House of Obliteration

You sit across from colleagues and there is that whisper ‘there is more, more, more’. You share stories over dinner with the man or woman you love, with your children, and that quiet whisper has now turned into a roar, ‘there is more, more, more. I am here and there is more’

That you are bigger, a swarm of vastness, whose power thrums beneath your skin. You have felt it move through you but still do not know what it is, or how to meet it, harness it, become it.

Words are spoken only in halves, empty flutes and hollowed carcasses as they leave your lips; the tongue dips and you want to shake violently in subtle yet ferocious exasperation.

The charge of power, profession, productivity now makes you limp and resigned, to let it use your body, take what it wants without you fully present. When did the dissociation begin? When did your being and body stop being wholly yours? When did you start being farmed for output: creative and profit driven breeding?

You walk amongst others and yet hands buzz, body pulses, it knows itself as more but you have not, cannot, find the key to turn to unlock it. So I ask, how long will you let yourself lay entombed? How long can you tolerate being in external worlds of power without knowing the totality of your own? How long can the body withstand the grating screech that now bleeds inside each ear?

You have grown tired and agitated, friction burns and crawling skin, at the attempt of growth and stabilisation, optimisation and embodiment, spiritual circles of self grandeur and consumption: you want clear and complete understanding of your being.

You are an operating system, and yes how magical and divine a thing, but let’s not cloak it in a glamour that inflates and deceives.

You have a clear, distinct and identifiable way of moving, sensing, mapping, processing, metabolising, synthesising, translating, creating and systemising. Your body holds a specific shape across time and space, captures data uniquely, utilises power and expresses it in a way so thoroughly ravaging that you are the only thing you ever need or wanted.

You want to be obliterated. Shaken and sunk; but not destroyed and left disintegrated. No, you want full system analysis, the complete instructional set provided, mechanical clarity, the potency of power that is the homecoming your body will continue to reach for until found. And this is not located inside languorous offers of external expansion, business and visibility, the droning repetition of up-trending projectivity; nor nervous system healing ad nauseam and archetypal hyper-identification. You have been there and ‘there is more, more, more’ you still hear call.

You need to be witnessed completely; taken apart with delicate precision, suspended and spun, reorganised with a gentle firmness required of neutrality.

You must be met. Known. Held and revered. To be seen so completely you cry for days. To heal wounds you would never have found otherwise. To bathe in the revelatory glow of the perfection of your own self existence.

You need to step into the House of Obliteration.

You don’t need a coach or facilitator, you need a jolt to your system, you need lightning, you need to be multidimensionally body-shopped, to relinquish grief and work your existential confusion, to release the chokehold on energy that has led to soul level exhaustion.

You need someone who can become your system and read it back to you.

Knowing the power is there has never been the issue; the chasm between you and its complete access and inhabitance is.