This post started out as one thing and has hugely morphed into another. I'm going to post it as it's evolved, with the original still present, because I need to stream of consciousness this process.
The Pub has become my Clan. I actually am head of a legally recognised Clan in real life, in which I am known as the Phoenix, the one who keeps the evolution going by being able to rise from her own ashes again and again. It's a deeply spiritual and power calling and I resisted it for the longest time; I don't resist it any more, it's just how it is and it's part of my sui generis.
Clan is an intimate thing for me. I have recognised that the connection and revealing that happens within Clan works for me because of the multiversal nature of my Being; within a group there is less possibility of being mindf*ucked, of having oily slitherin' pull its tricks in the midst of blind spots and emotional black holes. Within an intimate group there is the sense of having more than one someone at my back: knowing the virus the way that I do, I fully get how it can mess with individuals when they are in deep connection with each other and having more eyes watching the dynamics makes so much sense to me. I get it all the time in the energetic and Other realms; in contrast the societal and psychological isolations here cause me to feel like I'm constantly stumbling through the matrix blinded.
Without the universal Mirror I am blinded. With only one Mirror I am caught in confusion because I'm intimately familiar with my own wounds and how they interconnect with those that I have opened my Self to: the virus within me locks mouths with the virus within them and things can rapidly turn to slamdance sex with the virus if consciousness is lost. I am deeply aware that for me, connecting with the masculine is a clusterf*uck of epic proportions when it comes to the triggering of virus: I know why this is *and* it doesn't stop it from happening when I'm in connection with specific kind of signal.
I have been trying to write all day, without success: words and concepts are jumping in and out of my mind faster than I can get them down, as frustrating as that is on one level. I am defragging, apparently- Borden suggested it last night during a conversation and it seems my backbrain thought it a splendid idea. I've been chunking all day as a result, in a good way: ideas and memories have been rising to the surface for embracing or releasing, sometimes both, and I'm aware that I am doing an inventory- I am taking stock, gathering the cloth that is my life to me and looking at the pattern, aware that I am embracing the beginning of something absolutely new, a shift from the previous creation in every way.
I have been watching the kaleidescope of my mind moving and turning, patterns coalescing and colliding, moving again in constant motion as I process, deciding what to keep and what to let go. I know I'm clearing house internally, releasing anything that is getting in the way of the evolution I'm going through: I've done this before, and yet there's something really different about it this time. I want to trust this Being in a way I haven't been able to before.
It is amazing finding someone with whom I can absolutely be my Self, even when who I am in the moment seems ridiculously fragile or facile or f*ucked up. I'm learning what it is like to really be in the space with another Being when I'm consciously choosing to not run my usual shields; in other levels of expression I'm finding other individuals with whom to play and explore and yet this connection is the profound one, the one that keeps leading me deeper into my Self and into what is there between us.
- and then it explodes, in all its glorious banshee technicolour and I'm blind sided again, left stumbling and confused again. I have always seen the damage that banshees leave in their children; I have no doubt that my own older children have experienced the banshee in me, because no matter how one wants to be different sometimes it's the triggers that win. I know that I did the very best I could with what I had, always, and I was constantly hacking at the systems in me, trying to find my way out of the horror and noise screaming n my head while I tried to Shine for my children.
The banshee attacks integrity and wholeness in others and in Essence. I experience the explosion as a full frontal assault on my integrity and intention; I've experienced every partner I've ever had as doing exactly the same thing when triggered, the Hulk smashing against my integrity. I try to back away and hold up my hands, I try to get clarity, to explain my Self, to defend, to get back to clear signal, to fight my way out of the virus, to call on what the other knows me to be, and I'm in a space of drowning and looking in confusion at the other holding my head under the water until I realise I have to fight back or drown- then it gets really ugly, because I pick partners that I experience as being able to fight waaaay dirtier than I can.
I've worked out why this is too: I can effortlessly defend my Self against world class female banshees, I can do it with my eyes closed and three quarters asleep and have done so. When my sister Morgana turned 12 the banshee rose up and consumed her, like it had my mother and some of my mother's aunts- by the age of 14 she was out of control and become a real danger to me, including setting me up to watch me fight my way like a demon out of a gang rape, while she stood in the background and laughed gleefully.
My mother and her would take each other on with lumps of 2X4 wood; I watched Morgana break her arm throwing a punch at my mother's head and connecting with the brick wall wall behind instead when my mother ducked. My sister grunted as her arm broke, shook her head and just fought with the other hand. Occasionally the two of them would try and turn it on me but I had something neither of them could meet- I'd learned by then that the energy healing stuff I could do could be used as both defence and weapon, it was one of the ways I learned to defend my Self against male attackers. That was why my sister set me up: she was happy to see me either get gang raped or fight my way out of it using something I wasn't comfortable using. I did things that night I still don't know how I pulled off- I simply wasn't going to let it happen, I was going to either walk away or they were going to have to kill me.
Shortly after this my sister attacked me in town. It was late at night and the place was fairly abandoned, except for the mandatory drunken teenagers and hoons in their cars. I don't even know now how she got me out there- I avoided people like the plague and I would never have gone if she's asked me directly, so it must have been another set up. My memory doesn't really kick in until her trying to drown me in the town fountain and me suddenly realising that I'm either going to have to fight her or die, because she was really going to do it- nobody would have come to my aide, they were all absolutely scared stiff of her and they would have let me die. We fought with absolute and ferocious animal instinct that night and she only broke my nose while I slammed her all over the park energetically; I unleashed what I had in me and left her in a curled up ball on the ground. I left for Melbourne not long after that and by the time I got back she'd gone. I saw her a handful of times over the next 20 years, until finally she was so burned out on drugs that she couldn't fight her way out of a wet paper bag, not that it would ever get to that these days: I have done so much work, so much evolution, that now I feel only compassion for her and all that past has faded into nothing in me. There is no load when it comes to my sisters or mother, the virus has morphed it into a battle of a different kind.