aggression V. assertion - inspired by Wm. Blake

Dreams are inconvenient they reveal aspects of our self (aka soul) that inform of facets being too largely grand for us to inhabit. Thru years experienced attending The School of Hard Knocks --mine classes and my experience-- I’ve learned to pay close attention; earning a degree of reality in our world awash in chaos. Though painful and emotionally expensive there is value: a grief for tragic losses healed: All of them!

Death and loss have visited my family, friends and those others I’ve loved, so early and often I came to accept their leaving me as a matter of nature, as in the way of life, not tragic; or punishment.

Recent events have informed me that I am a take-no-prisoner dedicated person demanding that others I regard highly accept my personal standards of truth and the ferocity of my love. For a lifetime I’ve remained divided: is my aggression or assertion based upon need or gift?

Instead of asserting myself, at or near the beginning of the relationship, I have endured countless hours of boredom hearing frequently repeated issues for which I know they themselves must heal. Worse: receiving their projected rage against men in general; or specific; yet not myself. Rather than confront or hold them accountable to their self avoidance I left. But I was a boy then, now I am an emotionally sober man. Flashing across the screen of my mind were all the times I’ve run away instead of harm my beloved woman, mother, sister, wife, lover . . . I have never harmed a woman but know I can with far greater anger than appropriate. Absent I have remained loyal by choice and inclination; but in my leaving, left behind not only my furnishings and collected art output but all my reference material.

Afterward with reflection discovered I had left a piece of my heart, like leaven to animate their healing . . . or so I once thought: unconsciously. Then thinking it love, I now see aggression and trespass against their God given right in free will to remain as they will or must is what Jesus and Buddha did in leaving their former lives for the life wanting birth.

Could we, for a moment briefly say that a woman giving virgin birth might also indicate/describe  her giving birth to her first child? If you accept my envisages then my thesis of giving birth to my Self is a gift in homage to the Author of All Life, Love, Value and meaning. My love for God is immutable and my faith rewarded so often and in so many ways I remain humiliated  at the poverty of my soul.

This morning I awoke with a sincere and painful sense of myself; as described by someone far wiser, infinitely more compassionate and merciful than I; what Lao Tzu describes as “ . . spontaneous awareness of the Great Oneness.”

--Nostradamus
"After there is great trouble among mankind, a greater one is prepared. The great mover of the universe will renew time, rain, blood, thirst, famine, steel weapons and disease. In the heavens, a fire seen."

121003 06:44 inspired by Wm. Blake
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

121003 12:21 no good deed goes unpunished

Or: 
"Retarded answer:
Actually, the saying is "ALL GOOD DEEDS GO UNPUNISHED". However, the saying contorted "No good deed goes unpunished" was said to emphasize that if one does no good deed, then one shall expect to be punished, i.e., "no good deed will go unpunished. You have to 'think' it a different way, and you will then understand it.

Read more: http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Where_did_the_phrase_no_good_deed_goes_unpunished_originate#ixzz28DUnjjHQ

I awoke at the annotated time and while making my "morning" or is "Mourning" coffee I came to an understanding of something M said in passing no too long ago. The fragments of which coalesced around my curiosity/cause/effect/consequence . . . instead of terror or 'fear of the Lord' I began to laugh and understood better why people are attracted to both fictive and nonfiction heroes. Add to which the flickering memory of Buddha's mention of "A Middle Way" God Bless God and all who ask in sincere need to know their own truth at the time of crisis.

I have been subject to crisis to the extend of being indifferent about death since death implies the surcease of everything and so it follows that I fear more never being able to 'die.' 

My initial curiosity centered in the "Last words of Jesus Christ" and all attendant associations in my dyslexic perceptions regarding things spiritual versus material. Then and now I know I hurt her and that is the last thing I'd ever want to do to either she or my mother yet I did and thus am as complicit as Josef Mengele was in Nazi Death Camps -- I enjoy chasing my tail ala all mad dogs should be put to sleep. 

Self knowing only becomes real love for one's self when we accept the unknowing parts. Those elements of our minds that begin to recognize that even the most generous and wonderful of us have bigotries, hypocrisies and can be by: nature, nurture and education cynical. Therefore another question arises; is it dangerous to know yourself? 

Laughing, but you cannot hear me. Jesus is the absolute "Gold Standard" definitive to me of what it means to be a person. At the moment I am amused with myself remembering a few gestures of self flagellation and/or being flagellated by accident as in the man who threatened to throw me out of the apartment I am currently dwelling in . . . it may well be, definitively, that I am dumb as stone.

I collected an illustration -- recently used to illustrate -- quote of/by Lao Tzu on an ox. So when I am animate I an ox and when inanimate I'm a rock. Though suffused with 'Classical Music' thus avoidant of "Rock-'n-Roll" I have long ago succumbed to the charms of both.

I started to say, at least I thought about writing; "One goal many paths" then remembering Tzu's; 'just keep walking Jack' -- he didn't say it gets better of that The Source will be there for you but I know from what awakened me this time that I might simply die from bliss. And at that, not having run up a tab with a drug king pin. M & God remain the most amazing personalities I've yet encountered, with rare and occasional, seemingly random exception.

My listening abilities grow exponentially while my ability to write or speak or sing or tap dance take a nose dive. . . .And as dad said too frequently to me; "You are as full of shit, as the Christmas Goose!" Then laughing. I don't really want to kill anyone I just, sometimes, want to put them on the rack and make them look funny as I did to myself the first time I illustrated the ideal/issue of "Smoking Pot."

I know a few really wonderful actors in certain revelatory films who being more human than I am lent me the sense that my or Randy's or Johanna's deaths and Jodi's abandonment "just happen" and none of it is my fault.

. . . I did however awaken with a frisson of fear that I'd hurt M all over again. And if nothing else she cured me of saying "I am sorry for being myself" but that was initially, perhaps she's changed her mind?

To close, at least for this moment, confident that I will continue to write if only for fear of dying of boredom or crying myself to death over what we're doing to one another savagely and/or the planet since once you cannot drink the water drain what's left of your blood and after drinking that grasp your posterior with both hand bending over and kiss it goodbye. . . .I hope then I won't meet da JUDGE!

. . . I cannot afford cable TV, despise football reminding me of 6 year-old-girls raped by chimpanzees for the amusement of the masses in Rome long ago and the girls parents were Christian. How about them apples!? Like M there are times when reading, our mutual guilty pleasure, that we go away into another place. For me it was why I abandoned my son to his grandfather's care seeking shelter from the Lightning and Thunder of the Bi-Centennial Fourth of July 1976 in New York Harbor.

Regardless of everything. I've had a very interesting life and am near sick to death of it. Had it not been for my sense of humor, I'd have eaten a train long ago. Being human, nothing surprises me now.

Well I lie. Of course I do! Attention paid to me for something I produce is affirmation that I'm not as stupid as mom seemed to think me being; from beginning to end.

Never really or fatally oblivious of God, however, since that small still voice tells me things I could never imagine in ways so far beyond verification or attribution. The experience just now make me happy as a boy in a sandbox with a girl making sand castles and I'll never forget St. Joan of Arc it seems dangerous to love God so. 

121003 12:21 no good deed goes unpunished
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved