This is my tiny London bolthole for the past 4 years or so. Am saying goodbye to it; the spirit has to take control over the stubborn mind and body. A friend says I suffer from Spirit of Python, where our legacy wraps itself around us and chokes the life out of us. I gave myself many excuses not to change… “off grid” and hard to find me, place of refuge if needed, missing stimulation out in the regions.
But really it was a gateway to people and places that don’t serve me, and drag me back towards the broad path that ends in destruction. Have a new tenant lined up. No more “posh squat” for me, living unofficially in what is formally a commercial building (but loads of people live here in a rather crazy community of misfits). I have enough photos of skyscrapers for now.
Am hopeful that the catastrophic scenarios for Covid and the cities have been interdicted and terminated. London might be a bit too exciting in a financial reset and genocide reveal. Dull is the new delightful.
Suicides in jail are said to often happen in the same cells. People are asked why they tried; they never thought about it before entering this cell; but then the idea crept in and never left, until they tried to kill themselves. From prisoner to prisoner, it stays stored in the walls.
Same for our suffering, in the walls and in our stuffs (bedsheets, pilows, clothes, mugs...).
We come to a new place and feel quite OK, a fresh new start. But then our struggles get us once again, almost failing but anyway... and then it gets worse and worse, because it accumulates in this new place too.
And when we get to break the circle the easiest way is to dump it all.
Maybe you could consciously clean it if you know how, but many engrams would stay anyway. For me it has been a matter of life or death.
Sometimes radical change is the only way to regain freedom. AND you get to choose brand new sheets :)
