paralimi-what?

...the thing is, these paraliminal cd things are supposed to be reinforcing the idea within myself that I'm fully capable of performing and hey! succeeding (here's the tricky part) beyond the confines of the "box" I've allowed myself to perform and succeed within thus far... realizing of course, that this box no longer fits what I want out of life and blah blah blah. So I listen, and I feel calm, centered, empowered. I feel great. Then, I actually step outside the confines of that box. I put out feelers and I see things happen. I see change comin' my way, man and suddenly I'm beyond fucking terrified. Like... WOW. Today has found me functional--but barely. Inside I'm a quivering mess, although you'd never know it just by looking at me. On the outside I am so cool... I chanted on my way to work because I could feel the wave of anxiety clawing its way up my throat. So I chanted, because they rhythm and resonance of it in my chest is calming. I couldn't stop that little waver in my voice though, which totally ruined the calming effect for me.
...it's like when you're little & in a situation where you are afraid & you look to your Mom, because if Mom isn't afraid, then maybe... just maybe, you can find some bravery too. ...well, today it was just me--no Mom & the sound of my voice when chanting is normally so even & focused & this morning it just sounded small and scared & then, so did I. I kept chanting of course. Breath control helps. Pretending you've got it going on is the only way to keep going on, sometimes.

At any rate... here I am in the midst of this life changing upheaval. I've ordered my old transcripts. I'm looking for an (mostly) online college that will accept most of those old credits. I'm mucking about, trying to figure out the quickest mode of travel to a finished bachelors degree. In looking, I realize that like I was a total naive and young dumbass--had I thought about it way back then I most likely had enough credits to at least have graduated with some sort of a degree in fine arts or something... you know, ANYthing... of course, now over a dozen years later, how many of my credits are going to be valid? ...just UGH. But I hold on & I say I'm relatively certain that if all goes well with the credits that, "why yes. Finishing up in 2 years is totally do-able." & it probably is. But god, just thinking about it... thinking about a corner office with windows... thinking about official Real Life stuff...
You know, "now you're really a grown up" kinds of stuff...
And realizing that there is no real reason why this won't just totally go. And realizing that all the bumps along the way have led right to this point & it's ok, it's more than ok... it's really very good and just right. Thinking beyond the bachelors degree to finishing up a masters and holy shit... I suddenly feel this tentative sense of looking forward to where I'm going and where I might be in six months and a year... and it's totally fucking foreign to me, this feeling.
I can't breathe anymore. My lungs quit working, I know it. My brain is freaking out on me. I'm going to pass out.

...but I don't. (although now it's the end of the day & getting here was just unbelievably exhausting)

So.
It's not the cd's, right? Because that bullshit is just silly, right? I'll keep listening to them, purely because they are very relaxing but... that shit doesn't really DO stuff in your brain to push you into such action & make so many good, good changes... Right?

Of course, then the man... as I listen at night, long after he's been sleeping for hours & hours and should be laying there dead to the world & silent as he normally would be... I hit play & I hear the beginnings, "welcome to side b of blah blah blah, if you are listening in stereo, *this* voice will be in your right ear and *this* voice will be in your left ear..." And the positive reinforcements begin and the man starts just tossing and turning and poking me. He rolls over onto his back & starts snorting and gasping because he can't sleep on his back. I have to hit pause & nudge him till he rolls back over. ...and the voice on the tape tells me that any noises I hear outside are meaningless in this moment and only serve to relax me more fully and I try to believe that, but when he rolls over again and flops his arm across my chest, I can't help it that I exclaim, "OH MY GOD!" & pull off the headphones. He wakes up & looks at me & says, "WHAT?" I sigh, "nothing!" ...but really, there's nothing like getting interrupted in the middle of a great meditation to somehow really piss you off. ...which is almost funny, really.
After a few days of this, he asks me, "What in the hell are you listening to at night?" I ask why & he says it's driving him totally nuts.
I try turning it way, way down, even though I didn't have the volume up very loud to begin with. ...but when the inside of my head gets all echo-ey, I can't help it that I imagine the insides of my brain spilling through-out the bedroom & the waves of that knocking the insides of his trying to sleep brains for a bit of a loop.
...which of course, makes me giggle but doesn't fully pull me up & out of the soft, cozy & super warm embrace of meditation. I'm interested to see if he's listening in my default, in his sleep. I'm interested to see if he... changes too. Maybe it's the urge to make waves that's driving him nuts? ...maybe the lucid dreaming prompts are too much for his "I so do NOT dream," mind.

Also, I am so in love with pandora.com. It's spinning the likes of Jules Shear, David Poe, Carolyn Alroy, Deb Talan & Melissa Ferrick for me. It tosses in a bit of Alix Olson, which always makes me just grin. ...just because.

I tried & tried to post this straight from google labs. It totally worked, slick as anything when I tried posting to livejournal but it won't won't won't post it to *this* blog. (it keeps wanting to default to my other more private blog because it starts with an "s" & is first on the list before vertigo). ...I need to get that fixed because being able to write on the fly in google labs is WAY cool. (if it'd, you know, fucking work?)