*metaphor for/more existential thoughts

Platonic dialogue with myself 

If the experience of life is the evolution of the soul (that each incarnation we choose our lessons to elevate and purify our souls through knowledge gained by experience whether high or low road, elevates or drowns us through life’s tests and choices)

   than we may consider that the chosen time in which we incarnate into 

     ….is part of the soul’s evolutionary experience 

     so …. 

how much does identity factor into the importance “of being”?

to reconsider the question 

To further consider now, absorbing our cultural and timeline history as a unit and individual and how the two play together in the soul’s living body experience in a carnation …. 

    would thus shape an individual 

shape experiences and perceptions; shape outcomes and fates….

   

   but— what if one is made ignorant of their dna identity?

How important is that ….

    this one may find ethical cause to pause 

    I can tell you ….the fingerprint footprint of being of another background than was told you are 

    can be hugely influential upon how they see themself. What they see and how they are seen. In the physical mirror. How people react to more what they see than what lies are said. His those very things are part of the soul’s journey, yes …. but also …. 

pause again …. and again ….and yet again ….that Easter egg you click on again ….later after you forgot about it now …. and every time you go back and rewind back the years ….abd click again the Easter egg ….you never got to click —and then 

go back up to the attic and find that dusty mirror; drag out the trunk; pull the light and open Pandora’s old box…. let the light through the window 

Identity ….is as much part of the soul’s journey as their personal experience and their personal truth during this revolution’s evolution and to mesh together both the denial of the knowledge of a bloodline as its connection to your temporal experience is —an invisible soul ‘trauma’. I see it as. It internally pokes at the individual as freakish flaws that make one an outsider where they should be ‘at home’ —two fold as the denial of knowing where their dna identity lay would enhance personal meaning and connection to the current world around them is ….another invisible soul trauma —

that disconnection ….among society; not in synch with inclinations or interests 

but it is part of the experience of the soul —it is its own experience 

To examine then —identity …. and the meaning of a soul’s existence 

    indeed there are layers of why all of this does beg to humor the Greek chorus to listen to some of my stories— my thoughts …. my metaphors 

no, indeed— this (how does the choice to pick any cultural identity as your soul’s revolutionary mission befall the individual’s future road) should be examined and —dive deeply and our apparatus? This is the quiet stage in the back of the theatre that nobody goes to where we can try out all the costumes out of view of the critics 

*Prism Cells ….is a metaphor for ….

how much does identity factor into the importance “of being”?

WB Ashbridge & the Prism Cells continued

*(See this Story for your recap in screenshots below at end of post)

Leaving from DC is always such a nightmare; that airport was the worst of airports but the Winifred Brook Ashbridge foundation had paid for Daphne’s flight and they booked her in business class so, Daphne was allowing herself to luxuriate in the comfort of spacious seating and a few glasses of mimosa to ease the residual tension that still lingered leaving from where she was coming from RR Washington had left its slimy film upon her and the Orange medicinal helped.

For a moment a flash of the hunting lodge came before her inner visuals recalling so many miserable days feeling trapped on that barren property, her only friendly companionship was one of the several dogs who liked to follow her around, but even the dogs had all been prepared for in case of the property owner’s demise. 

What wild luck this foundation wanted her help! 

And Winifred Brook Ashbridge’s, no less!

Who says that obsessions can’t pay off? All her hours spent in chat group discussions correcting other fans about literary details of the story and the author on the website had come to their attention. That is —when the main frame motherboard for the website which also contained all of all the author’s cited publishing notes and references crashed and with it all the information. 

At first, Daphne was a little embarrassed to mention how much she herself had as far as detailed research. When she hinted that there were boxes in a temperature controlled unit that she rented just for her WBA research—well, it was at that point (though through emails still, but) they were clearly desperate to convince her they wanted to make it worth her while and prompted a phone call from them with the discussion of a salary and a rent free apartment on the foundation’s property to keep her near the work.

What they needed was to completely rebuild not just the website but, as all the years of detailed research was now lost even the foundation itself no longer had any reliable resources for referencing WB Ashbridge—and they were the definitive foundation!

How many boxes exactly? Oh dear! Well, they spared no expenses for the crates and were being flown with their own special temperature controlled shipping freight company, which was set to arrive just slightly before her own arrival. 

Had she stopped to ask herself how long this job was to last for? Had they even mentioned this? Daphne had been far too excited to stop ….to think ….that question. 

Whoops. 

Well, for now it was a gig.

And it got her out of being jobless and homeless—and it was her favorite subject so, for now, she decided to look at it as an exciting new adventure which is what Ashbridge’s books were all about; having an open mind about taking a (reasonable and well planned) chance (as the book’s wizard liked to point out before each adventure) into the unknown which always somehow wound up involving time travel in some small or big way.

Time travel. 

As though the layers of time could be traversed….

     and now ad she looked out the airplane window into the clouds, this made her think about time …. it made her think of her Tolkien dream but it also made her think about parts of her own life she wished she could travel back to. Maybe fix some things ….that she got wrong 

It made her think now about things she forgot for many many years ….like the wicked man with the polished mahogany valet where he hung up his leather belts and ….would beat her 

No, was that a dream? She had forgotten …. It was so so long ago and she was only about five ….but it was there in the dark recesses of her memories.

She leaned her head into the glass window as she stared into nothingness….and what happened next? After she left the yellow house? 

She never looked back and she never thought about that house or that wicked man with the belts or that life ever again. It was the day Father came. Nobody said he was coming. It was after the last belting and the illness that followed. Father arrived one day—but she didn’t know him as ‘Father’ before then. But he came one day and knelt down to her; he said,

“I’m taking you far away from here and that man is never going to hurt you again.”

It was the mimosa. 

She normally didn’t like to drink. It brought back memories she thought she’d long snuffed out.

But after they left she never had to think about that place or that man because everything got better then. 

Her mind went back to those happier better days at the Evans affluent home in the heart of New York City ….her mind went back there now to those beautiful memories in her childhood with Father and the day he first got her; even as it brought tears now to her eyes, she was glad of them just now.

 

the question do I miss my ex…. it is the family we were that I miss. it is as if some tragic accident took that family away and I am the widow 

Daphne & the Prism Cells

There was time to think on the flight over for Daphne; the flight made her recall so many other times she had crossed the ocean and it made her recall so many parts of her life. 

Winifred Brook Ashbridge ….had been a turning point author in her life. Often a crutch, if you will.

Through bad times ….those characters and stories held her from the great big deep abyss of ….darkness where all her fears lay 

The stories were time travel stories and she had read them too around the time she had read Lord of the Rings and often in dreams the stories mixed 

What made her think of that now? It was the dream she had had of Tolkien just the other night ….Prisms …. and layers of time 

Daphne thought of time now ….and looked out into the ocean as she remembered the time she saw the gulf stream as a child from the airplane ….the colors ….it made her remember the man ….

   ….and the day that she left the yellow house in Miami 

Who will stand beside you when your world falls apart?

mental studio