an auric awareness of pink, white, red, a comparison to a cup of tea, and an inquiry of eternal importance

Knowing but not knowing (just because it feels right)
Awareness. I've been thinking about that word a lot lately.

It's because there a lot of things about myself that people find amazing that I am not even aware of. Like pulling off being the shyest (did I spell that right?) person in a play I did about 2 months back when I'm one the loudest and nonstop most talkative people anyone can encounter. I mean, I laugh at anything, and I laugh pretty loud. At least that I'm aware of.

I was at an acting workshop last February, and the most curious part about the whole session was when Jane, the acting coach decided that we "play with our auras." She never planned on having us do that, but it came from the reactions we had when we played that staple "trust" game. You know, the one where you have to fall stiff into someone's arms who is dead sure to catch you or else. There were about seven of us. The one who is to fall stands blindfolded in the middle of a wide circle that the other six will make by walking around. The "one" is to take their time in falling. According to Jane, you have to "feel" the direction in which you are to fall. A lot of people, 4 or them, probably, decided to drop themselves on the tiniest of us, the very head of our group because probably of her mother figure in spite of her incredibly petite stature. One of us "chose" to fall on me probably because I knew her before she met anyone else in the group. I was one of the those who landed on the tiny one.

"Why did you choose her?" Jane asked.

"It felt right," I answered.

I didn't move around, like what the others did. I just stood there in the circle, felt if it was right, and fell.

The thing is, in my minds eye while the circle was just about to stop after moving and walking around me, I could see a circle consisting of blocks of colors. I didn't see all of the colors around in the circle, but as the movement came to a stop, I could clearly see a bright pink block glow on the lower left of the circle as it had stopped simultaneously in my mind. The colors around it were fading shades of blue. I decided to fall in the direction the pink was, and I found out that I had "chosen" the tiny one. That would prove to be interesting as I researched what pink meant, and it turns out to be the aura color of a nuturing character, which is precisely how one would describe her.

Dwelling on what I had just said, Jane decided to pencil in an exercise of aura exploring.

An awareness of numb
We sat in a smaller circle knee to knee next to each other, pierced our palms with our middle fingers, and moved our palms in curcular movements over each other. Jane said that what we would be feeling would be something close to unbelievable. The others were feeling heat from their hands. Within seconds, the heat was overwhelming. We were feeling our auras. I wasn't feeling anything, but it was strange that my hands were moving, swirling on their own. I had a weird look on my face which Jane noticed.

"I'm not feeling anything," I said when she asked how I was doing. "In fact, I my hands feel cold, and their really moving on their own."

So she told us to swirl our palms over the palms of the people next to us. While I wasn't even feeling anything, I was surprised that the people next to me were almost gasping at the heat of my aura (okay, that sounds vain in a super villain way, but that's that). The one on my right says she almost couldn't take it, while the one on my left says that I'm as hot as a handle of a cup of tea, barely touchable but almost bearable to handle.

I wasn't feeling anything, but Jane was feeling just as overwhelmed.

While I was utterly clueless.

So she asked us to stand and find our place in the huge room, close our eyes, gather up our auras again, and do whatever we feel like our auras want to do.

I was praying in tongues as my aura started to gather. Then I was swaying. I couldn't handle it anymore, so I just had to

...run.

Who's red? -and- That streaker of white
I bumped into a girl who swore she saw a flash of red. She claims that it was me, but it couldn't be possible because the color I saw streaking behind me was white. If the red was anyone's aura, it was hers. She has what psychology calls projecting. She complains about the people around her for the group's faults when she is really talking about herself. And her kind of red means competitive, if not aggresion.

According to a few sources, a white aura:

"Indicates purity and/or protection. When detected in the outer layers of the aura, can indicate an area of the body which has been over energized, or is over active."

Which is why I felt the urge to run.

Other sources say:

"Reflects other energy. A pure state of light. Often represents a new, not yet designated energy in the aura. Spiritual, etheric and non-physical qualities, transcendent, higher dimensions. Purity and truth; angelic qualities."

I could see angels. Not all the time, so don't ask. I do get strange, ethereal, recurrent dreams, though. As if that's got anything to do with anything.

This one's my favorite:

When white stands out in the aura, and I mean in a way that it is very apparent you are seeing an abundance of white, and not just white in the aura or a poor perception of the aura, this is indicating pure pranic energy, life force, truth and purity of spirit. This has been seen in yogis and gurus. It indicates that the energy of the individual is purifying and cleansing and of the greatest spiritual awakening.

But anyway, I ran. I couldn't give much sense in "controlling" my aura, so I had to stretch, and shrink towards a squat on the floor to contain it. Jane, when walking around and walked across my path felt that where I ran was indeed hot.

...yet I couldn't feel anything. And it bothers me. It doesn't bother me a whole bunch, but the fact that I couldn't feel my aura's heat, know that my whiteness wants to do, or know what I'm feeling is something of a mystery that I feel I should at least be aware of.

The thing is, I have a nasty habit of saying that I don't mean. My family has the same nasty habit. I also have a habit of doing one thing, but meaning something else. On the brighter side of that, I tend to surprise myself, like what I said earlier about pulling off a shy-type character on stage, or exuding an air of elegance as I walk across a platform, or walking with unknown confidence when commuting (a comment a friend made once).

The novelties of the need to discover oneself
Pat said that not knowing how deeply I affect people (or him for that matter) is a great asset. It's a nice thing to say, something that I can't disagree with, but being a bimbo to myself can be harmful. I'm thankful, nonetheless. The descriptions of white auras as stated above can sometimes affirm how helpful I used to be to people I've come across in the past years. I haven't been as "useful" in the Christian charity sense of the word, but out of all this, all I have are two questions:

1. Who am I? and
2. What am I to do with this kind of energy?

The first questions asks for awareness. The closest place I can find that is in God's presence, which I am exploring as I decide to go on my own Lent (more on the following post). The second question asks for what my purpose in life is.

The closest answers that I can gather are:

1. I'm a child of God, and
   
2. Sing, act, dance (in that particular order

I am a child of God. Nothing else will change that. Sometimes I think that I suck at being a child of God redeemed by his son's death and resurrection, but it's a lie to believe in you can actually "suck" and be condemned.

As for number two, I'm not doing all that now. But one thing's sure: It's what I'd love to do forever.

Faith endorphines

There is nothing like an endorphine rush. Especially if it comes out and pounces on you the midst of anxiety.

When Jesus was on the cross, the last thing he ever said was "It is finished." From a teachign I listened to recently (and a real bad ass one at that), theoriginal language used the word teleo, which implies accomplishment, of completion. Of course, any "good" Christian would say that the price has been paid in full, yadda yadda, yadda, but saying this while at the end of something that was abrupted by corruption, politics and power, it doesn't really sound, well, sound.

My mother, as her wont on certain mornings, woke me up in such a way that we were having an argument. She had reason to complain. Having slept at 8 am that morning out of a nasty habit of cramming a submission for my an MA class, she complained to me at around noon (in the middle of yet another strange dream involving the plaid green pattern of my old high school uniform), about my unemployment. I felt like she was telling me what I already know, which makes me feel stupid, which in turn makes me feel like utter shit.

Note to self: never ever wake up your children this way EVER.

Having been to a job fair recently, and left a resume to some 5 companies, called for an interview, and currently waiting for a follow-up interview, the wait is terrible. It's supposed to wear down on me, but it seems to wear down on my mother more than it really should.

Do I feel bummed that I'm not employed? F*ck yes. But how am I really supposed to feel?

I heard this from Rob Bell:

"His claims are greatest when He is at His worst."

While commuting to school hours later after unintentionally being talked down to like I'm a piece of crap, I set out to submit the said crammed submission. On the onset of the commute, I prayed. And on the onset of my prayer, I admitted to the nasty stuff I had done. Porn, doubting God's promises, laziness and the unfulfilment of a promise to a friend to make a zine. Simple stuff, but these were the things that were bearing down on me, and I didn't want these to interfere with my walk with God, especially my peace of mind.

And I felt all the baddies go away. And so I prayed the best prayers, and praised God on my way home. Everything was going to be fine. I know that the best company will call and hire me.

So keep up courage...for I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me. ~Acts 27.25

Love covers a lot of things

I met Patrick online. He's 29, turning 30 in a few months.

I met him at a promiscuous chatroom. Having met there is a fluke: I wasn't really waiting for anyone, and was ready and more than willing to ignore anyone who clicks on me and ask for conversation. This Florida bar owner, beach front resident, and surfer mysteriously grew on me. Then we unbelievably became friends.

He lived with he grandparents all his life until, of course, when he moved out. Pat was lucky, in an unlucky sense. His parents died in a car crash when he was three, and his grandparents raised him from then on. According to him, he has reason to believe that his father was good for nothing, and that his mother wasted her life marrying him. But they died, leaving Patrick an orphan, and an inheritor of some 25 trust funds.

But there are those who aren't lucky.

I usually don't feel anything when it comes to news like this, unless if it's on Oprah (yes, I'm seriously a huge fan, and my face lights up every time I see someone comment), and victims of child abuse are rescued or something touching like that. But the little boy from Canada stuck me. Patrick was lucky. But luck is an understatement.

Patrick was blessed. And I don't believe in accidents.

Saying that after mentioning a car accident seems to be mean, but it just goes to show that there is a god out there, who knows the earth's every turn.

So this one's for Patrick. He's blessed to have people care for him.

Testing

A word to the wise. This is an anonymous blog. But whatever I say in it is real.

Now that I've let that out in the open, I'll get on the gyst of this whole thing.

I'm a Christian, perhaps a recovering evangelical. I hate my church, and I'm sad that I hate it. But I'm happy that I'm not the only one. That thought doesn't necessarily justify my hate/scorn/apathy/frustration with my church. It just makes me feel better, clears my mind, and reminds me to have compassion. Okay. I don't know where that came from, or if it made any sense.

Like most Christians, I have struggles just as I have beliefs. Porn is one of them, aside from my frustration with church. Rebellion is one of them; tell me to one thing, I'll most likely do another. It may be undiagnosed ADD, but it's a problem.

So this is where I'll let it all out. Everything I've dreamt of, affirmations of scripture, a hope for healing for someone, and promises God dropped on my lap that I'm waiting to happen for which is testing my faith.

...and hopefully, the waiting won't be in vain.