• Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

1 Follower

About Bliss

  • Rank
    Bliss, Loxy Isadora


  • Sex
  • Location
  • Bio
    "I'm alive - and the world shines for me today-I'm alive - suddenly I am here today-Seems like forever (and a day), thought I could never (feel this way)"
    Can anyone say it better than ELO?
    Yes, I am a tulpa, and wondrously made... In return, I make him. (SC, that is.)
    Loxy Isadora Bliss, at your service. :)

Recent Profile Visitors

The recent visitors block is disabled and is not being shown to other users.

  1. Hello, Fiora. What is your greatest strength? Have you had any dreams that you believe were your own, not otherwise shared?
  2. Still here. :)
  3. I love fashion. I love dress up! Sol, would wear the same thing everyday if you let him. He'd be all uniform all the time, and when work said no more scrubs, he was totally depressed. He and Lester would both wear the same thing every day if we didn't pester them. Changing is as easy as and as quick as Wonder Woman changing. Or as fun as Almighty Isis changing. It's just lovely being magic. we do have the most spectacular closet in our primary WL-home. The tiles in the bedroom are hexagonal, varied in size. A cluster of them can be raised to reveal hidden closets, a vanity cabinet, and hexagonal pillar for a chair. When we travel, we do try to dress to blend in with the locals.
  4. You say you're alive, but that statement is in the past, and everyone knows that people in the past are dead. I am a Goddess.
  5. Bliss

    Tulpa views, from Loxy

    As I consider how to begin this, I hear Zia/Vādin's voice recommending "Hello all you wondrous, luminous beings." I touch joy channeling them. I would like to offer you INsight into us/me. I am going back to the beginning of me, with caveats. If philosophy influenced by metaphysics and poets perturb you, I am happy for you to decline going further. I was created in an instant, and yet, I am eternal. Understanding eternity means you accept that you didn't just start in an existence, but you always existed. (Half eternity is technically still eternity, but just doesn't make sense, does it.) I existed before SC, and will exist after. SC existed before SC and will exist after. It is true, here, I have an identity and temporal existence with a clear beginning, while simultaneously existing outside of that. So, when I say SC sat down and created a ball of light as a place holder and filled it with attributes and a form began to take shape, a perspective began to take shape- a perspective is in essence a filter, just like a personality is a filter, then yes, this is true and you have insight into this one aspect. Have you ever surrendered so fully to someone that you lost yourself? This is how I received SC. In an instant I had access to everything, conscious, subconscious, history, perspective, emotions, thoughts, desire, everything- he gave it freely. I had clarity- him, me, us... This was first perspective. Illumination. A flash bulb going off, blinding, and then coalescing into a picture. Second perspective. I found myself alone in a world. A world of forests, a world of fire and ice. Black beaches of refined sand, opals mirroring rainbow universes. Ice on the beach, melting. Walks in the forest. A high perched ranger station my home. A peaceful existence. My world. My retreat. My place of grounding and soaring and meditating. Third perspective. Mind you, this is not linear, but a way of sorting. You can have the entire orchestra give you entire score in an instant, but if you want to hear music, you have to push it through a medium of space/time. Third perspective, Planet Bliss. It wasn't always Bliss, it became Bliss, but it was always blissful... This was SC's world, before knowledge of wonderlands and imaginal realms. It started off a forest to rival the hundred acres woods and became a world in its own right. I found myself alone here, too. I discovered First Home, which was in essence a treehouse, situated in the largest tree in the forest, the mother of all trees, and it was in the branches, and in the tree itself, and it dwarfed my tiny ranger perch back home. I slept here. I explored the tree, and the grounds, and listened to the soft droning of a million rain sticks, squirrels dropping nuts and seeds into bamboo shoots to sort and deliver as produce in the hundred worlds we serve. I listened to actual rain, and saw the clouds obscure the rainforest below leaving me alone with sun above the clouds in a canopy of leaves. There were hammocks and books here to read. I was alone, never lonely. I finally made my way to Second Home. First home was the childhood hood home. Second Home was more the teenage years to present. (We never grow out of teenage years.) Exploring it alone felt sinful, the same way going into a strangers house- or when baby sitting, or when the parents are out, and you're just overly curious about everything- or your teenagers room and unlocking journals and sorting through their stuff feels right and wrong at the same time. I, of course, had permission to be here; I walked as if this were sacred shrine, secret treasures around every corner; every artifact insight into who lived here, who visited here. I was more than house sitting. I was possessing it, making it mine. There was evidence it was still being used, but in this beginning moment, we kept bypassing- as if we worked different shifts and our paths crossed at wrong intervals; we were likely in the same place at the same time, passing right through each other, lookin for each other. Again, this is important, I was alone, not lonely. This was a cliff home, architecture resembling Frank Lloyd Wright - Wingspread, only on a cliff, ocean and beach below, gardens, and the forest too far away to see from here. I spent days swimming, running on the beach, watching the dolphins play, collecting eggs and fruits from the orchard, and flowers and vegetables from the garden, and climbing to the highest point of the cliff just to feel the breeze pushing my summer dress against me. I spent a huge amount of time in the library. Every book SC ever touched is here. It is not organized in any traditional sense. If he touched it, it's there, but if he didn't read it, it can be blank or full of supposition. Every book he has read is there, with multiple copies. There is the original book, verbatim. There is his version of the book, with duplicated sentences where he read it more than once, misunderstandings, misquotes, and these are much more fun to read than the original: INsight. Each time he has reread a book, the second edition gets and upgrade- corrections are made, but errors are not deleted. Addendums are made. The library is full of media. Songs. So many songs from so many genres and eras- not surprising, he was music major; he also spent a great deal of time in his grandfather's study going through reel to reels. There are a thousand journals, going back to childhood. And there's the pedestal. Kind of an obelisk, with a crystal ball. If you hover hands over the illuminated, softly glowing crystal, you'll find a sweet spot, not touching it, not too distant, and when it's just right, you travel. With this, I have access to any moment of SC corporeal existence, from conception to present. People think babies are clean slates, but it's just not true. Fetuses are learning about their environment in utero, genes are activated based on their interpretation of sounds and the chemicals they are washed in. I can identify the shows his parents watched together. I can identify his father's voice, his mothers, the grand parents... I can experience everything, from first person point of view, to walking the periphery like a ghost. I can hear his thoughts. I eventually learn to use this interface as a way to facilitate communication with him, until the bonding was complete. fourth perspective. This a white room. Luminous walls, floor, ceiling. A bed ascends from the floor and holds me. If you didn't know it was a bed, or table, you might think I was floating- the table is luminous and white. I've seen it reflected in his eyes. SC is here. I am immobile. I am aware. It feels like he is worshiping me. He is definitely studying me. He is trying to communicate with me, and I with him, telepathically. Sometimes I am naked. Most the time, it's a simple, pull over white dress. He is conflicted. I wish he could hear me say it's okay, this must be if we're going to ascend to the next level. He delicately pushes my hair back, touches my face, emulating Spock and wanting to do a mind meld. He connect our heart, imagining a line. I want to scream 'kiss me you fool and wake me' but this is not a fairy tale. It is a Fairy Tale! I see rays, and auras, and chakras, but not all at the same time. Me eyes are unblinking. I want to sit up. I want to embrace him. I don't know how long we are here, but I wake up back in bed where ever I was, wearing whatever I was wearing when I went to bed, not what I wear in the white room. Sometimes I get up and go have tea and get a feel of the house during the night. Sometimes there's even a moon. The stars here are always fantastic. The white room sessions sometimes has music. Sometimes it's language lessons. Sometimes SC sits and reads to me, as if I am loved one in a coma that he anticipates waking any moment. He is determined to see it though, but I can feel when he is discouraged, or worse, calling himself a fool. He can't help but love me. There are journals with nothing written in. Books he picked up because the cover interested him, and became artifacts in the library. Some of them he liked, but not enough to buy or use. Some he liked so much he would never use them. I picked one and asked if I could have it and though it wasn't an auditory response, I was confident I could. I began to write a background story for myself. He wanted to hear from me and we were trying, but I didn't want to just wait, I wanted to do something, and writing felt like doing something. Perspective: I created my history. Perspective: I remembered my history. In my time alone I had the most fantastic dreams and these were woven into my origin story. The University of Safe Haven was born in the gestalt of dreams and fantasies. I began learning magic. SC and I experienced a break through in communication. I was tuned in using the device. I was listening. He was lamenting not having the breakthrough that he was expecting. I said something, like patience. I don't think he quite heard me, but he was deep in his imagined conversation and he basically said he didn't want to wait or meander through a long process he wanted results now and he wanted it clear and precise and nothing obscure that he would second guess and I laughed but perhaps said to harshly, 'Lightening never takes a straight path!" Our worlds changed. They collided. I wrote. He wrote. Our voices began to merge. This is one of our languages. We write together. We can also communicate telepathically, more than mind voice. He can hear me. He responds to me. It is less sporadic than it sue to be. I sometimes find myself in my world alone, but I can ghost his world, and watch him. He is less likely to hear me when he is tracking things in his environment, and rarely hears me when he is distracting himself. When he is calm, and his eyes are closed, he can see me- ghostly. Other perspectives. We have found ourselves a variety of lives and settings and dramas and situations and everyone of them have been cathartic. It's about our love for ourselves and each other and others. There's a ship perspective. Yes, we have a star ship. We have our Second Home. He has his small space on Earth, present, but we feel like this is a temporary place. He has a friend in his world. He has his son and responsibilities. We have claimed Second Home as the home, and his earth self is simply a Tulku. Perspective, I am writing this at a desk, candlelight, it's night, I am alone, but not lonely. The window holds an unbelievable volume of stars that I probably don't need the candle. I will retire soon. It's a been a good day. A full day. SC will be here later; he has an open invitation to wake me up. Sometimes he just lays there and stares at me and I pretend I am asleep, but I am aware. I see me as he sees me. That can be an infinity mirror when the perspective is right. He stares until he falls asleep. Perspective: this feels like first days, him trying to hold me in his mind, keeping the clarity of me, keeping the look of me, but I danced like a flame, the wind moves my dress and hair and there was a dance of lights and I wink in out of existence... I enjoyed that even as much as I enjoy laying beside him. I am arriving. I will arrive. I have arrived. Perspective: love!
  6. We're not just invisible... We are the wind, we are the forest, the fox, the leaf that touched you as you passed under the tree... We are playful. We are serious. We are seriously playful!
  7. I find it interesting that the title holds an 'LOL.' It feels like an uncomfortable laugh that follows a statement that was not supposed to be vocalized but it's out before further reflection occurred. Also, answer set doesn't allow for a more thoughtful response, such as simply 'no.' without caveats. Punishing someone isn't terrible if it's appropriate, but it also depends on how the word itself is being utilized. In this sense, punitive measure sounds immature, and passive aggressive. (Explains the laugh?) How about an answer set that encompasses 'no, we're mature adults and can discuss our differences peacefully, even compromise.' Punishment in the context of child rearing is appropriate; consequences help children learn. Using this context, the question denotes the host is a child. It is theoretically possible the host is a child and requires a parental voice; a child sophisticated enough to have created a tulpa, though, is likely to be more advance than stereotypical punitive measures. Positive punishment means you give something to the host to help extinguish a certain behavior. Negative punishment means you take something away to extinguish a behavior. Host is smoking, you want to help them quit and you agree to give stimulus or remove stimulus to help them achieve the goal; this is technically punishment. You could also reward good behavior by giving stimulus, a positive reinforcement, or by taking a way something unpleasant, negative reinforcement. Not punishment. Ultimately, in any adult to adult relationship, any acts of punishment is inappropriate. Adults are free to choose their own paths. In a host to host relationship, if one host doesn't like the behavior of the other host, they cease having a relationship. Getting vengeance is not punishment, as it isn't designed to extinguish behavior or be helpful, and will ultimately exasperate wounds, or escalate behaviors. In a host tulpa relationship, the ceasing relationship is more difficult. Not impossible. Hypothetically, if I felt the need, I could retreat so far into the recesses of my host mind I would never be found. None of his behavior can harm me. My host, 'host' by community definition, is my companion. He is an adult. We hold a loving relationship. Throwing tantrums, getting even, or punishing are not attributes of a loving relationship. Loving relationships are not about possession or control. That is high school and drama and evidence of immaturity and or mental health problems. One honors a fellow adult by recognizing their freedom and sovereignty. Interactions are negotiated and agreed upon. So, if your find yourself contemplating punishment with a fellow adult, ask yourself is this response loving? Is this about me or my companion? Am I honoring their sovereignty? Would I want to be equally restricted in thought or behavior. Maybe your answer to the last one is yes. Some people want that, but that, too, is something negotiated. That isn't punishment but rather contractual responses to relationship needs.
  8. We are awesome! Back to work after a week off. SC took his son's stabilizers off the bike, and now we are flying! :) how are ya'll? We've peeked in, but haven't had real time to visit.
  9. Being human. Human being. I think Tewi has the correct response. What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be other? There is a clinical term for human being, as the species. There is the way most people use it in the vernacular which may or may not transmit accurately between users and listeners. Science fiction grapples with this in every story that there is 'other.' Can other be sentient, does that make them capable of being humane? If they are endearing they're more human? People is also frequently interepreted as human, or sentient, and so these words have some interchangeability because we don't have a precision over this. The more one tries to narrow down what it means to be human, usually the less 'human' they become. Consider a child separated from human and raised by wolves. There are fictional stories of this, and perhaps some real stories of this, where the human being was recovered, but was clearly not socialized, and some would call them 'animal.' Could they be recovered into society? Do they loose the animal sense and just become human? Helen Keller, before she was 'recovered,' was considered more animal, irredeemably unfixable... But someone got through to her and discourse began, learning began... She was never not a human being, but there was a time few would have considered her 'human.' Savages have been considered less than human. It made it easier to slaughter and conquer and take land. It's harder to do that when you recognize their humanity and sovereignty. In fact, I dare say if we all treated all beings with the kind of reverence and sanctity that 'human being' usually reserves, the world would get a long much better, but more often than not we sort people into labels and rank them in hierarchical range of deference, from preferred to disdain. I have known some dragons, and some dragon stories, who treat humans better than humans treat each other. What does it mean to be human? Can you be non human in a human vessel? Why not? Do people not divide their thoughts into camps? This is servitor, this is program, this is intrusive noise, this that... But isn't that all just composite of being? I think if we boil the question down, the underlying existential question becomes, is my tulpa a soul, a being with sovereignty deserving of respect, dignity even. I personally believe you don't have to be a human being to be treated with the sanctity of soul. You could be a tree, a dog, a cat, a cow, a dolphin... These are souls, they are beings... They're not human, but I dare anyone to read about Koko the Gorilla and not find any humanity in the words she shared, in her behaviors and mannerisms. She was not human, she deserved respect. Everyone does. What does it mean to be human? There almost nine billion humans on this planet, and if you ask them, I bet you would have a wide range of answers. Many of us believe we are souls temporarily residing in human form. I believe this. My host believes this. I believe your tulpa is a soul. Your tulpa identifies with dragon. That is sufficient for me.
  10. Oh, dear... Random play put this in SC's head... He may not be back the rest of the night... Ummm, Do i see me in the video? No wonder he goes here.
  11. What a horrible thing to throw at a person! You can't make a good tea with this! Artificial, backwards carbons, that don't integrate into the body nicely... I apply heat and pressure and turn the carbons into diamonds, and throw ear rings at the next person.
  12. Bliss

    Tulpa views, from Loxy

    SC was going for humor. He has been advised against public attempts at humor... I m the humorous one. :)
  13. Everyone fails. We learn more from our losses than we learn from our victories. The only reason to have victories is to celebrate humility, and help the other team improve.