Chapters

Chapter thirty - grounding - prison TV

Grounding

Having the ability to ground out after spell casting stops build up and regulates spiritual energy. Grounding is simple to do, you simple touch the ground with the palms of your hand any static spiritual energy, discharges in the ground.
This should be done after all spell crafting to avoid mixing emotional energies and spell bindings.


Prison TV
Clank clank clank bang the red sliding door slams behind me. A guard behind us one in front of us leading up into guard hub over looking 7 block corn-teen 4 galleries high and a base below.  with lunch tables lining the front end. looking out over the edge for the first time was a feeling of wow. what the hell did I get my self into. Seeing close to a 1000 inmate locked up in single man bird cages with a set of bars on both side and not a drop to drink. A dank musty odor of maleness strong in the air. 

Walking out onto the 1st floor gallery as a grade A for mental issues I got to see it all. from a yellow paper dress to a mat cover with windows on two sides. To the hole and back out into general population.

Back on north 3 north side life eased up and started feeling normal. I found books to pass the time learning to read in the shadows of night. Where my imagination took hold and books became movies flashing on the wall.

Staring has an affect on people. When there is nothing more to do then stare at a wall it becomes a sort of prison TV. For long periods of time. The wall it comes to life with motion and images forming with growing attachments, as if watching a soap op-rah.  

The attachments are emotion as it seems walls are absorbent of emotional energies. Peoples miseries are soaked into the walls and floors. For me feeling the walls presents stories, night mares and dreams, visions and thoughts, hopes and regrets, fears and tears of blood.

Watching stories unfolding events taking place right before my eyes staring so deeply, so intently watching these stories of horror. Some times watching threw their eyes, smiling other times, in fight  and fright of knowing what lays in these walls I call prison tv.

Soft sobbing and I wonder what he is crying for. Look see in the wall there is entertainment laying in the mind. A deeper look and a blade appears as the man walking up the stairs grips it in fist. Holding it behind his back he knocks on the door and a woman answers with a smile of knowing. She steps back he walks in and repeatedly stabs her. Over and over the knife strikes and with out a whimper she was dead. laying there sobbing for what he did. 

I feel his sorrow and don't know why, my heart said, he killed out of love.  my brain said, he killed out of rage. 

Talking to my self became a hobby with mumbling in the back ground. every now and then I get visited by a green eyed lady with strawberry blond long hair fair skin and pink lips with an ever changing face and the eyes always green. She is beautiful to look at all dressed in black with a star and crystal about her neck. she is loving a fair full of lust beware she is a beautiful snare. running about in dreams staring at the wall.

Hearing keys jingle I look away to a sweet scented real woman walking by on her count. Her sandy blond hair waving in the air as she bounced on by. The scent of her drove me mad in ways I could not understand. Her there with the keys, me here with nothing but a smile. Often falling to sleep thinking of her. Dreaming dreams in wonderment of loving her in knowing ways.

Back into the wall til noon day lunch and yard. Good old general population never thought in mind I was glad to be in GP. After the nut ward it was like gaining freedom... Out of the padded draping over the head dress and back into blues with orange target stripes. The never stop noise echoing threw the  wings. Birds flying over head. Looking up seeing gun slots. Looking down seeing big heating vents blasting hot air in on base cells. Old and dusty 

The wall never looked better as the sight out side grew dreary. summer days turned into cold wintry nights.  The wall showed me delight, as nightmares unfolded. Misery has its way with a emotional mind. Time seeming non existent as visions go on.

In the mist of night, a sight of a bloody hand, a car driving by,the lights flashing over the ditch she laid there dieing. I stood there staring at the wall helpless. Unable to turn away. a rustling in the bushes I can hear her gasping for help. A man walking away as dogs come in. Her turns with a smile as dogs rip into her flesh ripping her to pieces. 
Night turns to day and this guy strikes again and again killing hookers along the way. 

The wall seemed to have a magical way to it. As I stared letters and numbers would fade in and out in the shadows and light. shapes and colors would dance along. Not all vision was bad. Some times I would catch a dream floating in the wall. seeing Christmas family time full of happy smiles and loving moments 

Point Being

Prison is a magical source of energy created out of misery stored up like a battery and staring into that wall is like connecting into this source. High in emotion the energy is a swift way to add a magical jolt to your spell crafting. 

Pulling threads of information out of this collection of stories created out of imagination from staring at walls.  Its called a dead mans stare, Every one after 5 years tends to stare, seeing other places. Off in the real world where bars have whiskey. Me I had a wall as a TV.

The direction of thinking was changed as I ordered books and started reading more and more. All the fun was stunned by a book called the hidden side of things by C. W. lead n beater. the book was a detailed description of the hidden side or the unseen describing astral entities from friaries to sprites and so much more. 

Magic of esoteric's, such a deep deep conversation with out end. Many other books of occultist natures, Out of body books and astral projection reincarnation incarnation "Abigail Williams" and "Sara goodwill", Beset, Howell and Powell, Hall, and many other authors floating in circulation in the system. Old books meaning nothing to some, meaning every thing to me. The great escape with out ever leaving. Having left the body, in spirit to roam freely in the atmosphere. 
Walking the spiritual life learning there and here, abounding in years of experience. some places time differs. The further out the slower time is an hour here is a day there. 7  hours in meditation is living a week there in spirit taking in the vastness the collective conscience has to offer.  

All thanks to a prison tv called a wall, there in the vastness of time and space within the wall all the images comes to life. With emotions and sound she dances around swirling hip hugging dress. Slender waist with blazing red hair. Her lips rosy red snow white skin blue veins pumping blood to a flushing blush. Her brow with sheen of expression. The scent of her body a lavender mix with rose water. She bites her finger looking in the mirror standing behind her. She smiles seeing me gazing into her eyes, beautiful pools of emerald green. the feeling of her heart beat beating in the palm of my hand. She turns to greet me. Smile fading as she awakens to relies I was only a dream.
Looking in the mirror I swear he was here. Looking at me with loving eyes smiling. 
A fading memory lost in moments of time. Just call my name again and feel my presence as a protecting glow, a shimmer in the corner of your eye, A gimps in dream, my sweet divine. A shadow lurking in the darkest minds and a light shining a way into glory land. 

A tv called my prison wall holding years of misery. Reflecting in memories I see now staring into the way has allowed me seeing in a different manner. Then thinking it was my imagination running wild driving me crazy. Now I am seeing a different light. The walls still talking amazing stories. The difference is they no longer mumble, they speak intelligently. Leaving me to believe its more then my imagination. 
Seeing into the spiritual world of memories and dreams. Later on I learn a thing called remote viewing. Looking back at the wall inside that cell. seeing my self still sitting there wrist cut and bleeding a pool of blood. Thinking it was time to go. The spirit world did not want me dead. They keep sending me  back to do it over again.

A life sentence locked away in flesh of mind...
A life of spiritual freedom desired
To merge the blending
three worlds becoming one

  
      

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