Axioms, slogans, koans and parables; all talismanic to consider in the ordinary of our wasted lives. To be or not to be, noble or ignoble, in the common of life is not the issue so much as to what are we, individually, to ourselves? What remains as the stone of time rolls moss less to the end of it’s trajectory: death?
Children love repetition while becoming angry, agitated, aggrieved at innovation. Rather I should say merely change. For me, Henry Ford’s; "Don't find fault, find a remedy." Is nearly as important as Jesus’; “Love your enemy.” Each imperative is consciously to fall face first into a box of broken razor blades writhe discovering one’s self rend from earlobe to nerve ending, and, at the moment why I am vertical instead of resting.
Some seek oblivion in sleep while I, it seems more often than not, find myself wrestling, if not with “God,” at the very least with myself--yet a higher consciousness than I alone am capable of. At that I find it no longer curious: an ability to seek and find the source of my disquiet--not disease.
The who, what and why of “God” is answered in all religions, philosophies and governance. Yet partially. And espoused by those who would profit not those whose love of consciousness is not a game but a vital reality. Generally considered prophecy using inconvenient truths as argument against entropy. All are born equal in opportunity to seek yet are the most part those happy with toys dependent upon the esteem of others gurgling blissful in playpens: local or global.
Without guidance or inspiration the difficulty of conflict resolution is to intervene between the aggrieved; one child beating another to death with the conflicted prize. Our ability to extinguish conflict is obvious yet slipping from our grasp. Thankfully so since the exercise of resolution means the extinction of all life now. Where is Solomon when we need him most?
And of “God,” or the highest consciousness possible, where is the resolution? Creation remains silent while we the created are hell bent for election, the privilege to decide; stewardship or exploitation? Collaboration has become a political sin laughably so. The wannabe, like the was, Emperor naked in greed; an addiction to power psychotic
My disquiet, the conclusions awakening me, is personal and become irrelevant to this stream of thought. At issue is negotiation, dialog; an attempt to resolve with reason not destruction. Which is protagonist and who is antagonist; what is the nature of their motivation, intentions and objectives?
Following an intuition I sought answers in what has become the most highly read post of all: from Eric Hoffer. Followed by fourteen hours of mediation integrated with the ordinary of my extraordinary life--not mine alone but all life is extraordinary--once we consciously integrate death as it’s reasonable conclusion--every moment becomes precious. If I leave a breadcrumb trail behind me, it is for those who follow that they learn this simple lesson. Life, whether by accident, creation or evolution cannot be mutually exclusive to those who consider it so. Consider yourself in dollars and cents: one dollar. Ninety cents of your consumption is health by choice; the remaining ten cents is immutable and due to the simple arithmetic of genetics.
Life, Love and Liberty are not for sale by individual choice; choose to be a commodity or a self, never a slave. Violent input, violent output; the drug of the fearful and weak.
More on this in the latter future. Only if there is one.
121119 02:52 adversary
Predation is what we represent to the world at large. This has been true of all colonial powers throughout time from prehistory. In a sense it should be less surprising than the discovery that 99.9 percent of all people masturbate. There is a linkage here I have been attempting to mindfully discover since witnessing a papa bear masturbating in a cage, lolled back in boredom in his captivity. Oddly, at the time, alone with my very young children--unique in itself since my forever wife Susan seldom trusted me alone with them individually or together. I had not to pretend to shelter them or their curiosity.
With cause? I know many of my family who think me insane . . . perhaps better to cross the void on thin air.
When you are rejected and despised by your parents, it is difficult to find a reason to live. Suicide becomes a relief valve daily revisited. Political and religious figures assume the role of a parent without the obvious sacrificial aspect of good parents. Or, as it was before history became marzipan, a sweet lie, a confection to bury the masses in, It was the nature of kingship to be sacrificed in the right season for the King/Queen to have his/her heart torn out to fecundate the fields next time; possibly the origin of Thanksgiving that most of us are unaware of. Regardless of how much I love Buddha and Lao Tzu returning to the root of me I discovered Jesus again and again anew.
Yet this is not what I wanted to talk about essentially. It was awakening with an overwhelming gratitude for my life. Without denigration, I presume it ending soon, yet suspended in a desire to know more of all the wonderful people for whom I have endless gratitude including the Creator. Death is a small price to pay for the glory of life. Explicit: integration means change from what we were to what we can become free of greed and ego.
Odd to say but sometimes I wish I were blind and unable to see what I don’t want to see--but what is. When viewing photographs of those currently “In Shame” I see hard bodies, admirable. Whose mating seems reasonable as typical of all brothers at arms in harms way. I became aware of this when interviewing police, first responders, nurses and many same sex or different sexed relationships: love is inevitable in ways that the formal contractual marriage seldom is.One’s self seen differently, no longer a convenience or wall paper. Trust--Active.
Moral and ethical rectitude have no meaning here. The relationship is above and beyond law yet accountable to it: law. At first I saw the young woman as a predator and the wife aggrieved. Knowing from first hand choice not to participate in or with people who collect success as a trophy. With time I have begun not to write so much from inspiration but what happens afterwards; attempting to integrate the ideal with reality. And at that it is only for those of us who know ourselves somehow outside the norm; confessional, if only to ourselves and God, or to those who become aware of the nature of chaos and failure--we learn nothing from success but to repeat what seems obvious and by that become bored to tears.
No one can, or would want to, pay the price of my tuition. About which I’ve said enough, not to want a rehearsal of, the price paid; misunderstood by me for decades and only apparent and apprehended around middle age. That is not why I write--that is if you can call it writing--I tend not to take myself seriously; laughter being my nature. Joy, actually! At my expense.
Life is an experience only you can validate and redeem. Knowing how difficult it is to love and have compassion for one’s self is. I give it preemptively via silence and/or action and speech. What was it Willy Shakes said (William Shakespeare) in Macbeth? “Come home on your shield or impaled upon your sword.” True honor is not cheap. Obviously I find preemptive destruction dishonorable aka “Shock and Awe.”
Time and tide awaits no one, perhaps, except God, and then only on special occasions.
The nature of my gratitude is best described in what M has done for me. For her there is nothing I can give in reply or gratuity. Obviously, as with all true generosity, none is required.
If I speak in terms of healing, about which I once thought myself unique, at least to her. But later discerned it something she said to all her clients. Nonetheless let me be so bold as to annotate the ministry of Our Lord on earth: the miracles healing one after another seldom met with gratitude; He resorted to parables. Something akin to: Give a person a fish, they eat for a day. Give a person a parable, koan, axiom, quote and the person will live eternally. In a sense it is the words that eat our conceits and confections, that will humble us into loving ourselves.
This for me is the true nature of God:
I/Thou.
One-on-one. . . .too good to be true but truth demonstrated if only you answer the invitation to dance. Choose your adversaries. Most are unworthy of your soul. Do no harm. Tell no one, simply walk away. How many, we’ll never know, did He, Jesus offer and walk away from? Lest you be as innocent as an infant, with or without the cunning as unto a cobra, you cannot know yourself.
The dignity of the self decapitated is only apparent to the poor who see God more clearly and rejoice in every breath.
"Man cannot make a worm, yet he will make gods by the dozen." - Michel de Montaigne
Perhaps I can give nothing to M except my hungry self to celebrate her annual event: Thanksgiving, her birthday and Christmas combined. Nothing, that is, enabling her another breath, heartbeat, moment or day of life here on earth. But I will join those so privileged to have known her at all in all our humblest gratitude.
Happily, a stray, I will join to the extent possible her menagerie of great and small furry animals astonished at my good fortune not to be alone ever again. Tho she be for now ten miles distant and in time light years away. Such love transcends all definition.
Be well beloved and aware this season of becoming gratitude.
- Marc Estrin
“Kindness trumps greed: it asks for sharing. Kindness trumps fear: it calls forth gratefulness and love. Kindness trumps even stupidity, for with sharing and love, one learns.”
121120 19:17 MST To close . . . l have been wrestling with my sense of injustice and discovered a need to not enter the heart of darkness--the only proclivity I take seriously about and within my Self.
So instead of advocating, in fiction or fact, open season on bankers and/or the general--nothing new here--rule of thieves I will mark my losses as tuition in the school of terrorism: Reality. Preparing another pot of pinto beans with small bits of Bologna, some corn and diced tomatoes: Two deaths never make one whole life. The longest story, love, never rots nor decays but grows. From forgiveness.
121120 04:44 Predation
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