Traveling sixteen hundred miles wending my way towards a vision experienced in 1965 on my way to Mexico City. I knew instinctively I was home at last when crossing the pass between one place and another in the dark. From seven thousand feet looking across hundreds of miles. Experiencing a flashing lightning storm striking first here, then there, like brain synapses. Which now seems internally more like the Bicentennial Firework Show over New York Harbor. Yet for me silent, instead of many bangs.
I am now celibate for many reasons growing more so daily. Realizing now that all my life was baiting the tiger, or in my case the lioness of first mom, then wife, the lover, etc.
In a sense I have not merely been very bad ethically and morally but worse abusive to myself knowing nothing better. If you have God as your best friend, and I am not alone in this sense, seeing it across history. Not merely in Jesus. But many others who essentially remain nameless to all but a few who seek wisdom and truth.
If you want me to ignore you tell me about how sweet Jesus is and I will walk away in silence; not derision. True love is mutable, renewable daily, dedicated to maintenance, of not devotion, but negotiation, for what is todays agenda and purpose. It is the crooked made plain; a level playing field between God and Self--again--and again--not exclusive to me but many who were like me apostate, agnostic, nihilist, sexually promiscuous, etc. Name all the sins, guilts and shames. I've done it returning at last to the truth of my love who saved me so many times I have no other excuse for being alive.
And to think, at one time I sought the pink sugar cone of cotton candy handy at carnivals and sideshows. Bimbos and sluts, not intrinsic, but merely in my imaging: peace and pleasure in their arms safe at last. I was born after fifty-eight-hours in my mother's womb. Why would I want to return to make love with her? Instead I've grown to a full maturity now in recognition that I longed merely for her to love herself and leave me alone in solitary peace.
Remembering the moments of ecstatic joy lending flickering glimpses of God and Truth. Post or prior coital; "Did you remember to put the trash out?" Or. "Are the children asleep." Odd. Very odd to realize God with me from first to last and beyond. Yet more so now apparent!
I have explored many women and creative activities: painting, music, sports, war making, the list is endless and yet none did it for me: no bliss, no rest, no hope. Worse. No completion until I said I am a recluse, introverted, slow to process either love or anger. Saying; “I should have been celibate.” At the same time recognizing the complicity between both. Indifference being what I did to myself.
That is, of course, until I met the last and great martyr.
Indifferent and indecisive in and towards myself. I am now decisive to the point of needing caution that I do not destroy people I otherwise can hold in prayer instead of bed or faux friendship.
If I give you my attention, initially it is merely being civil. If you steal my time you will do well to know that I can and will destroy you. Love is not a sweet thing sentimental; rather and farther a violence and passion beyond most human understanding.
Creation beyond The Big Bang theory. . . .The before and after nothingness.
We, you and I, and all of life is made from the same stuff as the stars plus one key ingredient: water. . . .Recently on my way into water aerobics, the only reason I am not in constant agony from arthritis, I saw a young man with a one gallon bottle of water near a brand new pickup truck. I paused saying; "WOW! A vehicle that runs on water!"
"No!" The young man replied; "I do: one gallon a day!"
Expect war between the haves and have nots'. Not over jobs or money; but water. Think about living aboard a vessel, as Ship of State, or like a submarine to a sailor. To bathe one gets wet turning off the water, sudsing, then rinsing all in the space of three minutes. We can go days without food but without water a day or two.
You do not know the value of anything until you lose or come close to losing it. The world is maladjusted in so many ways by over population . . . think the number of cities near oceans and rivers soon polluted beyond use by any means or measures; water costing more than any other resource. Tucson has a life span of maybe another two decades before becoming a ghost town. As for Manhattan it may well soon be under water.
Think.
Seek the truth for yourself.
Add all the rest of us--as well. Or just dying of thirst for living potable water. Or just for laughs; having a cigarette basking in your bathtub exploding.
121017 04:09 unreality truth
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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