I've said it before and I will say it until the day I die: I am not an anarchist. I am a patriot.
10 years and a zillion conspiracy theories later, the events of 9-11-2001 remain one of our most horrific national tragedies. It really doesn't matter why it was perpetrated or by whom; the fact that it happened at all is enough to feel those feelings of helplessness, of utter powerlessness all over again.
10 years and a truckload of propaganda later, the significant changes in our laws and culture lead me to side - generally speaking - with conspiracy theorists. The passing of the Patriot Act (which is anything but), the presence of our troops in Afghanistan and other Middle-Eastern countries after the previously purported objectives have been met, the knee-jerk and WAY too late creation of TSA and the Air Marshall programs, and the continuous feeding of paranoia-inducing media hype lead me to believe that those theories are, at least in part, very sadly true.
I HATE thinking that way. I HATE feeling that way. but I cannot avoid it, I cannot deny it, I cannot lay it by the wayside and let it go. I am a patriot.
Did you know that Afghanistan is the largest producer of opium (read heroin) in the world?? Did you know that prior to 9-11, the Taliban (religious leadership) had banned the growing, processing, sales, and distribution of opium, even for medicinal purposes? Did you know that our American troops stand duty guarding poppy fields and protecting the distribution of the fruits thereof????
Most importantly, do you think America, as a whole, would have supported American troops in Afghanistan without the events of 9-11-2001??
I lay awake at night sometimes, wondering: where's the plane that allegedly hit the Pentagon (and coincidentally hit the Pentagon in a newly renovated and practically uninhabited section)?? And asking that, where did Flight 77 go after the transponder was shut down?? Why did the towers collapse the way they did, damaging very little around them (and why did Tower 7 collapse at all, much less so much later)?? Why did Flight 93 crash into an uninhabited field if the "terrorists" were still in control of the plane (meaning, if the "terrorists" were planning to put the plane down "before the passengers broke through the cockpit door, why would they go to the extra trouble of setting down where there would be no collateral damage?) Why wasn't military force mobilized into the danger areas instead of launched and set into holding patterns?
And why do Americans abide with the ever-increasing limitation of our rights using 'terrorism" as an excuse??
I am not an anarchist. I love my country. I wish things were different.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Secrets.
Every Monday I read the "Sunday Secrets." For some I laugh, for some I cry, and for some I just hope that my moment of attention contributes to that person's peace. For most of my life, I would have said I didn't have any secrets, that I'm open with my life and my history because to carry all of that around would be too heavy to bear. Oh, so untrue.
The past three or four months have been an exercise in healing, a journey of pain, a project of stripping away the layers of rot and dirt and denial to expose the hope underneath. Each exposed truth has been a epiphany of acceptance and forgiveness, which has led to a freedom I never knew I could feel, a liberty I never knew I had. I finally accept and forgive ME.
And maybe it's time to tell my secrets. Let's do this.
My biological father didn't abandon us and neither did his parents. My mother wouldn't allow him to have contact with us. She didn't give us birthday cards and Christmas presents that were sent, we weren't allowed to answer the phone or the door. Even though I knew this as a child, I'd forgotten it, almost as if my brain convinced me that my mother could never do such a thing.
I've ruined every relationship I've ever had because I continue to use survival skills I no longer need. And I always blamed the other person.
Sex with love is so difficult and frightening for me. Sex with a stranger is easy.
I'm afraid of everything that's out of my control. Which is EVERYTHING.
My adoptive father beat the shit out of me, terrorized me, starved me, and controlled me because he was crazy, not because I was bad. But it didn't take long to convince me that I was bad. And still am.
(Despite all of that, I am often struck by gratitude for my father's comprehensive infusion of fear. I've felt that the deep-running paranoia that runs my life actually makes me BETTER at what I do. Realization that this is probably one of the sickest things I've ever heard was one layer of rot all by itself.)
I learned to be honest because lying was so easy. I did it a LOT back in the day. And the temptation is always there. So if I'm "hardcore" about extreme honesty, it's because I know the difference.
I only have one regret in my entire life, despite the fact that I've done some pretty horrible things. I'm not sorry for any of them, I'm only sorry that I'm not.
I've aborted more babies than I've delivered. And it was the right thing to do every time.
I spent several years secretly wishing MSU would die because the several insurance policies I keep on him were worth more than he was to me.
My children terrify me. And I've been a really shitty mother because of it.
I love my mother. But I hate her more. I'm an over-controlling and over-protective mother because she wouldn't be consistent or protective. Maybe she couldn't be. But I don't care. I hate her for failing to do what was necessary to keep us safe.
I'm afraid I will kill my adoptive father if I ever see him again. And sometimes I really hope I run into him.
I hoarded food until well into my 20s.
I made my marriage the toxic thing it became. I did it. No one else. Everyone else had no choice but to just react.
In 1st grade, the kid no one liked always had really good desserts in her lunch. I told her I would be her friend as long as she gave me her dessert every day.
I quit high school because I wanted to party, fuck, and use drugs. Sure, it was boring. Sure, my mom kicked me out when I was 15. But the real reason I quit was because I had "better" things to do.
Of course, there are more. But ost of those are what I like to think of as "standard" secrets: stealing as a little kid, getting my sister in trouble on purpose, sneaking out of the house, doing stupid things and not getting caught.
I face me. I see me. I forgive me. I move on.
The past three or four months have been an exercise in healing, a journey of pain, a project of stripping away the layers of rot and dirt and denial to expose the hope underneath. Each exposed truth has been a epiphany of acceptance and forgiveness, which has led to a freedom I never knew I could feel, a liberty I never knew I had. I finally accept and forgive ME.
And maybe it's time to tell my secrets. Let's do this.
My biological father didn't abandon us and neither did his parents. My mother wouldn't allow him to have contact with us. She didn't give us birthday cards and Christmas presents that were sent, we weren't allowed to answer the phone or the door. Even though I knew this as a child, I'd forgotten it, almost as if my brain convinced me that my mother could never do such a thing.
I've ruined every relationship I've ever had because I continue to use survival skills I no longer need. And I always blamed the other person.
Sex with love is so difficult and frightening for me. Sex with a stranger is easy.
I'm afraid of everything that's out of my control. Which is EVERYTHING.
My adoptive father beat the shit out of me, terrorized me, starved me, and controlled me because he was crazy, not because I was bad. But it didn't take long to convince me that I was bad. And still am.
(Despite all of that, I am often struck by gratitude for my father's comprehensive infusion of fear. I've felt that the deep-running paranoia that runs my life actually makes me BETTER at what I do. Realization that this is probably one of the sickest things I've ever heard was one layer of rot all by itself.)
I learned to be honest because lying was so easy. I did it a LOT back in the day. And the temptation is always there. So if I'm "hardcore" about extreme honesty, it's because I know the difference.
I only have one regret in my entire life, despite the fact that I've done some pretty horrible things. I'm not sorry for any of them, I'm only sorry that I'm not.
I've aborted more babies than I've delivered. And it was the right thing to do every time.
I spent several years secretly wishing MSU would die because the several insurance policies I keep on him were worth more than he was to me.
My children terrify me. And I've been a really shitty mother because of it.
I love my mother. But I hate her more. I'm an over-controlling and over-protective mother because she wouldn't be consistent or protective. Maybe she couldn't be. But I don't care. I hate her for failing to do what was necessary to keep us safe.
I'm afraid I will kill my adoptive father if I ever see him again. And sometimes I really hope I run into him.
I hoarded food until well into my 20s.
I made my marriage the toxic thing it became. I did it. No one else. Everyone else had no choice but to just react.
In 1st grade, the kid no one liked always had really good desserts in her lunch. I told her I would be her friend as long as she gave me her dessert every day.
I quit high school because I wanted to party, fuck, and use drugs. Sure, it was boring. Sure, my mom kicked me out when I was 15. But the real reason I quit was because I had "better" things to do.
Of course, there are more. But ost of those are what I like to think of as "standard" secrets: stealing as a little kid, getting my sister in trouble on purpose, sneaking out of the house, doing stupid things and not getting caught.
I face me. I see me. I forgive me. I move on.
Monday, May 09, 2011
My Soul's Voice
In a kinda-sorta-maybe elaboration on a previous post (http://daughterofnight.blogspot.com/2011/02/goofy-theory-that-is-keeping-me-awake.html), I have decided to practice being LESS sentient.
Yes, you read that right. LESS sentient.
I wrote: "So, it stands to reason that there is something about us that is not our bodies and something else about us that is not our minds. There is no doubt in my “mind” (haha) that when my body ceases to exchange energy information between its systems, my brain – the thing that we posit contains our central computer and thus the “I AM” part of us – will cease exchanging information as well, as it is the central part of that system indeed. But the energy that compels me to know I AM I forever, throughout a life in which all cellular information is replaced several times, must be in direct systemic exchange with a similar and relative energy. An exchange that would continue regardless of the communication shutdown in the shrouded and particular systems of this coalescence of cells that I call my body. Could this direct systemic energy exchange between the field that dictates my particular energy and whatever relative field that confirms it be the Soul? And could this constant resonation from the relative energy be the source of what we call “emotion,” which, for the purposes of this theorizing would then be held as the electromagnetic and subatomic system of… God?"
Which is a very strange coincidence, because my tattoo artist gave me a book last Friday. And the author of that book said pretty much the SAME thing. There is something about us that is not physical. There is something about us that is not our "minds." And that something is made of Light, and Divinity, and the ALL. That something is WHO WE ARE. Our BEING. And we suppress our Being with... (you guessed it)... thought.
I wrote: "So, if emotion is the voice of our “soul,” that connection to the relative system outside the system- of- the- body configuration, and we rely on our “minds” to dissect this emotion, respond to this emotion, label this emotion, deconstruct this emotion, dislike this emotion, avoid this emotion, expect this emotion, make choices in relation to this emotion… then aren’t we arrogantly using our dubious power of discrimination (choice) to subvert, muffle, second-guess, and over-analyze our connection with the Divine? Aren’t we then torturing ourselves with the curse of “free will,” when in fact, that sense of “free will” is only a by-product of an inferior and almost completely unrelated system? And when we do that… aren’t we then killing our personal system? Damaging the cells? Poisoning ourselves?"
Strangely enough, this is also addressed in my new book. Strangely enough, this is, upon further research, addressed by almost every spiritual Master in history. Feeling an emotion is being fully present in NOW. Dissecting the emotion, reliving the emotion over and over, blaming for the emotion, surrounding the emotion with THOUGHT forces that emotion into both the Past and the Future. Think about past and future for a second. Do they exist? Are they real? Really thing before you answer... because the answer is no. The past is an illusion. The future is an illusion. Both illusion are created by our minds to shroud NOW. HERE and NOW are ALL THAT IS. And believing that our identity is crafted by our past is a fallacy and creates suffering in our lives. Believing our future will contain the fruition of all this "work" is an illusion and creates suffering in our lives. Suffering is an illusion created by our thinking, not by our Souls. When we THINK, we reside only in that illusion state, the Past and the Future. When we are fully present in our lives, fully BEING, then we are wholly in the NOW and knowing there is no threat NOW, there is no pain NOW, there is no need NOW, I am perfect NOW, I AM NOW.
I wrote: " It seems to me that the systemic connection from “I AM” to the relative and ultimately containing field is constant, unending, irrefutable, and is the True Source, the Divine, the Universal Mud, whatever you want to call it. We do the Great System a grand disservice by failing to nurture the connection, and using the excuse of “free will” for the death of our souls.
In other words: We kill ourselves with “what if?” We kill ourselves with fear. We kill ourselves with denial. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are less than perfect. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are separate, alone, entities unto ourselves and nothing else. We kill ourselves with the overuse of the inferior system (mind) of the body’s configuration rather than nurturing that system with the energy of the connection to the Source.
I can’t get it out of my head: What if your Soul’s voice was the only voice you heard?"
So, I ask myself again: What if the Soul's voice is the only voice I hear? What if BEING is all I do? What if I use thought only in the practical sense, the everyday sense and focus that thought on what I am doing NOW and not what may come out of it in that non-existent, that NOT REAL future? What if I observe my thoughts as a witness, and thus remove their power to (seemingly) control me? What if, in each moment, I KNOW that I already have everything I need? That I was crafted in perfection and in perfect sync with the rest of the System?
Because RIGHT NOW, I can do that. Because RIGHT NOW, I need nothing and I can be fully present in the moment, in my life, in my heart, in this System. Because RIGHT now, there is no past, there is no future, there is nothing to fear. Because RIGHT NOW, I AM. And granting any kind of awareness to my ego and it's constant litany of illusory bullshit take awareness from BEING. Right now, BEING is so cool.
And right now, too.
And now.
And now.
There is joy here. There is ease. There is light.
Yes, you read that right. LESS sentient.
I wrote: "So, it stands to reason that there is something about us that is not our bodies and something else about us that is not our minds. There is no doubt in my “mind” (haha) that when my body ceases to exchange energy information between its systems, my brain – the thing that we posit contains our central computer and thus the “I AM” part of us – will cease exchanging information as well, as it is the central part of that system indeed. But the energy that compels me to know I AM I forever, throughout a life in which all cellular information is replaced several times, must be in direct systemic exchange with a similar and relative energy. An exchange that would continue regardless of the communication shutdown in the shrouded and particular systems of this coalescence of cells that I call my body. Could this direct systemic energy exchange between the field that dictates my particular energy and whatever relative field that confirms it be the Soul? And could this constant resonation from the relative energy be the source of what we call “emotion,” which, for the purposes of this theorizing would then be held as the electromagnetic and subatomic system of… God?"
Which is a very strange coincidence, because my tattoo artist gave me a book last Friday. And the author of that book said pretty much the SAME thing. There is something about us that is not physical. There is something about us that is not our "minds." And that something is made of Light, and Divinity, and the ALL. That something is WHO WE ARE. Our BEING. And we suppress our Being with... (you guessed it)... thought.
I wrote: "So, if emotion is the voice of our “soul,” that connection to the relative system outside the system- of- the- body configuration, and we rely on our “minds” to dissect this emotion, respond to this emotion, label this emotion, deconstruct this emotion, dislike this emotion, avoid this emotion, expect this emotion, make choices in relation to this emotion… then aren’t we arrogantly using our dubious power of discrimination (choice) to subvert, muffle, second-guess, and over-analyze our connection with the Divine? Aren’t we then torturing ourselves with the curse of “free will,” when in fact, that sense of “free will” is only a by-product of an inferior and almost completely unrelated system? And when we do that… aren’t we then killing our personal system? Damaging the cells? Poisoning ourselves?"
Strangely enough, this is also addressed in my new book. Strangely enough, this is, upon further research, addressed by almost every spiritual Master in history. Feeling an emotion is being fully present in NOW. Dissecting the emotion, reliving the emotion over and over, blaming for the emotion, surrounding the emotion with THOUGHT forces that emotion into both the Past and the Future. Think about past and future for a second. Do they exist? Are they real? Really thing before you answer... because the answer is no. The past is an illusion. The future is an illusion. Both illusion are created by our minds to shroud NOW. HERE and NOW are ALL THAT IS. And believing that our identity is crafted by our past is a fallacy and creates suffering in our lives. Believing our future will contain the fruition of all this "work" is an illusion and creates suffering in our lives. Suffering is an illusion created by our thinking, not by our Souls. When we THINK, we reside only in that illusion state, the Past and the Future. When we are fully present in our lives, fully BEING, then we are wholly in the NOW and knowing there is no threat NOW, there is no pain NOW, there is no need NOW, I am perfect NOW, I AM NOW.
I wrote: " It seems to me that the systemic connection from “I AM” to the relative and ultimately containing field is constant, unending, irrefutable, and is the True Source, the Divine, the Universal Mud, whatever you want to call it. We do the Great System a grand disservice by failing to nurture the connection, and using the excuse of “free will” for the death of our souls.
In other words: We kill ourselves with “what if?” We kill ourselves with fear. We kill ourselves with denial. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are less than perfect. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are separate, alone, entities unto ourselves and nothing else. We kill ourselves with the overuse of the inferior system (mind) of the body’s configuration rather than nurturing that system with the energy of the connection to the Source.
I can’t get it out of my head: What if your Soul’s voice was the only voice you heard?"
So, I ask myself again: What if the Soul's voice is the only voice I hear? What if BEING is all I do? What if I use thought only in the practical sense, the everyday sense and focus that thought on what I am doing NOW and not what may come out of it in that non-existent, that NOT REAL future? What if I observe my thoughts as a witness, and thus remove their power to (seemingly) control me? What if, in each moment, I KNOW that I already have everything I need? That I was crafted in perfection and in perfect sync with the rest of the System?
Because RIGHT NOW, I can do that. Because RIGHT NOW, I need nothing and I can be fully present in the moment, in my life, in my heart, in this System. Because RIGHT now, there is no past, there is no future, there is nothing to fear. Because RIGHT NOW, I AM. And granting any kind of awareness to my ego and it's constant litany of illusory bullshit take awareness from BEING. Right now, BEING is so cool.
And right now, too.
And now.
And now.
There is joy here. There is ease. There is light.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
I Guess I'm Crazy... Crazy for Feeling so Lonely
I'm moved out and living securely in my own little place. But I'm hardly alone, as MSU has been over to my house every night since I left except one. And I've been over to his house (formerly known as OUR house) every night to take care of details, see my daughter, and realize MSU's expectation that I continue to know his existence is irrevocably connected to my own and listen to more of his lies and excuses.
The hardest part about being a certifed co-dependent is learning to let go of that all-consuming need to control everything and being absolutely certain that I can. The second hardest part is learning how to stop using the concepts of Pity and Love interchangeably. The third most difficult is ameliorating that signature hypervigilance... but that one will have to wait.
And even though I KNOW this is the right thing - at least for now and likely for forever - I am struggling. My fear of abadonment (yes, I know I'm the one who left) and my fear of being "replaced" is consuming, almost as though I don't want MSU to be happy. Cognitively forefront, of course that's what I want. In my secret and often black heart, I want him to be anything but. I want him to be so very bereft that he is forced to see how needy he is, how emotionally unavailable he is, how addicted he is, and how much of our relationship was just old childhood tapes being played over and over again. I want him to commit to positive change.
But he knew the consequences of that continued behavior, and refused to make those changes for over a year after I issued the ultimatum. His fear of my last-minute cancellation of my suicide plan faded quickly and was overtaken by his natural, unheeding and uncaring, state. Every single time he's said "I don't want this" over the past couple of months, I've asked him the same question: "No? What did you think was going to happen?" Because I'd never before, in my entire life, issued an ultimatum. Why on Earth would he think that I wouldn't follow through? That I meant what I said? That instead of ending my life, I've chosen to change it (as hard as it is and will be)?
Because he doesn't CARE. That's why. All he cares about is himself. The hallmark of our entire marriage is these three constants: the drinking, the lying, and his penchant to say one thing but do another. Activities (or behaviors, if you will) that benefit only him and are devastating to the rest of us.
So here I am, recognizing my own dysfunction and feeling oh-so-powerlesss to change it... but still willing and able to try. Here I am, knowing that I was attracted to this relationship because it was a familiar situation to me, a relationship in which I knew "how to act" according to the survival tools of my youth. Here I am, left ot my own devices, without any guidance, and not really knowing what a healthy, sharing, loving relationship IS. And if I let go of my survival skills, erase those old tapes and start anew... well, how will I survive????? How will I know how to act?? How can avoid toxic relationships in the future? And what can I do to help MSU? (Ah, there it is again! The answer to that is: NOTHING!)
These and many other mysteries will be solved in therapy. I hope.
In the meantime, all I can do is stick to my guns no matter how sad, how lonely, and how out-of-control I feel. All I can do is take my meds and try to act as normal as I know how. And most importantly, I mustmustmust learn to say no to MSU. No, you can't come over. No, I won't have sex with you out of compassion (read pity). No, I won't stay the night (and for God's sake I won't let him manipulate me with how "good it will be for Izzy if you're here in the morning'), and no, I am not going to sacrifice these things that I know are RIGHT just so he can feel better about where he is in this sad and pathetic life: Still making excuses. Still lying to cover up his behavior. Still saying one thing and turning around and doing the opposite. Still drinking (and riding/driving). Still acting like a 15-year-old in a 54-year-old's body. But I won't be there to keep pulling the bottom out from under him so he can sink even lower. I won't be there to pick up the pieces. The only thing I'll be there to do is pick up my daughter when he drops the ball over and over again while still expecting to stay on the varsity team.
As I posted on FaceBook this morning, I've learned that bi-polar disorder and co-dependency is a lethal life combination. Stay tuned while I claw my way out of this grave, barely breathing, to that pinpoint of light I see through the mud and roots and rot. I am tired but still digging.
The hardest part about being a certifed co-dependent is learning to let go of that all-consuming need to control everything and being absolutely certain that I can. The second hardest part is learning how to stop using the concepts of Pity and Love interchangeably. The third most difficult is ameliorating that signature hypervigilance... but that one will have to wait.
And even though I KNOW this is the right thing - at least for now and likely for forever - I am struggling. My fear of abadonment (yes, I know I'm the one who left) and my fear of being "replaced" is consuming, almost as though I don't want MSU to be happy. Cognitively forefront, of course that's what I want. In my secret and often black heart, I want him to be anything but. I want him to be so very bereft that he is forced to see how needy he is, how emotionally unavailable he is, how addicted he is, and how much of our relationship was just old childhood tapes being played over and over again. I want him to commit to positive change.
But he knew the consequences of that continued behavior, and refused to make those changes for over a year after I issued the ultimatum. His fear of my last-minute cancellation of my suicide plan faded quickly and was overtaken by his natural, unheeding and uncaring, state. Every single time he's said "I don't want this" over the past couple of months, I've asked him the same question: "No? What did you think was going to happen?" Because I'd never before, in my entire life, issued an ultimatum. Why on Earth would he think that I wouldn't follow through? That I meant what I said? That instead of ending my life, I've chosen to change it (as hard as it is and will be)?
Because he doesn't CARE. That's why. All he cares about is himself. The hallmark of our entire marriage is these three constants: the drinking, the lying, and his penchant to say one thing but do another. Activities (or behaviors, if you will) that benefit only him and are devastating to the rest of us.
So here I am, recognizing my own dysfunction and feeling oh-so-powerlesss to change it... but still willing and able to try. Here I am, knowing that I was attracted to this relationship because it was a familiar situation to me, a relationship in which I knew "how to act" according to the survival tools of my youth. Here I am, left ot my own devices, without any guidance, and not really knowing what a healthy, sharing, loving relationship IS. And if I let go of my survival skills, erase those old tapes and start anew... well, how will I survive????? How will I know how to act?? How can avoid toxic relationships in the future? And what can I do to help MSU? (Ah, there it is again! The answer to that is: NOTHING!)
These and many other mysteries will be solved in therapy. I hope.
In the meantime, all I can do is stick to my guns no matter how sad, how lonely, and how out-of-control I feel. All I can do is take my meds and try to act as normal as I know how. And most importantly, I mustmustmust learn to say no to MSU. No, you can't come over. No, I won't have sex with you out of compassion (read pity). No, I won't stay the night (and for God's sake I won't let him manipulate me with how "good it will be for Izzy if you're here in the morning'), and no, I am not going to sacrifice these things that I know are RIGHT just so he can feel better about where he is in this sad and pathetic life: Still making excuses. Still lying to cover up his behavior. Still saying one thing and turning around and doing the opposite. Still drinking (and riding/driving). Still acting like a 15-year-old in a 54-year-old's body. But I won't be there to keep pulling the bottom out from under him so he can sink even lower. I won't be there to pick up the pieces. The only thing I'll be there to do is pick up my daughter when he drops the ball over and over again while still expecting to stay on the varsity team.
As I posted on FaceBook this morning, I've learned that bi-polar disorder and co-dependency is a lethal life combination. Stay tuned while I claw my way out of this grave, barely breathing, to that pinpoint of light I see through the mud and roots and rot. I am tired but still digging.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Hmmmm. Again.
"Love" is just one of those funny words. It has sense, but no reference. When we say, "I love you," each of us knows what that means to ourselves, but have no clue what it means to the loved one. And even though each of us understands that we are feeling an emotion we've chosen to call "love," does that mean it IS?
I can't point at Love and say "there it is." I can't see Love. I can't hear it, or taste it, or touch it with my hands. I can't rub it on my skin or sniff its heady aroma. I can't experience Love in the standard way humans have "experience." There are no prima facie indicators of Love, nor can I prove Love IS or IS NOT with standard logical thought or even logical calculus.
So, I can say, "I love you," and know that feeling to be true (as true as I can know), even if I can't put a precise and proven label on it. It's EASY to say "I love you." REALLY easy. It's easy to believe it. Easy to want it. Easy to discuss it with others, whether it be the nebulousness of it or of being "in it." It's so easy to talk about Love, to think about Love, to hypothesize about Love, to dream about Love, to "feel" Love.
But maybe - just maybe! - Love is something we DO. And that's not easy at all, is it?
I can't point at Love and say "there it is." I can't see Love. I can't hear it, or taste it, or touch it with my hands. I can't rub it on my skin or sniff its heady aroma. I can't experience Love in the standard way humans have "experience." There are no prima facie indicators of Love, nor can I prove Love IS or IS NOT with standard logical thought or even logical calculus.
So, I can say, "I love you," and know that feeling to be true (as true as I can know), even if I can't put a precise and proven label on it. It's EASY to say "I love you." REALLY easy. It's easy to believe it. Easy to want it. Easy to discuss it with others, whether it be the nebulousness of it or of being "in it." It's so easy to talk about Love, to think about Love, to hypothesize about Love, to dream about Love, to "feel" Love.
But maybe - just maybe! - Love is something we DO. And that's not easy at all, is it?
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
More Epiphanies
Early Thursday morning, my step-brother shot himself, ending his life, after a three-week drinking binge. He'd been sober for 6 years; we were all so grateful to have him back after years spent battling that super-scary form of alcoholism. He married, had step-children that he loved dearly, and (as was the case his entire life) worked hard to care for them.
I am so grateful that his pain and suffering have ended. I am so grateful - perhaps selfishly - to be here to mourn him. I am so saddened that he didn't reach out - to anyone! - for a different viewpoint, a different option, a different voice resonating in his head. And I have my own little brand of survivor's guilt as well, and it chews at my heart and angers me to no end: it is, without a doubt, by the grace of God that I am here today to write this. I had an angel visit me at the crucial moment, an angel who reminded me that there is always time to make a new choice. Where was my brother's angel?? What's so special about ME and not so special about HIM????????
This guilt was enough to re-spark the pervasive anger with God that I felt so profoundly in the 24 months leading up to my own critical incident, and given that I've only recently begun speaking to God again, it was so easy to fall right back into that pissed off mode where I could just ignore the voice of the Divine and feel vindicated and even comforted by my rage and guilt. Because my last-minute choice - that Divinely-inspired last minute choice - brought me right back into the life I hated... but my brother's choice violently removed him from a life he loved. And all I could think, all I could feel, was, "Fuck you, God." The sick irony of it all was just too much to bear.
So, you all will remember that, for some reason, I never have the bathroom to myself. Where I am concerned, there is no such thing as a moment alone in the powder room, and it just doesn't seem to matter to anyone what I'm doing. Not only that, but depending on what it is that I AM doing, those who insist on traipsing in and out while I'm trying to do it can't seem to refrain from making comments about it. Instead of constantly reminding people that I'm IN THE BATHROOM, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I've just learned to live with it. Lo! And behold! Monday afternoon, upon returning from a nice long ride all over the county, I had the whole house to myself... and thus the bathroom as well.
So, enjoying this moment of solitude, I settled down on the commode just to revel in being alone. I wasn't really going to do anything there (at least nothing that couldn't be done in the space of a few seconds), but just wanted to enjoy the absolute RARENESS of it. Alas, once again my attempts at privacy in the bathroom were thwarted, because God chose just that moment to pick a fight with me. And when I said, "I'm angry with you. I don't want to talk to you," God (in a very unGod-like tactic) said, "Too bad."
"Okay, fine," I said. "Where was CHAD'S angel, God?? Where were you when CHAD needed you?? Hunh?? Where were you, you fuck? Because I'm not so sure I deserved your intervention, but HE sure as fuck did! WHERE WERE YOU??"
And She said, in the quietest and most patient voice, "It was only a matter of time, and you know it. And so did he. If you insist of thinking of it in those terms, Chad's "angel" gave him courage, yours gave you time. It is not your place to judge the Grace of the gift and nor is it Mine; your place is to know that Grace guides us all."
And so it does. I hate it that She's always right.
I am so grateful that his pain and suffering have ended. I am so grateful - perhaps selfishly - to be here to mourn him. I am so saddened that he didn't reach out - to anyone! - for a different viewpoint, a different option, a different voice resonating in his head. And I have my own little brand of survivor's guilt as well, and it chews at my heart and angers me to no end: it is, without a doubt, by the grace of God that I am here today to write this. I had an angel visit me at the crucial moment, an angel who reminded me that there is always time to make a new choice. Where was my brother's angel?? What's so special about ME and not so special about HIM????????
This guilt was enough to re-spark the pervasive anger with God that I felt so profoundly in the 24 months leading up to my own critical incident, and given that I've only recently begun speaking to God again, it was so easy to fall right back into that pissed off mode where I could just ignore the voice of the Divine and feel vindicated and even comforted by my rage and guilt. Because my last-minute choice - that Divinely-inspired last minute choice - brought me right back into the life I hated... but my brother's choice violently removed him from a life he loved. And all I could think, all I could feel, was, "Fuck you, God." The sick irony of it all was just too much to bear.
So, you all will remember that, for some reason, I never have the bathroom to myself. Where I am concerned, there is no such thing as a moment alone in the powder room, and it just doesn't seem to matter to anyone what I'm doing. Not only that, but depending on what it is that I AM doing, those who insist on traipsing in and out while I'm trying to do it can't seem to refrain from making comments about it. Instead of constantly reminding people that I'm IN THE BATHROOM, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I've just learned to live with it. Lo! And behold! Monday afternoon, upon returning from a nice long ride all over the county, I had the whole house to myself... and thus the bathroom as well.
So, enjoying this moment of solitude, I settled down on the commode just to revel in being alone. I wasn't really going to do anything there (at least nothing that couldn't be done in the space of a few seconds), but just wanted to enjoy the absolute RARENESS of it. Alas, once again my attempts at privacy in the bathroom were thwarted, because God chose just that moment to pick a fight with me. And when I said, "I'm angry with you. I don't want to talk to you," God (in a very unGod-like tactic) said, "Too bad."
"Okay, fine," I said. "Where was CHAD'S angel, God?? Where were you when CHAD needed you?? Hunh?? Where were you, you fuck? Because I'm not so sure I deserved your intervention, but HE sure as fuck did! WHERE WERE YOU??"
And She said, in the quietest and most patient voice, "It was only a matter of time, and you know it. And so did he. If you insist of thinking of it in those terms, Chad's "angel" gave him courage, yours gave you time. It is not your place to judge the Grace of the gift and nor is it Mine; your place is to know that Grace guides us all."
And so it does. I hate it that She's always right.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Goofy Theory that is Keeping Me Awake at Night
When we talk about cell replication, the process of our bodies’ growth and renewal, people generally speak of it in terms of mitosis, or actual replication like the “splitting” of cells in a fertilized egg. But the renewal of the cells in our body – a complete renewal that goes in about a 7 year cycle – isn’t replication, it’s replacement. The cells are copied, not replicated, by incoming and organized sub-atomic particles. Cancer is blamed on poor replication – that is, an incomplete or “wrong” replication of the original cell, much like copying a videotape. If you make a copy of a videotape, the copy is degraded. If you make a copy of the copy, it’s even more degraded. And so on and so on and so on. Only some of the body's renewal is achieved by the mitotic cell cycle.
BUT… the process isn’t replication, it’s replacement. So the body is replacing the existing cells with the information from those cells. Our bodies, the way we understand them, could function perfectly for at least 180 years… and that is probably a gross underestimation. The body’s degeneration is blamed on this degraded replication process. The process itself is blamed. And that is fundamentally flawed. The process of cell replacement is perfect – it is the cells that are being replaced that aren’t.
So, logic dictates that as sub-atomic particles coalesce for cell replacement, the only information that is available is the cell itself. If the cell that is being replaced is degraded or damaged, the energy coalescing to replace it does not know that, it only knows the configuration present to copy. The process of replication is degraded because the original cell is damaged, not because the process has failed.
So, how do we damage the cells? What do we do that changes who we are at a sub-atomic and (more globally) cellular level? Surely the toxins of our daily living have an impact: the foods we eat, the synthetic properties of some of those foods, medicines, smoking, alcohol, carbon monoxide, etc etc etc. But understanding also that our bodies are not the solid matter that we perceive, but a chaotic conglomeration of particles that are somehow held together by a specific-to-you electromagnetic field through which all cellular communication is established, don’t we also damage our cells with stress? Anger? Negativity of all kinds, especially if it is constant and pervasive? And where does that come from?
Stress… anger… negative self-talk… feelings of oppression… sadness… injustice… suffering, etc. These are all products of our intellect, of our consciousness of ourselves as separate entities and “thinking” things. We feel a feeling and we label it, nurse it, analyze it, deconstruct it. The same with feelings of elation, joy, tenderness, loyalty, protectiveness. These feelings have names because we gave them names. They have sense because we’ve constructed a sense about them – if only to be able to communicate that feeling to others in a way we hope they will understand. AS “thinking things,” have we ever stopped to wonder where these feelings – just the plain, unlabeled, unanalyzed feelings – come from? How are they generated? What is they’re purpose? Because we don’t “think” these things, we feel them. And then we “think” about them, give them names, and compare experiences.
If our choices are the product of our “intellect,” this “gift” of free will that is often attributed to God, what are emotions the product of? Philosophers for ages have discussed the “mind/body problem,” in that we have sense AND reference of and to our bodies, but neither for our minds, except for the basic concept of “I am.” And despite complete cellular replacement every 7 years or so, we continue to have the sense of “I AM” as a continuous stream of being, even as the energy of our bodies changes to something completely new in a cycle that ends only with the death of the body. And when that electromagnetic information ceases to be exchanged within the body, does it also cease to be exchanged between the thing we have sense of as “I AM” and the relative energy that confirms it? The Laws of Thermodynamics shout a resounding NO.
So, it stands to reason that there is something about us that is not our bodies and something else about us that is not our minds. There is no doubt in my “mind” (haha) that when my body ceases to exchange energy information between its systems, my brain – the thing that we posit contains our central computer and thus the “IAM” part of us – will cease exchanging information as well, as it is the central part of that system indeed. But the energy that compels me to know I AM I forever, throughout a life in which all cellular information is replaced several times, must be in direct systemic exchange with a similar and relative energy. An exchange that would continue regardless of the communication shutdown in the shrouded and particular systems of this coalescence of cells that I call my body. Could this direct systemic energy exchange between the field that dictates my particular energy and whatever relative field that confirms it be the Soul? And could this constant resonation from the relative energy be the source of what we call “emotion,” which, for the purposes of this theorizing would then be held as the electromagnetic and subatomic system of… God?
Systemic Memory Theory says…. Maybe?
So, if emotion is the voice of our “soul,” that connection to the relative system outside the system- of- the- body configuration, and we rely on our “minds” to dissect this emotion, respond to this emotion, label this emotion, deconstruct this emotion, dislike this emotion, avoid this emotion, expect this emotion, make choices in relation to this emotion… then aren’t we arrogantly using our dubious power of discrimination (choice) to subvert, muffle, second-guess, and overanalyze our connection with the Divine? Aren’t we then torturing ourselves with the curse of “free will,” when in fact, that sense of “free will” is only a by-product of an inferior and almost completely unrelated system? And when we do that… aren’t we then killing our personal system? Damaging the cells? Poisoning ourselves?
Soooo… that what’s brings me to the question: What if your Soul’s voice was the ONLY voice you heard? What if you had no choice but to listen and obey? What if you realized that the intellect you rely on for “choices” is only allowing you to second guess the voice of your soul and thus, kill it?
They say that God made the angels first, and they were made only to praise and serve him. The Morning Star was angered (impossible if the creation story is right, but whatever) with God for creating humans, who had free will and could choose to praise God ( or not), and choose many other things as well. Lucifer had it backward. WE are not the blessed ones, because we have the choice to hear our Souls… or not. It seem to me that the systemic connection from “I AM” to the relative and ultimately containing field is constant, unending, irrefutable, and is the True Source, the Divine, the Universal Mud, whatever you want to call it. We do the Great System a grand disservice by failing to nurture the connection, and using the excuse of “free will” for the death of our souls.
In other words: We kill ourselves with “what if?” We kill ourselves with fear. We kill ourselves with denial. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are less than perfect. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are separate, alone, entities unto ourselves and nothing else. WE kill ourselves with the overuse of the inferior system (mind) of the body’s configuration rather than nurturing that system with the energy of the connection to the Source.
I can’t get it out of my head: What if your Soul’s voice was the only voice you heard?
BUT… the process isn’t replication, it’s replacement. So the body is replacing the existing cells with the information from those cells. Our bodies, the way we understand them, could function perfectly for at least 180 years… and that is probably a gross underestimation. The body’s degeneration is blamed on this degraded replication process. The process itself is blamed. And that is fundamentally flawed. The process of cell replacement is perfect – it is the cells that are being replaced that aren’t.
So, logic dictates that as sub-atomic particles coalesce for cell replacement, the only information that is available is the cell itself. If the cell that is being replaced is degraded or damaged, the energy coalescing to replace it does not know that, it only knows the configuration present to copy. The process of replication is degraded because the original cell is damaged, not because the process has failed.
So, how do we damage the cells? What do we do that changes who we are at a sub-atomic and (more globally) cellular level? Surely the toxins of our daily living have an impact: the foods we eat, the synthetic properties of some of those foods, medicines, smoking, alcohol, carbon monoxide, etc etc etc. But understanding also that our bodies are not the solid matter that we perceive, but a chaotic conglomeration of particles that are somehow held together by a specific-to-you electromagnetic field through which all cellular communication is established, don’t we also damage our cells with stress? Anger? Negativity of all kinds, especially if it is constant and pervasive? And where does that come from?
Stress… anger… negative self-talk… feelings of oppression… sadness… injustice… suffering, etc. These are all products of our intellect, of our consciousness of ourselves as separate entities and “thinking” things. We feel a feeling and we label it, nurse it, analyze it, deconstruct it. The same with feelings of elation, joy, tenderness, loyalty, protectiveness. These feelings have names because we gave them names. They have sense because we’ve constructed a sense about them – if only to be able to communicate that feeling to others in a way we hope they will understand. AS “thinking things,” have we ever stopped to wonder where these feelings – just the plain, unlabeled, unanalyzed feelings – come from? How are they generated? What is they’re purpose? Because we don’t “think” these things, we feel them. And then we “think” about them, give them names, and compare experiences.
If our choices are the product of our “intellect,” this “gift” of free will that is often attributed to God, what are emotions the product of? Philosophers for ages have discussed the “mind/body problem,” in that we have sense AND reference of and to our bodies, but neither for our minds, except for the basic concept of “I am.” And despite complete cellular replacement every 7 years or so, we continue to have the sense of “I AM” as a continuous stream of being, even as the energy of our bodies changes to something completely new in a cycle that ends only with the death of the body. And when that electromagnetic information ceases to be exchanged within the body, does it also cease to be exchanged between the thing we have sense of as “I AM” and the relative energy that confirms it? The Laws of Thermodynamics shout a resounding NO.
So, it stands to reason that there is something about us that is not our bodies and something else about us that is not our minds. There is no doubt in my “mind” (haha) that when my body ceases to exchange energy information between its systems, my brain – the thing that we posit contains our central computer and thus the “IAM” part of us – will cease exchanging information as well, as it is the central part of that system indeed. But the energy that compels me to know I AM I forever, throughout a life in which all cellular information is replaced several times, must be in direct systemic exchange with a similar and relative energy. An exchange that would continue regardless of the communication shutdown in the shrouded and particular systems of this coalescence of cells that I call my body. Could this direct systemic energy exchange between the field that dictates my particular energy and whatever relative field that confirms it be the Soul? And could this constant resonation from the relative energy be the source of what we call “emotion,” which, for the purposes of this theorizing would then be held as the electromagnetic and subatomic system of… God?
Systemic Memory Theory says…. Maybe?
So, if emotion is the voice of our “soul,” that connection to the relative system outside the system- of- the- body configuration, and we rely on our “minds” to dissect this emotion, respond to this emotion, label this emotion, deconstruct this emotion, dislike this emotion, avoid this emotion, expect this emotion, make choices in relation to this emotion… then aren’t we arrogantly using our dubious power of discrimination (choice) to subvert, muffle, second-guess, and overanalyze our connection with the Divine? Aren’t we then torturing ourselves with the curse of “free will,” when in fact, that sense of “free will” is only a by-product of an inferior and almost completely unrelated system? And when we do that… aren’t we then killing our personal system? Damaging the cells? Poisoning ourselves?
Soooo… that what’s brings me to the question: What if your Soul’s voice was the ONLY voice you heard? What if you had no choice but to listen and obey? What if you realized that the intellect you rely on for “choices” is only allowing you to second guess the voice of your soul and thus, kill it?
They say that God made the angels first, and they were made only to praise and serve him. The Morning Star was angered (impossible if the creation story is right, but whatever) with God for creating humans, who had free will and could choose to praise God ( or not), and choose many other things as well. Lucifer had it backward. WE are not the blessed ones, because we have the choice to hear our Souls… or not. It seem to me that the systemic connection from “I AM” to the relative and ultimately containing field is constant, unending, irrefutable, and is the True Source, the Divine, the Universal Mud, whatever you want to call it. We do the Great System a grand disservice by failing to nurture the connection, and using the excuse of “free will” for the death of our souls.
In other words: We kill ourselves with “what if?” We kill ourselves with fear. We kill ourselves with denial. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are less than perfect. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are separate, alone, entities unto ourselves and nothing else. WE kill ourselves with the overuse of the inferior system (mind) of the body’s configuration rather than nurturing that system with the energy of the connection to the Source.
I can’t get it out of my head: What if your Soul’s voice was the only voice you heard?
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