k gray kaliana
  • Home
  • Video Series
  • Single Videos
  • Books
  • Writing
  • Container
  • Group
  • Contact
  • Home
  • Video Series
  • Single Videos
  • Books
  • Writing
  • Container
  • Group
  • Contact
Search
If you like what you see, click here to receive updates on new material added
Click here to purchase Initiation/30-Day Process and work with Kemper directly
This page is dedicated to sharing various "miscellaneous" writings from over the years that have not (yet?) made it into a published book. Your engaging comments, dialogue, and questions are welcome via email or in person!

​Please note: The post date is indicated by the date in italics. In the title of the post, however, in larger, bold letters, I put the date that the original was written. My intention is to give you a more raw, "under-the-hood" glimpse of how my journey has unfolded, to show you where I've been and how I got to where I am (in hopes that you can find some resonant breadcrumbs for yourself and where you are), and to exemplify the fearless vulnerability, integrity, and radical responsibility that I encourage in each of you.

They digest best if read and received meditatively, and not like a typical blog or social media post (i.e. informational/surface level only).

​(There was a glitch in the "comment section," so I have disabled that feature.)

Journal Entry - July 17, 2011

8/25/2019

 
Coming face to face with my shadows of anger, hate, insecurity, and need for affection. Did I think the heartbreak wound healed me? Was only the inkling of a beginning. There is far more than at first it seems.

I have possibly, quite likely, managed to do only things I am good at so as to receive praise and avoid criticism--the poisonous program implanted by my father. And when the anticipated pat on the back doesn't come, which I never got from him and have in turn demanded the world to give, the shadow burrows deeper and deeper down, rooting itself in the dark subconscious soil of my soul in search of any food that might satisfy. But no such food to be found, anywhere, and the hunger grows into an insatiable frenzy. 

I know first-hand that displaced and cut-off pieces of myself become the rotten inverse version of each: Wonderment becomes dread. Trust becomes despair. Excitement becomes anxiety. Charity becomes bitterness. Passion becomes rage. Clarity becomes hate, and I see clearly that what I hate in my father is what I hate in myself.
     
But the journey is fitting. Leaving home, I cut the cord of umbilical enmeshment, fall as far away as I can from the tree, and attempt to exterminate any sign of familiar familial qualities despised. Returning, changed, a new creation, I bless those who cursed me, and receive the blessing of embracing the very one I've been running from. I am so afraid to become my father, so I shove to the side and violently suppress the qualities in him that have caused the most hurt. But far from going away, they become the very shadow that thus potentiates my doing unto others what he did unto me.

Do I dare make peace with the parasite that's already eating me alive? Dare bring into focus what I would at all cost rather deny? Dare love and allow into my being what makes me most like him, thus healing and wholling all affected by the infection? Dare forgive, for none knows what they do?

I look unflinchingly into the shadow--
trembling, terrified, lost
Reciprocal threats
set out in search of food
yet losing the scent
We wandered into wilderness with no nourishment
Ravenous and desperate, delirious from the hunt
We traced a thousand circles 'round
forgetting that to be found is the most exquisite risk--
simultaneous annihilation into each other's arms.

Journal Entry - July 14, 2011

8/20/2019

 
I have become my own worst enemy, my own archnemesis. Has anything changed at all, or have I merely become an upgraded version of a fearful false self? Has the ego simply changed clothes into a custom-made camouflaged costume? Have I forgotten how to fall into grace? Am I seeking affirmation just as much or more than ever, dodging the disappointed glare of an always-watching, slightly-annoyed, parent-figure God?

I was always labeled gifted, different. Do I know what it's like to blend in, to be the same as all the humans, to fail? Have I become that which I have spent all effort and energy to avoid? Am I the hypocrisy I hate? The anger I abhor? Am I free at all or more chained than ever?

Have I found a system that allows me to remain separate, and permission to never be wrong; a vocabulary equipped to explain away every problem, disguised as a higher place on the mountain?

Who to blame if anyone for a hellacious year of so-called transformation? Point the crooked finger at an "other"; point it at a world gone mad; or redirect it at myself for not doing anything about it. Blame a three-lettered crutch called OCD. . .or DNA. . .or a medicine that depleted my happiness chemicals. . .or the shadow of an overbearing mother, an overcritical father.

Blame whom or what I will--and I will!--I am still left here, a culmination and combination of all that's gone right or wrong in twenty-five years of planetary existence. And because these pages don't care who I blame (they listen either way), I must at least proclaim: The world system is defective, defective, defective! Claims at ease and efficiency fall into keep-up-or-drop-out quicksand. The merry-go-round spins faster and faster with the illusion of getting somewhere--it's nothing but circle-backs on the same goddam horse.

My pace ensures a deadening limbo and I'm just dizzy and tired. Can I please get off the ride? 

    Kemper Kaliana

    Archives

    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

  • Home
  • Video Series
  • Single Videos
  • Books
  • Writing
  • Container
  • Group
  • Contact