About ten days later, we were to meet our Arizona friends, June Thomas, and MIchael Barron, at Cannon Beach. We arrived at the coast on a partly sunny Monday afternoon. We were quickly greeted by June and her ten year love interest, Michael (are you two ever getting married?). After checking into our hotel rooms, and getting geared up for a walk, we headed out to the beach, to walk northward up the coast, past Haystack Rock. We engaged in our normal conversations, catching up on June and Michael’s activities, as well as giving them a brief download on what has been happening in our own lives.
As the walk progressed, we separated a bit into two groups, the guys and the girls, though we did not create a huge distance between the two groups in our walk. We continued to enjoy the scenery, the clearing blue skies above us, the seagulls swooping and gliding, the watching of and engaging with the other tourists and their dogs, while being continuously soothed by the constant breaking of the waves upon the sandy shore. Small talk continued between both groups, until I had to remove my shoes, due to extreme pain in my right foot.
The pain in my foot was accompanied by another unidentified discomfort, deep within my heart, which continued to trouble me. I looked at Michael, and I began to relate the experience of my friend’s very recent death, and how the notice of my own father’s death coincidentally occurred at the moment that I was helping to place my friend’s body into the hearse. I wanted to talk about the disturbing appearance of insanity in the marriage of my deceased friend, and it’s impact on my friend’s final days, and its impact upon my own being.
Michael looked up at the nearby mountains, and tried to ignore what I had to say, while attempting to redirect my attention away from myself, and the view away from the ocean. Suddenly, a strangely uncomfortable, unidentified feeling came over me, and I also felt like my heart was starting to beat harder. The skin on my face, and on the front of my body started to tingle, and I felt light headed. I attempted to breath deeper and slower, thinking that I had somehow lost my breathing cycle rhythm, yet a deepening, sickening feeling continued to creep through my mind, and through my body.
I sped up my pace, so that I could join up with my wife, who was ahead of us with June. I started to shudder a bit, and shake as if I was cold (there was a breeze, though it was sixty five degrees, and not extraordinarily chilly). My condition continued to deteriorate, yet all that I felt comfortable with sharing with the group was about my sore foot, which was aching horribly. This foot would eventually need surgery, and I had delayed such surgery for quite a while, but it was not the only source for the pain that I was presently experiencing. Yet, in this group, it was the only pain that I could safely talk about.
We neared our hotel room, and the anxiety reaction that I was experiencing (yes, I finally named it ANXIETY) was threatening to overwhelm me. It was dinner time, so we walked over to the Mo’s restaurant that was connected to our hotel, and ordered dinner. Sharon was very light, and happy, and introduced a “spinner” to the dinner table, to try to keep lightness going, and bring humor and delight to our group. Yet I had lost my sense of delight, and humor, and my appetite, and I knew that I could not even eat dinner, even though I had already ordered a meal with the rest of the group. June commented that I looked like I had turned a gray color, and that I looked ill, and ill I was. I had to leave the table immediately.
I went back to our hotel room, took off my clothes, and lay down in our bed. The world felt like it was spinning around me, and my heart beat so loudly that it sounded like a drum was being bashed in my ears. I continued to try controlled breathing patterns, thinking that this was an anxiety reaction, but I really felt extremely ill, and I felt like a visit to the hospital may be in order. I became so concerned that I got my tablet and went to a medical portal to ask a doctor some questions about what was happening, and ask if I should be hospitalized. I was not sure if I was having an adverse neurological response to something toxic, preparing for a stroke or seizure, having the beginning of a migraine headache, or if I was losing my mind.
The response from the doctor brought some temporary relief to me, when he stated that I was having a stress induced anxiety reaction. OK, that sounded like something I might be able to manage, so I prepared myself to go back to dinner, and finish the evening with our friends. I felt much better, and looked forward to eating, as my appetite had returned from the dead, as well.
Everyone had already finished their meal, so I shared dessert with everybody. I felt good for awhile, as we finished our evening together, and headed back to our individual units. But something was still active in my mind, and I began to again feel nauseous, with my heart beating wildly again, and, now, my body started shuddering like I was frozen. Sharon crawled into bed and held me close, I was shaking so violently, and her warmth, and presence, brought some comfort to me. Yet my foot ached like I had never experienced pain before, and I was definitely anxious about that pain, as well as something a bit more undefined, up to that point.
After two hours of holding me, Sharon had fallen asleep, yet I was so wired by my anxiety that I could not sleep, so I left the bed to lay on the couch, and listen to some meditation music. I felt like I might still be “losing my mind”, whatever that meant, or that I was having some sort of nervous breakdown. While meditating on what was happening to me, I came to realize that I really needed to communicate around the absolute insanity of the family activity revolving around the life and death of my dear friend, and, to a lesser extent, that of my father, as well. Michael had shut me down at the moment that I needed to talk most, thinking that by redirecting me away from talking about death, he was doing me a favor. Instead, by not communicating with him and the group what was troubling me, the anxiety reaction launched me off of the pad into outer space, and brought upon me a sickness, and a pain, that I had never experienced before in my life. Oh, that blessed pain and suffering, for it would lead me further down the path to my own ‘liberation’.
That next day at the beach, on Tuesday, I experienced the most beautiful perfect peace, and sense of wholeness, that I can recall. The rest of our shared day was characterized by a strong sense of the sacred, and I felt a deepening connection with everybody, and everything. The beauty of the ocean and it’s scenery, the beauty of our friendships, the taste of our food, even the continuing pain in my foot, all felt to me like lyrics of a heavenly song that was connected together by the rhythm of Love. Thus ended our beach trip, on a very spiritual note.
Eddy Crouch wanted to have a meeting with me, so on October 12th one week later, and three days after my foot surgery. She drove to our home, and Eddy, Sharon and I were present for a meeting in our garage. For one and one half straight hours, she talked at us, never once looking at Sharon. I was only able to interject for about three minutes when I interrupted her near the end of her excruciating monologue. My heart goes out to the grieving woman, yet, at the end, I feel like I was not heard, yet again. My need was to process my experience of Marty, and the anger and confusion that was generated around his disease the last several weeks of his life. Marty had wanted a divorce, and he also wanted a release from his death terrors. And he really wanted a release from his malignant melanoma, and all of the distress it was causing him and his family. He sought spiritual liberation, and felt trapped by Eddy’s incessant presence, and he felt oppressed by both Eddy and his disease. He loved her once, but right now he had no love for her. And he wondered if he could get an erection and make love to Eddy, if that could bring back some physical intimacy, which was totally lost between them. But Eddy would not let me talk through these issues with her. Instead, Eddy chose her normal path of running over other people and their feelings and needs, just as Marty had communicated to me was her norm. Then she left, because, as usual, she had other important meetings scheduled that she needed to attend, meetings that were more important than my need to be heard. She also totally ignored Sharon, in the most offensive display of indifference that I have witnessed in many, many years.
I was left with the feeling that I never wanted to talk with her again, at least until she had many, many months, or years, of recovery from her grief. Marty had left me with his distress over his wife’s insanity, and I could see that I now shared his perception. Eddy just cannot be reached by me, and I understood that at the deepest level of my heart. I rebuffed all future attempts by her to bring a therapist into the couple’s group, or to attend a New Years retreat at the Oregon Coast with her. She tried to schedule a conference call between her therapist, Sharon,, and herself, but it never came to pass, when Sharon questioned Eddy about what she meant by creating a “respectful atmosphere” for the therapy session. It all seemed bizarre, and controlling, on Eddy’s part, and this woman’s safety needs remain extreme beyond most people’s comprehension.
When I hit October 30th of the year, the following refrain became a mantra for me:
May all sentient beings remain free from suffering.
This is not an automatic proposition, however, no matter how my strong my intentions may be. The sense of loss at temporarily losing my ability to walk, to run, to bike, to participate in group activities, to get up off of the couch without worrying about permanently damaging what little healing that I have accrued since my surgery last week, has created a new sense of identity, which is, at times when I lapse into unconsciousness, uncomfortable to me right now. After a good lecture from my surgeon yesterday, I realize that I need to take physical healing much more seriously.
Humility has been my companion as of late, and I have been dying to my 25 year accumulated pride in aerobic fitness. I once was a champion in road races ranging from 3.1 miles all the way up to 31 miles (5K to 50K), having run nearly 100 races over the course of my running career, with many top finishes in my age group, as well as all age groups. Also, Sharon and I raced in many Hood to Coast relay races, and I also participated in the 2002 H2C on a Masters’ team, the Time Bandits (this was an over 40 years of age team, and I was 46 years old at the time) that finished 10th out of 1080 teams. Those days are over, and I have “died” to the thought of ever racing again.
As an added memory bonus to all of those running days in the sun, plus several serious sun burns as a kid, are bouts of recurring skin cancer, of both malignant melanoma, and basil cell carcinoma, varieties. So far, I have only lost parts of my upper arm, and (next month) a small part of my left nostril to skin cancer. I certainly would like to “die” to further cancer outbreaks, without losing my body in the process.
Watching the parade of death, through the witnessing of the deaths of lifelong friends, either through the deaths of their bodies, or through mutual neglect and uncaring behavior, watching my father die, even before his body died, watching my friend Marty die, spiritually as well as physically, while witnessing his acceptance of the end through the Death with Dignity process, with heartbreak and gut-wrench watching our two dogs die in our home, one week apart, and now also watching my own body age, while my mind remains young and still adaptive to change, while engaging with the inevitability of death, in all of its sometimes most traumatic of forms, is a humbling, sobering proposition.
I will walk again, without pain. I will hike again in Nature with Sharon, with no pain. I will run again, with no pain. I will bike again, with no pain. I am in pain right now, but it is temporary. But, I am living, and I am loving life, though life is redefining my relationship to it right now. My mind remains young, but the body tempts me to think “older” thoughts, thoughts of resignation and defeat, which I have never considered to such degree since the earlier, immature days of alcoholism, drug dependence, and the suicidal thoughts of the 1970’s and 1980’s.
I am my body, yet consciousness itself tells me that I am more than my body. I am dependent upon my body to live, move, and have my being in this world. I love my body, I love this world, I love my life in this world, I love my wife Sharon White, I love what is left of my family, and the few friends that I have left, in this world. Yet, the world, at times, now appears to be pulling away from me. I cling to it at times, yet I also let it go, as well, for conscious, and sometimes unconscious, reasons.
I love life in my body. I also know that there still is life without this body. What I don’t know is if I, or anyone else for that matter, will recognize my life, without my body still being present. The life that I have created, and that life has created for me, leaves me meditating upon what I need to do to keep engaged with this world, while my “vehicle for consciousness” changes, deteriorates, and finally dies.
I am not seeking any answers for the questions of “eternity”. I am living into those answers. I am also living into the answers to the questions about what to do with the my experiences around short term and medium term “death” that living a life on life’s terms means. Aging, with its potential for disease, sickness, and deterioration are not for the weak at heart. But, they are part of the process for spiritual growth, and enlightenment. Death is an integral part of those processes.
Today I choose the death that continues me on the process of spiritual growth and enlightenment. Today I am dead to the idea that I can take a walk without crutches, and without fear of causing more damage to my body. Today I am dead to the idea that my pain and suffering has significance and meaning to others, especially those who have no interest in my process. Today I am dead to the idea that I know what tomorrow may bring to my body, or to my life. Today I am dead to the idea that I can even make plans for tomorrow, make plans for vacations, make plans to help around the house, and around our yard.
Today I am dead to the idea that I need to know in advance what tomorrow may bring back to me.
Today I remain engaged with the present moment, where the past, and the future, are dead. Today I remain engaged with the part of death that keeps me alive, growing spiritually, and staying open to the mystery of the eternal unfolding of a human life experience.
Today, I am still recovering from surgery, and I am physically disabled, though still spiritually whole. Tomorrow is only a theory, best left for those who choose to die to this moment.
I choose not to die to this eternal moment. I also have to return back to this moment, each time I frequently forget my choice to remain free and happy.
Truckin’, by the Grateful Dead
Before I close out this most eventful year in my life, I would like to talk about a Christmas dinner gathering that we had, on December 23 of 2017. We went out to dinner with Hayley, Christopher (Hayley’s love), Aunt Susie, Sharon and myself. We returned home, to watch the movie “The Haunting”, a movie from 1963, which my sister Pam had recently reminded me that I had watched with Gary and Cindy and herself as a seven year old boy. The strange part of all of this is when I mentioned to the group that I had watched this movie with Gary and Cindy Mill just as I was starting the move to watch with the group, I received a call EXACTLY at that moment from Gary. I had not talked with Gary since Dad’s funeral, on September 27th, and Gary and I have not been in connection for many, many years until dad’s death.
Here is our text message exchange from that experience:
Bruce: I received a call from you (well, from your phone) the moment I spoke of watching movies with Pam, Cindy and you at your parent’s home in north Portland. The movie that we just started watching was The Haunting, a movie from 1963 that we watched with you. Pretty strange, huh?
Gary: Happy Holidays to you. Everything fine here. Sorry about the call…when I was talking to a friend, I somehow accidentally dialed you and hung up. It must have been the universe! Have a safe trip (we were leaving for Arizona the following day to stay with June for 13 days).
As I search through my history, I always see evidence of the Mystery!
2018
I have intimate knowledge of depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, and I now consider myself a personal expert in these matters, albeit a reluctant one. It is inappropriate to keep these issues “secret”, as I tend to be as sick as the secrets that I attempt to keep. Remaining unconscious and victimized by these conditions is not a helpful option for me now, or anytime.
The following have been found to be helpful for me:
1). Seeking “professional help” from therapists or physicians/surgeons as required,
2). exercise (such as yoga, Pilates, and cardio work, with emphasis on proper breathing techniques),
3). immersion in Nature (walks through forests, deserts, or local parks),
4). meditation (listening to relaxing music is useful, if the mind is overly restless),
5). getting plenty of rest/sleep (not automatic or easy when in anxious states. Use of melatonin and non-caffeinated relaxation tea prior to bed is helpful),
6). honest and open communication with friends and family (hanging around people with positive, loving attitudes and behaviors is important),
7). insight (and taking my inventory, to use the parlance of 12 step groups) and prayer (focused intention/thought energy for personal and collective change, for those so inclined),
8). service to others who are less fortunate, and
9). medication (if necessary) can be helpful.
10). avoiding obvious anxiety producing behaviors, like excess coffee consumption, eating sugar or processed foods, or overbooking my day to day life,
11). continue to allow feelings to naturally arise, with no judgement.
12). continue without shame and guilt any unfinished emotional business, such as grieving for the loss of loved ones.
Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a name given to one powerful variation of related symptoms, and therapy and techniques developed for its healing may be appropriate, as well (a form of acupressure called the “tapping” technique is quite helpful).
Writing into a personal journal or blog can be helpful. Posting to Facebook, with the hope or expectation that somebody who cares might read a posting and give meaningful feedback, is unrealistic, and can potentially be dangerous, depending on the state of mind of the writer at the time of posting. It is best to have friends and connections who respond directly, preferably in person, where our humanity shines the brightest and has the most healing potential. Facebook, Snapchat, Twitter, or whatever other media vehicle that one may employ for communication in isolation just cannot get the job done, PERIOD. Just passing time without helping myself would never have allowed for sufficient healing either.
As I move toward healing, compassion towards myself and others is one of the intended outcomes. The absence of this only perpetuates the anxiety cycle.
And, to those whose hearts are hurt by the Trump phenomenon, crucifixion feels almost real, even today. Toxic Masculinity, Religion, and Capitalism, as epitomized by Donald Trump and Paul Ryan, white supremacy and the evil attached to it, and now its linkage back to American Christianity through its illusory link with Trump, has sown the seeds of its own destruction. But, it may take a generation or more for that to happen I am afraid. With Bannon professing apocalyptic visions of our future, I hope that we collectively refute this evil notion, and all of the ignorant, dangerous people who support it, before Trump and Bannon lead us into their preconceived Armageddon..
Writing is an interesting proposition. I usually feel like a lone voice in the wilderness calling out to inattentive people, and then I get some amazing responses, occasionally, that let me know that people still love me (though not my words sometimes). The point is to keep speaking out against the oppressive forces of the day. The chances of changing anybody’s mind on the Trump’s American Alternative Christianity team is almost zero, so it is about reigning them in, publicly repudiating them, and making sure that the rest of humanity understands the dark, evil intentions of this mindset, and administration.
In the words of the Course In Miracles, my writing, or all of our writing for that matter, may be just another “call for Love”. Writing is a perfect mirror for me to see myself, and, in the seeing, I am changed. We have only words and thoughts to share here, I can’t give you a wink, smile or a hug through this medium.. You will never feel the warmth of my heart, or the peace of my soul, by reading my words. But, that won’t stop me from trying!
Real live people experienced directly with all of my senses, and my open heart and balanced mind, are the only requirements for more successful human connections, NOT TECHNOLOGY. Five years of care-giving and support for my handicapped father has contributed to my sense of isolation, and now I am moving away from that posture, now that more support has been coming available to help. I have begun to be reintroduced to the real world, of which i have missed greatly (my time-based mind tells me that I was not missed, but I am going to ignore those “dead” aspects of myself, and reinterpret myself in terms of the present moment of experience, where all real value is created and apperceived)..
I do visit Robert Beatty’s Buddhist meditation center, and The Center For Spiritual Living in Lake Oswego, from time to time, but I have not made a commitment to either community at this point. I have found that my continuing involvement with a book club has kept my spirits up, though. I remain open to new possibilities for engagement with my world, either through service work or social engagement, or through involvement with spiritual healing communities. I may even pursue new knowledge and a way to express it through shamanism and energy work, specifically through Dr. Alberto Villoldo’s approach, but we shall see what the future brings.
I do feel the inner nudges from my Spirit, and, from time to time, I get to re-experience the “presence of the Transcendence”. These times are much fewer and farther between in recent years, though I am hopeful that I will once again experience a greater measure of Spirit, and it’s almost intoxicating influence, once again, as I tune up my “vehicle of consciousness” or body for its final drive down the roadway of life for the inevitable end to this oft-times, miraculous “road trip”. I do find that times spent hiking in the wilderness, with Mother Nature and Her Creations, and listening to live music with communities of like-minded people, still tend to really bring out my Spirit. My group meditations can still be quite powerful, yet private, individual meditations do not carry the same connective power now as they did 20-30 years ago, and this continues to remain an area of focus for improvement. Perhaps I will find the way back to six hours of prayer and meditation a day, but I do not know which direction my Spirit will redirect me at this point of my life.
I now work on the recovery from sugar addiction, and a lifetime of questionable dietary choices. I understand that the fundamental addiction that I have carried for most of my life may be to sugar itself, and the damage that it is reported to cause over the years may have finally caught up with me. I recently attended a workshop with Dr. Alberto Villoldo over the April 4th weekend of 2018. He is the famous cultural anthropologist, author, and, now, shaman, where he redirected my spiritual intentions towards cleansing my body, including my liver and brain, of all toxins. He helped bring to my attention that poor dietary choices predispose me to making poor choices in other aspects of my life, and can negate the greatest of desires for continued spiritual growth and prosperity.
On Friday night of the workshop, Alberto asked for us to ask for a dream. Well, I had a dream, and its essence was relevant. In it, Alberto was a non-vocal observer, watching groups of people assembling a large foundation for some sort of huge, new building. Sharon and I struggled a bit with our contribution, but it all was coming together at the end of the dream, and I could see that we were about to get our part assembled successfully. We then came together as a full assembly of participants, where a male voice gave an extended monologue about the nature of the “magnetic self”. In the dream, I countered his monologue with an extended message of my own, articulately and with precision. But then, I looked to Sharon in the dream, and asked her “Sharon, do I sound like an idiot?” I then woke up.Yes, there I go again. Even in the dream, I doubt myself, my ability to communicate, and my “understanding”. It is my life’s challenge to make peace with that wayward voice within me that brings self-doubt, and keeps me silent, and not wanting to extend myself to others who might misinterpret me and my intentions. Thanks, father, for that! The gift that keeps on giving.
As of April 1 of this year, I have followed Dr. Villoldo’s dietary regimen to the tee, and I note the change in my energy, and I am beginning to really have hope that I will again freely access the inner well of infinite meaning, love, healing, and prosperity that came so easily and naturally to me in the past. It probably does not hurt my cause that I have also lost ten pounds in the five weeks that I have been involved with these dietary lifestyle changes.
I characterize the present phase of my life, the life that I am now leading as a retired person and no longer care-giving to dying friends and family members, as the “purification before ordination” stage of life. That terminology I am borrowing from Joel Goldsmith, and his Infinite Way teachings. The new self that I developed over the years from 1987-2017 will also have to die, of course, to make way for the final upgrade to Bruce 3.0. The “fires of the Spirit” as yet have not burned all that is unlike Spirit away from my field of consciousness, so until that happens, the purification process that is dependent on the letting go of my “ego” and its dependence on suffering and attachment to illusions will continue in earnest. I will be heading into the phase of my life called “spiritual manhood in Christ Consciousness”, or in secular terms, self-actualization, should I live long enough, and remain dedicated to the cause of bringing forth the best of myself that my Spirit can support.
Goose sense: Get your wings on!
I can think of no greater intention to have for my life, for the time that I have left to spend here on planet Earth’s plane of existence. Everybody, if you have not already, please find your wings soon, for I am not flying Home alone on this one! I do understand that Enlightenment, as it is now understood within my own being, requires full integration into the field of human energy and its infinite possibilities. Nobody who wants to remain spiritually healthy stays isolated in a monastery, practices a form of religious fundamentalism, or remains secluded from the rest of humanity, for the entirety of their lives. It is healthy to admit, and acknowledge, that there is no walk into the “promised land” without companionship with ALL of life, and not just a few select special relationships. My life has become a dance of sorts between two internal poles, the one representing isolation and solitude, and the other being full immersion into and unification with the All of life, including our sacred Mother nature.
My aunt Susie, Sharon and I visited Mom and Dad’s grave site April 21, 2018 for the first time since dad’s death. (His last two dogs, Rocky and Peaches are buried with them, too). One of Dad’s favorite expressions about people who get ignored, rejected or neglected was that “he got the bum’s rush”. His dementia in the last years of his life made him feel, most times, like he was getting the short end of life’s stick, either through his own deteriorating mental and social capacities, through family and friends forgetting about him or ‘running short of time’ to visit with him, or their preceding him in death. Sharon, Pam, and I (and Aunt Susie, and Uncle Ed prior to his own death 4 years ago) tried to bring love and connection to his grieving spirit for the last eight years of his life, after Mother’s death in 2009.
With the recent deaths of her first daughter Sharyn, who she had adopted out at birth as well as older brothers, John Edward(2012), and Beryl(2017), Sharon (primarily) and I are now doing what we can to keep Aunt Susie from feeling neglected.. Her daughter Cindy has ignored her mother for over ten years, leaving her care to Sharon, and, to a much lesser degree, myself. Our cousins through Uncle Ed have little or no inclination to be of service, either, instead holding on to judgements against their aunt, even though their own father John Edward loved her and looked out for her much of his adult life. It is so much easier to sit in judgement of another, rather than engage in the struggle to maintain spiritual integrity in all of one’s relationships. My family is no different from any other family in their choices for engagement, or for rejection of the most challenging of members.
Her only requests, or bucket list needs, are to trim the grass around the graveside of several beloved family members, and for her alienated daughter, Cindy, to heal herself enough to come over and visit with her before she dies. Her deceased daughter Sharon Robinson (died August 2017 of pancreatic cancer at age of 62, after living with and caring for Susie for almost 2 years), and cousin Tom, (Edward’s #1 son), are the only other family members showing any interest or concern for her. Recent additions to our family, Wendy and Chris Myers (Wendy being the daughter of Ed, Beryl, and Susie’s adopted out older sister), are true blessings to Susie, and to us, as well. They joined the family after the revelation of Grandma Elsie’s secret birth of the older sister, which resulted in reattaching some long lost branches of the family tree.
It is heart breaking to see how cruel the ramifications of family brokenness are to the most vulnerable among us. And, my aunt Susie is a broken human being, with a rousing welcome back to the human race for all of us who just realized that fact for ourselves. It was through my own brokenness, and my desire to heal myself of it, that I found another way of seeing life, to bring healing to myself and my relationship to my father, so that he could have my unconditional love and compassionate care prior to his own death. The sacrifices that I had to make in my personal life seem trivial now, compared to the knowledge that I was able to be present in the spirit of love and healing to a man who truly needed it, and benefited greatly from it. I know that I was the greatest beneficiary from my healing with my father, though.
Healing and forgiveness is not for everybody, apparently. It sure works miracles for those who employ love’s techniques with earnest, however. A hug has great power, yet so does a rejection. If we hear “Love’s call”, we must answer it. To not do so, is to deny ourselves, and we all suffer accordingly. Sharon and I choose not to suffer today. May all sentient beings be freed from their suffering.
U2–There Is A Light
This truly has been a most fundamental dialogue, discussion, argument, investigation into the very nature of consciousness, and how we name objects and subjects, and understand reality itself. There are those whose backgrounds are quite superstitious and irrational, and there are those are now trying to dominate the collective understanding of reality for their own political, economic, and social gain, by destroying it and offering alternative illusory postures that have great hypnotic appeal. How will we see reality today? How will we see ourselves today?
True connection with our self and with the other, takes much time, insight, and commitment. Our culture, its values, its continuing deterioration into poorer spiritual, mental and physical health with its excess dependencies upon the medical profession, drugs and alcohol, media saturation and escapist entertainment, and pseudo “political, economic, religious, and spiritual teachers” and all of its supposed “saviors”, reflects the historical progression of the destruction of the DIVINE within all of us.
Understanding how we form the walls of the prison that we each may live in individually leads to the insight that removes these walls, once and for all. Next time we look at our self, or someone else, and we do not have a loving perception, we will know that we need to dig deeper, to find the gold that is buried, hidden under the debris left by the entire history of the Common Knowledge Game of human perception.
Awe, wonder, love, connection, healing, wholeness, collaboration, good mental health, all lie within the realm of possibilities for humanity. One person at a time, by accepting personal responsibility for all of our perceptions, and the transmutation of their dark energy into lighter energy through insight, mindfulness, and meditation will bring to us what we have been looking for since Mankind first arrived on this planet.
When the Word becomes flesh, it must travel lightly!The Awakening VoiceThough the slowly shifting desert sands of time,Keep creating ever taller dunes for America’s lost, thirsty souls to climb.It is through transcending our hateful world of so little reason and rhyme,That we will reaffirm the way of Truth, with its quenching waters of the Sublime.As seekers for Peace, on Truth’s high mount’ we must continue to climb,Or we will stumble through the swirling sands of a chaotic, corrupted mind.He attempts to confuse sane minds with the lies of his false rhyme and reason,So all our inner Lawyers must object to his deceit, and charge him and his thoughts with treason!Are we but marionette’s dancing images trapped upon the ATM screen of a monetized mind?With dollar driven beliefs in full control, what freedom can we find?We must release ourselves from the spiritual imprisonment of these choking, binding strings,And unleash our hearts’ truest wisdom that our liberated Intelligence can then bring.As shadow boxers of Trumped Up Evil, to what ends do we hope to aspire?Becoming co-champions with Darkness’s nightmare visions creates situations that are perpetually dire!When we first heal our own illusions that promote self-destructive mental pugilist blows,Our hearts can support the real fight against the Dark Ones who are now on public show.As an unconscious mental marathoner, only on Life’s treadmills will we perpetually stand,To continue to repeat history’s missteps dooms us all to fail and become life’s “also rans”,Who forever just chase in vain Sanity’s unifying, healing voice.So step off of this circular belt, and share first place in the Life all may rejoice!To finally realize the Truth, is to see those illusory agendas that only limit and bind,Spun together with the same golden threads of the Emperor’s New Clothes, his evil tailors did wind,To corrupt the minds and hearts of all innocence, and all of the vulnerable that they can find.So we must continue to seek our own truth, and then our struggle becomes Sublime!The non-illuminated, restless mind is devoid of all of Love’s rhyme and Truth’s reason,And only chases after desert mirages, until it sees the internal corruption that is guilty of treason.Shame on you, Donald Trump, your minions, and the pseudo-Christians who continue to support you.Blessings to all of America’s holy warriors, who seek for, and hold onto, all that is just, equitable, and true.The nature of consciousness is that shadows must gather around all of our verbal images of light, just like our human bodies are forever married to shadows when standing in the sunlight. It takes both aspects, light and darkness, to give full definition to what we experiencing in our conscious minds. It is easy to become hypnotized by those orators and their words which have strong emotional appeal, and who have excelled in the creative art of spinning words from their verbal looms to draw us in, entertain us, and motivate us to do their bidding. Beware of those who speak solely from the light, at the exclusion of the darkness, or those who speak from the darkness, with no relation to what we already know to be the light. We are social creatures, and we will forever be drawn into our communities of convenience, of hope, and of purpose. If we can stay awake, we will not be drawn into those energy exchanges where elements of our own humanity are kept out of balance. We can be both individually debased and belittled, and at the same time participate in the process of collectively persecuting and prosecuting others for real, or imaginary, spiritual, emotional, and monetary gains. We can also become deluded and overly optimistic, by ignoring the fact of the darkness inherent in the human experience, and our collective warts will continue to disfigure us all. We must not just dismiss their dark influence with the white surrender flag of spiritual denial and deluded hope.
I am no longer actively participating in the most powerful division of the common knowledge game (American male collective consciousness), where male domination and control run rampant, and are accepted as socially acceptable standards of behavior. I have become a “traitor” to those multitudes of men who still insist on keeping their dark secrets to themselves, or only sharing with others also encumbered by the darkness (“all women are bitches”, “locker room talk?”, “boys will be boys”, “don’t talk, don’t tell”, “all people unlike ourselves are inferior, let’s bully or persecute them”, etc.). After experiencing the oppression from our male dominated culture through much of my adult life, and my own internal repressive characteristics developed through incomplete lessons learned as a developing human being, I have become committed to the lifelong process that ultimately brings liberation of my spirit from imprisonment in a mercurial, warmongering male ego. I now choose for full self disclosure of all beliefs, characteristics, and behaviors that would bring harm to myself, to others, and to the world. It is these secrets that are kept unconscious, deep within the non-examined crevasses of our minds and hearts, that have the potential to bring the greatest harm to self and other.
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