The Day Before (Or “Dead in a Week)

Hey, gang! Welcome to my life – where anything is possible and nothing is as it seems. I’m Freedom and I’ll be your host, coming at you from within the depths of Geistopia. 

DOC: Velcum To My Life ees a prochect, un experiment in Life unt ART. A living storyboard, if you will. Its premise ees zat life ees experiential, unt zat you can, unt do, experience ze life you choose. It ees based on Ze Veel of Life unt Ze ARTs for Ze New Millennium as life building tools. Yeah, it’s true. 

WALT: Welcome to my Life is an I T.V. Studios/Geist…House Players Production, in association with the Center for Creative Inspirationalism. JustUs Productions, the parent company, would like to give a ‘Shout-Out’ to the following for their ongoing, and oft-times unknowing, inspiration and support:

Princess Cuddlebug

Princess Sunshine

Craze & Co. 

The Shaman

The Pillar

F’n Bob

The Warden

The Entire Putt-Putt-Putter Clan

FaeriePrincess

Professor Siggy Chong

Hoagie Snowflake

Sparky Wentz-eclaus

The VanMan and General Ralph Glossop (may they R.I.P.)

The Looch

The Bassett Hound 

Bert-On

The Baker of the Cornbread

Andy Pandy

The Mudder

Zason

Oh, Danny Boy

St. Diane & You

Brother John

Thing 1 & Thing 2

The Nameless One

All the People in My ‘Neighborhood’

White Gurl

The Anomaly 

Good Man, Charlie Brown

Someone Else

The Rox

CCPA

The PA F&AM

PDT

Senoll #5

Superstar

Sir Richard Slouch

The Wix-ians

The Socialite

The Village of Idiots

Piz-Niffer

Dancing Queen

Downtown Encyclopedia Brown

Baby-Mama Rabbit

My Belle

The Babes

Aaaand, of course, a very generous sponsor who (not-so-much) wishes to remain anonymous. 

It is…Tuesday, December31, 2019. Time...Ending.

Theme of the Week: One Day (Some Day)

Lesson of the Week: You Cannot Control the ART

Observation of the Week: It’s Just Matt (Or, It’s Only Matt)

I know I said that I wasn’t going to write anymore posts, and I really hadn’t planned on it. Truth is, I haven’t really been planning on anything the past several days, because I just don’t know how. 

I am writing because Wisconsin says that I should write if I need to - that I should work through my feelings however I want. I really don’t know what my feelings are at the moment. 

I also do not know what she sees in me. She is such a good soul. I should be honoured that she loves and adores me so, and yet, I struggle in it because I cannot understand it. 

Speaking of Wisconsin, let’s get to a little Feedback shall we.

In this week’s segment of Feedback, Looch wants to know, “Why do you omit the o in G-d,” and, “can you explain more about The List?”

Well Looch, let’s start with G-d…

DOC: *sings* a wery good place to start…

Okay. Fair enough. I’ll give you that one.

DOC: Sank you.

Of course. You deserve it. Anyway, there are two theories as to why I omit the o in G-d. 

In both theories, I came across this first while reading some Judaic writings. It resonated with me. It made sense. Now in Hebrew, traditionally, there are no vowels. So, perhaps they wrote it that way for that reason. This is theory number one. I’m honoring the Hebrew traditions with which it all started. 

However, it is also in Hebrew traditions that it is said one cannot write nor speak the full name of G-d. So perhaps,it is out of reverence that they printed it this way. 

For me, it is out of reverence. It is my acknowledgement, my tip of the hat, to G-d that no matter what I know he will always be slightly unknowable; that no matter how much I understand, he will remain just slightly beyond my full comprehension. 

As for The List - yes, you were correct in your assumption. It is a Christmas list which has me making gifts for people. That is the simplest summary. But, The List has its origin in much deeper things. 

If you have been with me for some time, and Looch I know you have been, then you have heard me tell the tale of my ‘Miracle on MacArthur Rd,’ as The Princesses have come to call it. This is the story of the day I saw into the real Spirit of Christmas. The day I met Santa Claus. Whatever you want to title it, it was a day that changed my life. I did meet a Spirit that day. Of this I have no doubt and the feeling was confirmed by a third party with similar feelings some time down the road.

Now, bear in mind, I take the notion of Spirits very seriously. Think of them what you will, believe or don’t. But, there have been people, such as Carlos Castaneda, who claim to have had - and written about - experiences with such beings. Spirits are even mentioned in the Bible. G-d created the Spirits. The Spirits this or the Spirits that. Or even, “And to some is given the ability to discern between different kinds of spirits.” [I Corinthians 12. I’m pretty sure they weren’t talking about liquor.]

Whatever that Spirit was it touched me and changed my perceptions. It shared with me its magicks. Every Yule since then I have turned myself over to that Spirit, accepting its gifts and magicks as they have come. I’ve watched, many years as I would get exactly what I needed without ever having to say it to someone. Sometimes things I didn’t even realize that I needed. It would come in strange ways. I would see it happen to others as I passed gifts on to them. Believe in the magic of Christmas, my friends. It is potent. It is powerful. It is alive. 

Anyway, one year, in my meditations, I would receive instructions for gifts to make for my family. They were specific gifts. I was told what to make and how to make it. I was told what colors to paint them with. I was told what magicks to include in them - little wishes, prayers, blessings, hopes, healings. 

I have received The List every year since. Last year being the biggest ‘order’ to date. I not only had the gifts for my family, including Santa’s ornaments for The Princesses, but I also had one thing to make for each of my co-workers at The Theatre. Each piece was specifically designed and created around the person. Each name plate had a blessing on it. Each gift was handed over with very specific words. From creation to delivery these gifts were the most powerful magick I had ever used and I left the party immediately after because I was so spent. 

So, yes Looch. It is a Christmas list that has me making gifts for people. But, to me it is so much more than that. To me, it is Divine. 

Also,Wisconsin asks, “What are The ARTs for The New Millennium to which you make reference in the intro?”

Well, now that is a very good question, Wisconsin. Before we answer it, though, I want to take a moment. That statement has been a part of every video, every blog for at least a decade now. Never once has anyone asked that question before. I’ve tried, at times, to work in segments to discuss them, but I find it difficult to explain that way. Anyway, I mentioned this to Hoagie, he said he never noticed. I wondered just how many people never noticed...or is it never paid attention? 

I began to think on how many people have told me they skip the introduction on the videos. I wondered how many of them scroll past it on the blog...or if they even read the blog. Then I realized that, for as many ‘supporters’ as I am claimed to have, no one actually believes in me. No one believes in me enough to just pay attention to what I put right in front of them. 

“It’s just Matt.”

“It's only Matt.”

But, perhaps more on this later. Doc, you wanna vet this one?

DOC: Sank you, Freedom

My pleasure.

DOC: Eet’s about time…

Don’t start…

JOHNNY: Gentlemen...could...you...please. Once. Just once could we move through one of these with a little bit of focus and discipline? Reverend...and then you wonder why no one believes in you.

WALT: Awwww...now you’re just hittin’ below the belt, man. Pretty bold for a guy who likes to keep throwin’ his two balls around. 

JOHNNY: WALTER!

DOC: A-HEM! *pause.* Sank you. Now zat ees a wery guut qvestion, Visconsin...can I call her Visconsin?

WALT: That’s her name.

DOC: Ze ARTs for Ze New Millennium ees based on an ancient Kama Sutra practice rewolwing around study of Ze 64 ARTs. Each of zeese ARTs vas believed to demonstrate, or teach, life skills - different lewels of sinking, dexterity, etc. Zose who had mastered all 64 of zeese ARTs vere considered Spiritual or Life Masters. Ve have taken zat list unt updated it to fit better in our culture. For instance, ve hawve added ARTs such as electronics unt mechanics. Ve hawve expanded ARTs of design to include sings like graphic arts unt computer graphics. Ja, eets true!

My turn, Doc. 

Incorporation of the ARTs becomes no small matter when we take into account that many cultures/religions have put an emphasis on the ARTs in some way. This includes Christianity. 

I realize that one of my downfalls is my failure to document and/or recall exactly where I have read something. I can only ever tell you with certainty that I have read it. For instance, one time I asked The Shaman if there was a particular phrase in the Bible. I said it had been repeating in my head for some time. I couldn’t remember if I had read it or it had just come to me or why it was there. He did confirm that the phrase is indeed in the Bible and I have since that time read it for myself. Of course, I still cannot tell you exactly where. Genesis, perhaps. Maybe Exodus. But there it is, plain as day, “I will send you one for every generation.”

Likewise, I know I have read, in those earlier books of The Bible - The Children of Moses - that we are to practice certain ARTs. I can’t tell you where, but I know it’s there. I know of another philosophy that stresses several liberal ARTs. 

I do not know what it is, but G-d has hidden something with it the ARTs. And, mankind has known this since the beginning of time. 

Our problem is that we have come to take for granted what an ART truly is. I looked it up once. I like to do that. We use words so freely, assuming we fully understand them. I find that we don’t always. 

Anyway, I looked up art once. I can’t remember the precise words. I could look it up again, but why bother? You’re going to anyway. But, the gist of it was “a studied or practiced skill.” I applied that to the 64 ARTs and The ARTs for the New Millennium. It made sense. That’s what they all were. I shared this definition with a friend and associate once. She was a dancer, choreographer, professor, instructor, business owner. Her response to the definition, with some indignation, was, “But then anybody can be an artist…”

Well...yes. By that definition anyone can be an artist. How is that a bad thing? Anyone who is good at what they do - whatever it is they may do - has studied and practiced and honed skills so that they can craft in their trade. 

Our tax and financial system truly takes into account and provides loopholes and safeguards for almost any given situation. A good accountant knows where and how to place numbers so that everything stays above board and the client reaps as much financial benefit as possible. That is a craft. He is an artist. His medium is numbers. His canvas is a balance sheet. 

I could talk on and on about the ARTs and how they play in our lives. But for now, I will leave you with this on the matter. Perhaps we can call this Lesson of the Week, for it is what I have learned from each and every ART in which I have taken part. 

You Cannot Control the ART.

On with the show…

So, why are we here, then? 

I don’t know. To vent, perhaps? To purge? To cleanse the system and empty the mind? To gain perspective. Mine, or yours perhaps.

It is such a difficult time. I cannot even begin to explain it all. 

WALT: But you’re gonna try aren’t you?

I am.

WALT: Oh boy. *aside* We should maybe get another round.

Enough. 

Anyway, this has been - without a doubt - the craziest, most intense year of my life. It has been filled with magic and moments and memories galore. There truly has been so much good to it. Yet, it has left me broken. It has broken my soul, my spirit. It has broken my mind [as I find my thoughts scattered in every direction.] It breaks my heart as I prepare to say goodbye to The Princesses for the second time in only two weeks. 

It has broken my Faith.

And, all the while that I am losing grips on these bodies of mine, I am watching my physical world deteriorate. I have been left with no home and no job. I comment on those first because both were instances of what seem like rash and rushed reactions. I will concede to this, but with the understanding that they were not as rash nor rushed as they may appear. 

Tensions have always been high in Old Geistopia. That has been a volatile situation for a very long time. I tried to get out very often and it was just as often that I was threatened with being kicked out. It was always an issue of power and control. That morning in February was just a breaking point...and it was mine. 

The Theatre was similar in nature. [And, I find it interesting that I am finding so many life patterns following those from Old Geistopia.] There had been tensions for some time. I do not know exactly where they had their roots. I only remember becoming aware of them. I watched as they escalated slightly over time. I would reach out more than once to meet and discuss certain things that had been left very open ended. This was to no avail and the tensions continued to grow. One day it was just enough. I was able to move into The Seasonal Store without a loss in pay. I was left no worse off than i had been, but I would be removing myself from the situation. 

That’s how I felt about Old Geistopia. I was just removing myself from the situation. I can’t imagine things there were ever going to change. There were problems but, like The Theatre, there was a lack of dialogue and communication that was keeping peace from being achieved. 

They happened quick and in the moment, it’s true. But they were some time in coming and I had definitely tried to steer things in other directions. Sometimes I regret those moments. They certainly have fueled the dilemma in which I now find myself. 

But, then, I think that if those moments hadn’t happened neither would so many others. There would be so much I would not have seen, done, managed, accomplished, learned or known. Even in my current anger and frustration, I cannot deny that I have seen a Divine hand and blessing in everything that has been this journey. 

This year has challenged me on so many levels. I feel as though I have just faced challenge and obstacle one on top of the other over and over again. I was frantic and on the go constantly. There was a brief period, somewhere in the early autumn months, when I had achieved a certain degree of peace and tranquility, but then my finances were very strained as well. 

When I left Old Geistopia, I was involved in a Production and working at The Theatre - trying to find my way around new duties and a system that was not yet in place. I was also doing The Middle School production and filling at least four roles in doing so. I was also preparing to study a role for a paying gig at The Theatre. 

I left Old Geistopia and for almost two solid weeks I managed these things from The MattMobile - having spent three nights at The Theatre. Eventually, I would move into The TreeHut. Admittedly, I used electric from Old Geistopia. Perhaps that was wrong of me, but survival is survival. So, I don’t feel a lot of regret. 

I continued to manage all of this somehow.

Wisconsin can confirm that I went at an almost constant pace. [And, she came in towards the end of The Middle School.] 

Things were not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. There was so much more I had wanted to do with The Middle School and at The Theatre, but I managed to accomplish enough to make the job be done. This was especially true of The Middle School. Somehow, at the end of it all, we managed a show. 

I can only call it Divine Grace that made it all happen. 

I drifted, lost, for some time. I was trying to understand what direction G-d wanted me to head. Was I to stay and fight through a life here in The Valley? Was I supposed to hit the road, fully embracing my ‘Freedom’ namesake? There was, even back then, potential for a move to Wisconsin. For all of the possible paths I was shown, none were made easy to achieve. In fact, it seemed the more I pushed in any direction the further away from all directions I moved. 

I have seen a great deal of charity and good-heartedness this year. Perhaps more than I can really come to terms with. There have been many blessed moments and many moments leaving me feeling defeated. 

I have been led on many Quests this year. More, in fact, than I have seen total between The Re-Discovery Tour and now. And, I have spent much time involved in the act of introspection. I have been trying to understand who I am and what it is I need to do. 

I fought for a job I wanted with a company I enjoyed in order to preserve a long term relationship with a company with which I wanted to continue working. I would then dismiss that opportunity in favor of a job that offered [I thought] less challenges and more pay. It was a job that had eluded me for over a month and would turn out to be a job that I couldn’t actually do.

Throughout the year I filled many shoes and earned income by wearing several different hats. I have done odd jobs - raked leaves, scraped paint, organized storage sheds - and worked as an actor - twice. I have been a dishwasher, a prep cook and maintenance person. I have been a metal scraper and a tarot reader and a reiki practitioner. I have worked as an assistant manager in a seasonal retail store. 

And, most recently, I took a quick shot at restarting a food service management career. 

Through it all I have wanted two things - to have a life, whatever it may be, and to share that life with my daughters. I have been chasing a job and an income. But I have also been trying to keep my commitment to G-d. I fight so hard to do what is asked of me - mostly. [Don’t ask me how I’m doing with that quitting smoking thing.] 

This is why I write. This is why I do this project. It comes up constantly. When I feel most lost, the answer is always that it is time to write. It has come up time and time again in meditation. It has come to Wisconsin in dreams. It was left with me with a static and mysterious message. 

What if I didn’t hear it all? What if the message was, “It’s OK. You can’t do anything else. Write” *with a smile.*

I can confess that it brings me a certain degree of Peace and Tranquility. 

Wisconsin says that I have a way with words. She says she enjoys my writing even if the content makes her sad. I have had many people tell me that over the years. Personally, I don’t get it. I have no real sense of writing. I just think on paper (or my phone as the case may be.)

I told her that this frustrates me. If I am so good at it and I am pushed to do it by Spirit, then why can’t I make it do something for me? I have been writing this blog for years, still it has no solid following. I even submitted one of my posts to a site that claims to pay you for your stories [based on reads.] Unfortunately, my story contained personal religious/spiritual views and I could resubmit it for approval after I removed said content. Well, my stories can’t exactly be told without such content. It is the main thread tying it all together. I guess the possibility that it may offend someone is more concerning than the possibility that it may help someone. 

I have had messages for years to write a book. But a book on what? My experiences? My journey? As I said, I have done that with this blog for years and it hasn’t really mattered. No one seems to have taken any of it seriously, because…

“It’s just Matt.”

And how does one go about writing a book when one is trying so desperately just to survive? How is one supposed to write anything when all of ones writing resources are being stripped away, one by one? 

Am I missing something?

So, I don’t believe in writing. I don’t put stock into it or Faith. I do it when I can, here and there, casually and at my whim. I mean, aren’t there more important things I have to worry about? 

So, I worry about those things. I pursue them and chase them and try to manage them. I can’t put my life in the hands of writing. I need to have a job - a regular, permanent, FT job. That has been the issue for so long hasn’t it? Everyone’s very obvious answer to my problems. 

I have always sought that job, or at least a life comparable. But, for a long time I had a tough time finding a job to fit the bill. Either I was engaged deeply in my own ventures and was just looking for a little boost - which would end up never fully satisfying my employers - or, I would be looking for m0ney, and be unable to find it, leaving me struggling to also do all of those other things - which would end up never fully satisfying me. 

I have tried to forge my own path and have failed more than once. Though those things have never created a future for me they built a foundation on which I could always rely on in a pinch. The random things I do, that seem so easily disregarded by others, have saved my ass more than once through the years. 

I have tried to find a job that can support me and at the same time keep me content. I have yet to find both in one job and even after I have defined a path that could meet my needs I cannot make it work.

How does one find a job when one is limited in mobility and (will be) restricted by curfews? How does one schedule interviews without a phone or email access? 

I keep pushing for something, anything, and I watch as more and more is stripped from me, leaving me with nothing. 

This is what I have faced for, not just these past 10 months but, the last 21 years. It is not a matter of not wanting to work, but something bigger.

I don’t know if I have words for it. I have turned my life over to G-d and have seen the power of Spirit. I have been shown how easily life can work if we allow ourselves to be led. This is what all those trips and quests have been about. I have been following The Call.

I’ve come to realize that, like everything else, no one has taken those trips seriously. They were nothing more than me being reckless and irresponsible and a little too care free.

“It’s just Matt.”

But, they were so much more than that. I didn’t go because I was bored. I went because those were my instructions. So many people have written them off as folly and foolishness but they were fraught with purpose. 

I witnessed a whole new way of being. But, when I would return home I could never seem to turn that understanding into anything sustainable. 

I have been caught between realities and unable to master any. I have turned my life over to a higher power. I have seen how it works and yet here I am losing everything. 

So, I went to bed last night. I was tired and worn. I was accepting my fate as I saw it playing out but still in the back of my mind I could hear a whisper of hope. “Yule’s not over yet. Anything can happen.”

This has been in conjunction with - first, the understanding that nothing matters until Thursday morning. I don’t know why that is. Is that when I know something has shifted and I am saved? Or is it when I finally know with certainty that this is the fate before me? I don’t have an answer. I only have this ‘knowing,’ this sense. 

But then I struggle and I wrestle. This is the same knowing or sense that stems from and leads to Faith and, again, the question remains - what good has Faith really done me so far? I wrestle with not getting my hopes up, for Thursday morning may not bring good news at all.  I struggle with not being so negative and closed off that maybe I block whatever blessing could be waiting around the corner. 

So, I went to bed. “Tomorrow’s a new day. Maybe something will happen.”

It was overnight and in Dreamtime that we would find the subtitle to our post today, Fellow Travelers. It came in a whisper, “Dead within a week.”

What exactly is that supposed to mean? I’ll be dead in a week if I go to The Rescue Mission? Or...if I don’t? Maybe I’ll be dead within a week regardless of what I do? Am I already dying and I don’t know it? I can’t write that possibility off. I’ve been having physical difficulties that I don’t talk about. Nothing too major at the moment, but there. I mean, I have been extra tired lately, but I wrote that off to depression and frustration. But, more than that, I have been having back pain for a few weeks now. It’s different than my usual lower back pain. It feels different and it is located in a slightly different place, or places. I get it on both sides of my spine. Because of this, as well as the timing of it all - it started a few weeks ago after my hand - I have had to begin to wonder if it isn’t my kidneys. I’m not showing any other signs of kidney troubles that I can tell, but it is a different kind of pain and I had to investigate it. Kidneys is what I returned with. So, maybe I have found my end.

Maybe it is all a metaphorical thing - a spiritual death.

Whatever it is meant to be, these are the thoughts I had when I awoke this morning. What did it all mean? What am I supposed to do? 

What if it is all going to end in my physical death? I cannot deny that I have beckoned that for a very long time. So, I certainly can’t be upset by the possibility. Ask & It Is Given, right? As much as I may have thought I wanted it in the past, facing the possible reality is a bit more unsettling than I would have thought. 

Nonetheless, I have had to contemplate it. It was put on the table. So, how do I feel about death and dying? Well, first, as I said, it’s not nearly as appealing as I have often hoped it would be. Still, I cannot fear the notion, nor be upset about it. If I look back on my life, I have few regrets. 

I have heard very often over these months that I am “such a good guy.” Even my own daughter was quoted as saying as much, “My dad is a really good guy. He would do anything for anyone.”

I am glad people see this in me, most especially, Cuddlebug. But, I do not always feel that way. I have not always been a good person. I am not always a good person. I was not a good person, or the best person I could be, last weekend when I was snapping on everyone. Sure I can validate and justify my feelings, but my actions I cannot. I have not always been forthright, nor honest. I have been known to be mean and cruel and harsh. Those moments I can regret. [Perhaps I do not feel worthy of ‘better’ because I cannot forgive myself my past.] I can regret those moments and I can use them, and have, to be the good person that people think I am. Or, at the very least, portray that. 

I have never reached any sort of financial stability in my life. I have never had a home of my own, nor much money with which to do things or buy things. It is true that most of what I did have my parents had done for me. I already wouldn’t have had a car over a year ago if it weren’t for them. But, then, that may not necessarily be true either. 

When I crashed the gold van and totaled it I was at a loss. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do or how I would handle this. I wasn’t looking to my parents to help me. Believe it or not, I rarely did. Turning to my parents for anything financial was always, for me, a last resort. I would try to exhaust every other option and possibility first. This was especially true in the last few years. I already knew that my parents had done so much for me and it seemed there was no way I could ever repay them - certainly not with money, but even in action and deed there was nothing I could do for them. 

Nonetheless, I did the only thing I know to do when I am stuck. I prayed and I meditated. Now, I can’t tell you for certain how long this actual process was. On one hand, I feel like I had been driven around for a while. But then, that may have been another moment in time. [I really do have difficulty with time.] On the other hand, I know that the next moments of this story happened all right on top of each other and there couldn’t have been much time between the accident and my prayers. 

The answer I received back was, “give it a week.” So, I was supposed to not really worry or pursue anything for a week. I was supposed to just take the week, day by day, moment by moment, and see how it all turned out. That is what I took from that meditation. 

This is not anything out of the ordinary for me. So much of my life has been managed by following this kind of guidance. There have been occasions when listening to ‘The Voice’ was the difference between thriving or dying. That’s not even an exaggeration. 

One time I was encouraged to spend the night in Albion, Michigan and to start my day there the next morning. I was very strongly encouraged. Very strongly. It is not what I wanted to do. I had plans and destinations of my own. Still, I stayed. In the next two days I would make $200 cash. I would be reassured later, as I reached my own destinations, that that would have never happened had I gone my own way.

So, I was supposed to wait a week. Before I could even process this thought, Big ‘D’ and Craze returned from wherever they had been, and announced that they had found me a car and they were buying it. I had contemplated for a moment telling them of my meditation and asking for that week. I thought of it for only a moment though. 

I have been in that position many times over the years. It has been a source for the fighting. They get involved in whatever way and by whatever means and things must be done their way. [That sounds different in writing than it did in my head.] But anyway, any time I have tried to explain myself with, “that’s what I was told,” there would be problems. I understand it’s hard to grasp. I understand that people don’t realize that so much of my life has happened that way. But, this would always lead to fighting and me being called all sorts of things and in the end, they were doing something for me so it was their way or no way. 

I never did tell them. I let it go with a sigh of frustration. They did buy the car [and that would create its own moment.] The truth is, though it was nice to have a vehicle, this car stifled my being. It couldn’t do what I need a vehicle to do. If I wanted to do that stuff I would have to borrow the truck [and that too led to issues of its own.]

Any hoot and a holler, the moral of the story was that I have not lived a materialistically abundant life. That became a Shout-Out to my rents, which delved into other tangents. [Most of which I didn’t actually write out.] I guess I’m working through those emotions. 

But, even though I have never known a prosperous existence, I have had a very rich life. It has been rich in experience. It has been a rich life because it is a life that I have lived. I stepped outside of the box. I opened my mind and my heart and my soul to different experiences and perceptions. Through that I have been blessed. I have seen some of the most amazing things happen. They haven’t all been miraculous, or bright, or even happy. Just things that make you go, “Hmm.” I have gotten to know, or re-know so many truly incredible people. Everyone has a story to tell, Fellow Travelers, and you never know what can happen if you just take the time to listen to it. Every soul inspires me. Sometimes, I feel frustrated that I can never really express to everyone how grateful I am for their presence in my life - for every moment and exchange.

So, I guess, I am happy with my life. It has been far from perfect and I have seen more than my fair share of darkness, but, for me, it has been mind-blowing. I have been left with fantastic stories. Unfortunately, I am learning that those stories only have value to me. No one else cares. 

“It’s only Matt.”

[He’s never done anything, had anything, accomplished anything. It’s only Matt.]

Now I begin to feel as though this life has been wasted. It was all for nothing. Sure, I have been blessed and inspired, but I have been left alone in it - isolated, separated, misunderstood and categorized. I try to put light and positivity into the world and find only chaos and despair. I have been left with nothing but stories that apparently don’t matter. 

And, the struggle begins again. My mind spins and twists. 

I have seen G-d do so many amazing things, and at his whim. [“Father, why have you forsaken me?”] Why is this so difficult? I know that last weekend in my fury and rage I denounced G-d and denied my Faith. I do feel terrible about this. But, as with every moment from last week, I do not feel terrible about feeling that way. How can I not be angry?

I have not asked much of G-d. I don’t think. Not in all these years have I really asked G-d for anything big. I’ve asked to find work I can enjoy and that can support me. No matter how hard I’ve tried or what paths I have walked I have never found that. I have fragments of things that, all combined, One Day might amount to something. I have been left with dreams on horizons from which I drift farther and farther. And as for a regular job - if I find something I can enjoy and be comfortable in it never seems to offer a livable income. If, on the rare occasion I find a liveable income, such as The Distributor, it crushes my soul and my passions.

I think people misunderstood The Distributor. I did try and, if not for that conversation with Hoagie, I would have continued to try. I would have continued to try despite the fact that I knew what Hoagie and Wisconsin were saying was true - it was killing my soul. I could feel it. It wasn’t about the work, or the hours. Neither of those things were comfortable for me, but they were workable. It was only temporary, right? 

Instead it was the energy of the place. It was too much. It was too heavy and overwhelming. It was too much people. I realize not everyone can understand when I say I am empathic and sensitive. I am affected by the energies and moods of others. I take it on. It is how I do so much of what I do. It is how I read cards, or perform Reiki. It is how I work other little magics here and there throughout my day. Many which go unnoticed. It is what makes me the ‘good person’ people want to say that I am. Hell, it is even how I craft or perform a role on stage. 

But, those gifts come with a price. All of those energies take a toll on me, wear away at me. To fix this, I must be able to transmute that energy. I need to shake it off and let it go. I need to re-attune to myself. This requires, silence, stillness, and solitude. These are things I have not truly known since I left Old Geistopia. Even lately, though I have had a place to stay warm and grounded it does not always afford me the solitude that I need. It is not my place and I cannot let my energies too free. 

Though you may not be able to understand that completely, though you may wish to debate and argue, please accept that it is a reality in my life. It is something I have had to learn to work with and through over the years. I have even contemplated pursuing life at a Buddhist temple, because I can think of no place more conducive to my soul than that. It was one of the options I had given myself last year as opposed to killing myself. I mean, if I had to give up, at least at a Buddhist Temple I could still have my Spirit. I could still strive for peace. I could still learn the mysteries of life through the simplest and most mundane daily tasks. It just so happens there is a Buddhist Temple in the Lehigh Valley. [Who knows, before it is all over the end may find me there.]

Nonetheless, I could feel The Distributor crushing me. It was just too much..and with no reprieve. I have only felt like that twice before. Once was last year on my 3 day hospital vacation. The other was prison. I only survived, even my short time in prison because I shut down. It was just too much with no reprieve. That is how I felt at The Distributor. That is how I feel about going to The Rescue Mission. It will be too much. Too many people. Too many energies. Just too much, and I will have no way to recharge myself. I won’t even have any of my crafts or projects or workings with which I can distract myself and refresh even just a little bit of my Spirit. 

In prison I was able to turn to writing. I wrote a lot of the book in prison. I even designed the cover art. Yet, here I am, a decade later, and there is still no book. I wrote things out, but I still don’t understand it. I don’t know what I’m writing, or why. I don’t know how to publish it even if I do have it complete. I don’t know who to ask for guidance and assistance. Anyone I ever talk to about it just looks at me and passes over it lightly because, “It’s only Matt.”

I wrote out what I could of a business plan for The Rabbit Hole. I put down on paper anything anyone needed to know about what it was and how it worked. There weren’t any real numbers or information like that. I don’t really understand that part of things - the legalities and the finances and such. Still, ten years later, there is no Rabbit Hole: Coffee Bar & Emporium. I talk about it to people. I always talk about it. But no one has ever gotten behind it. They treat it as folly or whimsy. 

Because...well…

“It’s just Matt.”

The Fool. 

The Failure.

I have never asked for much. I have asked to be shown how to work with what I have been given. I have asked to know how to put back into the world the best I can. 

I have asked to be in the right space, the right home, for me and my life. I have always found myself at Geistopia. It was not ideal by any stretch of the imagination and it caused a lot of difficulties, but I accepted it. I had asked and this was what I was given. 

I couldn’t deny this and I had to believe it. After all - Ask & It Is Given. It is a Principle I have come to believe in strongly because I have seen it at work so very often. There was a time I would call it whenever I saw it. So much, in fact, that Encyclopedia would once snap at me, “Why are you always preaching?”

I wasn’t preaching. I was acknowledging. 

So, I wasn’t asking for much last Saturday morning. I was just asking for the car to start so that I could go and work and make money and pay my bills. 

G-D Helps Those Who Help Themselves

All I wanted to do was help myself. All I asked for was G-d’s cooperation in that. It’s not like I was asking to win the lottery. I’ve enver really asked for that, though I’ve occasionally hinted that it might be nice. Truth is, I don’t think I could ever win because I don’t think I’d know what to do with all that money. My needs are not great. 

Someone once asked me what is the first thing I would do if I ever won the lottery. My response was, “I would stop.” That’s it. That is the first thing I would do. I would stop and I would breathe and I would just let the whole of my being take a moment of complete relaxation and relief. Truth is I strive to do that without the lottery. It’s just a lot harder. 

But, as usual, I digress. 

So, I come to this point. This one where I am at. I have fought and struggled all year long and longer. I have reached a point where I do not know what else I can do. One by one my resources get taken from me. Months ago it was the laptop. Now it is the car and next week it will be the phone. I’m fighting the good fight and it just seems that G-d is working against me. 

I don’t understand this. All I have ever done is try to do right and be the person that G-d had forged me into. Now, he is asking me to give it all up? Worse yet, it is happening just when I began to live again. I have been writing more. I have wrapped some hemp pieces. I have been crafting and have a stack of projects waiting to be worked on. But now I must walk away from all of that? Once again, just as I start to sink my teeth into life it is all wiped away?

Suddenly, I am being asked...no forced...to give up everything I know, everything I am and just...what?

Do What You Love and the Rest Will Follow

I keep trying to do what I love and all I end up with is disaster. Am I really that much of a failure? I am really that screwed up that I just can’t get anything right - not even what G-d has to offer?

When I decided to stop being at The Distributor I knew I needed to do something else. Trying to learn from my experiences I decided I should try to do something that I knew I could get behind and about which I would feel some passion. This is what led me back to Fast Food Management. It is not a glorious job but it definitely would pay the bills and I certainly don’t hate it. I enjoy the challenge. 

I chose the company I did at first for a number of reasons. I knew they were hiring. I knew they had locations all over. And, I know someone who works for them. When I went through the application process online they had a General Manager position available at the location just down the street. It is within the same walk I just took for donuts the other night. I chose that location because it was right down the street. And, I figured, in anticipation of car troubles, I could still get to work. 

I was trying to do the right thing, be responsible and practical. I carried with me a belief that this would work out because it could work out. It was the perfect solution in fact. 

I still have not heard from them, even after re-pursuing it twice. 

So for all of my efforts and plotting and planning and trying it still comes to this. I’ve done all I can do and I guess I can do no more. This is happening and as far as I can tell it is G-d’s will. I know that ultimately that means good things should come of it. I’ve been down that path many times. It doesn’t make it any easier. In fact, it is the hardest thing I have ever done. 

Everyone has come forth with encouraging words and positive thoughts - “It’ll all be ok,” “You’ll figure it out,” It’s a fresh start.” All of those things may very well be true. But I wonder if anyone can truly appreciate what I am going through at the moment.

Not only am I dealing with the fact that I so obviously failed and that all of this time was for nothing, but I am being asked to give up every shred of my existence. [even if it is “only temporary.”] Not only am I being asked to give it up, but I am being asked to prepare my life to not have me in it. No car, no phone, no communication, no functioning. And, since the temporary is so very indefinite I must prepare for the long term.

I have to get rid of this car because I can’t leave it on the street. I don’t know how to do that or even where to begin. I know that somehow there has to be a title transfer. I have the title, but...does that cost money? If so, then that’s kinda out. *Shrugs*

I have to cancel recurring bills, such as car insurance. Or even the streaming subscriptions. I’ve held on to them for the girls because it is all they really have. Now I have to take that away from them. To make matters worse, Sunshine has asked me to restart the music subscription. She is working on a project for school - tracing the progress of music through the 2000s - and she needs it to be able to access the music and such she wants to work with. I, now, can’t give that to her and I do not know if it is something her mother would do for her. I see this and, once again, I have failed my children. 

This is the thought I get to carry into this ‘new life’ I am supposed to embrace. I have failed my children right up to the end...and then I left them. 

Speaking of, I need to say goodbye to my children again. 

I needed to find, and did, someone to stay in touch with them in my absence. Someone to know that they are ok. I will never know, but at least someone will.

I need to pack up my stuff  so that it is out of Hoagie’s way. When the discussion was me going to Wisconsin he had offered to keep my stuff for me. I imagine that would hold true in this situation. 

I need to talk to Hoagie about what is happening. We haven’t really discussed anything. One of my consolations in this is that my tools have found a home and a purpose. Hopefully he can make more of them than I apparently could. 

Yet, while I am preparing for, and accepting, my fate, something is happening. The Universe is delaying and stalling. I was going to give into all of this last weekend but it was, “Wait till Monday.” 

Monday came and it was, “Well, at least finish The List. Take the opportunity to see it through.” 

The List was complete and it became wait until Yule is over. See the holy days through. 

Yule is coming to a close and it is now, “Wait one more week.” 

Do I wait one more week only so that I can have the time to settle my business and erase myself from my own life...or is there something else afoot?

So, I get a glimmer of hope. I feel my soul ignite and reach out into the world the way it should. I can’t tell you how amazing that feels. It’s not because its all mystical and magickal but because it offers me just this brief breath of life as I watch myself dying. 

“Wait one more week.”

But...I’ll be, “dead within a week.” 

Maybe it wasn’t “dead.” Maybe I heard wrong. That happens. Something within a week.

Is there a chance? Is there hope for something else? I begin to consider other options. 

If I can hold out somehow, Wisconsin is supposed to come out in the spring with the open invitation for me to return with her. I can do that. I would have done that if she had come out during Yule, but we know how that turned out. 

There is another scenario in my head. In it, and I saw this long before Hoagie mentioned moving in with his girlfriend, Hoagie does move in with his girlfriend. Only, not here. That would free this space up. He doesn’t have a lease. If I could get my shit together enough until the time comes then I could afford this place. Let’s face it - I’ve already determined that it’s somewhat perfect. It’s just the right size and amount of space for me. It would be in an affordable price range. It affords me a workshop. I like the neighborhood and I like the life. I enjoy being able to walk places and do things. 

But can, will, either of those things ever be? Can something be made to work for a few more months? Could I even stay with Hoagie that much longer?

And, so, in the end it all comes back to I just don’t know what is happening. I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how I feel about any of it. I told Wisconsin that I was scared. She said she had never heard me say that before. I told her that was because I have never been scared before. I have traveled the country on nothing but Faith and though I was definitely nervous and apprehensive, I was never scared. 

When I first learned of the number 333 and who it brings with it, I shuddered. What was to come was not to be good. I finished my research and immediately set to ritual. I figured if it was coming I might as well face it head on. I dove right in without any thought, just as I have always done with Spirit. This was probably the dumbest and most reckless thing I have ever done in my life. I was nervous and unsure. The hair stood up on my crawling skin, but I was not scared. I was going to evoke what the magickal world calls The Evil of Evils, The Demon of Demons, and I was not scared. 

I am scared now.

I am not scared of what is to come. It’s whatever. Life is as it is. It happens. We get through it - the good, the bad, and the indifferent. I know this.

I am scared for what will happen to my Spirit and how that will end. It is already so weak. I have never felt it so weak. I do not know how much more it can withstand. The truth is, as much as I try to accept this path and prepare for it my soul dies a little bit more with each step closer. Perhaps the message is correct. Perhaps I will be “dead within a week,” if for no other reason than because my Spirit just quits.

All I can do is continue to prepare for it. Make myself ready on as many levels as I can. As I go through these motions maybe something will be jostled to offer another path. If I needed anything to change right now it would be not losing my phone. Even if I do go to The Rescue Mission, for so many reasons, it would be good to have that. 

I have until January 7th to have that money in my account. I do not know how to accomplish this. If I can get rid of the car to a scrapper I might get $25. $50 if I’m super lucky. I have some cans to recycle. I have a friend that has more for me and offered to drive them up to me this week. Maybe he would also drive me to the yard to turn them in so I can at least make that money. Maybe someone will break down and get a Tarot Reading or Long Distance Reiki Session. 

Maybe somehow I can save my phone. 

The guy who came to work with the battery was surprised to hear that I was going to give up on the car completely. He had other plans. I have not put him off. I have only told him that Right This Moment I do not know what I am really going to do. 

Maybe I can save my car.

Having the car work again gives me a much better chance at anything, even if I do go to The Mission. 

From beginning to end and back again. I am lost in a world of possibilities and not a clue where to turn or what to try. I am losing sense of my self. All I can do is continue on, killing time until time kills me - preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. One more week. In that week I will be taking care of business and shutting down my life, while at the same time trying to remain open to possibilities and opportunities.

I am going to try to accept whatever it is that is thrown my way. Maybe it will be assistance or aid or a new direction. One friend had contacted me about employment where he is. They are close to public transportation. It would be work that I could enjoy and it would e a nice pay. But, he couldn’t look into anything until after the New Year. 

All I can do is take it one day, one moment, at a time.

One of the things I need to do [or so I’m told,] and the last thing I want to write about today, is write an email to Big ‘D.’ I don’t fully understand the purpose or how to even begin. For years I have said that the greatest problem was lack of good communication and understanding. This has been my strongest issue. I’ve been frustrated that they have judged and criticized my life without knowing why I do what I do - what experiences I have had. I am frustrated that they take their misgivings out into the world and put the thoughts with other people. Thoughts like I don't ever work. These things only happen because my family has never taken the time in the 21 years since my life has changed to actually talk to me about my life and those changes and those experiences. My family doesn’t know anything I have been through. They have never heard any of my stories because they have been adamant about not discussing any of it. 

So I do not know if this email is supposed to be an apology for things I have done. I do not know if it is to be a confession of my feelings and thoughts on things. I do not know if the purpose of the email is to assure her that I do not actually hate her but that, in fact, I do love her. But still, even in all of that, I cannot continue to accept the kind of attitude and treatment I have received.

So I do not know what the email is, exactly. I only know that I must write it. [Much like these posts.]

If you’re not already there go to the Welcome to my Life Facebook page - WTML. Or, the YouTube Channel - WelcomeToMyLife.

Wherever you are, and whenever you are - Like, Comment and Share. We’re on a journey and it takes you to get there.

Now let it be known that there were still 1,001 thoughts that I thought of or wanted to share that did not make it. And, this has taken me from 1700 Tuesday night until 1200 Wednesday [sleep time included] to complete. 

So, without hesitation…

This is your beloved Rev…

WALT: ...and Walt…

DOC: ...unt Doc…

JOHNNY: ...aaaaand Johnny…

...and those guys, saying, “Stay tuned in, Fellow Travelers,” and wishing you Peace, love, Light…

WALT: ...and freakishness, baby!!