The Diary of a Metaphysical Bookworm

The Diary of A Metaphysical Bookworm

 by Suzanne Valtsioti 

©All Rights Reserved

Installment 1

No one is going to call me crazy again. This time, I am certain, that NO ONE but NO ONE can understand me. Except for you. Diary. My dearest Diary. But now, you are no longer my diary, you are RAZ.

Raz means ‘secret’. God’s secret. For as long as you were an empty book waiting to be filled, you were a diary. Now that I have opened you and have begun to fill your lines with my words and your pores with my ink…your essence is now intertwined with mine. You are an extension of my thoughts…the ones that I choose to write. How can I call you ‘diary’ when our connection is now so intimate?

You are Raz. And I am Skye. And I know that no matter what I tell you, Raz, you will never betray me. We are victims in a sense. Together. As a person who has been betrayed, I am about to flood you with gushes of thoughts and feelings. Victims tend to do that. They let it build up inside and then gush everything out when they can no longer hold it in.

As for you Raz, like it or not, you are there,the recipient, accepting it all, no matter how heavy it will be. You are prepared to open up and take in all that I have to write onto your pages. Bearing my weight. I guess that is being a victim too. After all, you can’t just stop me from writing what I want, when I want. 

From existing all along as a blank set of pages, like it or not, you are now becoming a part of me, a part of Skye. I suppose that I have already written enough to say officially that you are now an extension of me. Of Skye. You are now bearing my thoughts in words.

So, Raz, from where do I begin? From my feverish craving to write out a million things that have bothered me over the years? From my burning desire to memorialize passion? From my secret wish to leave certain things behind when I leave this planet, things recorded by me, just a few personal stories and experiences?

NO. I am not sure if I want to write a memoir or to keep you, Raz, as a ‘diary’. I think that I am actually doing both. I feel the need. Ha!…It may end up sounding like a confessional if I keep this up.

There are too many things going on in my head that need to find a physical place of existence. What better place than to be transformed into written words, and etched onto your pages, my dearest Raz? The keeper of my secrets, right? And there are too many things from my life that need to be recorded. Recording them will give them the physical form of immortality. They will always exist, once written. If I record them and then re-read them, I will be able to re-process them, perhaps see them more objectively, and I probably will be able to finally make some sense of it all. Sometimes it is easier to understand what is going on when you read your own thoughts and memories that have been written out. It is easier than listening to your mind replay the never-ending reel of mind chatter, of brain babble. 

Raz, I feel tired. I need to let go of some of the baggage that I am carrying. Some of it is genetic, some of it is energetic, some of it is emotional and quite a bit of it is simply metaphysical.

That is the heavier load, I think. 

The metaphysical…having to do with the spirit…the intangible…the heaviest of the stuff you can’t see, heavier than the stuff dreams are made of…the metaphysical baggage I carry are the unexplainable things that have weighed me down because I know that they have always been real, they have a physical form, but one I can’t perceive with all of my senses. 

Real, but I don’t understand them. Well, I do understand them, but not fully. My metaphysical experiences sometimes are memories that are like iron ball and chains wrapped around my ankle, being dragged around with me everywhere.

Which is the real Skye? The different, offbeat Skye that lives a reality shockingly different from the rest? That is the Skye that accepts this metaphysical, otherworldly reality as being the life I am living. Or the Skye that is forced to behave like everyone else, floating about in this other reality filled with the people and the things that physically surround me most of the time, one that surrounds me most often than not, but one that I don’t feel a part of. Christ said that we should be in this world, yet not of this world. Is that what is happening to me? Am I part of other worlds, and if so, are they good ones? Or do I close my eyes, my ears, my mind’s eyes and ears that is, and rely on my physical senses only, to be like the rest of the humans that exist around me, blind to everything but my physical surroundings, to be like those that really don’t have a clue about what’s ‘out there’? Should I deny my ‘weirdness’ and be the Skye that is like the rest of this world? I suppose. That is the dominant Skye, I think. That is the Skye that most people see.

It should be the other way around. I should personify the metaphysical experiences that grace my reality, be the ball and chain I carry, heavy and solid, dragging around what I know to be true about me living in other ‘dimensions’ or in other ‘times’ as well…

Times and Dimensions, those are both shitty words that are overused, they come close to describing what I want to say, but these are words that fail to describe something that ‘I know’ but can’t define. Oh Raz, what I mean to say is that the ‘me’ that is sitting here writing this is so heavy and sluggish compared to the me living the life I see in these ‘moments’ of escape from this frequency belt…That is, the Skye sitting here writing this out is not like the Skye that also lives these other lives. This Skye, sitting here, writing, letting it out, is a very heavy and weighed down Skye. You know what I mean, Raz? I can’t figure out who I am, really. Am I here now, just here…or am I out there as well….or is this a dream, or is that other reality I often see myself in a dream…

Where the hell am I for real? In which worlds do I exist? The ones that I perceive around me most of the time, or the ones that superimpose themselves on my reality and hijack my perception….where I find myself living a completely different life…in another world, another time.

Anyway, I am going to start fresh tomorrow. I think that I need to get to know myself. That is what really comes to my mind right now…I have glided by too much of my life in this existence, riding the waves from everyone else’s splashes and dives. Now I need to really see who I really am.

The ancient Greeks wrote in Delphi ‘Γνωθι σ’αυτον” or in English “know thyself”. It’s deep. It is not just “know what you like”, or know who you are. It is about knowing your essence…not what you are pretending to be, or what others want you to be. It’s really the psychoanalysis version of finally getting to know who and what you are on some sort of level…and then getting a grip on all the other facets and loose ends as well.

It’s like seeing a photo of yourself for the first time, when you have never, ever, seen what you look like. That is the kind of knowing yourself I want to do. Because I truly feel that I don’t know myself. There are too many parts of me that are everywhere else but here. I don’t see too many people experiencing this sort of thing. I am fragmented in different existences. There was too much of me that was so different from the rest of the people around me, for as long as I can remember, that I just couldn’t be ‘me’. So I tried to bury that me and become a boring Skye that never discusses the scandalous and intriguing lives I live elsewhere. Obviously, something is to blame for this ‘split’.

I suppose that is where my surroundings, my background, my people, my situations all come in….well, we don’t choose our family, many people say. They certainly leave their mark on us, though, don’t they?

 Like dog piss on a tree. 

I think, though, that we do choose them, our family that is, somehow. In a karmic way. especially if they are terrible choices. They usually are. There must be a reason for this somewhere.

That was my problem for the longest time. Being only what others wanted or expected of me. Never, ever allowing myself to be just Skye, me. And I also buried my individuality under layers of self-doubt and fear of being different. 

Wasn’t it Gide who said that a caterpillar who seeks to know itself won’t turn into a butterfly? Ever? Yeah, keep on staring at yourself will get you nowhere. You freak out, become too scared to move.

Ha! Gide…now isn’t that weird that I would remember him, after all these years? But how could I forget? After all, if anyone influenced me the most, I think that it is my grandmother. The unforgettable Coral. My Coco. 

And Gide was one of my grandmother’s favorites…being gay and all…she supported their cause like religion…I suppose it would be natural to remember all that she drove home to me from such a tiny tot age…things that I never was ready to understand. Talk about indoctrinating. 

Yes. Raz…I need to know myself, to really get to know myself. I have been hiding from myself for as long as I can remember. And I don’t want to die before getting to know who I really am. Otherwise, I will not have lived. Here. In this present lifetime. In this point on the timeline. My timeline. And My timeline is going through some crazy phases, looping and joining and merging when I least expect it. That is the surreal weirdness I am trying to explain, Raz. Because it is that timeline slipperiness that makes me Skye. 

Yep. Slipping and sliding through my different lives, without intending to. That is me and that is my life. And I need to understand it and accept it. I want to get to know me, instead of sitting here for decades ignoring the unusual and either trying to be closed off to my ‘timeline gift’ for fear of ridicule, or I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror with my mouth open in wonder…trying to figure out if I am real, if I am sane. 

After all, I know that I am ‘elsewhere’ as well…so is Skye the same as the lifetimes I see myself living in parallel worlds or lives? Are they dreams? They can’t be. Are they my imagination? No, impossible.

And that is how I am going to start writing. First I will explore Skye, taking a good look at my life….from my earliest memories. And I will try to put some order to my chaos. Once and for all. And you Raz, are going to help me do it. 

I will write it all out to you. Because you are my only friend that will believe me.

Reserved for the Gods: Only Two Humans Have Tasted the Chinese Peaches of Immortality | Ancient Origins

Qing dynasty porcelain with Xiwangmu“…Although the Peaches of Immortality were normally reserved for the gods, some humans are said to have been given the Peaches of Immortality by the goddess herself. As a matter of fact, according to ancient Chinese historians, only two mortals have ever tasted the Peaches of Immortality….”


via Reserved for the Gods: Only Two Humans Have Tasted the Chinese Peaches of Immortality | Ancient Origins