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"The first rule of soldiering work, you must learn to relax."

I'm sitting at my desk, waiting for the day to mature properly. The chair I'm on is uncomfortable, and I'm sure I could find better ones if I looked around, but I just haven't.
Today I slept on the break out couch again, as I have for the last four days. I haven't been home all week, choosing to spend the whole week at my workplace. The weather all day has been great, and it's sunny outside currently. This morning the flowers by the car park entrance called to me, and their realness filled my eyes, giving me pause for some. Two flowers stand out -  the sunflower and the purple petal flowers. I always thought one meant day and one meant night, but today I looked at the purple petals, it's wrinkles resolving into clarity, facing majestically eastwards towards a just rising but not yet present sun, and I felt hope. In that moment it's purple was in sync with the purple of the just getting lit sky as both called out to each other in hope, tireless soldiers fighting for daylight, and never losing their glow.
N that moment, it was brighter than the sun flower, which imitated the sun's glory, but didn't speak of dark nights and undying hope.

The skies had billows of pink orange spots on its white, at the edges where it reflected the rising sun, a salute to better times ahead. The deep blue purple behind answered still to the purple flowers, but now it answered to everything else too. Everything said yes to it, and it echoed back.

Walking to the mall, the sun is in my face, reminding me of those moments where The sun takes away all the crappy meanings wrought in my nights, burning parts of me away too, my mistaken identities, my coping mechanisms, my fears, my addictions and terrible habits. All burn down casually too. I never stare at the inferno, I just keep moving.

There is no amount of work that I can do that will ever be done by me doing it. Even understanding doesn't come from thinking about it. There is great satisfaction when a problem is solved or a solution is created, but it can be misleading to interpret this as a great call to spend long hours trying to fix it, in order to gain that satisfaction. This can lead to great problems.
there is no amount of work fixing my problems that will ever be done by me wasting being stuck in the forward motion of the mind all the time. 

The first thing, all the time, is to let go and relax. This is the first real rule I'm giving myself, as hard as it is. To let go in moments of ignorance or fear. In moments of unknowing , to admit as quickly as possible, and let go. To stop trying to fix, which is the culmination of all my problems, the strong arming of my essence in the direction of a fix, a solution, somewhere to go, a direction. Very harmful, can leave me unsettled for a long time.

What there is to do is a kind of game where the body learns to relax through it's many storylines, resting easy, with the belief that wherever this is going, is well, and maybe even interesting, if only you'd just let it.

Tis a Friday, which means I get to visit the mosque. I'm going to meet with the Chief Imam today. Yesterday Gbolaro and I held long discussions where he spelt out many of his real concerns about becoming Muslim to me. Going by what we ready in the new every day, there is a very real chance that I could come to great harm by joining Islam, or mingling Muslims. This very real concerns held the assumptions that all the terror in the world came from the Muslims holding too tightly to their belief and being too ready to kill for it.

Is not that I didn't believe, I just have always wanted to learn the things of Islam since I was a child. Just for pure curiosity's sake. The Aramaic scripts, the Qur'an, I have always held a fire for these things in my heart. 
The Mullah I met at the mosque said something, that every soul is born on the path of Islam, even though their parents convert them to Christianity. Maybe this relates somehow. I don't know, but the prospect of learning fills my heart with hope and expectation.

Gbolaro says there is a very real danger of falling too deep in it and believing in it for real. How I truly feel about this is simple.  What I am is not the spirit of truth, in fact, I am a rascal who is only learning to enjoy himself. I'm Christ and Buddha and Mohammed every other Monday, Friday and Sunday. They are very nice costumes. I am, regardless, but nothing outside these identities. These identities I have used in the past to describe my opinions, my standpoint, my personality, my heart. In these identities my ambition, my drive towards perfection expresses itself, my dreams and fantasies reveal itself, my desires tell themselves.

It is impossible to succumb to either of these identities. My peace does not come from knowing that I am this or that, quite frankly, I cannot tell you that I know where my peace comes from. I cannot know it too. But these Identities I enjoy because they satisfy a deep craving within me. Something that wants to be expressed finds expression, and my joy is complete. I do not think that in the future I will hold any of these identities to be sacrosanct or one above the other, or to be so completely enraptured in either that I cannot be without affirming it. Instead it is better to look at them as each satisfying my joy when on, and cast aside like the setting of the sun, for no other reason than that is time for the night to be.

I ate bread, milk and chocolates this morning. The bread was warm, having only come out of the 
oven. I packed the chocolates together with the bread, and when I was ready to eat I discovered the chocolates were already melted, soiling the plastic packing and even making it to my shirt.
Bread is a guilty pleasure. I enjoy it a lot, but I shouldn't be eating it so much. I try to remember to get vegetables or at least something natural to follow, but this is only a wish, from wanting to satisfy my guilty pleasure in the meantime. I soon forget and follow my cravings regardless, not health. Doesn't mean I don't have a sense of right eating and consumption.

Yesterday an angel visited me and healed me. Took out something that wasn't meant to be in my body.

I know how out of place that sounds like in this document. But did it happen? I think yes. My discomfort went away. It felt so great I should be thankful. Now, who can I tell this story? Children maybe. I cannot even ask them to believe it. With Adults it is harder, the truth being that some people believe in God and his angels, and some people don't. Does this mean I am wrong or right? It doesn't mean either.

It just is.

This is aloneness. I am alone with this. I hope to share the enjoyment of this knowledge with somebody in the future, although I cannot force them to believe it. They are alone with this too. It is like the child's aloneness with a shiny new toy. You cannot force them to use it this way or that. Their heart decides how they use it, but they are ever willing to share and to learn - how else might I enjoy myself?

Imagine I gave that as a testimony in church. I might strengthen their joy, but it also emphasizes the separation, the crystallization of their religion, their belief in the winning formula, and hence their inability to break out of it, or consider that another may be enjoyable.

Finally. I was taught something important, that who we are, our actions on earth, stem from the things we have experienced in life. There are a million religious teachings on earth, each of them  describe the right state of a human. Some of them get at each other, and some people just spite everyone and do their own thing. I am neither of these people.
Religion is a circus, and the people in it are enjoying it, or perhaps it is a hospital and can help a lot of people along in their healing. I have no desire to look at any of these with spite. Quite the contrary. I hope to get into as many of these things as possible, because I see the endless potential for enjoyment in all of them.

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