Mon Legionnaire

I had trouble getting to sleep last night. I lay in bed, fretting about concerns that shouldn't have been worth the time. Counterbalanced to this was a clear, golden voice of light, calling bullshit on my cloudy, erroneous thoughts.You know  this is a one way street. You know that if you continue subjecting yourself to this inner torment you will only get more of the same. My ego, exposed to the light, convulsed and attacked and howled. A battle ensued. At some point I fell asleep. I woke up and returned to the tangled, tightening web of  misery. And again that clear, golden voice of light chipped away at the ego's misdirection and deceit. I finally fell back asleep. It was some time after three. I was spent, but I woke up this morning feeling hale, like I had overcome something significant. I'm pretty sure that I did. At the least, a battle was won.

Earlier tonight, I hung out with Spira. A dark section of our past was projected onto the present, diagnosed and mulled over. It was not a pleasant experience overall, and maybe not productive, but it ended well. Neither of us held onto whatever feelings were stirred up. We watched an episode of Louis and laughed while I ate the leftover sushi she didn't want. I left  fairly late, marveling at how perceptions, so often unique to the individual, reinforce the illusion of separateness we maintain. Maya is a hell of a drug. I suppose you could argue the opposite; if you do, I won't try to stop you. I'm tired, it's late. I have no fight in me, child.

Time for bed. I probably won't meditate, but I've been communing with God all day, probably irritating him with all my claptrap.Who else is so tolerant? Billy is, I think. Still, I may squeeze in some passages from the Gita, which honeys my soul, my mind, my heart. A gorgeous piece work.

And so are you. I'm not just saying that - really, you're effin hot. I shall dream about your hotness. And tomorrow will soon be upon me. I'll work and then meet up with Amanda at some point. Sleep well, toddlers.