Joyous/Sadnesses

Sadnesses occasionally bests me turning to my garden of quotes surrounding the still pond of my mindfulness finding joy from the wisdom of others across centuries before me . . . incredible but true 'civilization' is but a gossamer veneer recording the past five to seven thousand years man's migrant occupation this planet for millions of years.

Binge reading was once my sanctuary and refuge from the annoyance of mother first then wife and solace in isolation my natural state. "Too stupid to live" I, of course, assumed my role mother given & such sadness as now my lover chasticed me for cat & mouse with the woman who trashed me publicly at hospice.

Occasionally I leap from my cave and savage those who beset me with their cupidity & stupidity; Psychotic in their absence of empathy not ever the lover of me yet I continue to pray for the one who savagely deleted me from my vocation at hospice + mother, wife, sister all victims of their silence. Could be that it was God's intention spoken through their rage filled silences punctuated by beatings and abandonment in times of need? Face-to-face eventually i'll ask dare I add 'why?' 

Thru myth, mayhem, omen and portent the runes and ruins of my wounded heart are healed by she i call lover too soon separated by death we will never divorce though no legal agreement extant recalling one of many intimations of our parting looking upward toward the sky beseeching succor seeing two toy balloons white against the heavens floating up tethered by one string looped between them and rested in that vision not dream.

Unlike the world's richest man i am no thief giving away my intellectual property inspired as i am by God guided to read Aristotle:

“A tyrant must put on the appearance of uncommon devotion to religion. Subjects are less apprehensive of illegal treatment from a ruler whom they consider god-fearing and pious. On the other hand, they do less easily move against him, believing that he has the gods on his side.” 

. . . of such witness I may bear the heavens declare all is well

120919 2035 joyous/sadnesses

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Envisioning myself as I might be, had I not been told how stupid I was, is futile but fun. 

I sense - think - feel - intuit my parent's motives not unique but a reprise what they had been taught by their parents who in turn . . . you get the picture? A legacy/bequest of stupid people; ignorant of the consequence: their projections upon the virgin soul/mind/self of their children passed forward. As discipline or tutelage to cope with my adulthood. 

I fear nothing for myself yet retain a growing concern for our world lead by those who seem Pontifical/Patriarchal, more nearly 'God-Like' as my parents seemed to me from infancy thru early adulthood. 

Held back going forward from the fourth to fifth grade in elementary school. I was relatively happy, then maladapted thereafter; absent my friends. Additionally I was regularly banished during summer school vacations to my maternal grandmothers home 1,000 miles distant. Where I'd been parked at five for a year during my parent's search for a new residency after World War II.

At seventy two, in November, and looking back, I now realize my intention in loving mother was never to seduce her sexually but emotionally into loving herself. After many failed similar relationships I now know it doomed to failure to attempt loving someone else into loving themselves . . . I might as well asked for the $500,000. bequest she gave equally divided to my sister and myself at twelve in advance.

Or to have asked for the keys to her car. I was successful at age fourteen professing a desire to show my friends at band camp mothers 'new to her' Cadillac. Thirty minutes later I drove at approximately 110 mph down the back roads of Durham New Hampshire. Oblivious of my three silent friends. Boy, oh boy, I thought reading was fun but driving a car swiftly became numerous vehicular misadventures; my childhood tricycle long forgotten. 

The Cadillac was mother's only compensation for working 24/7/365 until she divorced dad twenty seven years later. Receiving half his wealth through Connecticut's communal property divorce laws. There had been other items of compensation: trips to places foreign dad was curious about; often they'd return separately. And in death dad left me nothing. I started working for him at age thirteen leaving at twenty eight since my then wife thought them both alcoholics; they were. 

I have memories and reminders from dad that while mother was brilliant she equally was insane. He, always dumb and stupid, though charming, witnessed my being ridiculed and beaten from infancy until I grew too large and wise too her moods for her continuance. 

Unbeknownst to me until I requested my (six years-younger-than-I)  sister what her first memories were; "Mother beating me nearly to death when I was in the third grade. . " That was around the time we were accused of incest. Instead of being beaten I was banished -- in place; mother refusing to speak to me for a year or more -- I ran away. Dad found me wandering within Innis Arden Golf Club in Old Greewich then; God knows how. Thereafter he 'protected' and enslaved me into a similar pursuit of his love equally impossible. If I use the word slave I know of what I speak for in marriage -- the mother of my two dead children and the one we adopted abandoning us -- we were unable to find affordable residence within seventy five miles of my 'parents' (read 'dads') business. 

Current events in my life have helped to focus my thoughts towards those of us who were similarly trashed. By present and pass events. Dominated or Dictated by materialist who are essentially sociopath's; if not actually psychotic. 

Cynics, they know the cost of everything and the value of nothing. 

And for we the people of PTSD Co-Dependence and any who could easily qualify for 12 Step Help. I will continue my efforts to detail the how and why we must get healed or at the very least better. Especially now that I've been thrown out of Mesilla Valley Hospice service. It became clear that I could help those in living death; not merely those about to die.

120919 11:14 envisage

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Quibble? 

About what? 

I am convicted of my faith yet wear neither leash, halter nor other sign. In faith and science I have confidence that, in time, we can be healed of, not our crimes against nature which brooks no remedies, but our follies against our selves & one another. Of God I am confident doing no revision in history. 

At the moment, moving about my chores between sentences, I find a furor over whether or not Jesus was married? Marriage is a ministry between two people and precludes ministry to others on a significant basis. I know Buddha was married but left and ask were not the disciples equally so married once yet abandoned not only wife but family as well? 

Intertwined is the falsehood that money is equal to words of independence since money in our time is, as a medium of exchange, in crisis. We are all complicit in this problem. I for one have lost all mine and found peace. I have enough for my life lived as it is simply.

In the imagined presence of all the loving prophets; I sense their live's singular and their counsel I/Thou not I/You as a couple. That would be marriage counseling. Were I to do so I would be addressing each individual first. Then as a couple . . . a prophet in his own home is but a fool. . . .perhaps with very good reason.

I can change nothing but myself and take no responsibility for another save my rescue companion cat: Annie. And at that, nearly threw my life away to attend her needs, not mine. Wisdom seems to dictate historically that if you want to be sane, sober, kind to others you need not mate for to travel the unmarked paths of love of needs we must travel alone. Save, of course for the Lover; God. 

Imagine your escape from a submerged car with family inside, able to save only the mother or child. Which one? I could site a number of turnings, roads taken and not taken, in my life wherein I chose to attempt the saving of my son, or daughter, knowing nothing of their mother's pain since she expressed none. She became an Episcopal Priest and I became whatever I am; no name, no ambition, no need not addressed. My grief healed and my heart expanded beyond me. I know myself too well; regarding women I love or lust for since to follow my inclinations or instincts would be to end what I write and all intention to be for a woman able to heal her broken heart. . . .including mom.

Do we not have enough children in need that we must create/promote more? Life is degraded beyond tolerance as it is. The weight of us become crushing; a cancer upon our planet. 

My intention is that you live your life as you see fit independent of any governance or religion. And absolutely no cult. The hoarding of money is a cult in itself and the expense to women and children obvious enslaved to education dedicating them to the service of power: mere slavery. 

You and I are emigrants upon an earth we do not own. Is it not difficult enough to own yourself? The people I follow closely in imagination, prayer or actually are independent of my having, having not themselves, barely. 

I remember too well being a member of a family, a very small tribe, happily forgiven for my attempts to love them sufficiently that they might love themselves. To be fruitful and multiply is to give your love in service to others. Not yourself, your wife and children, but to all mankind.

Such giving I will define farther along this path we walk together. Once healed, only if broken, in pain and suffering, will you begin to understand it is not what you have but what you give that enriches you.

In closing I remind you I envy and fear no one. Not even Annie who I shouted at and she sulked in the corner mooning me. 

Find and be true to yourself; that will be enough for the cosmos.

"You have freedom when you're easy in your harness." --Robert Frost

120919 04:55 quibble

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

love your enemy

Love your enemy . . . doing so is to receive Love intended by the Author of Life . . . since in recognition of an 'enemies' right to exist, living fully, is reverence for them & God. 

Death has no fear for me; a water bomb dropped from the thirteenth floor of the Waldorf-Astoria; a condom filled with tap water soon bust upon head or sidewalk. Water being divine and nonesuch in evidence throughout the known Universe. I, evaporated, will be recycled here or in heaven, so to speak, if only in the blue vault above; even in the blight of night. 

Though I descend through the canyon of commerce to a shadowy death. My Lord shall keep my soul blest; mere water evaporating into eternity. Nothing whatsoever is lost in God.

Pragmatically speaking; it was the motive to pray for my attacker; she is after all a fellow crew member in the Charnel House, that lent me these thoughts and now I pray she never calls me back since I've learned to be born and live is to die. The order and hour of which is beyond my control. Yet now I know better, more so hourly, that it was time to move on. . . & she & i shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever more. 

. . . listen closely Dear more often than not we do the wrong things for the right endings. The conflict giving me an adjustment not death for I never defined myself exclusively by sorrow but equally mirth. And Love never requires nearness to death for justice. This is it not, is what Jesus died for?

The profits of cupidity end. Yet the prophets of love, so many across the globe, never. And my Dear you unwittingly became partner to the latter . . . & we now appart better blest. 

Inspiration -- coincidence -- synchronicity? I thought to page forward on http://niv.scripturetext.com/psalms/24.htm 
& will close here:

<< Psalm 24 >>

New International Version 1984  

Psalm 24

Of David. A psalm.

1The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,

the world, and all who live in it;

2for he founded it upon the seas

and established it upon the waters.

3Who may ascend the hill of the Lord?

Who may stand in his holy place?

4He who has clean hands and a pure heart,

who does not lift up his soul to an idol

or swear by what is false.a

5He will receive blessing from the Lord

and vindication from God his Savior.

6Such is the generation of those who seek him,

who seek your face, O God of Jacob.b       Selah

7Lift up your heads, O you gates;

be lifted up, you ancient doors,

that the King of glory may come in.

8Who is this King of glory?

The Lord strong and mighty,

the Lord mighty in battle.

9Lift up your heads, O you gates;

lift them up, you ancient doors,

that the King of glory may come in.

10Who is he, this King of glory?

The Lord Almighty—

he is the King of glory.       Selah

Footnotes:

a 4 Or swear falsely

b 6 Two Hebrew manuscripts and Syriac (see also Septuagint); most Hebrew manuscripts face, Jacob

{i am only a footnote yet being such lends me freedom to be myself and this self feels loved and blest thus i am not exclusively 'Christian' but advocate for love expressed variously by others across the world tolerant.}

God bless you 1 & All + mr

120919 03:05 water bomb

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

nonesuch Love

Nothing definitive can be said of my love affair with God. 

To be so convicted, apprehending the word associated with experience is, or should be, enough. "Thank You" echoes down history and spoken by many, actually all, seemingly in perspective: in the Higher Consciousness so touched.

And to a one; each has been touched by suffering; finding the same balm. 

Yes 

Go ahead and say the next word: Gilead . . . the same delight of finding I could read in Third Grade within the Dick & Jane Reader returns renewed and seen in union with the moment of discovery:

Balm of Gilead noun 1. Small evergreen tree of Africa and Asia; leaves have a strong aromatic odor when bruised (source: WordWeb Pro) http://www.bible.ca/ef/expository-jeremiah-8-22.htm

An old man returned to childhood bereft of all accomplishments and accruements seeing and experiencing the simplest of growing younger by day by night. Sleep. A death from which I am resurrected totally different in perception the child who said; "Now I lay me down to sleep I pray my soul to keep should I die in my sleep, oh Dear Lord. Amen."

I weep differently now. Eyes brimming with water yet to descend beyond the lips of my eyelids and remember a few who could see the calm pool of my eyes touched with cat's paws. Or Randy, my son,  who saw me glow in the dark. 

Yet 

Of Course 

It is not I/eye by love glowing within me and such love has no woman/man exclusively.

Yes

Love grows and greed diminishes. The only competition worthy of attention is with The Self and none other. What happen to me, those hours spent in The Chicago City Morgue was refined in the fire of another Charnel House: Hospice. My terror become disquiet visiting the doctor who with experience and discernment can say; "You have hours to live." 

My intellectual property is not fully contained in words or photographs. But in my laughter at the prospect of my death and that of others served who also stand before their grave. It is my peace and joy they see that others perceive as horrible. . . and it is not what we say or do but how they feel when we leave: serenity, submission to the will of God. 

When there is an M&M we hold each others heart in our hands -- in turn we are held in God's. Thus without arrogation or boast we become the great chaste lovers typified in legend; soul mates two angels gender less mating. 

An entirely different voice: Rumi speaks so of love defining no being but God. Would you know God better begin with him; Rumi's naked soul dancing wherever 

My children are lost so I adopt the Children of God not for aggrandizements but to sing these closing songs. For mediocrity is won. Yet the terrible price will be paid not in love but the coin of realm: power and force. Lovers go to Heaven and cynics to Hell. 

Mere words

Mere conjecture 

Since we know the author of us too well.

120919 00:57 nonesuch Love

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved