I had a pretty spectacular/transformational/disruptive to day to day life awakening at the start of April. I feel like I'll spend the rest of my life integrating it, and at the same time it never happened. For some reason, I feel the need to tell the story of it.  I don't know if that's right or wrong but if I've learned one thing it's to follow my impulses. It will probably take me several posts.  "There are no signs. They are all signs.  There are no sacred places. They are all sacred places.  There is no story to write. There are no stories." I must confess, I am a story teller. I invite you to come sit around the campfire, but only if you like stories. You see, stories are like psychedelics when you get properly lost in them. The classic books and the most beloved stories are full of pointers. Moby Dick, Humpty Dumpty, Sleeping Beauty... the stories of Jesus, Buddha, and the list goes on, all are pointers to nonduality. Your own life is just a story. It is very special because it happened on this physical plane, and you are the author of your life. Before you can see fully how special it really is, you have to disregard it as nothing. It is so meaningless that the meaning is profound beyond words.  The stories we call fiction are downloads from Source. There is only one creative mind and so all creativity that flows through a person is a download from this mind. All tropes are from this mind. For me the duality between truth and fiction is forever lost. No biography of any person who actually lived can ever be accurate. It's only a gross account of something that happened. It's like a cop gathering witness accounts of an accident or a crime, we spin things into stories as we remember them. This is always the case.  My awakening happened here on the forum in the journal section with the help of another member or two (an unknowingly the entire forum). I started having a lot of conversations with this member and had an insight/impulse to metaphorically offer him an apple. That was the start of my descent into the rabbit hole of fairytale, Biblical storyland.  This is a post I saved from my now deleted journal, this post set the ball rolling.  "I don't know. I don't know what's on the other side. AH, you're so compellingly frustrating, a book I can't put down as obligations I'm neglecting pile around me. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I don't know where this energy comes from. It drives me. I have no control.   I have a story of something that recently happened to me that I can't let go of. I don't know why I can't let go of it. It drives me mad. Why am I so attached? I've told it to a few people as if I'm looking for something from them but no one really has anything to say. It seems more like a story I've made up rather than something that actually happened.  I had a business and had a lot of success at the start and bought a house almost 10 years ago. I was only 20 and I made the decision completely on emotion. It was an old house in a ghost town and I didn't have any idea how much work would be involved. I cursed myself and the decision for years until I made peace with it and then we were finally able to finish the work on it. But when I first saw this house, driving up to it I had this feeling like I was entering another world. There was something compelling about it. Fast forward to last year and I am looking for somewhere nearby to take my kids to play. I start taking them to this spot by the river. Every single time we go I experience presence but there's this energy there too in addition. Something about the place burns itself into my mind and I keep going back and going back. Every time the river offers up something new. It is the perfect illustration to me of the saying that you cannot step into the same river twice.  On a whim I take my daughter for a walk in the stroller through the cemetery. When I was a kid my parents caretook a cemetery and I had to spend every weekend and time after school helping them. It was on a hill overlooking a lake, incredibly beautiful. I love cemeteries and have no negative or spooky feelings from them. In this poor town, there was only one notable doctor resident who is buried there. He lived in the 1800's and was famous for his use of herbal medicines. His monument is massive and the entire lot is covered in beautiful stone with heavy granite urns. I put on the stroller brakes and go up to read inscriptions on the stone. I must have not been careful enough, even though I've done this thousands of times. My daughter goes flying down the hill and I sprint after her as fast as I can just barely catching her before she crashed into some other gravestones. I leave the cemetery slightly, just slightly spooked. I don't go back until fall. When I do I visit there is only one plant growing on the entire stone covered lot. It's a beautiful plant with red berries, but plant nerd that I am I recognize it as poison nightshade. Why is the only thing growing on an herbal healers grave poison nightshade? I go back to visit his grave one more time, again with my daughter. This time I don't trust the stroller and I take her out and bring her up with me to read the inscriptions on his stone. My daughter gets really unhappy and I have to leave with her. After we've gone too far to go back she realizes that she threw off her mittens somewhere and screams "MY MITTENS", over and over again all the way home. So I keep thinking about this doctor and I remember that my friend and I discovered he had written his recipes down in a book. An impulse comes to me to look for it and it feels good. I remember sitting at my computer trying to remember what exactly the impulse was because all I could remember was having one but not what it was. It came back to me and I searched for his book.  I find that now a library has added it as public domain and I can read it for free, right then online. It's not just some bizarre herbal recipes. It's his entire story.  He wasn't actually a doctor. He was clairvoyant. It describes his communion with nature and how his powers came about and his battle with self interest. I find the book the most compelling thing I've ever read in my life. It has so many parallels to my life and things I was thinking about.  Out on a run I decide to go back to his grave. The ground is covered in a small amount of wet snow and as I finally read the inscriptions on the stone undistracted this time, I see that exactly where I stepped is one of my daughter's mittens.  Later I happen upon a facebook post in an abandoned places group I'm a part of, from someone who went to see the foundation where his summer mansion once stood. I go to find it for myself and it overlooks the very spot on the river I was so drawn to. I now make a habit of sitting on the old massive granite blocks and clearing my mind. I've had three major insights there. Last week I went back to his grave and there was my daughter's other mitten directly on his grave. I sat there in the sun and meditated on the warmth and unfailing love of peace. " Shortly after this entry, insights started barraging me, and I continued to not sleep or eat except for the bare minimum I could function on. It felt like I was possessed. Synchronicity started becoming intense. Every song on the radio had a message for me. I accused the other member of being like a little boy who won't eat his Easter bunny because he doesn't want to ruin it. I had an impulse to check a free library box and in it I found a half eaten Easter bunny and a book about how you create your reality.  The duality between intuition, impulses that felt good and my obsessive compulsive impulses I had had as a child dissolved.  "I feel better, I did something I had negative obsessive compulsive thoughts about doing, realized it was a thwarted impulse and realized I needed to take action. Pieces of the puzzle are still coming together after the fact, my previous minor fixations of the past month, pleasures and demons both all have come together. Another amazing storyline from my life that came together so beautifully for me recently was the catalyst of all this feminine energy realization. I had recorded a video and I said that I used to be obsessive compulsive when I was a child but that's not true. I've always been obsessive compulsive. Except it's not a problem I can throw away. It's my power. " Everything I ever loved, all the symbols and my love for lions came together in beautiful realizations of nonduality. The doctor had a lion statue in front of his house. I also became conscious of the power of symbols I had paid no mind to and realized that the grave of the doctor was covered in pyramid shapes. He had been a stone mason before he awakened to his clairvoyant powers.  Every painful and traumatic event in my life was seen through the eyes of an author who dreamed it up it for greater good and out of love for her character.  I got reminded of the book that I always wanted to write and I realized that the idea was a prophetic analogy of my life, yet I was still learning the lessons the character was supposed to learn and so I could not actually write it. "It's been in my head for 6+ years. But writing it always seemed like work. Until now. Now it feels like it could just happen.  My friend and I explored the town I lived in shortly after I moved here. I'll tell you more about her later because she's really important. She has no fear about anything, I do, and at that time was absolutely controlled by it.  We drove almost all the way down a dead end road, where the river at some point stops being a river and starts being ocean and you come out to the point. As you drive the road gets narrower and less of a road and there's a sense of fear and foreboding even as you drive. There have even been more bizarre problems with domestic violence down there than you'd think for the number of people that live there. Someone got shot a few years ago.  So me and my friend see this massive old abandoned house down a gated road on the river which this far down is part ocean and part river. I'm already spooked and she insists on driving in. We can't tell if the door is pitch black or wide open and we get closer and closer and are both afraid now but driven by curiosity. There was no door. We were looking at blackness inside the house. We went back to the place later and went inside.  The spirit of the place. I can't even.  It was vandalized. But wild roses like grow by the ocean here were growing all up the wall and wildflowers of all kinds and colors up all around as grow in a neglected field in late summer. I remember that the moon was in the sky overhead. I had a photo with it all, but I lost it.  They burned the house since. That's the place I drove back to last night, but the house is gone and now there's a no trespassing sign.  This is the story I had in my head. I don't have much, just a basic outline. A girl/woman, not sure of the age yet, is raised in a fundamentalist Christian home but has a wild spiritual connection regardless of her beliefs. She is thrown out of her family for something she does (this actually happened to my husband, and that something was me) and seeks solitude in this desolate abandoned house.  But instead of solitude, she finds a man there who is seeking enlightenment in solitude.  And together they find what they find what they seek." I didn't believe in chakras at the time, and I didn't know about kundalini energy but I started having strange and bizarre pains in my body. I kept going back and forth between the remains of the doctors house and home to write in my journal. I discovered a platform by his house with steps leading up to it and trees growing at the corners.  "There's still this energy that burns through me. Then a cold that chills through my bones. We are the warmth of the sun. We are the still waters that run deep. You give me clarity. It's as if we were tennis players, so in the flow of the game that it would be silly to ask which one of us has the ball. It's moving back and forth so fast that no one can fixate on it. There is no ball.  And so it is with the world of form and formless. The vibration of energy between them is moving so fast...that it stays in place because there is no time." To Be Continued.