ok 2 b U

As archeologist/self-biographer I am amused to tell you I am certifiably insane. There is a history, like toilet paper spooling from the cuff of my left pant leg, trailing me hither and yon. Detailing all the past medical history for which I have spent thousands of wasted dollars for medications I did not need. The misdiagnosis, bipolar, seemed to fit. Invoking a sense of relief. Having long wondered what was wrong with me; verbatim, my mother's response upon first hearing.

There have been other cases of misinformation and consequences. Only yesterday I heard a doctor explain why my son died; having been x-rayed in his mother's womb four or five times over. A fact that the AMA did not approve at the time. In general doctor's have a license to practice medicine and are not miracle workers or gods.

My abiding concern is for people. Why we do what we do. Healing that in myself makes it less mysterious in others. Retrospectively it explains my entire esthetic to me. More-or-less equally divided between the art/craft of writing—something previously impossible to me—then reporting the facts of my experience so that, perhaps, just one other might be encouraged to fight for themselves in the face of 'authority.'

I find it bemusing the number of medicos and politicians who treat us with humiliation, indifference and as cyphers towards their bank accounts. I do have a prejudice for the servant of servants, obvious to and among the poor.

140419 03:53 Ashamed

I am ashamed that I've lost my mother's bequest. Conscious of her labors, oblivious to her former husband , my father, for who's ambitions I prostituted mine, at the end he left me bereft of his company as well as his fortune I helped to amplify and invest.

Equally, possibly more so, I am ashamed of what American Free Market Economy, has become as terrorist to the world.

Then swiftly spiraling downward, awake, I discovered a new sense for 'insanity':

“We painters use the same license as poets and madmen.” ~ Paolo Veronese

. . . then rediscovered my sense nothing is lost in eternity. All will be well, in all things, all will be well. We are held in memory by choice, chance, creation or evolution . . . lending my recall, that to be kind is to define what I am convicted of: mercy not rage. Love made possible for all, in reality.

Startled to recognize that I am held in confidence; wherein the past I was terrified that it was all an illusion. This that I write is nothing but notes on a life becoming something else as we all are. And ask merely for patience to see what we become. And become of us. A blossoming new creation or merely rendering ourselves extinct.

Could it be that the real insanity--doing the same things expecting different results--is what those who pretend to be most sane, the governors and rulers of sacred, secular empires do. Applying more censure, closer examination of everything we do. Following us everywhere knowing our every thought. House arrest for the entire world?

The promptings of my heart, sought and apprehended, lend me fear of nothing and envy of no one. To live as I did, once, was a living death: no life at all.

Sanity for me is to be wary of those who claim to have absolute, definitive, revealed answers for all.

Inherent within each of us is that which was before the beginning and will remain at the ending of everything. Attend that and be your once and only wildly precious self celebrating life, this day, as if it were your last.

"Insanity in individuals is something rare - but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule."

"It is precisely facts that do not exist, only interpretations." - Nietzsche

130418 01:24 Okay 2 B U

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