Listen to me good and well, my friend:
If you are currently working on a project or something that just needs that extra little something in order to be “perfect” know that that is a coping mech. Of what? How should I know, its your childhood so dive in. Thats where the problem happened. You’ve heard of the term “anal retentive”, yes? For some it means full of excrement or others take this as uptight and tense. What many don’t click is the psychosomatic link and I don’t mean in terms of the “all in your head” BS that docs use to push pills but as something perniciously invisible that weaves its influence:
We would have know more about it but they excised its inventor from the record and said his inventions were dangerous. Look into it. Basically, it works like this:
You may have a stressed parent who herself was anxious and then you come along and form in her wounded womb soaking up all these things to reflect in the flesh what is was she suppressed. Thats a deeper topic but one that is most certainly correct as we’re links in a chain like kinks in a pipe that are made of generational pain which explains the state of the Game. Anyway:
Perfection is retrospective.
Some people polish the hell out of something and then still think its inept because they don’t comprehend the sketch of this coping mech. It means that, whilst developing, you were either compared to a sibling, some imaginary standard or were hit with the meme:
It happens a lot in reality. A lot. I mean, the Chinese brain is wired in such a way that it makes them excel in maths because of the way the linguistics flip so is saying that racist? Probably. With a whole wide internet, somebody will get offended. Good for them. Remember, I’m just a figment of your imagination so trace back that rage to find the day when getting ninety eight percent on a test had “The Look” flung in your direction as your Soul wilted and inner realms fragmented. Thats the problem, not me. Deal with it or keep venting as you spin your wheels but dare not touch the feels you suppressed, back when. Try speaking to the child within and see what they said as that angry red ink responds as it scrawls across the page with picture perfect recollect. Some people even got mad at me for what they said! It would be amusing if it wasn’t testament to the ignorance most are glad to accept in a world that is actually a living hell for all Souls that step in and are trained to run the treadmill.
Well, that got dark, didn’t it? I’ve been playing in the shadows again and yep, its black as pitch. But also enlightening. For example, I was wondering why I push the pen and send immense articles to the web about the most abstract things whilst most are brainrotting. I could dumb it down, make it simple and the rest but that isn’t my art as each piece is an aspect of resonance. What I’m speaking on is dense as the links in ones subconscious which, surprise, is where both the demons dwell and the ghost of Inner Sense that just won’t relent and needs a vent. This is what the ego distorts as it exhorts:
“Yeah, its good but not perfect”.
And sends you back again. If you hear this lament trace back the sensations below the neck. Feel what constricts, what seems ick and then just breathe into it. Accept it. Don’t reject it. After all, that is how the rift happened and ever since then its been signaling for your attention so just close your eyes and sense. Miracles can happen because once you build this bridge a slew of events, one hid, are now free to swim and thus you recollect the torrent of rage so immense about being told your best wasn’t a good fit for someone elses standard. Let me give you an example:
Most kids hated school. They’d rather be doing anything. There was a guy, back when, that was really keen on dancing but a simple throwaway comment from a teacher put an end to all of this. Off he went to a cubicle after gaining a square on his head to live as a watermelon with corners instead of spherical. As you can imagine it was rather unfulfilling and thus he hated his existence but would never dare admit it. A little bit of bada bing, bada boom and he was good as new and slipping on his dancing shoes as he tore up the town and got down. Contrast this to an alternative who came from a long line of creatives that were forced to dig the family reality tunnel, inherited, and you’ll see what I meant about the wounded womb in all of this. Matriarchy isn’t all they said… Neither is the flip. Or the one in the mid.
They’re all isms, schisms and divisions because we are unitary sparks of consciousness that are akin to light poured into a prism which splits then reflected into another which rearranges. “Almost but not quite” – in full effect. Or an attempt to replicate perfection by first destroying it then remixing it aka the Kali Yuga mindset. Think of how the great sculptors have said they simply have to chip away at what isn’t to reveal what was always present, within, and you’ll get a pretty good outline of the sketch and why, as a creative, its best just to start as is and keep on improving as you progress. You will never, ever hit perfection out of the gate unless everything aligns in such a way and that is a hint that the forces are beyond your grip but do manifest through your consciousness so when opportunity comes knocking go with the flow and see what kicks. I mean, a good thing is questioning why you do this? What is the end Game? For what stakes are you playing? Exactly where is this itch you’re attempting to scratch via the attention of the public? This is the shadows depth I mentioned as there is always, always, always a suppressed feeling and event that – often – fuels the need to be “perfect” as it screams for attent but also wants to, paradoxically, remain hidden.
Shades of lights being rearranged in another prism, eh? See, its all interlinked. Just like how silence is the most famous band member on the planet but whose contributions (whilst essential) are uncredited. Think about it. Some people do hit it big and then find that nothing inside shifts. If anything, it brings the pain into clearer focus instead. Enter drugs, sex and distractions. Its a massive grift because the only way to convince gods wearing skin they’re mere mortals is via institutionalized ignorance and religions based on shame and threats which are, coincidentally, two of the lowest vibrations that cause the thorn of the (false) self to fold in whilst developing and generate that voice in your head which says:
“Yeah, its OK. But it isn’t perfect. Why don’t you go tinker with it a bit before presenting? Then it will be fabulous and life will be correct as we rise with a grin and we’ll finally be good enough“.
That last bit is the fuel that spins inside most peoples mental engines but, shh, don’t say it too loud as they may catch feelings. Creativity is a natural human occurrence. Check any child with crayons as they try to capture their imagination on a page then present it to teachers or parents. They call them “lessens” for a reason, eh? Note how the glow dims around the age of six and soon they stop asking questions for fear of seeming stupid and not long after this another square watermelon exists in this realm where straight lines don’t happen without man made tinkering… This urge to create should pour out of all in this realm and, in many ways, the AI generative thing gave people tacit permission to share their inventions but with an invisible link in the mid that mediates their presence. Kind of like religion. Like I said, its all interlinked as we’re within a fractal ergo one trick has many facets and the same amount of Souls in this realm that project everywhen.
A lot of people THINK about doing the work as a balm that prevents real rubber on road traction ergo they may brainstorm, watch another vid, listen to what someone said and read a book as well whilst whipping up a work schedule, cleaning their room etc etc. All but what needs to be did. Why is this? Don’t stroke the coping mech. Sit with it instead and question its intent. It wants the best but it doesn’t have all the resources you possess even though it can see the present moment from the eyes you share as its back there at the kink, the time the glow dimmed and hose stopped flowing. Address this and the rest handles itself. I promise.
Till we meet again
