I had the insight too that this is nearly June….the anniversary month. 26 years later on the divorce from the borderline cocaine addict trying to kill me and the legion of lawyers the legal system skewed to the wealthy and the whole process of stonewalling and theivery.
I stopped drinking and smoking tobacco and marijuana 26 years ago and again the month of June is a time of trial, the death of self, the incomprehensible demoralization, facing the revenge of a millennium, the psychic cannibals, a war against turkeys and lies, that absolute sense of defeat, why do terrible things happen to me, the betrayal, the psychiatrist who lie, the insaniety and the beast, the encounter with pure evil, and utter fear of the tyranny, abuse of power, threat and escape. I suddenly knew what prisoners of jails and asylums knew, there was no hope here. It was the matrix. I found a spiritual solution.
My friend who died had told me this world had nothing to offer and he turned back to his priest. I accepted I was a spiritual being in material world, not a material being in a spiritual world. I was lost and by July I was found. I remember being told about an ‘attitude of gratitude’ and I was so angry, so afraid, so hurt and yet I saw the light. I had a spiritual awakening, For the first time I didn’t feel alone. I talked about being raped. I talked about the blood pooling in the shower. I talked about the beast. I face the borderline tyranny the liars who threaten suicide to win and dominate and manipulate but when you are back to the abyss and say no turn and threaten homicide. They flip flop, the victim victimizer shuffle all in their narcissistic reign, and it’s mesmerizing this ‘beast’. And it’s the nature of the game. In the background Rolling Stones playing Satan.
I am that person. Jung points out we are all the players and yet we project evil on the other, the black and white, the good. I’m good. Yet we’re all grey. The human condition is flawed. I’m material and spiritual. Slow energy and fast,
The May and June before was leaving home. 17 and LSD and sex and the banality of it all. Those months of rock and roll and drugs and alcohol and the circus of dangerous crazy people with guns and I was a hippy afraid to go to war, the Vietnam war and images of maimed and the triune god, father, son and Holy Spirit and the girl, the young woman and crone. It realized the limits of intellect, the shattered mind, the gangs and nests of sychophants and diversity, the incest and drugs and alcohol and the 8 is too late crowd and the whole pedophilia movement. I cried. I was lost. I knew my father who’d been in war and knew the horror of the military and my MP uncle who knew the war and jail and the things they’d tried to warn me about. The betrayals of violent and powerful.. Here I am again and Communist China has invaded Canada and the PM is unethical as if it matters as I read, the ethical slut. I’m so confused and it’s all illusion. A clown world and crazy house like Halloween. My loss of innocence. I think of all those sacrificed for the system, the power.
Just the other day I was reminded of my friends who didn’t believe the ‘system’ could be changes so opted out. The friends of that summer of love, the ones who went off to communes, the ones who joined, the military and the missionary. It was the end of high school and a dasporo and I was arguing you could change the system from within .I would start as a dancer and actor and cycle across Europe meeting the old royal lines ,the fallen and the risen, and we’d play chess and bicycle and I’d be so naive. My first wife wise beyond her years and safe eventually in another man’s arm. I couldn’t change the system from within. I couldn’t change myself.
I stopped alcohol and pot and tobacco and became a celibate monk again. I’d taken that route when dance and television and world of pink Floyd got into mind. Deep Purple, Moody Blues, Guess Who. And I’d be in medical school afraid of war and afraid of the homicidal suicidal demon within. I owned my self. I read Milton and knew the devil’s vanity looking at his shadow rather than the light. I served God and Good and saved lives and walked in the light and tried to be a good man. The politics were extraordinary. The things I saw in the wet reserves of the north and residential school, the horror!!!! The horror!!!!.
I did years of psychoanalytic therapy then. It was all for naught or it just brought me face to face with a higher power, The return to church and prayer and AA. That first year of crossing the room to conservative and traditions the study of history and the ability to see the revenge best served cold, the smiling hate. The kaleidoscope and holograms and fractals, calculus and algebra, the music theory and confusion. The mists and dreams and dream theory and lucid dreaming in the multiverse. The diversity of possibilities and nodals. Computers and hacking the internet and all the geniuses and schizophrenics. Alone at sea. Thousands of miles from other humans.
Now it’s June again. The end of may. Women rolling eyes and the parable of John the Baptist, the decapitaed head and the daughter of emperors whose sexual perversity demands the death of the prophet. Argentina and the Haitians. Druids and the sacrifice of children in the Mayan temples. The tarot deck. The fool and the hyropant.
Bernie died. Hank died. Mom and Dad died, My aunt died. Then Scotty died and my brother died. This last couple of years George and Vivian and the ancients are no more. I’m standing in line. In God’s waiting room. I was alone at sea
Now I’m outfitted for a moving land box. My friend in a plane and a homestead cabin stake in the north. Buying land, working for a place big enough for an urn. She is proud of her bit of earth. I once owned land but it was a casino. The house always wins. She used me and I used her.
Ivan Illich and Voltaire. Emerson and the French and Americans. Philosophers and theologians. The Stoics and this epicurean world. She read Nietze after we made love in candle light. I was reading Zarathustra. The templates were naked and now they are libraries filled with wisdom and sayings. Proverbs and psalms. Psychiatric degrees and degrees in psychology and philosophy and comparative religions. Theology and meditation. Ashrams and temples. The whirling gervishes. The exotic stones. Delphi and holy places .Rome and the places where the lost and damned have wet the marble flows with tears of pain and suffering.
My God My God why hasn’t thou forsaken me cried the man on the cross. Suzanne takes you down. There is a war.
Ron Died.
I prayed that I would die in his stead. the Prodigal son. Seeing the Remembrant in St. Petersburg.
It’s over it was written. Is it ever over. Nirvana, samadhi, heaven and hell. This too shall pass. It is what is is.
The mother in law long dead. The grandmother’s and grand father’s dead. The book, denial of death, MAID and euthanasia and abortion and the one child family and the oncology wards and the dying patients. The sense of failure. Powerlessness.
I’m powerless. Ego deflation. Selfishness. The attachments. The rich man asks if he can join and the God says you must give up everything for me. The seven deadly sins. The lust and avarice and gluttony and anger. Drop the rock.
I am tired and will go back to bed. The hairs on my neck are down. The horror of the night gone. It’s just a recurring nightmare. It’s all about leaving home and adolescent. I am reading McCall SMith and the boy said he want to leave home to be with his two friends romantically and his mother turned away rolling her eyes at me and angry with me and I remember I left my home to live with two people and it was a woman and a man but her father refused her and there was the friend who lied and betrayed, the narcissist who was into drugs and alcohol and godless and I was the fool. I entered the lair and left the home of love and care my family. Black sheep. I am so sad thinking of my mother and how as an adolescent if turned my face from my father and mother . Years later my father in the cold of winter would dress in his 80’s take a bus to the hospital and push my mother’s wheel chair around the hospital to where she could feed the birds. We always loved the birds and mom always kept the bird feeder full that dad had made her.
Love was always right in my face, the most epic love story of all my father and my brother the greatest men I’d ever know and my mother and sister in law and all the men and wome who stood in the wings while strangers did pas de dieuxs. It was always theatre. Of stage there were those who played the dirges. I stood with band aids and gauze
The war carried on, The Louisiana brass band played and the zombies danced in the street . And I was still afraid.
Anxiety is a measure of your distance from God.
Thank you Jesus. Hallelujah. May all the saints rejoice. Yea though I walk throug the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for thou art with me.
The shining light.
The Light.
Be still and know that I am God. BE still. Be.
It’s always biting the hand who feeds. They bite the hand who feeds. They steal the food and medicine meant for the ill. The bullies and thugs. Steal a little and they put you in jail. Steal a lot and they make you king.
The nightmares are worst. The future thinking fears are a horror.
Just for today. One day at a time. The comfort is in the other. The stranger is God. Love is unsettling. Martin Burber was right in I and Thou. Cohen and Dylan and Donovan. hurry Gordy man singing songs of love. Must be the season of th witch. Sounds of silence. Light foot died and Tina Turner. The lights are going out. And I’m still standing in the dark. Bowie dead. George dead. The children and families all together. I’m in the last club on the block. I remember the Masons, Rosicrucian’s, the churches and the schools.
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