#enreality​​​​​​​

[rosefromdeath]

@enreality​​​​​​​ ♥ ( sandra ) liked for a starter

"Oh-- hi! Where did you get your dress from? You must tell me!" Realizing how abrupt and probably rude she sounded, Gabriella quickly turned pink. She gave a sweet laugh: a warm smile flooding across her face. It hadn't been her intent to startle the girl when suddenly addressing her, but her dress truly was one that even Alice, herself, would die for. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." Gabriella apologised kindly, still smiling, "My name is Gabriella."

[floripire]

a comeback starter for @enreality

this lady looks way too expensive for mystic falls, virginia. she looks like she ought to be strutting around in new york city. she looks very... what was that show called again? ah, yes, very gossip girl.

floribeth gnaws on the inside of her cheek, internally debating whether or not to strike up a conversation while they're both inside of the mystic grill. if anything, it would make waiting for her order - bite-sized chicken and waffle sliders - less of a chore.

"excuse me? i hope i'm not bothering you but... are you by any chance a writer for the alexandria post, ma'am?"

[lovespowermoved]

         035, 𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑎.

  while keeping mostly to ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, malee who was waiting for the announcements to start could only sit & 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 the people around her. most were ceo's & board members, others were from 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦, & some were celebrities. few there were 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 like herself, and then there were some people she couldn't pick out. with times 𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔, she knew humans would 𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑝𝑡 too.

" 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒚? " the vampire asked quietly, while meeting @enreality's gaze; she had her 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, but she wasn't fully sure about them. " 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕." malee explained while pointing the two out, and smiling in slight amusement.

[luckhissoul]

@enreality asked : “I really, really hope I heard you wrong.”

"is it that bad?" he asks, leaning forward so that he can look at her. his eyes going over her face. now he's really trying to sell it, right? a hint of a smile on his face. waiting for her to be convinced. some people were tougher shells than others. what was she? he had been trying for the past three minutes to figure out who she was and what would work on her. like a game. it made things more fun, didn't it? but he feels a rush of nerves over him still. yet he can shake that off eventually. this might be his first job but he was going to get it right.

[princetorn]

⋆  @enreality // cont.

To be dead was to drift somewhere between memory and the waking world.

It had been the sheer weight and presence Sandra’s heartache that roused him, that dredged him out of that sleepless, shapeless, soundless plane. Hers was a sorrow that clawed at the walls, that wailed across dimensions even as she stifled the sound of her sobs, muting her grief in the manner of one who wished she could deny or override or explain it away.

Royce had never been one to express himself through tears. To weep would have been to be dubbed a sissy, or to have invited the lick of his father’s belt. For boys like him, feelings were best bottled in glass, only examined in an abstract, stoic way – to not care was to be invincible, to be cool. But he did care, he always had, and he never failed to be moved by a woman’s suffering. Shrouded in melancholy as oppressive as Sandra’s was now, his mother had retreated to her bed, often leaving spots of blood in her wake, blooming on the bathroom floor like red carnations. From beneath her blanket she whispered domestic instructions in bleak, tear-ripe monotone. There was no need for his father to know it was his son who had polished the tiles clean, who set out the cutlery, who saw dinner on the table that night. Mothers and their sons were built to bear the burden of secrets.

Caged no longer, Royce tethered himself to Sandra, anchored in a way he found strangely comforting. She was what was familiar to him now, in this place far from home, far from the glass-walled mansion that had brought them together. He haunted her, gently.

Manifesting at the foot of her bed, he flickered in an out of paltry existence. His voice had that faraway quality, as if spoken from the bottom of a well – or from beneath the fresh-tilled soil of a half-filled grave. Sandra wasn’t okay, even if she said so, even if she pawed at her face, quick to wipe away tears.

“Sure will, toots.”

Mustering his strength, threading together the tenuous fibres of his essence, Royce made a concentrated effort to materialise more solidly before making his approach, sitting weightlessly on the edge of Sandra’s bed. Time meant little to him, but given that the night pressed its dark, jealous face to her window, he guessed that it was late. Whatever constellations hung in the sky could not compare to those stars that stippled the flood of darling blue eyes. A terrible thing, to be unspeakably beautiful while heartsore and despairing.

Slumber might help, but Sandra was coiled tight, a whale-eyed hare held in a hound’s jaws. Royce reached for her, stroking skeletal fingers through her hair, tracing the helix of her ear with bony tips, in a gesture intended to soothe.

“What’re ya workin’ on?”

Industrious, restless, clever creature. Sandra devoured the printed word, always expanding the borders of her mind, always learning, always chasing the next story. Her appetite had been what brought her under that strange collector’s roof – and brought them together. An uncanny tilt of his head allowed Royce to skim the piles of paper, to catch a glimpse of his own obituary. It gave him pause. If only for a moment, if only because he saw himself intact and whole and alive. A young man with everything to play for, both on and off the baseball field.

He wished he could give her that now. Warm, intact flesh. The promise of a future, of a life well-lived. A complexion flush with blood that remained on the inside. A body to love, a body that would age. Arms that could hold her and would never waver. Ruined though he was, a shade of what he had been, fondness still radiated from Sandra, her adoration undiluted. That was enough for him. It was enough that she could look at the horror of his road-wrecked face and not flinch. It was enough that she did not recoil from the corpse-cold touch of his fingers.

[mutant-distraction]

Close ups of Burchell's zebras (no stripes on the legs) - Ongava Private Reserve - Namibia - July 2024

Photos by Charlotte Blanchet - Lotus Blanc

source: Earth Enreal

[dk-thrive]

They say beauty comes from a spirit that has weathered many hardships in life and somehow continues with resilience. Grace can be found in a soul who ages softly, even amid the tempest. I think the loveliest by far is the one whose gentle heart bears a hundred scars from caring, yet still finds a way to pick up the lamp, one more time, to light the way for love.

— Susan Frybort, from "Open Passages: Doors and Windows to the Soul" (Enrealment Press, May 30, 2017) (via Make Believe Boutique)

[bodyalive]

“I have a friend who recently died. One of the things that contributed to her death was her immersion in the mantras of the ungrounded spirituality movement: the body is an illusion, your suffering is an illusion, the ego is all bad, 'just ask for what you want and it will come', presence is what happens when you watch your pain from across the room. These dissociative, dehumanising perspectives were appealing to her because she wanted so desperately to turn off her pain and to find an easier way. This would have been fine if she had simply utilised these techniques as a detachment tool, but she went farther, and made them into a way of being. Unfortunately, these tools became weapons that turned against her.

When her unresolved pain rose back into consciousness again - as it always will in its efforts to be seen and healed - she was now entirely ill-prepared to deal with it, having floated away from reality for so long in a pseudo enlightened spirituality-induced stupor. She couldn’t deal with the now because she was still crippled by the then. What she needed was healing, not more self-avoidance techniques. When reality became too much to bear, she ended her life, unable or unwilling to work through her material. Let there be no doubt that models that lead people away from the healing of the heart do not serve humanity. Real spirituality is all about enrealment - it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story, before the unresolved elements of our story kill us. Prayers for those who have been led astray."

~ Jeff Brown

[Ian Sanders]

[2kyears]

the hunter and the hunted...who is who?

@enreality asked for sandy and maurice :) here edit template

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Photo: Me practicing non-patriarchal spirituality at the Burning Man festival — with the help of my Toilet Plunger Wand

* * * * *

Jeff Brown describes "Patriarchal Spirituality" like this: Those ungrounded and inhumane "spiritual" models that have been fostered by emotionally armored, self-avoidant men. . These models share some or all of the following beliefs: * the ego is the enemy of a spiritual life * the "monkey mind" is the cause of suffering * your feelings are an illusion * your personal identifications and stories are necessarily false * witnessing your pain transforms it * your body is a spiritually bankrupt toxic quagmire * the only real consciousness is an "absolute" and "transcendent" one * stillness and silence are THE path * isolation is the best way to access "higher states" * there is no "self" * meditation is THE royal road to enlightenment *enlightenment actually exists * formlessness over form * the ultimate path is upward and vertical * real spirituality exists independent of our humanness +

In fact, most of the above is a blatant lie.

As described by Jeff Brown, here are more accurate, non-patriarchal hypotheses about the nature of human life: * A healthy ego is beautifully essential to healthy functioning * The monkey mind is fed by the monkey heart (the unresolved emotional body) * Many of our identities and stories are fundamental to who we are, where we have been, why we are here * Healing your pain transforms it; watching it is only a preliminary step * Our bodies are our spiritual temples * The only "real" consciousness is one that integrates all that we are and all that this is * Stillness and silence are only one path; many people prefer movement and sound * There is no "higher" state (we aren’t birds). But connection may be the best way to access deepened states * There is a magnificent self; the work is to align it with your sacred purpose, not to deny it altogether * Meditation is not THE royal road; it’s one road, and it is not any more effective than embodied movement and emotional release as a clarification and transformation tool * Enlightenment does not exist; enrealment does. (Be real now.) And it’s a relative experience, changing form as we and this changes form * We are form, and we are here to in-form our humanness * If there is an "ultimate path," it's downward (rooted) and horizontal * There is no distinction between our spirituality and our humanness

+ Further words from Jeff Brown:

The wool has been pulled over our eyes. Men who were too unhealthily egoically to admit that they couldn’t deal with their humanness, their feelings, their trauma, had to find a system that smokescreened their avoidance. They found it. It’s called "Enlightenment." It’s also called "Spiritual Mastery."

And it usually involves leaving the world, in one form or another. This way, they can convince themselves and others that they have mastered the one true path.

In fact, Enlightenment is just a construct that is intended to avoid the multi-aspected nature of reality.

In fact, they are mastering nothing. They are merely fleeing their fragmentation, their confusion, and the fact that they don't know how to find their center in the heart of the world.

Don't be fooled. They know less about reality than day to day people. They know less about reality than those who live from their hearts.

What we need now are models that lead us back into our hearts, into relatedness, into a deep and reverential regard for the self. Those models may invite us to detach in an effort to see ourselves through a different lens, but they will not leave us out there, floating into the eternal emptiness and calling that a life.

Detachment is a tool; it’s NOT a life.

The models we need will then invite us back into our bodies, back into our hearts, and back into relatedness with each other. (No more "enlightened" masters sitting in caves while the women of the village bring them food. If you can’t find your transformation in the village, you haven’t found shit).

They will invite us to integrate what we find "out there" with who we are "in here." They will invite us to embody the now, rather than to pretend we have found it in the heart of our dissociation.

It’s time to co-create spiritual models that begin, and end, within our wondrous humanness.

It’s not "out there," dear friends. It’s right here, inside these aging body temples.

~ Jeff Brown

[Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology]

[alphaman99]

JEFF BROWN

I had a friend who died by her own hand in 2014. One of the things that contributed to her death was her immersion in the mantras of the ungrounded spirituality movement: the body is an illusion, your suffering is an illusion, the ego is all bad, 'just ask for what you want and it will come', presence is what happens when you watch your pain from across the room. These dissociative, dehumanizing perspectives were appealing to her because she wanted so desperately to turn off her pain and to find an easier way. This would have been fine if she had simply utilized these techniques as a detachment tool, but she went farther, and made them into a way of being. Unfortunately, these tools became weapons that turned against her. When her unresolved pain rose back into consciousness again- as it always will in its efforts to be seen and healed- she was now entirely ill-prepared to deal with it, having floated away from reality for so long in a pseudo enlightened spirituality-induced stupor. She couldn’t deal with the now because she was still crippled by the then. What she needed was healing, not more self-avoidance techniques. When reality became too much to bear, she ended her life, unable or unwilling to work through her material. Let there be no doubt that models that lead people away from the healing of the heart do not serve humanity. Real spirituality is all about enrealment- it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story, before the unresolved elements of our story kill us. Prayers for those who have been led astray.

[voyanti]

@enreality is where i’ll be tomorrow!! gonna get some sleep and finish up her bio in the am xoxo

[enreality]

#ENREALITY. AN INDEPENDENT & MUTUALS ONLY HIGHLY MATURE WRITING BLOG FOR SANDRA CROSS, A CHARACTER ORIGINALLY FROM STEPHEN KING'S WORK AND FASHIONED INTO AN ORIGINAL CHARACTER. HEAVILY BASED ON MY OWN INTERPRETATION AND REWRITTEN ENTIRELY BY MAE, SHE/HER, TWENTY-SEVEN (27). ... MINORS DNI. PLEASE READ GUIDELINES BEFORE FOLLOWING OR INTERACTING.

CARRD. PORTRAYAL NOTES. MEMES. SIDEBLOG. ABOUT TAG.

[espacey]

Sentential Entity 6.4 - Term to Market @digitalocean @linode @microsoft @ubuntu @apple @samsung @google

Okey on extract on the timing bells which is where you or your lawyer in the justice system runs the print command to get and install books etc, also in your push you can get these iso if you can store it, Sentential Entity is our new operating system, which is also an enliving enreal machine like watson but as a desktop, it is entirely based on ubuntu but written from the ground up entirely; and…

[luckhissoul]

@enreality asked : COOK .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food .

it's all that he has in the freezer and fridge. some frozen dinners and a loaf of bread. it's not much selection. but he never eats in anyways. he microwaved one for her and set it down. she had mentioned being hungry. so that was what she got. "you'll have to go easy. i wasn't expecting company." usually he's prepared for company. this definitely was not how he did it. but this was different. he would have never expected her for company. did this mean she was onto him? he feels a chill down his spine. "so, don't play food critic." he says with a small smile.

[princetorn]

mun vs. muse !

( stolen from the lovely @spiritdreamt ♡ / tagging : @shellcrack , @luminarot , @enreality , @signetied , @coastercrushed )