Field Notes 20260314 - Saturday
The Ground Reorients
Afternoon
- Sun: Pisces 24°
- Moon: Aquarius 5° | Waning Crescent
- Mercury Retrograde: 20260226-20260320
Going into the regularly scheduled afternoon session today I already knew what would be the topic and outcome. You don’t simply snap your fingers and get over the loss of a family member of 13 years. During the sweet girl’s last days she was suffering, and the heartache from that only had one solution for both her and the family. You grieve before it happens and you grieve in the aftermath, no matter how right you were by her… it’s still a loss.
I remember this from 6 years ago with Dexter, who passed away way too young at 3 years old. The pain was mixed with anger — how unfair it is to allow suffering for such a young being. With Zoe I thought it’d be different, and it is in many ways, but what replaced the quality of pain in one scenario was the sheer amount of time and memories with this one. The pain is different; the quantity of it isn’t.
I aimed to enter F18 for much needed healing of the heart. I wasn’t really into it — who could be, only a day after? Years worth of behavioral habits built around our relationship naturally began to malfunction and the task of painstakingly correcting that began. Change is inevitable; you can be comfortable with that fact but still get stung by the process of living through it.
Before laying down for the meditation I spent a bit of time spontaneously crying in my shop/gym. I’m so tired of crying.
Meditation
- 30 Minutes.
- Tom Campbell’s binaural beats, 128-64-32.
Prep was slightly different for once. When I was putting things in the Energy Conversion Box (ECB, part of The Gateway Experience program) I found myself holding Zoe’s collar and leash. I didn’t want to toss it in there; a part of me still wished to be disrupted by her memories, to continue the pain — maybe it’ll be even deeper in these moments. I tossed it in there anyway. Grief always has a place, but left unchecked it will spiral. Adjusting to the change is paramount and it begins now.
On my way to F18 I was greeted with a few “post signs.” While settling in F10 (mind awake/body asleep) the number “3” appeared through the phosphene action. In appearance it was a classic “3” in a mix of white light and transparency. It was as if the “3” was made of glass and had milk sloshing around in it.
Another “post sign” was seeing a rather well-developed and detailed eye observing me in F12 (expanded awareness). There were a few, but one stuck out. I vaguely remember seeing a form behind it, but again, apathy and melancholy had dampened my usual curiosity. In any case, someone was checking in on me and I thanked them as I moved on.
The rest of the meditation went pretty uneventful. I spent the majority of my time in F18 (heart space) with the question, “What am I still carrying that I’m calling something other than grief?”
In the last 24 hours I’ve been reminded that there is nothing more “real” than love. In a twist of fate Zoe gave me one last lesson: The pain arrives not because love is lost but because of separation. It’s ironic, isn’t it? We are all one experiencing individuality through the illusion of separation, yet it is this same separation that brings forth real pain. In our collective illusion of individuality we find realness when physical connection is severed.
Nothing was lost. We are born in this place separated, yet experiencing separation in this domain moves us closer to wholeness and truth.
What I was carrying wasn’t grief dressed up as something else — it was grief, but for something more specific than I had language for yet. Zoe wasn’t part of the practice; she was part of the ground the practice stands on. The 4th House anchor layer — the embodied, earthbound substrate that makes the non-physical work sustainable — had a thirteen-year fixture in it, and that fixture is gone. The collar going into the ECB wasn’t resistance overridden by discipline — it was resistance met by clarity. I saw what it was, named it, and chose the release anyway. The ground doesn’t disappear; it reorients. Moose is still here.