Who then? If you didn't come for you?
And, what do you mean that your postings impose?
"...all that is given that is not asked for is an imposition." You said your mother and sister say the same.
What of the reality of union?
Heavy robes in drapes and folds.
I asked myself that question many times - am I not also (at least) here for me. Look at all the things I've picked up along the way, new skills I've learned (photoshop, markdown, tips on photography) and I shall miss this conversation that almost feels like something from real life;
For Unity, yes, that is why I am here. But it is impossible to "do" anything for it here. Steemit fragments my flow so dramatically (compared to the work I am used to doing) that it's been a massive endurance test for me, too. Catering to several hundred voices is not for me. Talking to the ones you know is also not possible because you all don't know me (and why on earth would you be interested in little me) and noone yet has shown sufficient interest to help me in my research, which leaves me with very little at the end of every posting.
Yes, of course, I am you and you are me and we are all in this God-child together. But I am not here like most are here, because they like to be here or chose to be here (even if only because there is nothing better). I am incredibly short on time if I am to continue with my research, which I would only put aside if something "better" (more meaningful) cropped up. It did not. In fact, I end up with my research entirely ignored if not misunderstood. But that is fine (I am used to that) only what am I looking for here? #cahlen bumped into similar issues back home, and he has found a reason for being here. So, I'm not knocking Steemit, but it's not for me.
Doing something for me is no longer possible. Using me for a beneficial (greater good) purpose is another thing, but a difficult one. Like a child offering a sucked sweet to their mother. Or a repulsive man trying to court you (I never said no when that happened, because am I not just as ugly in the face of someone, too?). Half of it may only be hyper self-consciousness (and in need of psychotherapy, but I am passed all that) but the other half also has much to do with persistent circumstances giving me no choice (karma). So be it. My elegance can only lie in accepting this.
Do you get a bit what I meant, now?
Of course, one must be careful not to become brain-washed by two (or a whole bunch of ) people, anyway, who just don't like you and find your presence unwelcome (mother/sister). Also they don't mean it in every single possible way (only in nearly every possible way) and besides there are different kind of people in the world to try yourself out on. However, the inner child can only get knocked on the head so many times before she needs to be carried and that pretty much becomes the priority of the Leading Self.
It is important that one gets the sense of being likeable. Of having one person at least (at most even!) rooting for you, for a lengthy period of time (reliably). I have never known that, ever. So by the time you reach 50, you either retreat entirely (cat lady in the attic). Or you do as you are told.
Who gets to tell me anything that I take seriously? That is another matter, and a discussion for another day.
Yes, it does make more sense and I do know what you mean about the fragmentation and the community is vast and broad, but in that spread a depth is lost. At the same time, I have had the pleasure of encountering souls like you who are thinking/exploring deeply and that has been a source of refreshment for me as many I encounter in day to day aren't willing/able or doing the same.
When I was a little girl, my mother would drop me off all day at a skating rink. I begged to go and even though I was maybe 6-8 years old, by myself. There was always a big girl there (maybe they were different each time), but someone older who was skating fast and fantastically around the rink. I'd set my eyes on her and try to copy the way her feet moved, usually crashing on the curves, but getting up over and over again in a persistent effort of emulation. In some way, you seem that big girl on the rink, or like me, we are both determined to be better skaters--not better gardeners or bowlers, or golfers, but are particularly interested in the skating. Maybe, poor analogies, but I think you'll get my point. We seem on the same trajectory of spirit.
Like you, I don't know that I'll be here forever, or devote as much time as I have my own ideas of research/work in the works and would like to start offering more to my literal community by way of what I've learned and coming to discover. Not even sure how I ended up on Steemit? I sort of just stumbled on it after getting interested in crypto world after a woman at a dream workshop started going off about it all in humanitarian terms rather than a way to get wealthy. That is why I came. I haven't even spent the time researching all of how the system of earning or sharing works here beyond reading and writing and I guess I don't care to spend the time figuring it out. Maybe, it'd be better if I did and grew enough that more than you and a couple of robots were responding to my posts, but maybe not?
There is great elegance in your acceptance of karma and a rule above the importance bestowed by society. I am just coming to that and even wiping the slate clean as far as paid employment which greatly hinders my efforts, I find I barely have enough time, am always busy and how to explain to others? I just don't try anymore.
Oh, how I fear becoming the cat lady in the attic, or doing what I'm told because I'll never be that person. I keep on trying in the relational realm.
Do you remember that British comedy, Butterflies? I used to watch it as a young mother in my twenties and I'm not sure why I found it so fascinating at that age, but I did. The actress is probably around our age now and has two teen son's living at home. Her life is a huge bustle while husband and kids are around, her making sure they're fed, have clean clothes and then during the day she wanders around daydreaming.
Good book to write, titled, Cat Lady in the Attic. A compilation of stories of women of mature age and their thoughts on spiritual pursuits/purpose (Jungian attic).
Now, I am back upstairs to paint the trim.
Yes, remember Butterflies.
Isn't it odd: stumbling in and stumbling back out?
How will it feed more than the cats?
Ready to see, to experiment, but also tired at the thought that it's hardly going to make a dent in the (dream) work that needs to be done.
The time to dream alone, however, is most certainly over. The butterflies confirm that (Steiner wrote much and highly esoterically about the nature of butterflies as etheric connectors of worlds.)
Yes, it is odd. And, I'm not sure? All a grand experiment. Perhaps, just enough in knowing that there are other owls & butterflies, swooping and flitting in different parts of the world who are also going about their business in solitary ways. Maybe, we are the front-fliers for the others in making these etheric connections in a world growing ever more split from spirit?
But, like you have said, the real play gets lost in the forever corridors of the worldwideweb. Both children and adults ought to touch the dirt, talk to the stars, play horse in the backyard. Always, a delicate balance.