St. Francis loved poverty like a lover loves a wife. My sense, after long adoration of he and Jesus, I have been gifted with the ultimate lover: Poverty.
Life is no longer mine yet simpler and each moment welcomed with joy as I will welcome my death by any means or measures. Even if it is an indifferent person talking/texting/sexting on a cellular telephone while driving, even my best friend Dave. My only caveat is a hope that they kill instead of maim me. I knew a Vietnam vet no arms no legs typing with a stick in his mouth? Perhaps I am being picky?
Obviously I measure the treasure of life not by amount but quality.
No one knows for certain why we die of Alzheimer's but I have heard that the Food Industry: Agriculture or Fast does not help anything accept their bottom line and making us addicted to things that will kill us.
The Food and Drug Administration, a governmental agency, Mitt Romney, Inc. doesn't want regulated; if anything he'd like it similar to a Free Market Economy. What I sense but us in the unrecoverable cesspool of debt called a recession but experientially like what my parents went through: a Depression.
I have a quiet sense of disquiet about my life and M's. Our mutuality is ending at least I sense it so by death departed; Either, or, both. My random rouge remark about not going to hospice every again is taking root. The only exception being Lila for whom I gave my final blessing over the telephone in our last conversation. Love without expectation of results or praise or acknowledgement is astonishing yet even in The Presence of The Author of Love one does not take for granted but doesn't run about leaping, crying, singing at least not all the time.
I think myself less than an ant upon the sidewalk of life; a living form self propelled that you'd not think or stop for a moment to step upon. Knowing from whence and to which or were I go I'm okay with that.
Yet there is a remnant within me of the Warriors Creed, Today is a God Day to Die . . . meaning I might crawl up your leg and blind you then destroy you. Just business, my business, not your's. Many times in recent memory I've played "The Passion" no game over and over trading places with Judas, Jesus, John, The Centurion, Mary The Mother and so on. Too keep it simple stupid no matter what Jesus was he knew or so I have faith in what awaited him in Jerusalem. He knew what lay ahead: humiliation, scourging, the long walk, Veronica's Veil, the shit and piss at time of death; all of it.
Arisen his resurrection in part or whole in us or for us. Makes no difference he being sent, inspired by or for God or possibly God him/her self playing a role; no matter how I slice and dice vivisect the scenario it comes out the same: okay.
I'll miss the Land of Enchantment, New Mexico, United States of America & M too. Harry Hudini suggested to his wife/lover that in death he'd communicate, he never did. So for me it is a matter of having and not having control and being at peace with my helplessness having enough sanity to prevail. I know what the accusation of Mental Illness means corporate, commonwealth, community and too me.
Imagine, if you will please, Jesus walking the streets of Moscow preaching redemption or Aurora doing essentially the same thing yet no one listened saying He was mentally ill.
CULT: "the word originally denoted a system of ritual practices. The word was first used in the early 17th century denoting homage paid to a divinity and derived from the French culte or Latin cultus, ‘worship’, from cult-, ‘inhabited, cultivated, worshipped,’ from the verb colere, 'care, cultivation'.[citation needed]
In the 1930s cults became the object of sociological study in the context of the study of religious behavior. They have been criticized by mainstream Christians for their unorthodox beliefs. In the 1970s the anticult movement arose, partly motivated by acts of violence and other crimes committed by members of some cults (notably the Manson Family and People's Temple). Some of the claims of the anti-cult movement have been disputed by other scholars, leading to further controversies.
Government reaction to cults has led to controversy. Cults have also been featured in popular culture."
Meanings/definitions change with time, application, events and misuse or abuse . . . have I made my point? What value do I have if I cannot question authority? I am not a priest, I don't want to be Jesus or Freud and know full well that in a profound sense we must become our own saviors in a time of lies, anxiety and systematic failure parading as answers.
My sense of what I've done at hospice is unworthy of attention yet I get more attention than I care for, either praise or slander; my sense of value is common to all who volunteer since most if not all have been touched by grief.
My world travel and exposure to many events, celebrities and common folk in birth living and dying means nothing to the people I volunteer to serve. That said unlike Virginia Theological Seminary who categorized me as another cipher, those who administer hospice could care less about me.
Accustomed to slander, defamation, suggestion and conviction that I am worthless -- unworthy of life it self -- an ant from beginning to end. It is not that 'they' my clients or those I volunteer for, client or administration, is unworthy of my love, talent, genius, devotion. It is merely that they and their agenda bores me. I am not a giant among ants, I am an ant among giants who would destroy my life simply because they can or feel they must.
This, what I've just written, is torn from my heart, what journal keeping is for and all about; process. God nor Heaven is my goal since I believe both are process to ends as yet unknown and unknowable. I am enjoying the trip not the goal.
Just attempted to call M for a 'reality check.' No M; just a machine; I hung up. Not knowing her alive or dead. I think for the nonce I'll keep crossing this dark room filled with marbles and attempt to keep my footing in truth: mine.
No one can buy me or pay my tuition. I think if you read me clearly you must find similar value within your self and life then live it. As a person I experience compassion for the slayer, the slain and the maimed plus all the grief left behind Aurora . . . and none for the politicians, judges and layers or the tits and ass or Chiclets wearing Armani suits judging the event in the court of public opinion. Fuck Fox especially but then too all the Televised 'infotainment news' media.
Time is now precious to me. If you ask me for my shirt I'll give it to you but steal it and I will retaliate. Today is both the first day or last day of my life.
120912 12:22 wealth
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment