The Guessing Room & The Falcon After Disintegrating

The trouble of cleaning a room out. My nowhere room with the guest bed; my white bookshelves; the knick-knacks; the random paintings, drawings in boxes and overly-large carry-alls; boxes of string-lights I must keep (because lighting is everything); a bag of wedding silk touched by the no-longer-living and the still-here women. Cleared out a big box of clothes it’s time to let go of. Time to let go of a lot of things because they take up too much space, but keeping them means remembering, so I have to find a way to make that happen in another form – like scrapbooking pieces and photos, and here, of course. Over and over the stress and frustration of “what even is this room? If I knew, I’d know what direction to take in its dismantling and restructuring. Is it the Guest Room? Is it my Dressing Room? Combine: The Guessing Room. Made me laugh and shake my head “no”, though I mean “yes, exactly right”.

Every room inside, inside my house is haunted and feels scary; every room except my den downstairs with my desk, computer, my bones and stones and colored glass illumination devices. And it’s a wreck, so it isn’t nice to be in. I’ll work on this post today, but only as I clean my space and polish all the dark wood, shake out the blankets, get rid of some unwanted materials.

Listening to things, hoping it doesn’t hurt, because I’m fragile and weepy and weak lately. The deeper I go into the new, edgy, part-time-otherworldly life I’ve decided upon, the broader the landscape and the more inclusive of other darknesses life has inside lives inside itself that my awareness of has left me feeling denuded (must work on restorative measures: yoga, mediation, positive music, watercoloring like a child – leaves, washes, flowers; sunlight – maybe).

Yesterday (Well, Saturday Last)

17.5g; tarot deck wrapped in the crying towel ; colored pens and pencils; the Shroom Log (not an official title, just what it is); gum.

Was a shroom day. I had a lot of anxiety beforehand, for many days. Many reasons why – whether justified or not, I don’t know but it doesn’t matter, I just do have anxiety issues and to summarize, I’m glad I went. It was the biggest dose i’ve had because I wanted a longer, more intense (informative) session. I probably won’t do this much again unless I’m in a really good place with…but no, I don’t see the necessity of this level again. It was the first time I was terrified by what I felt and saw. I was truly holding on to my “self” for dear life like I was going to lose who I was/am. Not at all fun. Thank god when after a good while, things got sane and I can say that I experienced what I am when not focused as the being I became through “living” in a specific state, like a compilation of pages, sentences and bindings that create myself as a conscious, cohesive, integrated conscious thing. When I was just sidestepped into something other than what I really am and what I am connected to (People, planet earth, other “human” spirits), it was terrible. terrifying for real. Absolutely suprisingly bad in that it wasn’t just an experience, it was a view into a different reality that I do NOT want to revisit. Was it “lower” level stuff, was it parallel? I don’t know. It is god-level stuff that is not for my kind or consciousness. Because of this, I did realize how beautiful and special the human, planet earth type way of living is. How love is a real thing that integrates our consciousnesses and perpetuates what it is we want to do with our lives and progression. Love is real, and it does bind us. I guess that really understanding that that is what I experienced yesterday is very meaningful and I do feel the value of this life and remaining with, or establishing connections with others. But thank god that ended. That time in the geometric storm of things not like us and not related to us as souls… Shit.

The final horror was when they lit a fire in the fire-pit. I literally could not handle the panic from the smoke, having someone possibly call the fire department, the toxic fumes. Looking into the pit and seeing the palm bits burning and curling was more than I could handle. The appetite of the fire, the entropy, the hundreds of layers of it. Bless them, they put it out so I could stop freaking out. And I was freaking the fuck out. (listening to the recording, no one would ever have guessed how bad it was for me, but later, Ken said she could see the waves of terror come over me. I’m glad I wasn’t as obnoxious or hysterical as I was feeling, lol).

The Yellow Submarine Bathroom.

I recorded the whole thing, 6 hours of it. We sat outside both under the patio cover and standing in the sun by the pool or under the palm on the rocks. The sun felt amazing and it gave me a lot of comfort. It was really cold under the patio cover at 52 degrees. I was given a fluffy black robe to wear and it was wonderful after I finally slipped into it. with my black boots (and black everything except the silver chains, pendants, and silver feather earrings), I looked and felt like a pirate and that was REALLY fun, because the atmosphere held the elements and feel of the sea, a ship, and I was absolutely the captain and in loving charge of self, eventually. The sky was the crystal-clear blue of an ocean, and birds flew by.

Voice 008

Hour 1:53 – Thank fucking god that part is over. Focus is where it’s at. Got to find something to focus on. “i’m hearing everything, unfortunately”. (It’s good being in the sun). Let’s stay here, in the sun. I do look and feel like a pirate. It’s beautiful sky like an ocean in California outside.

I think its wise to write the things I was thinking in italics, to separate from the physical happenings I’m explaining. There were so many thoughts I had and internal experiences that the recording could never reflect. Most of my commentary is (I realize clearly whilst listening and reflecting on the recording) making sure everyone is ok, but really making sure I’m still giving and receiving so I can feel safe. I clearly see this was unnecessary and that the silences I was desperately needing would have been ok to take. The most nerve-wracking parts were always when I needed isolation and silence but either could not attain because we were talking or I didn’t want to upset anyone with my silence. Everything would have been fine – it’s important information for my life. For me, in my mind, I travel far and wide internally; so, I think I’ve been gone from the group or person for a very, very long time and I think it must be uncomfortable or confusing or rude to them. In real time, I’m gone for seconds. I will remember this. Next few times with people, I need to experiment on feeling safer in my silences and goings-away. They’ll wait for me, I’ll bet. They have each other. I’m not holding everyone and everything together. I’m just part of a thing that makes wholeness in a group. I’m not the “fixer”. I’m the owl on the roof. The crow on the post.

This place, this physical location of the house and the cinderblock backyard walls of the old Vegas neighborhood near Nellis and the airport paths, and Sam’s Town; this place is like a Killers video.

1:59 alone for a sec and discussing with self how I look like a beautiful pirate. (lol) and how very scary things are. Advice given about focusing energy. Being in a body is a focus. people focus their personalities. it’s good. (getting my bag of tricks = tarot cards, coloring things, notetaking stuff).

Describing being too dissolved. Experiencing too much. (honestly don’t think i did a true-enough job of explaining the bad stuff, but I was trying to keep cool and not panic myself or anyone else, too, so. The way I hide my panic is truly impressive. I sound nothing like I felt during the parts where I was experiencing a thousand shards of a crystalline nightmare. Good, because I want to be a good guest and I love these wonderful women I’m with).

2:00

Feeling dissolved. It’s just too fucking much…Now I know, I don’t want to be in more than one place at a time. It’s too much.

Where’s the first place you’re gonna go when you die, Kenita? Superfun conversation ensues…having nothing and everything to do with where Kenita will go first when she dies. 😉

The same pirate, twice reflected. I LOVED being a pirate.

2:25 We bust out the tarot (adorable talking)…<3 Then the falcon shows up (for the first time) and circles above our heads. It was amazing. LOL omg so good. It was beautiful and special outside. To me, his wings were white and blue, his tail red… (I should draw/color him some time). “Thanks for the show, mister”. Crazy beautiful.

The conversation just gets so fun and adorable. I have my bag with tarot cards, we’ve got them out, playing with them, I’m watching them move and the stars on them undulate. It is somehow both day and night, and lovely. I sell the shit out of the Witcher. (listening to this now is soooo fun. Recording things was the best thing I ever did in my life. Someday I’ll learn to edit audio and get the bits I especially love settled into “pages” of my blog/memoirs).

2:40 Start talking about the Witcher (lol – sellin’ it)

“You know when you wanna eat a baby? I don’t. I’m just trying to relate”. (LOL JEN).

You know what could be cool? I can always come back to this post and write what I remember and hear from the recordings. Because it’s an awful lot to listen to, and it doesn’t come close to representing what was going on in my head, but it sure does help trigger memory. ❤

3:00 “What does pink rabbit mean to you, Cam?” (How this felt in the atmosphere has no reflection in the recording! How crazy!). Sweet Sunset – recommended THC product.

Her neighbors are having a wonderful weekend. Hahaha, I know people were out there listening to us cackle. Our energy was so good and the afternoon so beautiful.

I love how the music just rises and falls in synchronization. You know, there is magic in shrooms. It is very special stuff. You can access things that you’d never believe and find deep, meaningful complications and simplicity.

“I am the fun. And thank god I’m a whore”. Then insights into the cards, which are so darn beautiful and special. Doing a reading on RV spread.

3:16 Doing the reading, to start, but immediately, it goes into the man on the other side waiting for Kenida (This whole things is beautiful and it culminates in a truly magical experience for us all. I felt this churning inside me at one point, and i KNEW something was coming. I KNEW we were about to see something. I felt it in my gut, just below my stomach, and it felt like a spiral of twisting energy. It’s crazy to listen to the recording…it does not at ALL show how I was feeling! I don’t mean to be an actress, but I have to be, to be seemingly normal in company, I suppose. Or, maybe I’m being hard on myself here, maybe everyone is like that. Maybe socializing requires us to be much calmer than we are and all people are secretly inside their worlds. Maybe we all deserve more credit for the significance of times within our inner worlds. The worlds we are gods of.)

Note to self: I seriously want to work on my use of the word “fuck/fucking”. It is out of CONTROL. Unnecessary! Over used! Jesus H. Christ.

Talking about how Ken went to the Oregon Coast to be in the ocean when she was pregnant with her boy. I remember we stood in the pre-sunset sun, with that cool, clean air moving around us like a gentle sea. Wind in our hair, sun in our eyes. Communing, really. Some kinds of posts peaking up from a neighbor’s back yard just like the stuff that makes sails and riggings on a ship. My boots, my hands on my hips. A feeling of fresh life powering through me. Knowing the power I have to help people rise within themselves ( a real, precious gift I will never take for granted again).

I’m recalling a dream I had some 20+ years ago. Wherein, I was with an older, wise man and I was in between a young man and woman. We were in a watery but lighted place. Red rocks and turquoise, still water. Lifeless and frightening in some foreign way, but a holy place. There was a sword under the shallow, clear water, laying in the sand. We stood right there. It went under the sand, and I reached in, feeling for it. I did not understand why I couldn’t reach it or find it. Logically, I knew it had to be right there. RIGHT THERE!! But it wasn’t within my grasp. I knew from soundless explanation, that “in due time, at the right time, when I am right for the time” shall I possess this sword.

I think the time for me is now. It’s been building my whole life to this point of choice and focus. I want to take this road and so I shall. I don’t know that I’ll know, ever, if I have the sword in my hands, or what to do with it. A sword is a weapon, is it not? Why a sword? Well, a sword divides. Dividing is the process of logic and it is what makes us human in regard to our intelligence. Science is a sword. Also, however, division from a different perspective or experience is multiplication. “It’s not dividing, it’s multiplying”.

About 3:50 – Reading for Doug. (I like much better when I keep my voice calm and low). I felt a deafness in my left side and the fan above on my left slowly circles – the first and only time of the day it does this. I know this was Michael talking to me about Doug. This was Doug’s “team” coming up and giving me this info. I know it completely to be true). I talk about Doug “holding his power” and the ladies need to “lay off of Doug”. No criticism, no judgement. “Damn fine job…definitely coming from Michael”. Wolf energy. Dark wolf thing (Lol). Missing the pack, missing the conversation. He deserves respect as a man. Support him. Reaffirm you are a pack.

I am learning. Gotta be patient with myself. I’m doing a damn fine job.

I’ve got to just go ahead and publish this. I still have some reflection to do on the whole of Saturday (and Life), and I’ll take notes, pay attention, feel good about it, etc. Until then, I am ready to move along! ❤

Noticed I started this post feeling “weepy and weak” and now, i feel very strong and have a sense of momentum at a much higher place. Friends and communion and ritual can be very healing. Glad I pushed passed my fears and did the things and said the things. It matters.

Author: Jen Crow

©Jen Crow. Be sure to ask for permission to use my artwork or photos. I warmly welcome comments and questions.

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