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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/980144-More-about-Morning-Pages-and-Automatic-Writing
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You are what you write. Illusion and Reality...I reside in between. Where are you?
#980144 added April 3, 2020 at 5:48pm
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More about Morning Pages and Automatic Writing
More about Morning Pages. What is Automatic Writing you may ask?
I unconsciously wrote this on Monday, January 13, 2020 in my Morning Pages (Week 5, Day 2) . . .
(I added the ( ) words)

"We are all in one, narrow point of NOW. By the time the pen follows, it is past and 'finished.' We (writers) are the realm of Before Now. You call future as you SEE, HEAR our (source) voice to enter NOW—constantly flushing the cycle—the energy passes, blooms and is finished before the INK TOUCHES! Think on that creative moment and the enormous volume of information possible in that Now-moment--over and over with no edges of beginning or ending. The NOW of living in 3-D Earth is a nano-second of awareness, bubbling in and out, unseen and not considered—only the input received—Flash! It is past-on to be recorded, already part of the history of your unending "Time."

PSIONIC= practical use of psychic powers: Automatic Writing.
What is Automatic Writing?
Automatic writing is quite a calming practice that literally and metaphorically opens your mind!
(Semi-official definition:)
Automatic writing is the practice of writing words in a trance-like state that originate from a place outside of conscious awareness. Psychologists and spiritualists have varying beliefs about the origin of automatic writing, with some arguing that it is sourced from the unconscious mind, and others claiming that it originates from supernatural forces such as spirit guides and angels.

Angels, huh? Well, I don't know about that. What I did was read Julia Cameron's book, The Artist's Way, that introduces the idea of writing at least three pages every morning. Julia says:
"It is my experience both as an artist and as a teacher that when we move out on faith into the act of creation, the universe is able to advance. It is a little like opening the gate at the top of a field irrigation system. Once we remove the blocks, the flow moves in."
  [Cameron, Julia. The Artist's Way--Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.]

She outlines a twelve week program where you do the apparently pointless process called the morning pages. You do the pages daily through all the weeks of the course and, as it turned out I've never stopped. Now completing my sixteenth week and almost filled five notebooks. Plus an unbelievable amount of new material for two separate novels! That part is still on-going every morning.

There's not a right way to do it. But the learning to shut down your personal, built in censor and judge, is probably the hardest lesson. I define it as my self confronting, or being confronted by, my SELF—that's the big YOU or for some it's called the soul, if you want to be spiritual. (Julia's book calls it God, but includes no obligation to do so.) I go with: myself has to listen to and speak to my SELF. Also, I have a guide, and that part I cannot explain except he's always there and often lectures or even rants. His name for me is "FoolBe." There is a distinct difference between my voice and my guide 'Sean.' Even the handwriting looks different sometimes. I can't question that part of this process. If I do, it doesn't work.

Now 'they' have to listen to me as well. I have complaints, bitches, rants about everything. It's personal and no one else will ever read it, but expressing all that carried-around s**t is very cleansing. I like the image of opening the irrigation gate to let the water flow. No judgement, no comment, it's just there. Write now, read much later, if ever.

In my morning pages from Week 5, Day 7, I wrote:
"The Old Ones cannot argue their blind proof less story of the oldest word printed in many translations to move the readers to their belief's point of view—The truth of false words, tied like woven glue and iron bands to their father's father, and mother's blind devotion to a sweet, loving statue. The image dominates in giant, benevolently-carved stone to impress. The image of God—male, with a beard, fearsome eyes seeing all the sins—bow down to what? Pictures? Robes of humility? Raiment of golden glory, backed by songs of pure love and blessed devotion? All created out of impressed, designed education to believe that each is correct and more right."
(This rant goes on for 2 more pages.)

Then I wrote:
"The Silent Ones, waiting for the old leaders to perish to dust—can you see the possibilities? The babies grow up with new ideas—fear them? Or embrace the innocent with love and acceptance. The God of ALL sees ALL and you say, "shakes his head."

Does "He" have a head like you? Your IMAGE of God is you? — No — No — Not possible! The failure of human beings to see beyond self is your doomed belief. There are more plants on Earth than humans. Perhaps God is a mighty tree with roots deep in the Earth, and like you, drinks the rain from the sky and embraces the warmth of the sun. Perhaps our Earth belongs to the Insects, the number infinitely more that all the rest together. What is their God if not a giant spider casting a web to snare the non-believers. Or the hot lava flowing from the volcanoes could be the touch of God reaching for the sky. You are all blind to the greatness that surrounds you.

The final words of your monkish man is a question, not an answer. He cannot give an answer. The conflict of ideas will continue, they resolve nothing except a tiny spark of awareness that blooms in the minds of a few. Season that, trusty one who rarely listens and say, I love you. BYE . . ."

So, shocking or amazing? I wrote all that and at the time could not recall anything I had written. Go figure . . .

emoj face with glasses 

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