

Sun in Gemini:

You came into this life equipped with great curiosity, a lively, versatile, inquisitive mind, and an urge for constant learning and new experiences.  Your most basic inner drive is to communicate, to make connections and association (between people or ideas), and to develop your gift for language and expressing yourself through the spoken or written word.  Thus, Emily, being an intermediary or messenger, a translator, a teacher, a broadcaster, a correspondent, or in some field where you can mix and mingle and interact with a broad spectrum of people, suits you well. 

Fascinated by life’s seemingly endless variety and the multitude of options and choices available to you, you may flit from one person, job, hobby, or location to the next, restlessly seeking new experiences and stimuli.  Even if you do not do this in your outward behavior, inwardly your mind is in constant motion, and you require a healthy dose of variation and mental or social stimulation in your life in order to approach anything resembling contentment.  Skimming lightly over the surface of life, however, can lead to a shallowness of understanding and a fluttering away of your energies. 

River Rise [India.Arie]

13 Oct

BeMused by Design

River Rise by India Arie [Testimony Vol.2: Love & Politics]

There was always
A power I could feel
It was guidance to tell me the way to go
But nowadays I feel like can’t hear that voice
I’ve been flying blind
I need you to come and be my eyes. (be my eyes)
River Rise
Carry me back home
(I cannot remember the way)
River rise
Carry me back home
(I surrender today)
I was always
A charmed flower child
I would sit for hours
And listen to the sky
But nowadays I feel like I don’t have that choice
I’ve been looking down in desperation
I need you to be my inspiration yeah
(My inspiration)
River rise
Carry me back home
(I cannot remember the way)
River rise
Carry me back home
(I surrender today)
I bow down
And I humble myself
I can’t do this
Lord I need your help
All the material things
They feel like chains
If you’re not here beside me
You’re the reason I see
(Help me to remember the way)
I surrender
Help me to remember
Only you can show me
(Only you can show me the way)
I surrender
(I surrender today)
You are the only way
Lord, I need you.

Debunk the Phenomenea

28 Aug

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Misunderstood, We Are All

22 Aug third_room

We compare ourselves amongst ourselves. Collectively, we perform culture, construct society, and chatter discourses that dialogue ideas concerning ideas. As individuals we are singular creations; however, it takes two to re-create one.

Within communities, we come to understand ourselves through our perception of those around us. Shift the belief or bias about a concrete and lackluster circumstance, or shift the circumstances to agree with a belief or bias: what is life but a capricious oscillation, phases of flexes and stasis, in a dance around a balancing point. The point? Similar to a flower that in essence exists as a rhizome before it appears as matter in the physical world, we exist before we are born and during our time in the world of shapes and forms we grow around obstacles of shade reaching towards the sun in a search for solutions to solutions, navigated by a compass rose directing a quest for questions. The hope is to find the outward thing which we basically are.

I find myself sitting in some unplaced moment behind my eyes. I remove myself because I perceive those around me as united and I am different. The barrier is a two-dimensional wall. I am removed; thus, I regain a locus of control through a reflexive defense mechanism. I remove myself.

Two truths hold simultaneously. We are all the same. I feel as though I am different. My sense of self situates like the dividing line between oil and water. We are one; I am.

I want to suround myself with people and environments that push and inspire me to be a higher me.

Control of rodent motor cortex with an optical neural interface

6 Aug psychodelic blades of glass

Control of rodent motor cortex with an optical neural interface.

The beam of blue light down the canal!
Once upon a time, not that long ago, I visualized the energy of someone meditating on the idea of time. What I saw captivated me, humbling my breath to a silent standstill in awe of the wonder. The sensation and visualization of that experience entered my waking unconscious in a lucid dream, that I drew and wrote about at lengths upon waking. I must have written 3 or 4 poems circumscribing to the best of my ability what that experience was. The heart of the matter was a ribbed tunnel, a round blue sound, a beam of peace, neon, blue and infinite.
I read the linked article above and I cannot help but consider the connection between the blue light beam canal and what came to me during a visualization.

What Keeps Me Up at Night

28 Jul Who Shrugged Altlas

Featured Image: “Her Morning Truth” by BeMused by Design 2010©

Plinky Prompt of the day asks me: what keeps me up at night? What doesn’t–where to begin…

What keep me up at night?

Curiosity. Patience while allowing the unconscious to give insight while I’m unguarded on the unresolved and unbalanced gaps in my individuation and integrity of character.

A recent quandary: Who shrugged Atlas?

Powered by Plinky

Dream Journal [Free Write]

24 Jul Global Light

7:36 a.m.

Scratching the surface of sleep: with the crescent of a mind, and waxing subjectivity by the by the breath, sleep stage #1 ushers the unconscious into the scenery of my minds’ eye.

I absolves into a removed viewer, leagues under the sea. Deep water, like deep space, appears black. Black as the underbelly of a weathered hand coated in oil, where only the crease and motions of sweeping lines remain self-reflective. Under the sea, these lines were the echoing treads of small fish. The Fins waving like flags in the wind, sent ripples that danced in coordination. Half-aware, half analyzing possible meaning, my phantom dream right hand began to throb: a pulsating ache combined with a hollow whistling of my joints–the chilly sensation of cold, dry wind rustling through the emptiness of an abandoned attic. Until this point “I” had no “body”;”I” could not be located.

My grandmother was sleeping upstairs directly above me, and she thinks her hand is broken. She is not typically one to make a fuss or complain, so I know her right hand is in a lot of pain. In my dream, I saw the fish of my grandma and watched the echoing treads make their way and splash into me, and I felt another pang in my right hand. Dream empathy of the unconscious.

Dream Journal Free Write

22 Jul

Dream Journal Free Write

Last night I had a dream epiphany.

Over the course of my life, and underlying theme and realization across dreams is the appearance of a pen with red ink.

During my dream, I realized I was realizing this in a dream when I lifted the veil of dream illusion and saw a pen with red ink was writing it out. This scared the crap out of me. I felt like a puppet, where I was controlled unbeknownst to me throughout the course of my dream when I really focused ( and I still believe this to be true because it is true the pen with red ink is all over my waking sleep). My dream analysis in my dream is this was a split of my personality. The red ink pen was interpreted like a student. It is my self-criticism writing and expressing my deviations from ideal. Upon waking and reflecting on this dream, however, the God-fearing the epiphany inspired in me and puppetry sensation and what I saw was a glimpse at the predestination predetermination fate and collective unconscious level.

Before I feel asleep I was thinking about synchronicity: Carl Jung’s theory of acausal parallelism.

After the red ink dream.

Play this song while you read about the second dream. I listened to it on repeat yesterday, and when I turned it back on again today, the colors and spirit of the song bled into the same residual sentiment of my dream.

Bigger Than My Body [John Mayer, Heavier Things, 2003}

Dream #2: A narrative type of dream, again like two night ago, it stuck me as unusual because it was in the first person and a narrative.  The first dream of the night latent with symbols and thinking outside myself is more my typical dream. Or perhaps, the type of dream I awake with a memory of experiencing for that very reason. Regardless, my narrative dream:

Valentines Day. I was at the bay of a large body of water, a river I am supposing because of the bridge that crossed it was in the distance. A very foggy and cool crispy day, and yet, the sky was cloudless. Dreary grey February. Many people, my family and other city folk who filled the spaces, were hanging out at the bay. There was a sky writer. Valentines day. There was already some writing in the sky from one love to another, and seemingly out of nowhere, another daring  sky writer appeared. He wrote in humongous capital letters, dropping  hundreds of feet to assert the message in perfect script. He was writing my name: E. M. I. L…..suddenly, the earlier letters fogged together and he started to finish the name he was actually writing: Elana. The last letter was A. He plunged down from the top going to make the bottom line, and BOOM! The plane ignited on fire and exploded in front of all of the waterfront onlookers.  The planes torpedoed into the river and the pilot, tangled in his own parachute, splashed along with the smoldering hunk of metal and propellers.

One moment later, he appeared. Walking out of the water like his legs grew the length to match its depth, be began walking towards the shore, unscathed. I ran and rushed to meet him, asking if he needed anything, an ambulance, anything. A long procession of children carrying memorial plane scraps in two single filed lines were walking behind him (where did they come from?) and a posse of people from the sky writing company brushed me off:” Silly girl, we have procedure for this you know, he is fine, just an accident, and did you see the form of those letters, he almost finished, Perfect!” They were women and men with blonde hair and those cell phone that attach to your face hands free in grey formal business attire. I watched the process of children following them arise from the river, and I awoke.

Harmony of Dissonance

18 Jul

My Mandala: Listening Inside For Melody from Ripping

Deep Breathing, BeMused by Design

18 Jul

Deep Breathing

Dream Journal Free Write

13 Jul jelly

Pandora’s Box. Russian Doll. The maze I got lost in when I was 4 years old.

This dream is similar to those things and experiences.

Woke up, by alarm, ordered body to drag itself out of bed, put contacts in, and the body followed orders. I woke up, realized the first dragging was an illusion and I was still under covers eyes closed and all. I dragged myself up out of bed. I woke up, I realized I twice dreamed the illusion of this moment and woke up, initiating morning routine, for real, unsuctioned my eyes from the resistance of a sea muscle, latching lids, did my morning routine. I woke up, realized it was an illusion. Realized I was dreaming illusions. Despite my dream determination, the inability to turn off this cyclic entrapment inside the dream persisted, repeating waking up and reawakening up and reawakening up until another alarm went off an hour later. I got up, and have yet to wake up again from this potential illusion of a dream morning.

Why was this dream an echo of itself? Before I fell asleep videotape streamed against the green screen that is inside of closed eyes, remembering my earliest memories, dreams and nightmares. Some memories I realized what felt like the first time since they occurred: a wild experience. I closed my eyes sometime after midnight, and when I reopened then it was 1:40 am, and all of those memories and emotions parachuting them had been running for about an hour. I recall smirking to myself, because I fall asleep to The Office to distract such distractions at night. I put on the office, Gay Witch Hunt (one of my all-time favorite episodes) and coaxed myself to sleep.

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