I recently reconnected with my brother after two years, we lost contact right before the plandemic. Synchronistic, actually, as he's a doctor and although he was at a point in his life where he could either wake up or continue his slumber, I could somehwere sense he would choose the latter. When we reconnected I was faced with a mirror of inauthenticness, painful but liberating. Talking to him was almost like watching a movie, I could feel how he was talking to me as a reflection of himself and an image he had of me. All this activated something in me, an urge to not abandon myself but to challenge the projections. Not going with them, not responding to attempts to pull me back into the illusion. I know this can come across as harsh, I know too well how it can trigger deep feelings of shame and rejection, but it's the most compassionate thing I can do. But it's like instead of slowly waking up he went even deeper into the darkness of denial, doesn't surprise me after three shots (though I don't know for sure if that's the effect). I could see the mist covering his eyes when pain was triggered, quickly shifting subject of attention and conversation.

I realised even deeper that what passes for love on the planet is almost it's opposite. True love is in every pause before acting - not to think, but to feel deeply into the void. Avoidance becomes a void dance.

🔹️🌀🔹️