dead right to be so is still to die

http://www.reuters.com/news/pictures/slideshow?articleId=USRTR39KGB#a=3

Terror and chaos attends all my days from birth until now; longing to die. Knowing the value of Jesus death to me personally I remain await the moment of my death to humiliate authority in didactic ways. We are all our own saviors; as of needs we must be in healing ourselves the savage predation of those who see divinity in power and force over others; to make the world safe for themselves by enslaving and/or destroying all other life.

Chaos, or what I experience as creativity, now, is customary to me. And those who pass before the scan of my attention would be well to avoid it. That is, of course, if they care to live in peace. My savior lives in me. And as He suggests; when unwelcome; "shake the dust from your sandals and move along" . . . while I like a child have clung to his foot teaching me to dance.

Tho I loved, love, my father in life and death, he remains oblivious to the chimera mother was to me -- i have yet to fully understand what it means to others or me: “ 5. Honour thy father and thy mother ” There are insufficient seconds or heart beats in eternity for me to slake my curiosity about the how and why I, much less all others, do as they do.  M is not my sole resource recovering my soul from the hell I’ve lived in, save in all other things than wed union, she is the best woman I’ve ever know to go the distance with: going as far as it goes--unto death--and in death we will forever be friends--more so than the prayer of intention said at weddings the world round. Dare I? Should I? Could I? Of course I can say what damn well pleases me to say: we merge and mix within each other at times suffering one another’s pain and joy.

For the love of an old man who taught me what follows, a house painter in Jamestown, Rhode Island; who when asked about his wife would reply; “Compared to what?” He would ‘box’ paint. Mixing it from one container to another in order to render the entire room in perfect harmony. That is what I feel in the presence of M, of Mary, of Jesus and of course: God.

I am aware that should others know my energy devoted to observing them, I would be held in captivity; the darkened tombs beneath the Vatican Empire. I is only by the greatest restraint that I do not take them apart just to watch their hearts beat before eating it.

Depending upon my mood: I might put the heart back in place thus resurrecting them to do it all over again. Or. In a nicer frame of mood: I’d simply leave them to ponder my silence. Obviously I am equally divided between being kind and unimaginably cruel. Oddly, aware, at my age, every moment is precious to me more valuable than all the money, force and power in the world--yet longing to die, longing to know what it is to simply decay . . . “ . . lead me not into evil . . “ Let me not lead others there either neither.

C G Jung: anima female, animus male--look it up! A world without equality for women is civilization lurching one-legged; like the Nazi Pope lead catholic church.

"Don't find fault, find a remedy." - Henry Ford

Passion is the basis of compassion and empathy.

121026 03:32 Dead Right
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

twofer for the women of the world

A life fearlessly lived is in a state of grace from it's ending in the innocence of it's beginning. None to be feared beginnings and endings as all life does. The Church knowing this moved Jesus actual birth date near the terror of our primitive mind towards the longest night and shortest day; generally acknowledged by those of us who remember in our origins as Winter Solstice.

The fear that the light, or sun, would never return, thus the next longest day to be greeted with bonfires of vanity that we can control anything in life. Our tears announcing both terror and joy. Moreover it is specifically human to cry for either reason or none at all the turning of the seasons of life; none to be despised.

As for myself I've held a terror of Christmas. Christ Mass. As in terror akin to Maundy Thursday blackening the chapel bereft of all trappings celebrating the life and sacrifice; the martyrdom of He who I have always adored more than any life I know of including mine. A life I no longer owned in terror that it will never end.

Yet in truth I like so many others would give it that a brother/sister would know more of life; even if only for a moment longer. This is common in life for to give love is better than to receive. A truth more readily known inherently to women than men. Yet love is an energy not a thing or child and known to those who fight and die to retain some sense of the truth that life is a gift defined as such.

Ascendant I seek these truths of all life regardless of mineral, vegetable, or as we define most noble, the life of our culture ideally defining the life of all humans. Yet to know life best, or whole/complete or Holy, is to know the tap root buried; our deepest root touching the terror and wrath: vengeance. What he sacrificed to memorialize love, forgiveness, mercy and the death of death itself. What must die the seed of new life renewed or newly defined.

We who know any day is a good day to die, know better that life is a gift and bond daily renewed. And for most the death we give gladly is not for an ideal but for those closest to us; brothers/sisters at arms in harms way. That our family may live free instead of die in slavery.

In my love for He who is my root. I have come to know and reverence those other prophets of God whose children define their truth as fixed and immutable more ancient than God or Earth, the parent of all as Father . . . as in His great prayer, The Lord's Prayer . . . .

07:00 . . . here I stopped recognizing my dyslexic, becoming more so, child like curiosity the differences between what is said and what is done. A truth regarding myself I cling to since many would say I am insane. Yet my insanity is loving at all any who ask to be so: Loved. And in my infant innocence regained recognize better those who take and those who give and between them I would leave the first and the latter embrace in the hug of peace; with or without expectation of return; gratuity or gratitude. And forever more, at least in this life acknowledged, not so much adored but endured; I will remain in love with God more than life.

My reason for writing began as a search for sanity. Now discovered I recognize that the insanity I attempted to escape was good versus bad since in reality I seek to do no harm. I rejoice in all the tragedies of my life knowing them not as punishment but hammer blows struck; me between the anvil and hammer become something new made from plain stuff.

I have a caring for those who strike others to prove their truth expressing nothing but death theirs and others; worse maimed and left bereft of how they formerly defined their life as well versus poor or bad.

More typical of me now than ever before I seek the loom of light announcing the new or next day. No longer weeping for the potential that the one, a woman, I love may not or no longer share it with me though we remain now ten miles apart.

Love like life is it's own reward.

Be well . . . and God willing we will meet again.

121025 05:35 celebrate

We remain childish, imaging God creating life in a specific image: immutable/immortal. In my experience of helplessness God looking neither like mom or dad  but a parent sacrificial did respond: “Ask and you will receive.”

To my death; now or latter on, I will remain silent for what I saw in a vision, conscious, not sleeping, of God. No drugs involved . . . well maybe I was smoking a cigarette; a mild soporific.

After all is said and done I am by personal confession capable of heinous violence and was once misdiagnosed as being bipolar. For which, to no one, not God or another, will I ever beg excuse.

Of myself, growing weaker in old age and less driven by lust to merge with a woman, at anytime or for any reason; I lack the ability to do harm significantly or devote the requisite amount of time a love affair or marriage implies.  

Yet of my thoughts and prayers I would advise you to kill me now for if I judge you an enemy of The People; all races, creeds, genders or gender attachments your death will lend you no release. My promise. I or the host will pursue you until time ends.

The Government of China, the people Mitt Romney is in bed with, are now policing the invaded People of Tibet in an attempt to stop self-immolation in protest of their being raped by a superior force. Did any Jew do the same form of protest? And what of their continued participation in usury? Or was The Merchant of Venice a figment of William Shakespeare’s mind?

I am aligned with the poor, amongst whom God is apparent; ignoring the rich, since they enslave all they can and legislate to hide their guilty shame of selfishness. As the former Republican Administration did In a “New York minute;” a heart beat. The “powers” that want to be in force are similar to those who started The School of Terrorism with graduate degrees in Iraq. Worse: Their intention under the cloak of “divinity” would enslave all women within reach, exactly as did The Pakistani shot in the head . . . .

19:50 Seeking the name and correct spelling of the fourteen year old who defied the criminals hiding under the cloak of Islam I fell into and endless research punctuated by classical music. Essentially giving up all hope to express that there are choices, which during the time lapse indicated I found pointless given the cornucopia of human waste expressed as election slogans. Or “news” about the carnival.

My fearless, absent envy, peace can only be attributable to divine intervention and providence. True I did have the help of M, who demurs constantly my gratitude. And then there are those who pray for me to know God’s will for this life so near ending. How many more times must I die? The marriage, the three children, the childhood friends and on and on.

Is detachment a crime? I know indifference is; though I for long have wandered wondering my former wife’s proclamation of detachment given her indifference to me as a person. Saying when I announced my intention to leave her; “I want my husband!”

I am what I am now and willing to learn and grow more knowing my ignorance yet remaining merely a person before all other definitions; merely a soul. Genderless. I have tried being many things for others birthing no fruit.

Women’s equality is not theoretical; but a covenant for all; and all time ahead.

In my estimation Romney/Ryan are a pimple upon the ass of the Military/Industrial complex President Dwight David Eisenhower warned us of; before many of you who might read me were born.

And like the people of Tibet I will burn myself alive to prove my point. I have friends at The New York Times I can pitch the event to. In death I know where I am going and it will be my joy to leave the mess they will make of the world and all women behind humiliating The Grand Old Party.

121024 10:20 sacrificial
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

girly boy we all are

In my recently awoken from dream the central dysfunction between mom and me was explained by using my rage against losing my son and daughters -- a rage against God and myself for losing what was then my future and best self.

I continue to find highly erotic stories written about female domination of men or boys forced to dress in women's clothing. The result is more than an orgasm but approval of the dominant woman. Or said in another way the acceptance of the boy as a daughter.

This dream is extraordinary given the nearness of All Hallows Eve preceding All Saints Day. However historical accuracy is not my concern for the issues defined, expanded and explained were specifically why M refuses me as a man who loves her more than any woman I've ever known.

I am curious about everything and have no qualms expressing what most men would never say publically: what does a woman feel when a man penetrates her? For seven minutes in heaven most men have raped and destroyed women from time immemorial. Rather than confront their sexual longings as experienced. Think of the legendary Don Juan phenomenon; so addicted to conquest that he knew no limits to seduction or number of conquests. In contrast I love with such ferocity that the women I have known and loved sexually and emotionally have never proved the cure. Until now. Given my dream resolving why mom for many Halloweens suggested that I dress as a little girl. Dad would inevitably object repeating his, to him shameful, to me delightful, contrary to his erstwhile demeanor general indifference to everything.

In childhood he had for a friend and companion a Welsh Corgi. At some point the dog starved to death. A neighbor had fed the dog a grease soaked sponge. Dad was never specific regarding his practice on Halloween of placing fresh dog droppings in a craft paper bag. Setting it at the front of the neighbor's door on fire and ringing their doorbell. Watching in glee as the neighbor stomped out the fire. Dad's story never varied and the gender or age of the victim seemed irrelevant: Mom, Dad, Sis or Brother.

M&M, or M and I have an uncommon legacy we share; hers is more accurate than mine, claiming more evidence from experience than I who had to rely upon the confessions of my mother: the fifty eight hours of dry labor in a Catholic hospital and the nun's indifference to her pain.

Thus my thesis is not merely confirmed but explained. God heals all who ask to be healed in life or death. Both M and I have had remarkable lives. About which I, in her case, will give you no clues. Her identity will die with me unless she predeceases me--when all bets and restraints are off. I make no threats but promises for which, by implication, I will roam all the universe or cosmos beyond time to fulfill.

By dreams and self knowing I am healed and informed that God was is and remains The Other always. Yet present in fragment in all life. Ignatius; god within and God without; God everywhere.

In sincerity I care nothing for fame or fortune, praise or disdain. Having had a fabulous life all that I loved lost except this person who writes. The sound of one hand: for me is the silence of God "The Great Creator" whose creation is accepted with indifference. No woman other than M has ever fully pressed me into being fully myself; as I am now . . . at least in this life for now. For the past and future I have glimpses as I've had of God, infrequent, yet significant!

God looks nothing like you or me. Is neither male nor female; possibly both or at times playing the role of one or the other somewhat like Jacob's angel at the top of the ladder. God is God. What more can I say? See for yourself you "own" as much of God as I do; or as the mountains going to Muhammad.

God, in essence, and experience, remains anonymous yet oddly, if only partially, incarnate in individuals of either or no gender. In real-current-soon-to-end-life: mine. I see within others The Presence active or inactive. And for those who stole my fortune, wealth being a relative too need value; I feel a profound sense of sorrow not for my lose but theirs. To come when naked in the great leveling of all vanity: death. They will stand before the judge. No choice is inconsequential to God and no act lost.

Think Hitler or Joseph Stalin and their millions destroyed. Not unalike to Woodstock the movie. No vague sense of what is the matter? Have I been here before. But consciously being the victims, individual destroying you and resurrecting you with no oblivion ever possible. God, being infinitely compassionate, merciful than I may have other plans but sincerely I know the wrath of God.

. . . I have always wondered why Jesus should recoil from me? I am not He for He alone saved me. Not Buddha, Muhammad, Lao Tzu or Confucius; similar by expression and intent but always as recorded falling short of He who died for our sins and to vanquish the fear/terror of death. Essentially and best or more better yet incarnate in those who now hold all the money valueless since it being not in circulation is merely a medium of exchange.

We are at the apogee of an doppleganger; it could go either way. Fall forward or backwards? To me the end will soon come yet for these moments, days, weeks and months there is time yet to redeem yourself. My sense, thought, intuition, feeling--and worse than those: instinct is that we this world, our lives, are past the point of no return.

As for me, for now, this reality; I will at 05:44 do the final chore of correcting, proof reading, and playing with the syntax finish this post and publish.

121024 04:44 girly boy
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

happy when we are growing

Blind cat in a straw boater hat with shades like George Shearing I'm not. However much I longed to be blind and play only the piano forever. My keyboard of choice is marked not with flats and sharps but letters and an assortment of characters for when I want to swear and not make M delete me just yet.

Awoke with the most astonishing dream ever. Never will I say no to them (as if I had a choice?) Because they come in various forms. This one was a dialog and I cannot say with God but maybe, could be, possibly I'm just a fruitcake; it was!

"Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing." - William Butler Yeats

. . . just discovered the above and thought before I rest, for a time, I'd attempt to recapture this morning's eventful dream.

Ever since my many Yearbook Assignments at Saint Viator, Chicago northside. Incorporating attendance to various worship services. I was taken with their prayer to become an imago of Christ. . . . don't you just love Wikipedia! I looked it up for spelling purposes and there was a cicada becoming winged! Transformed, transfiguration, virgin birth? . . . as in the self we give birth to later in life.

In my dream I was informed that all life has a fragment, or seed, of God indwelling. Awaiting attention and available for transformation that supersedes all other modes of consciousness.

Blown apart, away, disappeared: that which I was just an hour or so ago. It happens all the time and the me who writes is now more at peace than I've known potential; or possible.

Of which, of course, could I reach through these pages as seen on your screen; I'd give you a taste like the communion cookie . . . how many have I consumed? Holding it pressed against the roof of my mouth until it dissolved into my skin internally?!

In love with love, and/or simply with God; time is irrelevant and death is but a passage into another state of mindfulness. Happily I enter the closing moments, this End Game, of what I used to call my life.

Trashed, abandoned, and despised, apparently by my parents, I trust very few people. My comedic facade/persona disarms most; and those it does not; flirt with the sophist in me. I can be and am at times diabolical, possibly fiendish, in my motives to retaliate. It seems now at this late age growing younger moment by second that my steady gaze in my mothers eyes and she stomped or threw me naked out the house . . . well . . . it could be she was merely insane to begin with? I have seen the cobra's lunge so many times I don't even think to flinch.

And she cried nor laughed never in my presence; never asked for forgiveness, yet daily given in love for her well being with God for her training me to be who and what I am. Add the love of two women who met briefly at hospice. I introduced them and one asks for the welfare of the other and she tells me I'm a rooster?!

Though I have engaged many men in conversation, there were more innocuous, than celebrities I remember well. But of women, the Lionesses of my vision/version of humanity, I bait all the time. Yet now celibate disinterested in penetrating their bodies but more over their souls.

A brief aside: I is obscene, the joy I experience with a keyboard beneath my fingers. And were Ava Gardner nude beside me stroking my ha ha; she'd wind up on her posterior pouting for the shove and GET THE F AWAY FROM ME!

My sense of reincarnation/resurrection is that the indwelling God inspires us not to be the Second Coming but something unique to you or me. The problem with religion is that it is based upon ideal people who incarnated God while inhabiting real time. Sorta kinda like let Mikey do it! All are called yet few accept the invitation to be the best potential and most if not all seem stuck in first gear going round and round biting their tails wearing a rut in the carpet.

At one point or another I fell to thinking about the tree Judas hung himself upon. The pieces of silver strewn beneath his lifeless feet gently swaying in the breeze; day dying into nights of oblivion? The Tree of Knowledge. Then the Tree of Life and the shadow-less light of being in the presence. . . .Small wonder I weep at Christmas time knowing that babe is going to die and for the murdered tree covered with tinsel.

In some sense I now think that God is bored with all this stuff about Jesus, Buddha, Moses, Abraham or Muhammad. Of course it will all be impossible until women have equal rights and pay. Acting no longer as receptacles of lust or taking over for mommy the chore of raising little boys into men.

How long did it take me to "grow up?" Seventy Two years?!

Annie, my companion and rescue cat, is all the woman/female I can handle 24/7/365. If it weren't for her, I'd just stop breathing and die blissed out.

As it is should I awaken from my nest rest; I'll keep on keepin on taking photographs, write a poem or two and laugh as I delete everything again including myself.

Unrelated but interesting: I am conservative of the origins of things evolving into what will be will be. Yet as a fabulously experienced journalist I became aware, via the predatory process of elections, on going, that what was generally informative is now masturbatory narrow affirmation of piss ant minds The News Biz is infotainment for consciousness the height, width, breadth and length of a sand flea.

“A saint is a person who practices the keystone human virtue of humility. Humility in the face of wealth and plenty, humility in the face of hatred and violence, humility in the face of strength, humility in the face of your own genius or lack of it, humility in the face of another’s humility, humility in the face of love and beauty, humility in the face of pain and death. Saints are driven to humbling themselves before all splendor and horror of the world because they perceive there to be something divine in it, something pulsing and alive beneath the hard dead surface of material things, something inconceivably greater and purer than they.”
- Tony Hendra - Father Joe, The Man Who Saved My Soul: Taken from the Prologue.

“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” -Talmud (attributed)

“Do not look for rest in any pleasure, because you were not created for pleasure you were created for Joy. And if you do not know the difference between pleasure and joy you have not yet begun to live.” - Thomas Merton

121023 21:28 one in all
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

I am more fully alive than at any other time in my fabulous life. I fear nothing, envy no one, and given my confession of being both peaches and cream but lethal know myself finally balanced.

A few thoughts before retiring for my next rest period--about which I have no concerns; sleeping four out of twenty-four; generally.

The reason for our disintegration is that all politicians, save for very few, want to grandstand pointing to new things instead of dealing with the maintenance of that which my generation and all preceding it built. Vanity thy name is political.

The eight hundred pound couch potato, man, woman, cat or dog, has the same stuff as I do but through avoidance does nothing to make it sharable, real, or operative in their life.

“What's the point?"

The communion of love is a communal experience. Neither Free Market Capitalism, Socialism or Communism. It is collaboration with reality.

Or better, best, superlatively said: Be Here Now!

The circus I listened to this evening is two highly intelligent people discuss what is about but doing nothing. Obviously: I refer to the final Presidential Debate.

The Internet has made ideals and accomplishments visable to millions of people who otherwise would have only the representations used to sell them something we don't need. The maelstrom works both ways down and up. The young people who use the World Wide Web for entertainment can also find an education without dedication to vocations that are no longer relevant. As a teacher I can see those who are at an ignition point and ignite their curiosity to learn all there is and going as far as IT goes.

A metaphor learned aboard the "Paradox" . . . I could give you a brand new, whatever is your pleasure or poison: go fast car. And you'd be out in the dark stealing the hood ornament. We can be neither cynical, knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing; or skeptical and clever never knowing the truth of The Resurrection.

The creator in creating us and enabling our evolution never meant "The survival of the fittest" for the thieves holding all the currency. It means some die, some are born to thrive and/or survive. The long or short of it doesn't matter: Quality versus Quantity.

Learn animal husbandry, how to make a fire and stone soup. You'll be better off after the next lunatic blows the world apart.

Fear nothing.

Easy for me to say because I know fear too well and it bores me.

I can kill as well as love.

The next time, expect it to become common place, someone goes "Postal" or berserk running amok killing. Remember the time you tailgated me. Add all the hours you sucked up the swill spewed from TV. The ads, the illusions, delusions and perversions.

We are legends and will change this world for the better of all; not just a few Bastard - Masters of the Universe.

121023 00:34 when and where
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Dad fought the war with a bassoon

I have few moments for other's words having still traumatized wounds upon my heart. Profound in misery, anguish and terror: incursions impacting the river of being humanizing boiling me.

In some way I know wisdom of all time in perfect balance join woman and man in me as well as all my anguish and ecstatic throes:

Instinct, feeling, thoughts, seeing, attending, judging, accepting, yielding, beating, sensing and living the moment instead of all time conscious of life within me this biodegradable vessel soaring towards the cosmos.

. . . . in life or death from beginning to ending of all we call reality -- evolving, in flux, changing, becoming new birthed and born from itself this is the last heartbeat, breath, sight, rite of life and in death like sleep to never awake but . . . .

Should you perchance arise again accept the gift of new life virgin born innocent become the dawn not another day but alive fully conscious the gifts of all events nothing is for naught.

10:09 after washing up: No one is going to love you the Way the All does; except for yourself. Go to the nearest reflecting surface or use a compact mirror or watch crystal and see YOUR SAVIOR!

No matter how I parse Jesus, Mary, God, The Holy Spirit, Joseph and the mule -- with loving affection I see "God" in all -- YOU TOO!

"To love for the sake of being loved is human, but to love for the sake of loving is angelic."
"If one had but a single glance to give the world, one should gaze on Istanbul."
"Let us savour the swift delights of the most beautiful of our days!"
"Limited in his nature, infinite in his desires, man is a fallen god who remembers heaven."
"Peace at any price."
"Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated." --Alphonse de Lamartine
     http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Alphonse_de_Lamartine

121021 07:25 fearful heart

Intuition indicated that my son Randy would die from his initial diagnosis with Leukemia, I began to set plans for our remaining time. Eventually purchasing a sailboat, the “Paradox,” and in moving it to rendezvous with my family where Randy was undergoing his last remission Annapolis, MD: the nearest port to The National Institute of Health. She was forty feet in length, cutter rigged an Alden designed vessel. Being unfamiliar with a vessel of that size I asked for assistance. Tom Colvin, a naval architect and friend, suggested the help of one of his young friends.

Our four or five days transit were not arduous but best remembered was the peaceful nature of this young man, whose name I no longer remember -- his face and demeanor never. His thoughts, observations, suggestions and comments are graven in my memory unlike thousands of others. When I expressed my sincere intuition that Randy was soon to die, he replied by quoting amongst the last words of Jesus upon the cross; "Oh my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt."

The events described happened more than thirty-five years ago. Obviously words, phrases, poems (at least insofar as the spirit of the words--not verbatim) passages and quotes have been cocklburs in my "mindfulness" for, well, since I first hear them said--and my memory extends deeply into my infancy. e.g. Recently, recalling the dead baby pigeons (discovered at age four,) I remembered they are of the same family as Doves.

What will be--will be. This cosmos we own, owning us: we all are children of God. For some we know no fear of anything; especially death. Recently I took a neighbor to The VA Clinic in El Paso, Texas where he was attempting to retain, by counseling his apartment in our, what I consider to be Nazi Death Camp due to mis-administration: indifferent, cruel and vicious to Senior citizens. Without detailing the full narrative; in the course of our four hour sojourn together, mostly me waiting for him, I met an ninety-eight year old Hispanic Paratrooper (105 jumps) from the 101st Airborne Division who liberated a death camp similar to the one where I live.

We spoke together for nearly an hour; he seated upon a three wheeled scooter. He is now dealing with liver cancer to which I said; "Go in Peace my friend. . . .God awaits."

God's will for us collectively is a concern of mine which I have attempted, inappropriately, to address through political commentary. What will be . . . will be: possibly for all the wrong reasons. Our world as it was during my lifetime will be no more through indifference, experiential  helplessness and intimidation.

During our time together going to and returning from El Paso there were several times of interest. I moved to this sleepy village, town, city (second largest in New Mexico) to escape the insanity of rush hour traffic in New York, Providence, Boston, Chicago where I needed a large population base to earn a living as a freelance photojournalist. For me to drive towards or through El Paso Texas is torture.

At a point near our objective, I being directed inadequately by my friend and neighbor, I noticed a very large vanity pickup truck on my bumper, we were traveling at somewhere around sixty plus miles and hour. I signaled a lane change the truck followed; I slowed, the truck drew nearer. I stopped. Not caring what the consequence; full well knowing my friend and I could be incinerated. Then I crept forward, still signaling, he followed more aggressively. I stopped again ready to get out and deal with whatever the driver wanted.

I have mentioned being taught to kill people with one blow as a senior in Greenwich Public High School. By an Army Ranger; gym instructor.

My point? To know yourself, you, of need, must incorporate all your feelings: not just the nice or sweet pretty ones. As Jesus said; “Love your enemies”: I could have killed or kissed him. It was not God's will that I stop, kiss or kill; but I was ready for whatever came along.

As was, is, and will remain, the paratrooper I later met and engaged in converse; blessing him with all that I've learned in seventy-two years upon this earth.

If you wonder why we are attacked, as we have and will be, it would be well for you to know yourself. All life dies but God, by any of a trillion names lives on. Remember that. I do all the time.

Be kind.
Kill no one.
Do no harm nor murder.
Best: find that fearless place within you.

121022 21:09 addendum
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

genius is:

Genius is:
the difference between anecdote & antidote
eccentricity is clever / genius is sincere

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved