Lacking a formal education and no degree above high school I find daily that I love to learn more. Counting most highly those days when learning becomes transformative. A good bit more than information regarding a lifetime of moral and ethical prostitution to a Corporation at the end of which they show you out their front boor escorted by armed security forces. You suddenly realize your ardor was in vain and there is no gain in your retirement accounts since your are expunged before qualification to collect.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhsh! Don't ever irk the ire of those who employ you it may change your life into something more better. Remembering well the 4th Grade Colonel's wife both retired whom I described to a curious class her absence saying; "I just saw her flying past the door on a broom stick."
I received the nervous laugh sought.
. . . and then the fan began turning; "Don't you want to grow up and be rich?" As she clutched my upper arm with vice grip claws her purple died hair bobbing and rouge and lip stick spittle. Oh well, dear Mr. Potato Head had his persona mutilated by her rage and I stayed back a grade. However. Remembering now I did gain an early friend of comparable age to the witch/bitch who upbraided me. Mrs. Nelson, I'll never cease giving her gratitude for she believed in me though paid to do so for special tutoring. It is remarkable how easily we forget the gifts we had until we are on the brink of losing everything. And I suspect it was mom who nearly beat me to death, kicking and stomping my youth into hell. Who in fact mad dad pay the bill. Of dad, I can only say that anything I learned from was to foster his ambition to be unforgettable yet I love him still he was the fool and I am wise having lost the contribution to his ambition given his second son the little bastard I refuse to call a brother. Abuse of all kinds emotionally equivalent to rape simply by the nature of their impact upon our psyche: boys & girls.
I have no degree or sanctioned affirmation for what I do. Yet I do what I do in love and having been schooled in The University of Universal Hard Knocks am empathetic to those who like me suffer loss:
Name it, Claim it: it is your ticket to strength and I am but one stepping stone a path to the one who can heal you; YOURSELF!
Save and redeem yourself in any way you must since each of us is unique and has a genius for something. If I have any genius it for finding the good in bad people. And for this I am grate full to many including my personal sense and faith in God who is not religious, we are.
I unwittingly, today, in a fit of joy misused and posted what I thought attributable to The Universalist Church: but in fact was hard line anarchism.
As the day wore on wearing me out I began to reconcile what I later learned reading Wikipedia, though subject to bias, what is not? The education implied through The Greenwich Board of Education was heavily influence by poor folk who couldn't afford private school . . .
I have dishes to wash, clothes that have need laundering since six months ago. I am so in love with writing that I simply don't care. And have only a female cat companion who rescued me from suicide. Then the is M she did pull me from the brink of both suicide and insanity; both topic/subject/issue I know very well and can teach them extemporaneously. I identify with something Joseph Conrad wrote about writing but refuse to quote him. I'll quote myself.
I will soon die of old age. Or. The list or perils are numerous; limitless, in fact. In three years, I wish it was more or that I could do more, not merely for the dying but the living as well. I learned that life is not a seamless continuity. That time is precious and so are you to me. While I once thought myself invincible or as stupid as it was suggested by my parents and life, and The Greenwich School Board. I am not any of the above nor are you. Or the Pope or President of the United States. We're all doing the best we can with what we have.
I have a curious mind. Both in what I inquire about and how I process the potential truths discovered. I will close here in recognition that this is a platform, a mission statement, the Rules of Engagement for all future conflicts with authority. Recently I discovered in my wandering wondering way that The Chinese Curse, mentioning ". . . my you come to the attention of the Authorities . . ." could in truth be you and me. After all is said and done are we cancer to be cured or individuals worthy of the attention we must pay to ourselves to know us better than that?
I am by nature, nurture, succor and learning profoundly religious. Yet I am equally aware that beneath the clown persona I regularly use I am equally, if not more so, a sophist for love.
I role play the various characters in The Passion Play wondering exactly who was who, what was what and why? The role I return to most often is the most troubling -- mere conjecture -- but it could be that Jesus was in fact God role playing Jesus.
If I died this moment there would be no anxiety, the wealth of that thought, if my last will and testament is sufficient for me. Mom was brilliant, father was humorous yet I still wonder why I loved them so and still do they being forgiven, absolved and redeemed in my heart they are. Final/Final: I sense that the Passion Play works both ways and still wonder why we kill one another attempting to prove our version of Love/Good/God is better . . . the hardest part was that I never forgave nor accepted myself for feeling so abused and wanting to kill them in reprisal.
12110 21:07 learning
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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