What is it about forgiveness that is so elusive?

Just when I thought I had forgiven my mom for all the hate she had for me in my life, recently talking to her on the phone brought up the laundry list of all the hurt she had ever caused me. It was quite spontaneous this list of wrongs, I was unaware it was even happening. All of a sudden I realize what I am thinking and am instantly crushed by the weight of unforgiveness I still hold in my soul. I cry out to God and say, I thought I had forgiven her!

In my head, I say all the right things to myself…she did the best she could….she really didn’t mean it….she has suffered in her life and that’s why she hated me…..maybe she had postpartum depression, undiagnosed in the early 1960’s, that’s why she treated me so poorly…..it wasn’t my fault…it wasn’t her fault…and so on.

I left her home when I was sixteen. I am now fifty four. I have maintained a geographical solution to dealing with her by this one thousand mile distance I put in place long ago.For a long time I still craved her love and acceptance which always left me even more bruised and battered, never understanding why this woman disliked me so much. My inner voice used to tell me that if your own mother doesn’t like you, you must be pretty darn useless….

Throughout the years, she would call me and lure me into conversations and insult my choices and every conversation left me feeling wrecked.I played this telephone game with her for thirty or so years, her calling to remind me that I am a useless, unlovable idiot, me taking the call and reeling with unworthiness for days or weeks or months after. There were times when, out of guilt,I would fly home and ‘visit’, only to receive my heaping helping of non acceptance in person. There has never been a time in my life when I could really feel she loved me at all.

So I stopped flying home, I stopped calling and emailing, I made excuses as to why nobody should fly here to visit me. Even when I got cancer two years ago, I would not allow my mom to come here and ‘help’ me .I successfully enlarged my no violation border to an extreme. However, now, right now, she is travelling by car to come and see me. She will be here in a few days, accompanied by her husband who serves no purpose to me at all. I have insisted they stay in a hotel, that they will not be allowed to visit me at work or my home, that I will see her only for a few short hours each day she is here.

During the call where she insisted I let her come and torment me in person, she made sure to systematically degrade my current life choices. Somehow I felt I had run out of reasons to enforce the travel ban, and probably somewhere deep inside my soul, I thought, well, maybe this time will be different. However, after the call was when the obvious unforgiveness starting cropping up. Which led me to think that now is the time I will kick her out of my life for good, in person, with a witness (her husband), so that nothing will be misunderstood. I felt empowered by this approach and I started to anticipate her arrival with courage.

I realize again that the only thing that has ever worked for me is the maintained boundary of mileage. As long as she is invisible, I am fine. As her arrival approaches, I feel as though I am five years old again, unable to speak, unable to find my voice to stand up for myself. I start to fall again, into the deep void of wanting my mother’s love and even though beyond a shadow of a doubt I know it will not happen, I still yearn for it. So who am I standing up to..her or me? Can I really say, hey Judy, it’s not like we ever had a relationship, why don’t we stop this game and get off this dumb ride? Please, for my sake, don’t ever call again, don’t ever visit again, don’t send me stupid cards that imply you love me. You have nothing but pain and bad memories to offer me and this charade is over.

Can I do this? Should I do this? Will I do this? Is it my duty to find a way to continue this relationship? Am I defying “honor your parent’s”? It’s not like she ever honored me. Recently, I heard someone say, Oh you think you are emotionally healthy? Spend an hour with your family and find out if it is true. She isn’t even here yet, but I know it’s not true for me if I have to spend time with her. I’m already crumbling.
So, God, The Universe, all my angels……what do I do? Grin and bear it? I would appreciate some assistance here.

Scars

Like many people, I have scars on my body and soul. These scars on my physical body can be seen, but only if I decide to show them to you. They are concealed under my clothes and unless I walk around naked, you will never see them. You will never even know they exist unless I decide to tell you about them. Whether I tell you or show you, my scars are there and have a story to tell about who I am now and who I used to be.

The scars on my soul are less easily dealt with because very often they show themselves before I am able to decide if you should have access to them. These soul scars show in the way I deal with people, situations and the world in general. The wounds that caused the scars were dealt to me starting at the beginning of my life. My parents, two extremely stubborn and mean spirited people, engaged in doing what they knew how to do. My mom told me she never bonded with me as a newborn, my cries for love and nurturing were met with dismissive acts of rejection and physical pain. I cried, she hit. My great grandma Tina told me, that when I was a small, crawling baby, she witnessed my mother kicking me across the room in a fit of anger. My mother doesn’t remember this and dismisses this bit of family history with her usual denial and aggression. Even though I don’t actively remember this particular incident, I have plenty of memories of physical abuse that would corroborate this story. My mother says I was an extremely obstinate child, always pushing the envelope of her nonexistent patience, she would say to the tiny me, don’t touch that or don’t do that. Then I would defiantly touch it or do it, forcing her to brutalize my body in whatever manner was available to her.

My father was completely absent, enraged that my mother would dare to divorce him and so has spent the past fifty plus years pretending my sister and I never existed at all. I never even knew he was anyone until I was about seven years old. For whatever reason these parents decided it was time we girls spent a day with this stranger and his new family at a picnic. I remember asking my sister, who are these people and why are we here with them. She points at our father and says, I think that guy is our real dad. I can remember vividly my head spinning with this statement and utter, absolute confusion set in at that moment and has never left me. I asked my dear sister, she being fourteen months older than I, what are we supposed to call him. I had to go to the bathroom but could only sit on the ground in pain, not knowing who could take me to pee. She and I decided to call him Hey You. Finally I worked up the courage to ask Hey You, can someone please take me to the bathroom. He never corrected this moniker placed on him, nor did anyone else ever help either of us to understand what in hell was going on here. We saw this family a few more times before I turned nine, then never again until I sought him out, sister by my side at twenty one years of age. It was Father’s Day and we invited him to lunch. As soon as he sat down with us, I blurted out where in the hell have you been? He then proceeded to spin a story about our mother and the monumental bitch that she was and still is, and how she prevented him from seeing us all those years. Fact was on his side with this interpretation of events, my mother vehemently denies this story and says with utter conviction that he was the abandoner and that she had nothing to do with it.

Two people, two stories, two abandoned children. No one wins. These parents will both go to their obstinate graves each believing their own stories, not caring about the collateral damage caused by their carelessness, their selfishness and their respective hatred of one another. What continues to amaze and disgust me about these people, is how tenaciously they have both clung to these lies for fifty plus years. Apparently there is no statute of limitation on their need to be right at the expense of their offspring. Since there is no relenting of either side, I am left to assume they are both world class liars and losers, and you know what? Neither of them care one bit about what I or my sister, feel or think. To this very moment in time, there is not a speck of remorse for the behavior or consequences of their actions.

One of the most devastating results of their actions is the fact of what and who we ended up with, our adoptive ‘father’, the predatory pedophile. My mother married him soon after she divorced dear old dad and proceeded to spawn my unfortunate brother with this deviate. My sister and I were toddlers at that time, so he was introduced to us as our real father and we never knew any different until the fateful picnic with that family. Even then nothing made any sense to me so for all intents and purposes this man was the real deal to both of us. As a young child, I was sure that every dad came into his childrens’ bedroom at night to rape and sexually torture the kiddies. I was equally sure that all moms beat and brutalized their children every single day, for any reason whatsoever. I would watch ‘The Brady Bunch’ and think to myself, why don’t they show the molestation and aggravated assault and battery that I was sure was happening to Greg, Marcia, Cindy, Bobby, ect…. it wasn’t until I was a bit older and able to spend time with friends and their families that I understood this doesn’t happen to everyone like I originally thought. What a revelation!

As soon as I was old enough to get that what went on in my house was wrong, I started to run away from them. As early as thirteen years of age, I would routinely climb out of any available window and go to a friend’s house and ask if they would hide me. I spent many a night in someones closet or under a bed, unbeknownst to the parents of these friend’s, a runaway crouching in fear, being helped by benevolent children who understood I needed help. Always being found by the police and dragged back to my abusers, deposited back into the hands of hell until I could find my next opportunity to run. Which I always did. I fought like a caged animal, I considered suicide, I started with the uncontrollable hyper sexuality of an abused child, the sexual light switch having been turned on way too early to ever be controlled. The recipe for disaster cooked up by useless people, simmered on the stove of my life until I was twenty eight years old. The entire fifteen year period of my hapless existence could be a best selling book all by itself.

Rumi once said, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” – See more at: http://www.thinkinghumanity.com/2015/06/8-things-to-remember-when-everything-goes-wrong.html#sthash.9990qiax.JHVVjvsh.dpuf

If this is true and I suspect that it is, I am a wonderously light filled human. I have so many scars both internally and externally, I feel I must be nothing but light. However, the reality is there is no awesome light without awesome dark. There is this tremendous battle in my soul of lightness and darkness, warring eternally inside of myself. I can be unbelievably cruel and hateful one day and the next day the most compassionate and helpful of human beings. I often feel useless, unloveable and discarded, conjuring up horrible left over feelings of shame and degradation, which I can’t help but to spill over to people in my life. Once I realize I am feeling these dark emotions, I attempt to pull back up, like a plane in a deadly fatal down spin, I will ferociously pull back on my steering wheel urging my vehicle back up into the graceful clouds where I spend several days riding this euphoric high. Feeling loved and useful and appreciated and remembered. These scars are the speed bumps of my soul, I glide along on a smooth and even road which lets my guard down, only to hit these obstacles at seventy miles an hour, where I come crashing back into my reality of aloneness.

For the most part, nobody knows the depth of my anguished journey. My scars remain hidden unless I choose to show them to you. I ride along on the rollercoaster of life, screaming in pain or laughing in joy, depending on which turn is in front of me. My life goal is to master these emotional scars so I control them, not them controlling me. My physical scars are much easier to deal with. The right article of clothing placed over them takes care of the situation, once properly placed I can forget about them until the end of the day when I remove the item. Easy cheesy light and breezy. Unfortunately not the same with the internal damage, it has a mind of it’s own, and it will do what it wants unless I am paying massive amounts of attention every single second of every single minute of every single day. I wear my heart on my sleeve and try as I might I can’t hide my pain very easily. It takes a monumental amount of effort to pretend everything is okay on the days that it isn’t. To some degree, each human has been scarred by their own existence. My fondest wish and eternal prayer is that we each treat one another with great respect and reverence for the unseen, internal and external scars which may or may not be readily apparent on any given day.

Let me tell you why……

Very recently, I was asked by a dear friend whether or not I would enter into another romantic relationship at this point in my life. I am a survivor of domestic violence, and I’ve been out of relationships for almost five years now. My last husband was, at first, someone who looked very good on paper. Little did I know he was even more emotionally damaged than I ever was. He went beyond my deficiency to the point of actual developmental disability. I think perhaps this is why I chose him. My subconscious knew he was in bad shape and I thought I could help him. Probably because of everything I had been through in my battered and unfulfiling love life and having gone through several years of intense analysis, when I met him, I thought I was healed but alas, no, this was not true. And so I sought out, unwittingly, someone just like me.

Growing up, I had no role model of relationship to which I could refer. My own mom had been married four times, twice to the same predatory pedophile. What I experienced growing up was dysfunction to the nth degree and it permanently carved in my brain the exact wrong thing to look for in a person. This is why now I easily admit I have no business being in a love relationship. I have no qualifications that would benefit me or anyone I would associate with.

When you grow up inside extreme abuse, then spend many years pursuing the ideas that formed you, there is nothing you have to offer. Except for jealousy, insecurity, out of control roller coaster emotions that arise out of the opening of the heart once again. Of course  there is the initial attraction that is seemingly untouchable, the dreamy first stages of love are nothing more than a dense fog bank of non reality that cement the physical bond but don’t even crack the seal on the lower, much more important character traits that will eventually rise to the surface. Here is a list of character traits held by people who have been emotionally and/ or physically abused, and this is what we have to offer in love:

  • Can only guess at what healthy behavior is.
  • Tendency towards distraction, rather than inclusion
  • Have trouble completing things
  • Lie when they don’t need to. Lying might have been a survival tactic in the home.
  • Judge themselves without mercy.
  • Have trouble accepting compliments.
  • Often take responsibility for problems, but not successes.
  • Or they go to the other extreme and refuse to take any responsibility for mistakes while trying to take credit for the work of others.
  • Have trouble having fun since their childhoods were lost, stolen, repressed.
  • Take themselves very seriously or not seriously at all.
  • Have difficulty with intimate relationships.
  • Expect others to just “know what they want.” (They can’t express it because they were so often disappointed as children that they learned to stop asking for things.)
  • Over-react to things beyond their control.
  • Constantly seek approval & affirmation.
  • Feel different from others.
  • Are extremely loyal, even when facing overwhelming evidence that their loyalty is undeserved.
  • Are either super responsible or super irresponsible.
  • Tend to lock themselves into a course of action without giving serious consideration to alternative behaviors or possible consequences. (This impulsiveness leads to confusion, self-loathing, and loss of control over their environment. The result is they spend much energy blaming others, feeling victimized and cleaning up messes.
  • We have feelings of low self- esteem (This is a result of being criticized too often as children and teenagers.)
  • We perpetuate these parental messages by judging ourselves and others harshly. We try to cover up our poor opinions of ourselves by being perfectionistic, controlling, contemptuous and gossipy.
  • We tend to isolate ourselves out of fear and we feel often uneasy around other people, especially authority figures.
  • We are desperate for love and approval and will do anything to make people like us.
  • We are afraid of losing others.
  • We are afraid of being abandoned.
  • It is difficult for us to “let go.”
  • We are intimidated by angry people and personal criticism. This adds to our feelings of inadequacy and insecurity.
  • We continue to attract emotionally unavailable people with addictive personalities.
  • We live life as victims, blaming others for our circumstances, and are attracted to other victims (and people with power) as friends and lovers. We confuse love with pity and tend to “love” people we can pity and rescue. And we confuse love with need.
  • We are either super-responsible or super-irresponsible. We take responsibility for solving others’ problems or expect others to be responsible for solving ours. This enables us to avoid being responsible for our own lives and choices.
  • We feel guilty when we stand up for ourselves or act in our own best interests. We give in to others’ needs and opinions instead of taking care of ourselves.
  • We deny, minimize or repress our feelings as a result of our traumatic childhoods. We are unwilling to admit the impact our inability to identify and express our feelings has had on our adult lives.
  • We are dependent personalities who are so terrified of rejection or abandonment that we tend to stay in situations or relationships that are harmful to us. Our fears and dependency stop us from ending unfulfilling relationships and prevent us from entering into fulfilling ones. Because we feel so unlovable it is difficult or impossible to believe anyone can really love us, and won’t eventually leave us once they see how “bad” we are.
  • Denial, isolation, control, shame, and undeserved guilt are legacies from our family. As a result of these symptoms, we feel hopeless and helpless.
  • We have difficulty with intimacy, security, trust, and commitment in our relationships. Lacking clearly defined personal limits and boundaries, we often become codependent.
  • We tend to procrastinate and have difficulty following projects through from beginning to end.
  • We have a strong need to be in control. We overreact to change things over which we have no control.
  • Have a need to be parented –  too immature or childish to be able to think on their own
  • We have a tendency towards self harm, whether that is threatening suicide or practicing harmful  habits like drinking or smoking……

So, all this being said, would you want to date me? I sure hope not. Two people willing to engage with all this going on is a sure road to disaster. I have finally realized that I am much better off unattached because the terrible ending is simply not worth it. This bulleted can of worms will always exist inside my soul. Armed with this knowledge, I seek only to spare myself and any other person this pain filled existence. I still have many years of solitude in front of me before any of these qualities can possibly fall off me. Maybe when I’m in my eighties, I can be a better partner. Then again, maybe not. The final truth is: life can only be managed, not cured.

arrrggghhhh!@#$%%%$………

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Hello world..it’s me again. Today I sit here and contemplate the ongoing and senseless suffering that is inflicted upon animals by human beings. There is a neat little web page called google plus and if you have a google email account you can click on the + next to your name and off you go into the world of photos and stories that are posted by regular, everyday people. Each day, there are hundreds of new posts containing photos and stories of anything and everything.

As I scroll down the page, I am greeted by so many adorable posts by loving pet owners all around the world. Until I get to the ones showing violent and horrific treatment, caught by someone’s ever ready camera. Today, I saw a picture of a dog, hanged by it’s neck on the back of a police van traveling down some road somewhere. The ever alert photographer snapped the pic and posted it. The script does not tell me what action the observer took to remedy the situation or even if the poor dog was still alive. It simply shows the fact that someone somehow, did this on purpose or not, simply a commentary on life today and how we treat animals in general.

I love animals. All animals, even spiders and snakes. I take it very personally when I see mistreatment of any creature. I have signed and shared dozens of animal rights petitions, and I seriously wonder if that does any good at all.

I only recently started to understand the violence and horror that all animals go through each and every single day. This is either at the hands of complete strangers in the everyday world, scientists using and abusing animals to test makeup or pesticides or anything that someone can make a buck from. This terrible behavior happens from pet owners too, all the time. Last week I saw video footage of a paid dog walker, kicking the hell out of a dog he was being paid to care for, in an elevator where he thought no-one could see him. Then there is the infamous practice of people in developing countries that round up, torture, skin alive and kill dogs for meat.

There is the pretty young woman who takes vacation days form her corporate office and pays big bucks to go the African countryside to lie in wait, hunt down, track and shoot with a high powered rifle, any animal she feels like killing that day. Giraffes, lions, rhinos, wolves, then she takes a pretty picture and posts it right in the g+ feed, proud as she can be. this daily dose of heartache is probably easily remedied by simply not looking at it, right? I guess that would be a valid approach to all information everywhere, every single day. No news, no facebook, no g+, no conversations with any person ever, just bury my head in the sand and only focus on my tiny little life, my backyard, my thoughts alone with no input ever from anyone or anything. This behavior would end my pain but not the animals. One thing I know for sure is, just because you can, does not mean you should. Where is universal compassion and respect for all life? I can’t even kill an ant inside my house now, I find a piece of paper, coax the ant onto it and release it back into my yard. I might be too sensitive for the world and the killing and the pointless pain released every single minute.

Everyone with a camera should also have a bag of tools with them so they can free or save whatever animal they are photographing. What can a weak hearted human do with the blatant fact of cruelty to animals in the world? I salute and deeply thank all the people in the world who actually do go out and do something about this ongoing and everlasting crisis. This lion photo shows what I am going to do, at least for now.

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Death….

The last hurrah, the closing bell, the graveyard shift. If you are alive, you know death awaits. We are all born with a death sentence. We just don’t get to know the circumstances, the method, or how much it will hurt. All human life that is capable of forming a thought, has an opinion on death. A lot of people have said to me, I hope I die in my sleep, I just wanna go to sleep, maybe even have plans for the next day, and simply never wake up. Personally I feel that dying is last thing I get to do in this body, so I want to be wide awake and aware of what’s happening.

We all know someone who has died. Quite a lot of people have had near death experiences, and most walk away with a renewed sense of wanting life, if they survive to live again. It’s the one sure thing that idles in the background of each individual life and it’s the one thing most folks won’t talk about. Expiration, decease, departure, demise, passing over, eternal rest, just to name a few terms we are scared to face, but it doesn’t matter, you will die anyway, scared or not, want to or not, doesn’t matter. So, in light of this predicament, can we talk about it?

A dear friend of mine is old, unwell, on medications, can’t move or take care  of herself. She is facing the end. She says she is ready to go, that she has had enough of the torment of a pain filled life and she is ready to get out. I sat with her yesterday, maybe more for me than for her, I’m not sure. I did not want her to eventually become so incapacitated that she and I couldn’t even talk. So I went and sat. She spoke of her dear daughter who has dropped everything in her life to care for this sweet friend of mine. I could tell she has some guilt over all this care and attention, having always been a bull of a little lady, raising kids, helping neighbors, stretching a buck to oblivion for her family, her life. All she can do now is sit in the chair and let people help her. She is one of the lucky ones to have her daughter and the ability to stay in her own home. One of the lucky few.

My grandmother is 92, Grandpa died three years ago, she has dementia and alzheimers, and she lives in a small group home for oldsters on the way out. As far as old folks homes go, this one is fairly decent and seems to be taking pretty good care of her. It was the only thing my grandpa was concerned about as he lay dying, that she be well taken care for the rest of her life. No-one and nothing else mattered but that and that is how he lived his life too, he did almost everything for her and now she doesn’t even know he’s dead. She thinks he is picking her up later to take her back home. She waits by door and she had to have an ankle monitor put on her so she couldn’t slip out the door looking for him. She thinks he doesn’t know where she is and she frets over this feeling constantly.

My plan for old age is to stay in my home for as long as I can, hopefully until the very end.I have decided that I will live to one hundred and six years of age and will be spry mentally and physically until my last days or hours, and I want to be fully awake when I pass over because I know that when this body dies, my soul lives on eternally. My fondest desire is that upon seeing where I am headed I can say to my loved ones, I see it! I see it it’s real! All is well, do not fear it, embrace it for it is where the next chapter begins. I am not married, no boyfriend, I have a sister and a mom and a daughter and some dear friends and if they are able to be by my side at the end, I want to assure them of what happens next that is so totally fantastic and wonderful, that I will be fine, they will be fine, all is well.

I don’t think death is a sad thing. I feel it is a paradise, this passing into a parting, a quietus release to afterlife where all the questions are no longer relevant, only silent repose where you can finally hear the stardust that calls your name. I firmly believe in eternity and I assert that we all elected to come here to this realm and take on these human bodies which are just so extraordinary and special. We all have deeply hidden knowledge and remembrance of our ancient home and if we did remember it here, it would only serve to cause anxiety, because if you feel like you are not home then you are restless, dissatisfied with what you are experiencing, but after death…well then we get to remember what we forgot. Awesome.

I don’t know why I am so sure of all this but I am sure of it. When I was younger I feared death, I couldn’t even think about it without losing my shit. Then I had my daughter and I became unshakeable in the face of eternal rest. I did not want her to be afraid so I was a lion, unwavering in my courage. I wanted to pass this victorious outlook to her, but alas, she was afraid anyway. As an adult, she does not want to talk about anything having to do with death, all made the more impossible when I contracted cancer two years ago.

I hope that when it’s your turn to buy the farm, to go to the great beyond, to take a permanent dirt nap, that you will be overjoyed by what you encounter ‘over there’. I hope you don’t spend your whole life living in fear of death either. No, you are simply supposed to live your life, go about doing good and as little harm as possible, practicing forgiveness and gratitude and valuing yourself and all life, for as long as you shall live. For me, I’ll see you in fifty three years……

CWG-words from Neale Donald Walsh

I did not see another way to share this so I copied and pasted it to my blog. This is from Neale Donald Walsh, these are his words, not mine, but they are so good I had to share.

Enjoy…..

AND THE VOICE SAID: Today I shall tell you everything there is to know about Life. (Or, at least, everything that you’ll be able to understand Right Now.)

AND THE VOICE WENT ON…

We live within a System. We are this System. This System is run by a Process. We are this Process. This Process is fueled by Energy. We are this Energy.

There is nothing else going on.

There are one or two words that can be (and have been variously) used to describe this whole Cosmology. The word Life comes to mind. Then, as we elevate our thinking (which humans are prone to do), the word God . Both words refer to the Same Thing. You could say, with accuracy, “God is Energy.” Or, “God is a Process.” Or, “God is a System.” You could say, with accuracy, “Life is Energy.” Or, “Life is a Process.” Or, “Life is a System.”

Conversations with God says: God is a Process, and that Process is Life Itself. This statement is accurate.

So let’s explore this Process that God Is and that We Are.

It is a Process of Energy Exchange.

Energy — which is the Pure Essence of All That Is, All That Ever Was, and All That Ever Shall Be — is constantly being Exchanged. With what? With Itself. It never reaches outside of Itself. It could not if It wanted to, because nothing outside of Itself exists. That is, this Pure Essence is the All In All. It is the Sum Total of Everything. It is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the Before and the After, the Up and the Down of It, the Left and the Right of It, the Here and the There of It, the Now and the Then. It is the Sum and the Substance, the Creator and the Created, the Unified and the Individuated, It is the Unmoved Mover,

This Energy exchanges Itself with Itself in a never-ending Process that has built into it a Self-Sustaining Design, or a System. The Process is not helter-skelter. It is not catch-as-catch-can. The Process knows what It is doing and It is doing it deliberately.

There is a Synergism to this Process, and it is that Synergism which renders the process eternally sustainable. Within this Process nothing is wasted. Nothing is lost. Nothing goes unused. Everything is fuel. And the fuel is reburnable.

I call the reburning of Life’s Fuel – – Synergistic Energy eXchange — or S.E.X.

We are having SEX everywhere, all the time. No two people every meet without exchanging this Energy. Trust me. The question is never, Are we exchanging this Energy? The question is, What are we going to do with it…?

In human terms we call this Synergistic Energy eXchange the Cycle of Life. Indeed, it is the energy exchange which creates Life Itself. Our description is accurate.

In truth, it is impossible to create what we call New Life. All we can really do is cause the Life (Energy) that is eternally present to emerge in a New Form. This is exactly what Stars do in the heavens.

The evidence of all that I have just said is right up in the sky. (We know this, of course. That is why we intuitively look “to the heavens” when we think of “God.” That is why ours eyes instinctively go upward when we are thinking deeply, or desperately seeking help. Do you think this is an accident? It is not. At a cellular level, we know. )

In our case, in the case of this particular Solar System, we are looking at what we have called The Sun. (It is not a happenstance that earlier civilizations worshipped the Sun — and that some people still do today.)

The Sun is giving up its Life for us. It is burning Itself out, right now. True, it may take a few more billion years, but that is What It Is Doing. Make no mistake about it. That is what is going on.

One day the Light Will Go Out. Not to worry, though. Life in its miniscule expression known as Humanity will by that time have figured this whole thing out and will have been Long Gone. We will have found a way to harness the very energy that the Sun is sending us to get out of the Sun’s way when it finally implodes in its last burst of energy, then becoming a Black Hole. We will long before then have used that energy to propel ourselves to a New Star System, where a much younger Sun, perhaps one Just Born, will guarantee our species a few more billion years of survival in pretty much our present form. And when that Sun approaches Final Burst, we will move on again, like nomads of the Universe, like gypsies of the stars, like humans have done on this very earth, traipsing around for food (read that: energy ) when the local supply runs out.

What do you suppose we are eating here…? We are eating sunlight. That is what all food is. Nothing more than stored sunlight. It is not only plants that engage in the Process of photosynthesis, but all of us, everything. The Earth Itself does. We are absorbing energy from the Sun, and radiating it back out again. This is how flowers bloom. This is how trees grow. This is how planets become.

There is a huge boiler inside our planet, lying at its core. Sometimes a tiny bit of this core material oozes out, cooling considerably on its way, but still emerging as white hot molten lava. This core material is hotter than hot. It is the direct energy of the Sun, cooled at its fringes as it spewed forth to form the crust of what we now call The Earth.

As it cooled, some of this Energy liquified. We call this oil (among other things). Some of this Energy solidified. We call this minerals (among other things). Some of this Energy gasified. We call this hydrogen and oxygen (among other things). Some of this Energy vaporized. We call this ozone (among other things). Some of this Energy miniaturized and stored Itself in just about Everything. We call this vitamins (among other things). Some of this Energy maximized and showed Itself in just about Everything. We call this the Planet Itself (among other things).

We are this Energy, individualized. We are part of this eternal Process of Energy Exchange. In a sense, we eat ourselves in order to sustain ourselves. We need vitamins, so we eat plants and animals, and minerals and oils (fish oil capsules are very big these days). We draw the line at consuming ourselves — but cannibals once even did this, being so primitive as to not understand that eating one’s own species was not self-sustaining. When primitive humans finally figured this out, we took Each Other off the menu. Now we are gradually taking other Life Forms off the menu as well. Vegetarianism is, course, the outflow of that. The day may very well come when we take every Life Form on this planet off the menu. We will simply get our Energy directly from the Sun.

This may seem far-fetched to some, but it does not seem so to Hira Ratan Manek. You will find it interesting to Google Mr. Manek, and read what you find there.

The eyes are not merely the instruments through which we see. They are the instruments through which we intake Energy . They work in that capacity even if we are blind. They are the portals through which Life is Absorbed. They are not the only portals, not the only way we absorb Life Energy. But they are the Most Direct Route. Which is why Hira Ratan Manek insists that if we just look at the sun a few minutes each day, we can get most of what we are eating things to get. And we can get it faster. Because when we eat things — when we consume plants and trees and minerals and animals — we have to first convert these substances to extract the Sun Energy that is stored there. By sun gazing, Mr. Manek suggests, we absorb sunlight directly, without having to convert it through any internal (and energy using ) digestive process.

(A word of caution however: most Sun Gazers say to look at the Sun only during the few moments around Sunrise and Sunset, to protect the eyes from permanent after-image and other possible retina damage. And note: I am not here, in any way, suggesting or endorsing the process of Sun Gazing.)

Having said that, we all know already of the benefits of sunlight. When we feel sick, it is common for those around us to say, “C’mon, you need to get out in the sun.” And sunlight deprivation is now being recognized as a diseased condition, which medical science and modern technology have found a way to treat. SAD (or Seasonal Affective Disorder) is now treated with Full Spectrum Lighting, among other things, to give people what they are missing from not getting enough sun.

Do we really think it is a coincidence that sunbathers are inordinately healthy? Go to any nudist colony expecting (hoping?) to see lots of nubile naked bodies running around, but don’t be surprised if you see that the majority of nudists are people in their 60s, 70s, and 80s, exercising and swimming and playing volleyball and having the time of their life inside of healthy, vibrant bodies that are absorbing more Sunlight in one day than most of us do in one month.

Life IS a System, and there is a way to go about changing your life, improving your life, systematically. This “way” is what some people have called… The Secret

SURVIVOR

have you ever had to run away from someone or something at some hard time in your life? many times a day, all over the planet, someone has to get out of where they are, has to make a quick decision based on circumstances beyond their control. if they can’t get out, they will die and this is what they know for sure. this is a story about a girl and her baby and how she got out before it was too late.

she knew she had to go, this time there was no getting around it. she had to make a plan, set it up, get some help. the last time he had gone ape shit on her, as she valiantly and stupidly tried to defend herself against someone twice her size and triple her insanity, she yelled out, are you ever going to stop beating me up? to her shock, this had made him stop what he was doing, look straight into her terrified eyes and say, ‘not until you start to smarten up, bitch’.

as soon as he said that, she knew she had no choice. she knew she was far too stubborn and that there was no way she was going to smarten up enough to suit him. she knew it the minute he said it and just like that, the seed of the plan was born. the geographical solution would have to be used again. it was either run or die and this wasn’t the first or even the tenth time she had to run for her life. the first time she successfully ran from her own abusive parents at sixteen, never looked back, never went back, never called. they never came after her. she wasn’t worth the effort.

this time it wasn’t just her but the baby too. he will kill the both of us, she thought, rather than let us go willingly. he had already hurt their baby once. she knew she had to flee when that happened a couple of weeks earlier. The baby wasn’t physically hurt just scared, but witnessing the extent of his anger toward a helpless child was too much to bear.

that night, she had gone to the bar for a drink after her waitressing shift. for this 27 year old mother going out after work was the exception rather than the rule so she didn’t think it out when she decided to go with her friends, she blindly went about doing what she wanted just as people will oftentimes do. stupid girl.

it was about 1130pm when he stormed into the bar holding their frightened 13 month old child, walking straight towards her unknowing, unsuspecting head. he grabs her arm and she turns and is instantly petrified looking at her child, she says give me the baby. he thrusts the now whimpering baby into her arms leans in close and snarls, home now.

she instantly complies thinking ok maybe I can talk my way out of this, after all I’m known for my smart mouth maybe I can put it to some good use like not getting us killed right now. she starts for the door feeling very much like a character in a dream. she knew what was coming she shoulda never left that bar, shoulda called the cops, the swat team, the fucking fbi, anyone at that point. shoulda woulda coulda.

as she was being crazily driven toward her destiny, she thought about the violence that started in earnest after the baby was born. she had endured a couple of episodes of yelling prior to the birth of their daughter but she thought she could help him to not be so angry. after all he wasn’t always mad, there were many times in the beginning that he was quite charming, and handsome and strong. she remembered later that once she had told him, early on in the relationship that it was like she could tell him anything he was so understanding. …..little did she know. he had raped her when the baby was about four months old, felt like he had waited long enough for sex and dammit wasn’t gonna wait any more. she knew then but felt trapped by the situation. how did this get so bad, she wondered?

abused women unknowingly walk towards the next beat down every minute of their lives, from the very first time that special someone kicked the crap out of them, sometime early in their existence. maybe it was dear old dad or mom or the boyfriend or husband, these women are conditioned and imprinted upon and violated from the very minute the very first punch landed on her unsuspecting face. the abuser grooms and manipulates and eventually controls his victim. it’s the same with childhood sexual assault also. but I digress. back to her.

home now after a violent car ride of screaming, baby screaming, him screaming, her trying to calm everyone down and epically failing. on the way in he grabs the baby from her arms and strides through the door, walks through the room into the bedroom and he throws the hysterical baby into her crib but is a bit too far away from the crib so baby hits the wall and falls into crib. right there this very moment she knows that not only was she endangering her own stupid useless life, she was also placing her beloved child in grave danger.

this guy has already shown out some of his moves but if he’s capable of this what would stop him from literally killing either one or both at any minute. she had an aha moment as she watched in slow motion him throwing the baby, a lightbulb went on in her head and said finally. this is going to stop. and I will stop it. him. in That moment there she started to make a plan. she knew she had no choice.

she came into work the next day at the restaurant bruised, beaten and disheveled. it had been a long night. she spent the remainder of the night in the playpen with the baby after he was done with his evil ranting and delusional ravings. she lay there soothing the child and prayed to god, and said’ god if your out there, I could sure use a hand’. she knew that no-one was going to help her, even as she uttered this futile prayer.

in the employee bathroom she looked in the mirror and started to apply makeup to the black eye. she had a harder time covering the throttle marks around her neck but eventually she covered them with an entire bottle of Covergirl. she realized she was going to have a hard time explaining these injuries to people so she comes up with a lie- the only believable way to explain her injuries was that a dog attacked her. no other options seemed to come and she thinks ‘well it was almost the truth’. she is lost in the memory of the previous night, him sitting on her and punching her face and choking her neck as the baby howled in her crib…

at that moment her friend, another waitress, walks in. says hey whatcha doin? oh my god she says, what happened to you? so she replies, I was attacked by a dog and proceeds to spin a story to support her

claim. halfway through hearing the lie the friend says ‘oh my friend won’t you say what really happened’? and that’s all it took. one honest question, given at the exact right moment, in the exact right way. from someone who wanted nothing from her.

the girl breaks down. she tells her friend everything. they go into the large service closet so they can talk privately. the whole ugly story spills out of her mouth and she is crying and she is panicking and she says I have to get away but I have no where to go because he will come after us and that won’t be good for anybody. I have to make a plan. I can’t go to his family for help, they don’t like me, I have no family of my own to go to except my sister but that would be the first place he will tear down looking for us.

right away this friend says, you can go and stay with my family, they won’t mind, they live far away and no one will ever know where you are. so they hatch the plan. in the bathroom closet. which is where eventually, unbeknownst to either of them, this closet would be the launch pad for the escape. she starts to see this may work. the friends family are completely onboard, offering the use of their home as long as she and the child would need it. turns out this family had a long history of helping complete strangers all of the time.

a few weeks in she realizes indeed this was turning out to be large undertaking. filled with doubt and fear, completely on her own with no assistance from anyone other than this friend. while attempting to retain her sanity during all this planning and scheming she made and kept three different appointments with family counselors looking for some advice. she was concerned if she was doing the right thing removing the child from its’ family. should she stay and seek protection and try to work it out with him to at least retain some order for her child. she was delusional some of the time.

these three counsellors heard her out, told her she was quite justified in light of all the information she shared and she did not hold back. she told them everything, she told about the first rape, about him beating her and strangling her and hurting the baby and his huffing addiction, which she found out about by continually noticing that her paper towels were missing. she would say to him where are the paper towels and he would say ‘I don’t know, I think you’re going crazy’.

she followed him one night, out of the house and into the garage then out through the back door, she kept a safe distance so he didn’t see her. she watched as he unearthed her paper towels from a pile of stuff in the disorganized garage. she watched as he took a wad of paper and walked out into the yard, to the banana tree, then reached down under some brush and pulled out a bottle and opened it and shook in on the wad. he quickly replaced the bottle back undercover and walked off across the street into woods holding the paper towel wad to his face. she had no idea what he was doing, she had never seen this behavior. she had no idea he was “huffing” until one of the therapists told her what it was. she sneaks up looks at the bottle and see’s it is Toluene, a wood finishing solvent. she sniffs it and says, that’s the damn smell I smell all the time, thinking about how he would say ‘its just from working, from doing my job’.. ohhhh… she realizes how long she’s been smelling this smell. about a year, right after the birth of their daughter.. another clue for the clueless.

she quite literally had no one to turn to because if this was going to work, no one could know anything whatsoever. and they never did. not while it was happening or now as she plans her escape. no one ever

saw it coming, not one person had any clue what happened to her and her daughter, they quite simply vanished.

she embarks on acquiring a new car, after all she is going to drive away and she needs dependable wheels. she accomplishes this through much frantic on the inside, calm on the outside bartering, haggling and trading. then she calls her sister who lives several states away and confesses the abuse, tells her everything that’s happening, her sister says what is preventing you from leaving right now today and she replies money, I don’t have enough. eventually her sister sends her a thousand dollars.

she suddenly realizes, I have a place to go, I have a good car to do it in and I have enough money. she has been stashing diapers and baby clothes and things he might not notice missing from the house in the service closet at work. she and her friend used the closet as a contact point, leaving one another messages and directions and phone numbers and maps. every work night she places half her tip money in an envelope which the friend would later collect and stash away for her because at that point he controlled all the money in the house, demanding what is in her pocket the minute she gets home from work. every afternoon she had to leave her baby in his care as she went off to work, crying all the way there, knowing that they had to wait for this plan to work.

finally, she chooses a date. December 4 1989. it was a Monday. she senses that this plan will work and all she has to do is wait it out. she endures several more rapes and beatings before she will go away for good, all of it serving as a painful reminder to why she must run again, hopefully for the last time. she manages to completely trick him- she planned and threw the baby’s second birthday party two weeks prior to the getaway, she showed up for family pictures and events with his family, she showed up for her job and even put herself on the schedule for work the week that she would be first gone. no one except the girl, her friend and the girls sister knew anything was even remotely going on.

tomorrows the day. she feels as though she is walking through a nightmare and she is watching from above outside her body. this night he is pissed about something, they fight, he slaps and chokes her and as she lays down after the beating she says to herself, well at least he stayed true to himself up ’til the end. she feels completely deranged at this point. she has made up a story sometime last week that she is going off island to the mall with a friend and their kids, she says she won’t be back until 5 pm. he believes her.

December 4 1989, it’s 12 noon and it is go time. she still has the out of body sensation as she straps the baby in the car seat. she has been careful to not bring anything of her own with her, she leaves no clue that anything is amiss, she leaves with only the clothes on her back. with her heart in her throat, she pulls the car up to the restaurant, runs in and retrieves all belongings, money, formula, diapers, maps, baby toys, nothing for her. all held in that precious storage closet. she opens the trunk tosses all of it in and working off full adrenaline she blasts that old Lincoln she wrangled from his father and guns it down A1A straight out of the Keys and heads off to Cape Cod.

Massachusetts, that is. she had no clue where she was going, she thought Martha’s Vineyard was in California, this innocent girl running for her and her baby girls life. she barely made it out of Florida the first night, feeling like she had the devil himself on her ass. she knew he would come looking for her the second he realized he’d been duped but she also knew he would never believe she had gone this far. she

had spent much agonizing time helping him to believe that it was true, that she, this bitch had finally smartened up. she made him believe that all was well because she knew if her plan wasn’t flawless he would catch and then kill them.

it took her seven long days in the car, making the 1,500 mile journey with a projectile vomiting two year old in the carseat next to her, before she finally made it to her unknown destination, the safe house, the good people that she had never even met. this was long before cell phones or GPS, so she used one finger following the hand drawn line on the map her friend had supplied her, the other hand guiding the steering wheel of the giant Lincoln Continental. she got pulled over for speeding in Georgia and was able to convince the trooper that he shouldn’t give her a ticket. she didn’t sleep for weeks before running and would not be able to rest or sleep for weeks afterwards.

back in crazy land, oh the shit hit the fan. he found the goodbye letter she had taped to the underside of the kitchen table while he was wrecking the house and everything in it, upon realizing her betrayal. that man went through every trick in the book trying to find them. fortunately the one thing she had going for her, was that she never married the lunatic. he had no legal right to pursue her, she had even made sure his name was not on the baby’s birth certificate. days, weeks, months passed by. he threatened every single person she knew with bodily harm if they didn’t produce them right fucking now, but she had made sure to tell virtually no one anything. she knew that only their honest statement, that they knew nothing, was the only way for him to eventually back down. they were just gone, and he had no choice but to accept it.

after some time, finally feeling somewhat safe, she went into domestic abuse survivor counselling, followed by incest survivor therapy that happened right alongside 3 day a week personal intensive psychotherapy. this was all supplied, free of charge by a local organization that specialized in helping abused women.

she got two, sometimes three jobs at a time. she found a woman to watch the baby, she started to put everything behind her. during one of her early meetings with a domestic abuse therapist, she was told that one day this would all seem like a bad dream and that she may even someday get over it. she did not believe it at all. she began to unravel why she kept ending up in dangerous, violent relationships. it all stemmed from her childhood, the mother who did not like her and beat her up and told her she was worthless. the father who molested her for over a decade.

in closing, this girl want’s people to know that no situation is really hopeless. where there is a desire to survive, no matter what is happening, survival will take place. when she first ran away from her terrible family she thought she was okay. but feeling useless, unloved and unlovable only caused her to seek out the same abuse she endured growing up. she just simply didn’t know how to fix herself or that she even needed fixing. it would take this girl many, many years to finally stand up for herself and eventually find her voice. and her voice is telling this story just in case someone needs to hear it, maybe at the right time, in the right way and from someone who doesn’t want anything from anyone. oh, and that god really does answer prayers uttered in desperation, even if you don’t believe in him.

forever six

Capture earth

My house is white. It sits alone, on an unending beach with an ocean somewhere. Its’ both hidden and visible and it’s there when it needs to be. In the midst of the beach, in the far distance all you can see is a vast raging forest inhabited by wild animals, lions, cats of all kind, wolves, dogs, giraffes, birds, alligators and elephants. I am the only one who can see this place. My house sits square in the middle of the forest, and directly around my house is a bright green lawn with pretty flowers of all colors. The animals are wild and I don’t interact with them. I rarely see them, unless of course I want to then they will come to the edge.

I send them my love through the air, and in the darkest night, they lift their noses to the sky and smell my love coming to them. They know why they are there- it is to protect me and they know I am grateful, so they are gratified. They will protect me all the days of my life here and I protect them because even though I am a tiny little girl, I am the ruler and what I say goes. It is unspoken, it is my will that keeps this place the fortress it is. My lions will eat you if you try to trespass. My glittering green eyes will detect even the slightest bit of unauthorized movement. There has never been a trespasser, it is forbidden.

All you can see, approaching the area wherever my house is, is great wilderness. Nobody would ever even think to go there because it is so wild and untamed and dangerous. Anyone would know that because there is a magic spell surrounding this place. It seems insurmountable and so it is. The only people allowed into my house are those I alone have chosen. I place them there with the utmost care, so I never have to remove anyone.

In my house, no-one leaves unless they want to and they never do. We have a life inside my house that includes ferrets, black and white kitties and white dogs, big furry ones who are loving and content to accompany me when I need them to. I have a big living room with a fireplace that is always on and large windows which I can see the ocean and the beach and my swimming pool. I have white rugs and carpets all over and giant white chairs with giant ottomans in every room. There are beautiful paintings on the walls, photos of people that I love. There are fresh flowers that Lidia has cut from the flower garden, they are all over the house in cut glass vases of all sizes and shapes.

Here I swim and play hungry hungry hippos and build castles in the sand and I fish but I always release them, I draw and paint and take long baths in my giant bath tub with lilac scented bubbles, I sleep with my dogs and cats and I eat beautiful food and watch movies and here I am forever 6, I never cry I never want I am safe, whole and untouched. The ugliness of life does not enter here, only light and love and safety. Lidia holds me and rocks me and strokes my hair and sings little songs very softly to soothe me. Here I can sleep, I am always able to do exactly what I want. Always protected.

Lidia is Lidia Bastianich who is from her show called Lidias Italy. That’s where I first saw her, cooking in her kitchen and I wanted her for my mother. She is a beautiful, caring, motherly loving figure who cooks for me and essentially is my private assistant. I am very young so someone needs to care for me here, who can do all the things I need done like cooking cleaning and tucking me in and all that stuff.

I am forever 6. I am a child who was saved by herself and placed in this fantastic retreat to live out my days, gratified, safe and contented. I am all I need to be. I am cared for by my benevolent adult self, taken away from the insanity in the nick of time.

My earth parents were horrible people that abused me and hated me, so I was taken away to live here. By my self. There will be no ugliness here and when she needs to, my adult self comes to visit me here, I always feel her watching over me, protecting me, but sometimes she actually spends time here. This is when I soothe her, so she can go back and continue her work there. She only comes when she needs to, which is once in a while.

The only way into this place is through the blue screen. We ascend the giant granite staircase to the stone building. We enter the silent door and enter the theater. It is pitch black and no-one is there but us. I am not afraid. I approach the giant screen with my adult self as she holds my little hand. I look up at her, trusting her to save me.

She shoos me forward into the blue screen. As I step through, the black other world falls away and I am urged forth on a cloud of love and as I approach my house, I see that I am actually flying, the only way in. it’s the spell that affords the transit. The spell was created in the house of Independence, where I found my way many years ago. This is where all life starts for me and can never be undone.

I am aware of my adult life and my precious daughter is my focus there. I don’t bring her to my house because she is blessed so she does not need to be there. She would be the only other to come in if need be. So far it has not been necessary. I have a safe house in that world where she is always welcome and protected. That is good for now. I have this story here so she can know this place and always find me if she thinks I am lost.

Tell her how to get here just in case. She will have to close her eyes, breathe deeply and picture the blue screen inside her head, enter the blue and approach without fear and let her mind enter the beauty that is my home. I will be here forever and she is always welcome here.

big dumb baby

05 27 2011 various 045it’s like you’re my mirror, oh oh, my mirror starin’ back at me, couldn’t get any bigger, oh oh…….first thought rolling through my brain for the past several weeks. I love JT but come on dude, your haunting me.

for the longest time I have had to be careful what I listen to on the radio. lyrics, especially catchy ones stick on my mind like brand new fly paper. I have tried to shut it off, turning instead to thank you, thank you, thank you for everything. my eyes open every day at about 5am, no matter what time I go to bed. I’ve tried going to bed early, late, in between but it doesn’t change. whatever song I jammed on is there in full concert. a while back I mashed on eminem and every other thought was let’s get down to business, ain’t got time to fuck around what is this, must be a circus in town, let’s shut this shit down, these clowns, can I get a witness….oh please shut this shit down marshall mather.

I don’t know how books get written. I know I am supposed to be doing it but once I start writing all my thought s jumble forth, saying, me me pick me. tell about this one first, no me first.

I have nowhere to go, nothing to do and no-one to be. you may think this is the perfect setting for a clear mind, but not for me. I have rolling tapes and songs and monologues and dialogues that spontaneously happen every single second of every single minute of every single day and night. I can’t run away from my mind. my mind is like a giant monster in the corner of every room in my life, and if I don’t pay total attention to it, it get’s louder and louder and louder and then I have to attend to it like it’s a big baby with a dirty diaper.

It’s exhausting and I can see how people lose their minds. I am aware that I should meditate every day and some say this helps the mind to settle down. I get super amped after meditating and while doing it I think, what am I supposed to be thinking? Every thought that lives in my head just gets louder and while I try to cram my eyes shut, listen to the meditation music or noises, my thoughts just roll into a huge ball of ridiculous popcorn. not the sweet, soft popcorn no, it’s those hard, crunchy kernels that get stuck in the teeth of my brain and no amount of picking at it makes it go away.

I find that, if I work really hard all day at controlling what’s going on in there, I can achieve some sense of peace. I mean really working at it like a construction worker with a jackhammer, every nano second of the day, I can manufacture some peace up there. but it is short lived as I go to bed all peaceful, sleep and dream, then once again at 5am, starts the iheart radio in my head pulling me along like a sled being pulled by twenty large dogs. every morning is a struggle to regain my peace ground and it is a full time job.

the fact that I have no job right now and haven’t since last June, means nothing. I really don’t even know what will happen to me once I find another job, I think how hard is that going to be, trying to control my personal thoughts and also fulfill the function of a job. how is that going to work? how am I going to work through all the litter and mess in my head?

I have tried yoga, power walking, eating, watching TV, gardening, playing with my cat, shopping, smoking plants, drinking alcohol, and maybe a million more activities to quiet my brain. the physical acts do help in that I get exhausted after doing them and it seems when I am tired during the day from exercise, I can get my mind to settle a bit.

I have travelled the path of forgiveness, thinking that when I no longer hold hostages in my mind, then I can achieve real peace, the kind that jesus died to give me, but then while doing something mindless like cleaning my house, I realize I have just unwittingly, spent thirty minutes reciting a laundry list of complaints about someone who I thought I forgave completely. the most common of those is either my mother or my ex husband, two people I don’t care for much at all.

when I come to and hear what I have been thinking, I get disgusted with my brain all over again and I spend another thirty minutes forgiving them again. I have to list all the ways I forgive them, in order and then ask god to bless them and keep them all the days of their miserable lives.

again. I thought when forgiveness has happened, the door is shut against the railings of my mind and heart and never again will I have to go through the process of mentally tearing them apart and then forgiving them all over again and then having to forgive myself for thinking about them in such a negative way.

no, my brain has it’s own agenda and I am only an observer of my thoughts. I spend most every day attempting to break my thought pattern like a wild horse that will never be tamed. sometimes I think, fuck it I am not engaging in this war of wills again, let the brain go and do it’s terrible thing. that is almost always a very bad idea because, like letting a wild bull run through my house breaking everything in it’s path and shitting on all the floors, I know the only way to hang on to a slender strand of sanity is not letting the bull run loose in the first place.

it is this teeny fiber of control that I cling to desperately, only having it and holding momentarily. I also know that almost every other person on the planet engages in this war every day right along with me. most people I know would never admit this is true, but how can it not be? we are all subject to the barrage of bad news every night on the TV, radio or whatever device you are currently enslaved to. we all hear and see the media messages that tell us to look like her, earn this much money, buy this kind of car or purse and that will give you peace of mind.

to this I say a hearty fuck off in no uncertain terms but my mind stores all this information and while I think I am not prone to it’s influence, up it comes in the midnight hour when I least expect it. my heart starts pounding and I know I am off to the races, never finishing it only relentlessly going around and around the track.

this mental rodeo is something I have to deal with every day. I am getting very tired and I think that short of a frontal lobotomy, I will never win the peace prize. oh sure I have moments of sanity but I never am able to keep it going for very long. you would think that in over fifty years of life I would have some sort of grip, but it seems the older I get, the less I am able to control the endless roll call of disappointments that have happened to me.

why can’t I obsess on the good things in my life, I can’t figure it out. I own a home in a very desirable location. I have produced an independent child who is on her own, has a stable career and is generally a happy person. I have money in the bank. way more than most folks I know, I am frugal and my cash reserve is stable. I have mad computer skills and I know I could get a job if I really wanted one, which I don’t. I have beaten breast cancer and when I say beaten I mean stomped it down back to hell where it came from and now enjoy a high degree of health. I have a church that seems to like me and wants me to be there and I get a lot out of hearing the pastor give his sermons. I can go or not go, it’s up to me.

I successfully initiated and wrote out my divorce all on my own, saving me from losing everything I had in life. I have a dear friend who is my roommate and she contributes to my ability to keep my home. and she is a great cook. and she has family that can be counted on in emergencies, like the 2015 blizzard when her brother

and nephew dug us out of three feet of snow.

so why don’t I only look at the good? why do I wake up with doom on my mind and have to spend three hours regaining my positive outlook? why?

according to Joyce Meyer, my mind is a battlefield upon which I must, every day, beat back the enemy of my thoughts. she’s right and I just don’t understand. does anyone get to the peace point and stay there? is it possible to just have and hold it? I want to meet that person whoever they are. maybe mother theresa had it with her singular thought of simply serving the masses. I do feel better when I am volunteering at the Salvation Army, and that is the whole four hours I am there. however the minute I get back in my car(another blessing) I am right back to the war of my thought process. whenever I am assisting another human or animal I completely forget about myself. but can this be something I do every single minute of the day? doesn’t seem so, because once I am done helping, there is the big, dumb baby in the corner, screaming for attention. I look at it and think, oh man it’s you again! why won’t you go away forever?

in my opinion……

forgiveness is about letting go of the hope that the past could have been any different.

forgiveness is about letting go of the hope that the past could have been any different.

my opinion is as follows:

god is inside each of us.

he talks to every one of us, every day.

it’s not, does he still talk- but rather who can hear it?

who even want’s to hear it?

don’t worry if you miss what god is trying to tell or show you.

he knows how to get his message to you.

it’s pretty easy, as he is inside each of us.

Whether we like it or not. Whether we believe it or not.

god spoke to me out loud once.

he said I will not leave you or forsake you.

I am really stubborn so he had to actually say something

because forever before I ignored him.

I’ve read the bible in large chunks but haven’t read all of it

there’s a lot of word’s that indicate god is a jealous, vengeance dispensing,

sends souls to hell, give us free will and then punish us if

we choose wrong, kind of god. This is just incorrect.

I don’t believe this is true of god. This doesn’t jive with god’s law as described in the bible.

If a law has a loophole it’s not really a law.

It’s a theory, at best.

Jesus want’s us to know that we are all son’s and daughters of god.

Jesus want’s us to know he is our brother. He is a master who got it, and spread the word.

There were other master’s and we killed them too.

God wants us to know how very much he loves each of us. The Creator of all the universe’s and everything in them all, from infinity and beyond, loves me. And you. We are one.

Think of the ocean. Walk up to the water’s edge in your mind’s eye.

Dip a cup in the ocean and fill the cup. Look into the cup, then look at the ocean.

Is it diminished because you took a cup from it? No. It’s so big that a million people could take one cup each and still the ocean would remain intact. Maybe even seven hundred billion could take it.

It is still intact. This is how god is inside each of us all at once.

We are One. He is closer to you than your breath.

TV preacher’s and religion in general have given us some bad information about god.

I have done my research, read many, many books, listened to many different men and women of god.

I have come to my own conclusion.

Once god spoke out loud to me, my life changed. I am still a work in progress but forward momentum has been made. Changes in thinking have occurred. Forgiveness and walking in love have become my daily goals along with being okay with change. All of life is changing all the time.

I am a human, working at being and growing the biggest, mustard-iest tree in the garden.

Can these dead, dry bones live, human? O god, only you know.

And god say’s yes, they live and it is good!

God love’s me. and you. all the time no matter what. you can ask and he will give to you. and me.

god is good. all the time.

But blessed are your eyes for they see: and your ears, for they hear.

Jesus said to them: have you understood these things?

Have you?