Gratitude for difficulty

100203 19:01
“A man (person) who has not passed through the inferno of his (their) passions has never overcome them.” --Carl Jung
If I have no honesty with myself I am lost; have no love and no value.
I fled from a dream this morning at 02:30 and read, for hours, to finish “THE LAKE THE RIVER & THE OTHER LAKE” by Steve Amick--in order to escape my dream. And avoid the consequential implications. I attempted to resolve an intuition that my dream had originated in a clergy person--there are no ‘minor’ characters in the novel. Eventually, as the day wore on, my depression turned to despair; finally desolation settled in. The Minister and I share/shared an addiction to pornography available on the Internet. Amick wrote a wonderful sermon for the Minister who . . . well that would spoil it!
Pornography, literally writing about prostitutes, is a business of astonishing profitability. It is like the drug trade in that it requires patrons to thrive. Legislation against, or censorship, will never address the need for the product.
Although I drew, painted and sculpted from nude models, starting at the age of fourteen, nudity was uncommon in my generation.
As a photographer I have avoided opportunities for photographing nude women, for the simple reason that I was terrified of falling in lust/love with them. There was little or no kindness between myself and those I would attach to in childhood. My longing for intimacy was misguided by the ideal of sexual gratification instead of sincere intimacy and mutual vulnerability; what I now know as friendship.
I am no longer surprised at what is now called “sexting,” or the commonplace of sexual intimacy implied by professional and amateur people photographically or in videos.
If I had minimum wage for all the hours lost surfing porn on the Internet I would not, now, have to recycle aluminum cans to eat. Worse. I would not shutter at the arrival of my utility bills or have to avoid general medical care.
Typical of me, I discover myself with too much to write and too little space, or time, to fully develop my thoughts, intentions, goals and objectives.
As a nation we seem obsessed with sex. Rather than moralize in general terms I am compelled to enter/alter my attitudes upwelling from within my psyche. The need for trust, an ability to negotiate both the pleasure and obligations involved with another person. I am very conscious, at the moment, how wonderfully Amick incarnates the ‘urge to merge’ with real love and in a very sincere sense makes both possible through fiction. And, at that, how poorly I’ve done limping through failed relationships; one-after-another.
I recognize how fraught with peril the issue was between myself and mom. How her attitudes regarding sex and our general relationship distorted my ability to be fully honest and fearless in my relationships with women. Add to which at my age most of the women I encounter are irrevocably damaged from abuse imposed upon them by former relationships . . . exactly as I was.
If there is any benefit to my confession it is that by example I might help those, like my former self, to enter into friendships with women, or love of your choice, to discover intimacy is not exclusively sexual.
In the news this evening, the issue of homosexuality was prevalent.  I laughed when I thought, what if the accusation was made “You are heterosexual!” and therefor untrustworthy.
Sex, religion, politics, death and taxes are all too difficult for us to accept without fear. Or are they?
In love there is no fear--at least that is my summary of a difficult day. At issue is what do we cling to by way of truth? Does it work in current time? My metaphor: myself in the middle of the Pacific clinging to a slowly deflating rubber life vest. No government or religion can re-inflate the support I once depended upon.
I am grateful for this difficult day now resolved in peace.

. . . coal in your stocking for . . . Christmas

091226 13:16
“A Hard Candy . . . an Orange, or coal in your stocking for . . .  Christmas“ it goes on-and-on.
. . . response to random insights Christmas Day:
I want to narrow my focus to people in trouble. Who isn’t?
Specifically I am, at the moment, concerned for people like me, boys & girls, women & men, for whom Christmas was a disappointment for most of their lives. For me, this celebration was dominated by savage suicidal depression. I have a number a statistics, personal and world-wide, to rationalize my negative mood. Yet buried within myself are several exceptional scenarios of surprise and delight. Which, when, and if, they were remembered, saved my day & life.
Think of Sunday, in the backseat--family car---do people do that these days? Multiply fifty-two times infinity, remembering when you waited patiently for “it to be over” and that was my Christmas for sixty-eight years.
“Are we there yet?”
Was met with violence--physical or emotional--to myself and/or sister.
I personally, have no time, left in my life, to write all the poems, novels, movies and plays potential in my negative memories. I am too conscious of those children we seldom hear about beaten to death yesterday or maybe the lucky ones who weren’t otherwise hurled from speeding cars, abandoned or simply burned alive, or drown.
My son died December 10th, 1976.
My grandfather killed himself with a shotgun blast to the groin, at or around the same time, years before, then bleeding out over a period of ten or more days afterwards.
My very best Christmas, before yesterday, was as a volunteer for a suicide intervention ‘hot line.’ It was a bit like giving a child a magnificently wrapped gift, having that child tear open the box, discard the wrapping, take one look at the surprise, lay it aside and then spend the rest of the day playing with the box.
Co-Dependency is a problem, and solution, that applies to my current stability, sanity and celebration of all life--now--including Christmas, yesterday.
No one is asking me to repay my gratitude for 12 Step Programs but I feel it important “to pay my dues” in thanksgiving thus attempt making healing available for others who suffer.
. . . Christmas Day
1.) Stockholm Syndrome became conscious to me.
2.) I had a savage and terrifying dream rendering me estranged & disabled from all love and peace; present, past, future.
3.) While recording the specifics of my ‘nightmare’ I became aware of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy -- Fabricated or induced illness (FII)
. . . There is no resource available to people who refuse to enter into their FEELINGS. Many choose addiction to alcohol, drugs, sex, crime, gambling, eating; the list is overwhelming--instead.
. . . Avarice is the opposite extreme of addictions listed above; celebrated, emulated and ‘worshiped’ as demonstrated; our current “Religion & Governance.”
I am in love with women, and long for them . . . well . . . one; actually. But sexual intimacy is impossible between us. Off the table, and not on the menu. I am aware of their abuse by other men before me; father, brother, uncle, sons--'husband(s).'
Men, generally never grow to maturity, emotionally or spiritually, and we are viciously greedy to use women. It is not penetrative sex exclusively--but inappropriate attention does the same thing--enslaving women, making them cripples and victims forever.
I will close here and do more research.
I'll get back to you with this closing observation/conclusion:
To make love with another soul, heart, mind is gratification raised to the third power & Higher.