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GabijaCij

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  1. My footsteps hit the pavement, which was newly covered in frost. Like crystalline white algae, the frost clung to the black as if trying to escape the intensity of the rising sun to no avail. I could smell snow in the atmosphere. It is a scent, which has lingered over the town for three days. A scent that already compelled me to purchase this year’s season pass ski ticket. Now, those of us who belong to the snow are waiting for Winter. This morning on my run, I passed by an old barn that has stood here in a grassy valley for over a hundred years. Like an icon, it has been kept up.
  2. GabijaCij

    "EX"

    The bitter sting of autumn mist graced the beaches of Northern California. Against my feet the course gray sand was wetted by the unpredictable rhythm of crashing waves. The icy cold seawater engulfed my ankles, leaving a film of white foam on my skin. Thirty meters away, a seal bobbed beyond the wave break, staring intently as if to close the gap between ocean and land. For a moment, I forgot my life and what I knew about myself. I was just a being in a foreign landscape with nowhere to be but there. I spent the weekend at a small farm in Napa Valley. I was awoken by the sound of r
  3. A symphony of chaos, New York City buzzes and screeches around me in all directions. Bodies jockeying for space. The streets and air are stained with grunge. The buildings close out the sky. I walk through pockets of smells. One second, the rich heat of flat crust pizza. The next, the stinging sharpness of urine. New York is an assault on the senses. It overwhelms you. I have come here to gather people so as set off a ripple of consciousness within the unconsciousness. This is not my first time to New York City. It has a way of staying the same. Of all the cities in America, d
  4. This morning I sat in a bath flavored with epsom salt and lavender. The white porcelain against my back and neck hugged the steaming water in its cold embrace. Not long after settling into an intentional water meditation, I started to receive a “ping”. Let me explain… One of my gifts/curses is that I am consciously connected to the collective consciousness of mankind. It’s a bit like a non physical version of having a ham radio receiver on at all times. Occasionally a single signal rises from the ocean of consciousness, calling for attention. I call these “pings”. When they come across,
  5. I am sitting in a simple office chair. I am facing a woman more than twice my age. I am studying the gentle angles of her face. I am looking at the simple spiral lines depicted in her jewelry. I am immersed in the watery wisdom of her feel. I’ve made a practice of genuinely considering other people’s perspectives. Caring what other people think is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, if you value other people’s opinions more than your own, it can cause you to doubt yourself and fall straight into low self-esteem and 'co-dependence'. This is unhealthy. On the other hand it can
  6. Standing in the mile long line at the airport today, I ended up behind a small baby that was attached to her mother’s chest. All around us was chaos, the dizzying movement of thousands of people in one place. The disorienting push and pull of panic when that many people realize they might not make it to their flights on time for departure. So many voices competing for reception. But ahead of me, this baby had tipped her head completely backwards so her mother could look deeply into her eyes. The mother stroked her cheeks and the curls of her hair as the two of them remained transfixed wit
  7. The dimensions of self play out like layers of silk in a loose frame that we could call a sense of self. I am thousands of feet in the air. I am living life. I am thinking about living life. I am observing myself thinking about living life. I am the space where the thoughts about living life take shape. I am aware that ‘I am’, implies an identity and ‘where’ implies a location when the “truth” is that both statements imply time and form and yet consciousness extends far beyond that dimension of existence. Being able to simultaneously perceive these layers of self, is both displacing and
  8. The Austrian wind is a different kind of wind. There is a menthol like chill to it as it whistles through the corridors of Vienna. Tipping your face to the sky, you are surrounded by the towering, elaborate skeleton of an empire, whose time has come and gone. Yet its grandiosity remains. The sounds of horse drawn carriages still echoes through the streets, but instead of monarchy, they pull tourists now. Vienna was not a city that people simply lived in. It was a city that people became and it was a city that became them. People identified with it to the degree that those who shaped it,
  9. The time worn bell throws it’s heavy notes across the center of the city. It is 7:00pm and the shops are already closed. The manikins, standing in the darkened windows, pose in alluring positions. They tease the people on the street into wanting what they can no longer access. The cities of Switzerland close down just as the cities in other countries begin to wake up. Except for a few tourists, the street is almost empty. “This is a ghost town,” Blake says as we turn the corner. “Where do they all go at night?” Three days ago, we took the train from Zermatt to Basel. We walked t
  10. I walked across the cobblestone in the evening light. It was turning purple. The sun had long abandoned the hillsides, which careened upwards on either side of the village, straight into thin air. To my right, a table stood littered with various crystals and spiritual relics. From inside the shop, I heard the faint electric culling of a mineral entity. This often happens when a stone resonates with you. They gravitate to you and you to them, in the same way that lovers of the same species do. I decided to go in. I had to duck in order to make it through the tiny doorway. Like a hobbit’
  11. The muffled grating of the wheels on the train track comes up through the bottom of the train. Out the window, Swiss farmland wizzes by, shimmering an emerald green in the rain light. There is a lush softness to the energy of this place, which is very rare for a place so violently beautiful. Switzerland is one of the most beautiful places on earth. I have just come from London. Usually when I hold an event, I spend hours meeting people in person and on this trip, I didn’t even have time to do that. It didn’t feel very good. I felt sort of “ripped away from my people”. But the inter
  12. The voice of a child says It is better that our hearts grow light It is better to embrace instead of exile suffering From instead of to it’s murdering breath Mothers weep until their tears run dry Their sons on distant streets decay Kissed by the meritless fever of war Stripped of life And all souls die along with them Just as all souls live As a newborn embraces the joy of its mother’s breast Relieved of the heavy husk of childhood Let our voices rise to denounce All that kept us prisoner Like the undisturbed stars My
  13. The voice of a child says It is better that our hearts grow light It is better to embrace instead of exile suffering From instead of to it’s murdering breath Mothers weep until their tears run dry Their sons on distant streets decay Kissed by the meritless fever of war Stripped of life And all souls die along with them Just as all souls live As a newborn embraces the joy of its mother’s breast Relieved of the heavy husk of childhood Let our voices rise to denounce All that kept us prisoner Like the undisturbed stars My heart flickers without falter I use it’s
  14. The purple velvet of the chair I am sitting in creates a sense of containment. There are crystals of all shapes and sizes littering every available square inch of the room. The pellucid 4th dimensional communication streams between them stretch like an elaborate, glittering spider’s web throughout the room. I designed this little healing room specifically so that people would be bathed in a matrix of the various energies that bring a human body back into alignment. I have worked with clients here for years now. In the real world, people hardly connect with one another. They pretend t
  15. Fragile light streams into the hotel room through the cream colored curtains. The bourgeois hotel room invites it in, like a sponge that has a hunger to be filled. Outside, Seattle is in action under its reliable, gloomy skies. I have come here to visit and theorize with one of my closest friends, Ethan Hill and to collaborate on a video with another spiritual teacher that lives here. Seattle is my favorite food city in America. I am always excited to come here for that very reason. It is also a beautiful city. There is nothing quite like the sight from the ferry of the city collected a
  16. Where each breath and step is none but a progression towards death. Where pain is the loud and bloody birthing ground for peace. Our cowardice saves us from nothing in a world where bravery was never a choice. It leaks like sweat from the pores. It is dried in the sun of our commitment to live. Where a trillion lives are spinning through the cosmos; at a thousand miles per hour with no destination in sight. Our faith is placed in the color of our blood, in the salt of our tears. Where the heart is broken and it keeps on beating just the same. Where love is the only ev
  17. Seagulls fly with labored strokes between the towering, grey residential buildings with no particular aim. The building windows are the color of green sea foam. Their reflection holds steady against the sky. Staring out towards the bay at the endless stream of seaplanes landing and taking off and sailboats coming and going, they seem to be waiting for something; something that may never come. Like eager witnesses, they watch the steady but erogenous coupling between earth and water. The place I was supposed to stay in Vancouver fell through at the last minute, leaving myself and my w
  18. The buzzing creeps up on me like a vapor in the bones. I am familiar with the pain that follows resisting it. I have become adept at letting it devour me… Turn me to cosmic dust. This part of my life has been a blessing and a curse for over thirty years. Spontaneous increases in personal frequency will seemingly eject me from this physical world. ‘Astral planing’ it was called the first time I heard someone speak of it publicly. You become adept at letting go of yourself entirely when it isn’t a conscious choice to leave. On higher dimensional levels, the personality and the persona
  19. I drive by the tidy, white-grey spires of the Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City, Utah. Like a focal point, all city roads are arranged in a neat East to West and North to South grid around it. All directions and addresses are described in relationship to the temple itself. It is a colossal emblem of pious tyranny. Salt Lake City is a very strange city. Skipping over the long history (as in thousands of years long history) of Native American settlement (namely Shoshone, Paiute, Goshute and Ute) it was officially settled by the Mormons and founded by the Church President Brigham Young.
  20. Over the centuries, our ideas about good and bad ways to raise a child have changed. For example, in the medieval days, childhood did not really exist. As soon as a child could physically manage, they were put to work, often in roles that would be seen as slavery today. Children were not seen as pure, in fact they were seen as evil and the extraordinary corporal punishment used (which was of course considered normal and commonplace), was used to grant a child salvation and goodness. In this era, even in the most aristocratic households, instead of valuing and adoring their child, some pare
  21. Lichen, by Aphex Twin is a song I used to obsessively play on repeat at 18 years old. Listen to it as you read this poem I wrote today: Let the wanderer and the questioner arrive at a crossroads, which offers both rising and descending. Both opening and closing. Like a lotus, these crossroads represent the present moment. Like a lotus, they represent the truth that in your very hand is found the power to open or to close in every moment. Let the sweet perfume of the answer tempt you forward all the days of your life. Not for the answer’
  22. The rain sneaks past the curve of the umbrella and with each step, the dampness of my clothes increases. Mud underfoot accumulates and makes movement difficult. I let the wind blow me to the pavement walkway. It is covered in so much water; it looks like I’m walking on a glassy black river. The raindrops hit the surface and little splashes bounce back up towards the sky. I turn around. My son is so small beneath the expanse of his adult sized umbrella that I can only see him from the knee down. The cartoon red of his sneakers against the gray hues of the landscape is captivating. It’s
  23. The way the frigid water meets the craggy shore of the Norwegian coastline, evokes a powerful feeling from you. There is an epic flavor to the felt experience of its sight. There is a cruelty to its beauty that both beckons and warns. If one understands the way that vibrational reality works, it is no surprise that people are a vibrational match to the land that they call home. You could tell the story that the people are altered by the land and in time come to reflect it. You could tell the story that the land is altered by the people and in time, comes to reflect them. But I prefer a m
  24. A giant expanse of windows looks out on the Oslo Fjord this morning. I rented a modern penthouse apartment for this leg of my short European tour. From here, I can see boats pulling white stripes through the water. Houses are sprawled through the thick blanket of trees that cover the hilly landscape as far as the eye can see. Seagulls fly by the window and below me; at a distance I can see tourists walking haphazardly through Frogner Park. A sculpture monolith of human bodies piled atop one another and struggling to get to the top, rises above the trees; the pinnacle of Gustav Vigelan
  25. The red roofs that are so iconic to Prague stretch for miles into the distance. Intimate and organized into aesthetic collections, they give the impression of coziness, which softens the impact of the absolute grandness of this place. May is the most beautiful time of year in Prague. The sun shines on the landscape in such a way that it looks more like a painting than like real life. The trees are so heavy with blossoms that the hillsides are ablaze with brilliant purples and pinks and whites and yellows. The air is saturated with the fertile perfume of spring. Prague looks like the sett
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