To Get Through This Thing Called Life

The beings are back.

There was a time at the end of last year when they were there every morning. When I would close my eyes and breathe through my body, and just like that they would appear. Usually there were three of them, and they worked swiftly and thoroughly. 

It was a strange feeling to know I was being tinkered with, to literally feel cords of energy being stretched outside my body, scrubbed at incredible speeds and then returned. To know that I was being watched and adjusted, tuned and programmed. 

It's not exactly something you just mention casually to friends over lunch. 

Hey did you know that these invisible intergalactic beings visit me in meditation every morning and tune my energy like they're tuning an instrument? And then they observe me for days on end seeing the fruits of their changes. And I know they're there, and sometimes it's a little unsettling, but mostly I like it. Can you pass the ketchup?

Not so much.

I'm not quite sure when they left, but I just remember noticing one day that my meditations didn't feel as, well, crowded. There's a distinct sensation I feel when another energy is in the room. As if the space around me is pregnant with bulging sacs of energy that press in on my body. Sometimes it catches me off guard, and I have to calm myself with mantras of safety. And other times it feels like a comforting blanket that both warms me and supports me. 

These beings mostly felt good. Sometimes in readings I have to open my eyes from the terror I feel from energies that don't feel so benevolent. But these felt clinical, sterile, even loving at times. But mostly just industrious and focused. It was always so evident that they had their own agenda and that I was a vessel for that agenda. But I didn't mind. Because they felt safe. And they felt kind. And, well, it felt like they knew their shit. 

So I was admittedly a little disappointed when they left. The thrill they had brought to my meditations was novel and exhilarating, and I felt important. Everyone wants to feel special, and they did that for me. I felt like I mattered in this very calculated way.

And then one day they were just gone.

But this morning I felt them again. 

They were just observing. Which is what they did last time. Watching. Making note. Calculating. And all the while I'm wondering with bated breath what I'm being prepared for this time. What unknown intergalactic mission I'll be fighting just by sipping my lemon water and typing on this keyboard and making my daughter lunch today. Because what if me being me is the mission?

And why not? Why can't I walk through life believing I'm special and that I matter, even if this is why?

Years ago when all this crazy mystical shit started happening to me I would turn it over and over and over in my head. I would feel guilty and confused, like I was hiding this huge secret. I worried that if anyone knew what was going on in the folds of my brain, I'd be committed and whispered about in those sad hushed tones. And sometimes I still feel that way.

But mostly I feel open and surrendered and at peace with the energetic circus that is my truth. Because it's my. truth. And it doesn't mean I have to justify it. Or share it. Or push it away. It just means it's mine.

A part of me thinks they're here to measure the effects of what happened a few weeks back. The Incident. The turmoil that wrecked me for three solid weeks, shredding apart my sense of confidence and self-love and making me question everything I ever thought I knew about myself. That. I'm pretty sure they're here about That. 

So we shall see. I know that I am a completely different person since all That. And I know that I am crazy ready to Align with the Truth of my Being. And to get through this thing called life in this way that feels freeing and expansive and easy. 

Yes. Ease. I'll take one order of that please Mr. Strange Space Alien Scientists. Thank you.