“Our lives begin to end, the moment that we become silent about things that matter”
Martin Luther King, Jr.
When I became sober, I did not have a whole lot to talk about, except while with other “recovering” individuals. And, I had such a change of mind and heart, I did not have much of a story to tell about my “present moment experience” either, not having the new language to surround the new energy with. This becomes an unintentional part of the “conspiracy of silence”. Stories get developed after the fact about our life experience, unless we are patterning ourselves from the disfiguring stories thrust upon us by our families, our religions, our cultures, and our diseases. In these cases, those outdated stories became the structure that we attempt to weave our new life experience around, and thus we don’t really ever claim, or find our own unique identity, or story..Far too many stories in recovery become the repetition and rehearsal of the painful stories of suffering from our pasts, but there is short-term value in sharing stories of that nature, and we should feel no guilt or shame in revealing those parts of ourselves..
Most people love a good story. Even the belief in God, whether or not “God” actually exists, has its own origins in the need for mankind to create a story around its own origins, and to give its existence some sort of context and meaning. I have read about and heard from a few parents that their young children were so close to “God”, that when they first learned to talk, they would tell their parents about talking directly with God, or hearing God talk to them (or Jesus, or whatever their cultural background would predispose them to refer to). I did not have that experience as a youth, and, in fact, I was so far from that experience that I could not fathom the possibility of such a “miracle”. For me, my bullshit detector would sound off long and loud whenever I heard such a story.
I would be cast out of our home to the garage at night when I was a baby, because I cried almost non-stop, and my crying kept my father from sleeping. I was wrapped in a warm blanket, and kept in the car in the garage, so there is the beginning of my sad, “Godless” life experience. When I was still a boy, up to nearly nine years of age, it was I who nightly had horrible nightmares so terrifying that I could not get out of bed to go to the bathroom for fear of what was going to get me from inside of the closet, or under my bed. There was nothing “heavenly” about my birth or early childhood, and, in fact, I was on the opposite end of the peace spectrum from those other lucky, supposedly “divinely blessed” children. Attachment theory advocates would have a field day with this aspect of my story, for sure!
As a young person, I never completely accepted the world outside of our family, as it was too over-populated with men affected by what I now know as toxic masculinity. There were quite a few friendly adults sprinkled in who were my parents’ friends, or who were relatives such as my aunt and uncle, or my grandparents.. Dealing with my peers was a different story, however. I was not equipped to successfully deal with many of those interpersonal challenges. The thought of becoming an astronaut, and traveling through space far away from this planet, motivated me to excel in school, in both mathematics and science. I saw scholastic excellence as my ticket to get free from my “social dis-ease”, and my sense of disengagement from the resident aliens who also shared planet Earth with me. I longed for a way “to get off of this fucking rock”.
My life prior to drug addiction was quite lonely at times, especially while living in our West Linn home along the Willamette River, but it was interspersed with many “happy spells”. When I was not in the outdoors climbing trees, building forts, riding bicycles, or exploring fields, forests, or islands in our neighborhood, I would spend copious amounts of time reading. The steady reading of fictional books, especially science fiction, enabled me to take vacations from a world that never seemed to me to be very welcoming..
One of my favorite SF books was Stranger In A Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein, which I read as a twelve-year-old boy. In this book, the main character, Michael Valentine Smith, is adopted by Martians after the death of all Earthlings except for baby Michael on a Mars mission that had crashed upon landing. Michael learns from the Martians, who end up raising Michael until near adulthood, that all, ultimately, is God. Michael was eventually rescued, and returned to Earth. When Michael proclaimed to all of Earth’s inhabitants after his introduction back upon Earth that “Thou Art God” I had my first ever feeling of hope that there might be a God available to be present in life, maybe even in MY LIFE. I read that book over and over again, as it gave me so much hope, but the hope, with its concurrent “God chills” or horripilations, were ephemeral, and did not last long after each reading of the appropriate passages in the book. It was with this book that the seed was planted for the idea that the search for God may well be my ticket out of my loneliness and misery, that the search must somehow begin and end within myself..
In the era of my life from 1971 to 1987, I led a highly dysfunctional life, becoming addicted to alcohol and drugs by age 15. I was hopelessly addicted from the start, and I knew that I would either die as an alcoholic/addict, or I would kill myself by age 30, if I had not yet recovered from my disease. What I did not know was what would happen if I survived my affliction, what kind of life there would be for me to live, and what kind of person that I could become. I had made no preparations for how to live life without substance abuse, nor would I, at least initially, have adequate language to describe my hopes for the sober life, other than in the simplest, vaguest of terms.
With the exit from Portland’s underworld community, in 1987 and my own exit from the drug-induced and culturally inculcated insanity, a new world waited to welcome me, but it did not just reach out and grab me by the hand, and lead me down the path to recovery and reintegration back into the community. With all that I have previously written about the time beginning with recovery from addiction and alcoholism , it would be a mistake to assume that I was totally conscious about what was going on, and the direction that I was headed from 1987 forward. All that I knew was that after I had made “conscious contact with the God of my understanding”, my old life seemed to disappear. I had an ability to describe the world that I had left behind, but I had no language to describe the new world that I was entering into, or the new experiences that were unfolding in the new life of sobriety. I had never felt like I was an accepted and honored part of the outside world in the first place, so finding my new people, and my language, were important endeavors to me, once I was firmly on the path to sobriety and enhanced spirituality.
This desire for a loving integration into the wholeness of life arose several years before, when I yearned for peace. While addicted, I could not fulfill the conditions for its experience. The transformation was many, many years in the making, but when it appeared within me, I was no longer tormented by my social insecurities, or my feeling of disconnection from God, my fellow-man, or from the plants and animals that grace this beautiful planet that we share. Somehow, I had “let go of the controls” of my old ego state of mind, and a new order started revealing itself, from moment to moment. At times I felt like a “guided missile”, never knowing the destination for my life, but trusting whatever it was that had launched my new life into existence would get me to the right place at the right time..
I still had memories of my former life, yet they no longer informed my day-to-day thoughts, my decisions, or my overall outlook on life and love. I did not know who the “new me” was, though the “new me” always had a smile, and felt continuous joy. I had a series of spiritual upheavals which defied my rational mind, and I did not have the words to describe or contain the experience for many years to follow. It was as if a new person had landed in my consciousness, the “old me” had died, and now I was informed, moment to moment, by a powerful force of peace or silence, or Love itself.
Before 1987, there were “many people with their disfiguring concepts” roaming around in my mind, but now the “committee of many” had permanently adjourned, and there was only one peaceful presence, a new ordering principle for my consciousness. And not only did I not have the language developed for the new story, the small story that I did begin to tell did not necessarily meet with a friendly reception from others. When I told my story, I would usually be met with silent stares, a quick change of subject, or general disinterest., though a friend from a men’s group claimed that I was a “walk-in”, a term used to describe when the old ego departs a body, to be replaced by a new being.
My family still saw me in terms of the past, for the most part, as my history created great scars on the psyche of fellow family members, as well as the friends and acquaintances of my years prior to recovery. But, they could appreciate that the “new me” no longer required their extra concern or care, as I was now an independent, upright, fairly conscious human being. I made healthy choices in my relationships, and I chose a new, fulfilling career to replace all of the career wreckage from my past. I was but a boy again, though, while still learning the ropes, meeting new friends, discovering new possibilities for myself and others, and, occasionally, still sipping from the inner healing springs of the Miracle that can quench the spiritual thirst of all who seek it out.
This new being, this upgraded Bruce 2.0, which appeared in the summer of 1987, was like those miracle babies and children that I had always envied, and doubted. During most of the time after June of 1987, until I met my present wife Sharon in August of 1989, I spent over six hours a day in prayer and meditation, and probably as a result experienced blessed states on an almost continuous basis. I now “heard and felt” God, and I was taught on the inner spiritual plane about aspects of life, and consciousness, that I had no way to learn or know about otherwise. This was not a “Christian” God, or a “Jewish” God, or the Buddha Mind, or “Christ Consciousness”, but those names certainly pointed to the new reality that I had somehow accessed, and been dramatically changed by.
As hard as it is for me to write about this now, or, understandably, for the reader to believe this story, I was taught by the “Master Teacher”, whoever, or whatever, that might be. We all have access to this “inner wisdom”, yet it lies, mostly ignored, in the inner recesses of our hearts and souls, for much of our lives. I was given a new blank slate to write my new self upon, a new possibility for living, and being, in this world, aided by this new connection with my own wisdom. The world that I once wanted to depart from so badly, was now paradise on Earth, and I knew that Heaven was not a concept for the future, but a living reality only for the present moment. But, I could not carry the “old me” into that world, I had to leave ALL of my verbal and non-verbal memory possessions behind, so to speak, to stay in tune with the new Spiritual music.
I have noted from my understanding and experience of others who have had dramatic spiritual experiences, is that, initially, they experienced a state of being poor communicators around the event. This lack of articulateness is quite a common, for several years that follow such an upheaval. Those that have a strong religious background try to use the language of that system of thought to interpret and communicate their own unique opening. For those who do not have a well established religious background, or who might need other language or images to convey their experience, the search through historical literature to see what others have written about their own cosmic events have been found to be helpful. There is an attempt to try to use a language that others might understand, but, unless they too have had spiritual lightning strike them, the search for an equally enlightened/awakened peer group is liable to be fairly unsuccessful, at least initially. Then there are also those who just throw up their hands, and give up on the idea of ever communicating with others about the transcendent state. And, finally, there are those whose minds are irreparably damaged by the experience, and though they may remain “connected to the Spirit”, their behavior and style is indicative of a person who is insane, and operating well outside of socially and culturally accepted standards.
I did not have the capacity to communicate with others what I was experiencing, for many years after 1987. I would refer to my “rebirth”, and talk of the “old me” with those who were interested, especially in meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. The people who met me after my rebirth could not believe that I was ever addicted or dysfunctional in self-destructive or other-destructive ways, and I learned to not wave that recovery flag at every new person I met, so that they could have an honest chance of knowing me for who I now was, rather than who I might have been long ago. It was my movement through all of these new relationships which helped to define for me the “new me”, who I was now, how I now related to and appreciated others, and how I now loved unconditionally most everyone that I met. All of humanity became my brother or sister in this new reality, and my lifelong sense of dreadful separation from others had been lifted. I then set out to find “my people” and find out where I might fit into the new world order that was revealing itself within my mind and heart. In my naiveté, I assumed that most others naturally came by this understanding, and that I was finally catching up, spiritually, with the “normal folks”, the folks that never were so unhappy as to consider alcoholism, drug addiction, and/or suicide for themselves.
I eventually became active in the great outdoors again through hiking and backpacking, I resumed bicycle riding with an association with Cycle Oregon over several years, I learned tennis, and I also ended up excelling in road and trail racing as a runner, albeit an older runner (in the master’s division), competing individually and also appearing on several championship or near-championship level Masters’ teams in both the Hood To Coast and Rainier To Pacific races. I was able have a “redo” of my life, and experience success and failure based on my own decisions, and actually glean wisdom from my interactions with life, rather than hate myself and/or others for its sometimes difficult teachings. And, yes, the new life was quite fertile ground for learning.
This new life also provided me with some of the language that I needed to communicate better with others what I had experienced on the inner plane. It also started to provide me with the language needed to describe the foundational consciousness which predisposed me, and our world to dysfunctional and self-destructive behavior, but I was not to get the full message until much later in life. Having allowed myself to return back into the world after this second birth, I subsequently gained insight into the matrix of collective human misunderstanding that was the foundation for our collective consciousness as a human race. I had no inclination to attempt to describe the “light” as the mystics and poets experienced it, for I saw the futility of that path of “via positiva” for me. My path was more towards “via transformativa” and “via negativa”, which is the path that is witnessed AFTER insight into the debris field of human consciousness is apperceived, and then healed and cleared.
What is left, after the garbage is cleared? If might be considered similar to the process of metamorphosis, which brings forth the butterfly from the caterpillar. If the butterfly could talk, I would assume that it would much rather talk about its new freedom,and the ability to fly, rather than its previous form of life sliding over the dirt Yet, the only life that the butterfly arose from was with ground dwellers, and that is where all of its past stories were created. Could you imagine that butterfly going back and telling his caterpillar friends about the potential for a new life, and what the “ground dwellers” might say in response? How about
“get lost, you were never one of us, anyway?”
or
“well, it must be nice for you to fly, but it is just not for me right now?”
or
“have you heard about the great tasty leaves that parsley plant has?”
are three potential responses from those who think that change is threatening, unnecessary, irrelevant, or impossible, for themselves.
There is new life available to all, yet I won’t devote too many words on that one. I am not a poet, and I don’t need to draw a big audience for those who are the seeker moths of our world who blindly follow the latest human “light”. The “light” is best experienced personally and non-verbally, for then there are no conflicts created between “the word” versus “the truth of the moment”. It is best to see this process for oneself. The word will forever remain a shadow, cast by the light built into the divine heart of mankind, as it tries to define the “undefinable”. Yet, if the heart is in the right place, the words formed and delivered will become attuned to and resonant with the energies pointing to healing of self and of the other.
“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.”
― The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
My journey of healing is fully documented in this book. I will first address the seed consciousness, the human collective consciousness, which gave rise to my own personal story, which is my interpretation of my life and of my universe. My consciousness is comprised of all of the answers that our culture, my family and I have dreamed up to some of the great questions of life. My life up to this point in time and space has been an attempt to answer the following questions, and adjust to the basic underlying principles that were supporting those questions.:
Just what is “God”, and what relationship does “God” have to reality, and to me?
What is a “well lived life”?
Who are my “people”, and where are they located?
Will I ever fit in? Will anyone ever notice me?
Why don’t I feel peace of mind?
Why do I always seem to “self-destruct” right at the moment when I am about to achieve great success?
Will I ever understand myself, and others?
Why is expressing real emotions such a double-edged sword?
Where is the love that I feel is missing from my life?
Why do I have no desire to contribute to society in a more generous, meaningful way?
Why do I feel that I have to always be competitive, or “better than the others” just to fit in?
Why do I not feel satisfaction when I achieve the greatest goals that I have set up for myself?
Why does guilt control so much of my life’s experience?
What is oppression, and what is my relationship to it?
What is repression, and why do I participate in it?
Is it possible to speak or live a lie long enough that we no longer can accept or believe the truth?
Is a person’s silence because of an absence of opinion, or from a fear of speaking the truth?
What is good “mental health”?
Why do people continue to experience poor self-esteem?
Why are some people always so angry, or depressed?
Why can’t some people be more emotionally and spiritually present for others?
Why do people feel that they need to engage in mutual “control dramas”?
Why do some men become spiritually and emotionally disfigured by their desire for sex?
Why do some men exercise excessive emotional control over their partners?
Why do people cling to certain groups of people, and reject all others?
Why don’t people get along better with each other?
Why do people endlessly pursue entertainment and/or use drugs and alcohol to excess, and ignore their own personal transformation and healing?
Why is just more knowledge so much more important than intuition, wisdom and insight to most men and left brained dominated women?
Why is collaboration such a dirty word for a national political process?
Why is competition and greed, as presently coupled with Capitalism, the predominant economic system in our world?
Why does our society, and our world, and much of the world’s population, continue to not experience peace of mind, with beauty, wonder, and the innate internal integrity of our (potentially) divine nature?
When Will America Fully Awaken?
My life story became my improving attempts at addressing these questions, and adjusting to whatever answers, if any, that came into my awareness at any particular point in time.. There is nothing really “new” being written here, though this is the most important writing that I have ever attempted. Please forgive me in advance if my insights and realizations appear obvious and simple. When they come to an innocent mind for the first time, they bring with them the sense of profundity and wonder..
I had many teachers on the “outer plane” who continued to point the way to a higher, more spiritually integrated life, while I measured their messages against what was bubbling up within my own mind and heart as my own internal answers to life’s great questions. Words started forming within my mind that were to become the verbal bridges connecting my internal “non-verbal” state of being to reach the surface of my mind and the outside world with its infinite interwoven matrices of verbal intelligence. Just sitting around smiling at people was not getting the job of connection and communication accomplished, but I was always flooded with joy, and carried a constant smile on my face, which did open many doors to friendship with others. I was no longer a sheep looking for a shepherd, as I became a more conscious wanderer on life’s path, looking for fellow travelers and collaborators to exchange companionship with while we collectively reached for our greater good.
I had no desire to fly solo, but instead to fly with a new flock, populated by those who were flying the same direction that I was guided to fly. Finding our spiritual family or core group, or “my people” is a common healthy desire for all of us. As human beings we have the potential to be “free birds” in our own unique way and manners, though we remain part of the greater “flock of life”. It is important to find, and continue to fly in, the flock of our own choice. We are social creatures, and to deny that absolute fact is to deny reality, and to deny our own greater good, and the greater good of humanity. It is a challenge to all of us to find that right group of people who our spirit can soar with. We all have tried to fly with turkeys, and that is not to be our lot in life, unless we continue to choose that for ourselves.
We are all free to choose again, so choose wisely, and fly united!
Goose Sense
