well, back to the early days....more to reveal.
already have noticed a much more clear and objective perspective as a result of bringing these ancient horrors to the light of day.
must continue....not done yet !
there were countless blows to the face and head ( backhands, slaps, punches ), was beaten with sticks, belts, clothes hangers, kicked, more than once thrown down stairs.
honestly, i cannot count how often these "crimes" occured with myself and my siblings.
being a bed-wetter, have often had my face rubbed in pissy sheets, my father accusing me of being too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom, of course i was always sound asleep when the bedwetting occurred.
have also had my face rubbed in dog shit several times.
our house dogs were kept in the basement in winter or outside in warmer weather.
sometimes the dog droppings would pile up for days in the cellar, and guess who was almost always the one chosen to have to clean it up, using a broom and shovel.
at times my father wasn't happy with the job i had done, or worse, sometimes i had forgotten to do it.
so the punishment was what it was....having my nose rubbed in it just like i was a dog....as well as the customary beating.
and then there were the interrogations....
often being hauled out of our beds, gathered together, lined up and grilled....
some form or other of this...."where's my hammer ?, i thought i told you kids never to touch my tools !"
whack, a powerful slap or backhand across the face, then he'd move down the line, next, next, next and back to the beginning to continue the interrogation.
he would usually be drunk, and almost always it was a case of him misplacing this tool or that.
there was never a right answer, answers like "i don't know !" or "i forgot !" were absolutely taboo....and would only encite more rage and stiffer blows from my father.
crying was not allowed !
nothing to do or say, any reaction or response, any sounds, any lifting of hands or arms to protect ourselves would only make him angrier.
only just to endure, say nothing and wait until he got tired.
what stands out in my memory is, he seemed to enjoy the beatings, there was this smile of power and pleasure at the corner of his lips and a frightening glint in his eyes.
one could never forget that expression.
he seemed to "need" to create situations that would justify corporal punishment.
he seemed to be addicted to causing suffering with his innocent helpless children.
what was actually true, i cannot say.
where was my mother throughout all this ?
good question....either at work....or hiding upstairs sobbing and crying....we could hear her at times.
what seemed true then was this, she was as helpless, voiceless and powerless as the rest of us.
it was well into my 40's before beginning to question her role, or lack of one, during those early years of torture and abuse.
years later, looking back at his patterns of behaviour, it wasn't until the children were grown and gone that he began to drink more heavily.
it seemed that as long as the outlet of abusing those around him was available to him, he didn't need to drink excessively for stress relief.
why at 63 do i feel a need to tell these tales ?
simple, they have yet to be told !
i do not wish to go to the grave still following his rule....
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
as well as knowing within that he would remain unaccountable to society at large.
he was, in my opinion, criminally insane !
to this day, i am convinced he felt no remorse, and considered there was nothing wrong with his world view.
curiously, he was from a small town in ontario called penetanguishene, or "penetang".
this town is infamous for being the location of the province's hospital and prison for the criminally insane.
for whatever that's worth ???
Friday, September 30, 2011
the long way home
almost daily i stop off and visit with a friend who owns and runs a local pawn shop.
that probably says more about me than these stories ever could !
so far she seems willing to listen to these tales of woe and wonder.
this is along the winding pathway home from my daily dose of " holey krapp....what's going on in the wonderful world of AA....TODAY !? "
the winding road....hmmm....i remember mum used to say...." billy, why do you always take the LONG way home ?"
not hard to figure that out, because that's where my dad lived !
i didn't say that to her, though.
this ol' guy is retired, with nothing but time, the winding pathway is a habit i'm grateful to still maintain.
especially since i now live in relative peace-time between the ears.
at the shop, when getting all wound up relating this tale or that story, i often find myself wishing i had a voice-recorder to capture the spontaneity, excitement, and wonder of it all.
the tales seem to flow so freely.
experience has shown that if i actually tried that, i would freeze up guaranteed, and where would the spontaneity be in that ?
of course, i make mental notes ( there's my first mistake ) to remember some of the pearls and gems uttered there....until actually making it home.
naturally, upon arriving and settling down before the keyboard with all those great intentions....
BLANK !!!
i think some of those stories are meant to dissipate into the ether, or find their way to that fabled mystical archive beyond some forgotten outer reaches of the himalayan foothills.
or....i could be in mid-term of a long-term case of short-term memory loss.
which is more likely....considering all that smoke-doping indulged in during those fuzzy hazy greenish days of not so long ago.
that probably says more about me than these stories ever could !
so far she seems willing to listen to these tales of woe and wonder.
this is along the winding pathway home from my daily dose of " holey krapp....what's going on in the wonderful world of AA....TODAY !? "
the winding road....hmmm....i remember mum used to say...." billy, why do you always take the LONG way home ?"
not hard to figure that out, because that's where my dad lived !
i didn't say that to her, though.
this ol' guy is retired, with nothing but time, the winding pathway is a habit i'm grateful to still maintain.
especially since i now live in relative peace-time between the ears.
at the shop, when getting all wound up relating this tale or that story, i often find myself wishing i had a voice-recorder to capture the spontaneity, excitement, and wonder of it all.
the tales seem to flow so freely.
experience has shown that if i actually tried that, i would freeze up guaranteed, and where would the spontaneity be in that ?
of course, i make mental notes ( there's my first mistake ) to remember some of the pearls and gems uttered there....until actually making it home.
naturally, upon arriving and settling down before the keyboard with all those great intentions....
BLANK !!!
i think some of those stories are meant to dissipate into the ether, or find their way to that fabled mystical archive beyond some forgotten outer reaches of the himalayan foothills.
or....i could be in mid-term of a long-term case of short-term memory loss.
which is more likely....considering all that smoke-doping indulged in during those fuzzy hazy greenish days of not so long ago.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
ready, willing....and ABLE !
16 days since beginning this blogging process....certainly a lot of progress.
most important function is to release the old untold stories....to free up the inner workings....and see what happens from here.
for an old "pro"-crastinator, am amazed to feel so ready, willing and ABLE to sit here and let it flow.
why stop now ?
again at age 7, that was a tough year for sure....my father sent me over to the local swimming pool to fetch my oldest brother home for dinner.
off i went, eventually approaching the outer fence of the pool, "believing" i had caught my brother's eye....and with a wave of my arm motioned for him to come home.
i again "believed" he understood and would hurry back to the house.
he didn't hurry home, in fact he was well overdue when finally arriving.
of course, by this time my father was working himself up to another dynamic "rage" episode.
my mother had gone to work by this time.
he ushered us all into the living room and sat us down on the couch to watch....as he was going to "teach" my older brother a lesson he would never forget.
this was even more an experience of horror than anything before or since, having no choice but to witness my father mercilessly beating our brother (seemingly to death), culminating in picking him up like a rag-doll and hurling him about 3 meters across the room, as hard as he could, up against the wall.
he almost didn't live to remember or forget the "lesson" !
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
this was all my father said as he left us in the room, with our brother laying unconscious on the floor.
it seemed forever before he stirred and came to consciousness.
even at our tender ages, we understood he might likely lay there dead.
of course, i was convinced it was all my fault for not being certain to communicate dad's wishes to my older brother at the pool.
have had to stop writing and sit with the wordless horror of that moment....what is there to say ?
what was there to say? what was there to do ? who was there to tell ?
this was yet another incident that never reached our mother's ears.
i sometimes wonder if having told her would have made any difference....sadly, i think not !
have always carried with me a sense of "needing" to tell the world what happened, believing that only by doing so would these deep internal issues be complete.
have shared most of the horror stories with counselors along the way....but often wished for a day in court to reveal the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, to society at large.
this man committed crimes for which these days he would be jailed for.
this man was never called to worldly justice.
he did eventually die alone, with most of his "family" not wanting to have anything to do with him.
never once did he seem to experience or display remorse, and to my knowledge, never once did he utter the words " i'm sorry ! "
for myself, being someone working the AA methodology towards healing, peace and serenity, it is for me to reveal these dark secrets, bring them to the light of day, and allow myself to finally be free to move forward, to have that life i had come to believe would never be possible.
there's more....much more....
time to rest and assimilate these intense emotions roiling about within.
most important function is to release the old untold stories....to free up the inner workings....and see what happens from here.
for an old "pro"-crastinator, am amazed to feel so ready, willing and ABLE to sit here and let it flow.
why stop now ?
again at age 7, that was a tough year for sure....my father sent me over to the local swimming pool to fetch my oldest brother home for dinner.
off i went, eventually approaching the outer fence of the pool, "believing" i had caught my brother's eye....and with a wave of my arm motioned for him to come home.
i again "believed" he understood and would hurry back to the house.
he didn't hurry home, in fact he was well overdue when finally arriving.
of course, by this time my father was working himself up to another dynamic "rage" episode.
my mother had gone to work by this time.
he ushered us all into the living room and sat us down on the couch to watch....as he was going to "teach" my older brother a lesson he would never forget.
this was even more an experience of horror than anything before or since, having no choice but to witness my father mercilessly beating our brother (seemingly to death), culminating in picking him up like a rag-doll and hurling him about 3 meters across the room, as hard as he could, up against the wall.
he almost didn't live to remember or forget the "lesson" !
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
this was all my father said as he left us in the room, with our brother laying unconscious on the floor.
it seemed forever before he stirred and came to consciousness.
even at our tender ages, we understood he might likely lay there dead.
of course, i was convinced it was all my fault for not being certain to communicate dad's wishes to my older brother at the pool.
have had to stop writing and sit with the wordless horror of that moment....what is there to say ?
what was there to say? what was there to do ? who was there to tell ?
this was yet another incident that never reached our mother's ears.
i sometimes wonder if having told her would have made any difference....sadly, i think not !
have always carried with me a sense of "needing" to tell the world what happened, believing that only by doing so would these deep internal issues be complete.
have shared most of the horror stories with counselors along the way....but often wished for a day in court to reveal the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, to society at large.
this man committed crimes for which these days he would be jailed for.
this man was never called to worldly justice.
he did eventually die alone, with most of his "family" not wanting to have anything to do with him.
never once did he seem to experience or display remorse, and to my knowledge, never once did he utter the words " i'm sorry ! "
for myself, being someone working the AA methodology towards healing, peace and serenity, it is for me to reveal these dark secrets, bring them to the light of day, and allow myself to finally be free to move forward, to have that life i had come to believe would never be possible.
there's more....much more....
time to rest and assimilate these intense emotions roiling about within.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
don't say anything....cont'd
have needed to sit quietly to be with emotions stirred up while recounting most recent tale revealed from childhood.
would not have been possible even 6 months ago, as even then i had no idea how to cope with sudden triggers into a confusing convuluted implosion of rage, pain, horror, terror, helplessness, loneliness, disappointment and indignance, as well as some twisted sense of guilt and shame i barely comprehend to this day.
having studied somewhat regarding "battered child syndrome" i understand it's typical for the "hostage" child to believe that the extreme corporal punishment was somehow deserved.
this has been true of me.
the tale continues....
we returned to the house and headed to our room, not a word spoken between any of us, although i could see my mother had been crying.
we gingerly peeled off our clothes and went to assess the damage in the mirror....our backs, butts and legs were almost completely covered with purple welts, and needless to say, i was experiencing an intense headache.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
what was there to do or say ? nothing !!!
we were left alone that day, each of us not having much of an appetite, while neither of our parents ventured upstairs to check on us....again, it seemed that life was to continue on as if this horrific episode had never occured.
my brother and i decided it was time to run away from home....yet again.
we awoke the next morning before dawn and made our escape with the collection money from our newspaper route....as i remember it was about $18 and change.
before embarking upon our great escape it was necessary to divide the money and stock up for the arduous journey.
we headed to the local confectionary and purchased the essentials, several comic-books each, as much candy as would fit in our pockets and of course, pop and cigarettes.
in those days there was no "I.D." ritual for yound children purchasing smokes.
we actually had a plan....brilliant even for our worldly selves.
we would take a bus to the eastern edge of the city and hitch-hike to the american border (about 40 miles away)....not having a clue how we would actually cross into the USA.
we would then continue to hitch-hike to a town we had seen on the buffalo TV channel's weather report....
tonawanda....how we determined this who knows ?
years later i was to learn from my mother that this was where her father had spent many of his early years....hmmmm ?
we were certain that if we went to a "nice" neighbourhood and just sat outside of a "nice" house, that the "nice" people would take us in and take care of us for life.
what a plan !
we actually made it about 10 miles or so....no rides, with a lot of determined walking.
at last, in the late afternoon we saw a highway bus heading the other way and decided to flag it down.
it actually stopped and soon we were headed back from whence we came.
of course we needed to formulate a realistic alternative survival strategy.
it wasn't long before determining that the best course of action was to head back to the area nearby our house and camp out in the "city yard" a block or so behind our residence.
at night we would sneak into our home through our well known secret entrance and raid the refrigerator for food.
again, a plan of genius !
not having learned our lesson regarding breaking and entering, we had arrived back in the downtown area just as darkness was settling in....and decided it would be a great idea to attempt to break into a restaurant we knew of that was closed.
that plan was quickly foiled by being heard clattering around in the alley behind the place.
it wasn't long before the police were searching for us in that back alley.....being small and flexible we found ourselves squeezed between several large empty wooden crates behind the local fish market.
holding our collective breaths and remaining still and silent, the cops finally gave up and left.
upon determining the coast was clear, we surfaced and headed towards the end of the alley to continue our journey towards "home ?"
there was a garage blocking this end of the laneway, and the only way to reach the street beyond was to scale it, climb over and down the other side.
this we did, and just as our feet hit the pavement, the police were there to nab us....the jig was up !
we were excorted about 5 blocks to the police station, walking beside the cop car.
we had actually gotten into the vehicle, but were immediately ordered out again, as we reeked of fish from the storage yard we had hidden in.
i will always remember that scene in the police station, wishing it would be possible to tell the real truth.
but that thought didn't last long.
in our minds, breaking the code of silence was unimagineable.
i often wondered what would have happened if the police had seen those horrible welts all over our bodies.
of course we were terrified again of our father, what would he do now ?
the police drove us to our house, but all were strangely quiet, my father seemed unusually subdued....i now understand he likely was aware of this too-close brush with the law and would not risk any more possible trouble to himself by punishing us any further.
the next day dawned and life was to continue....as though none of this had ever happened.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
would not have been possible even 6 months ago, as even then i had no idea how to cope with sudden triggers into a confusing convuluted implosion of rage, pain, horror, terror, helplessness, loneliness, disappointment and indignance, as well as some twisted sense of guilt and shame i barely comprehend to this day.
having studied somewhat regarding "battered child syndrome" i understand it's typical for the "hostage" child to believe that the extreme corporal punishment was somehow deserved.
this has been true of me.
the tale continues....
we returned to the house and headed to our room, not a word spoken between any of us, although i could see my mother had been crying.
we gingerly peeled off our clothes and went to assess the damage in the mirror....our backs, butts and legs were almost completely covered with purple welts, and needless to say, i was experiencing an intense headache.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
what was there to do or say ? nothing !!!
we were left alone that day, each of us not having much of an appetite, while neither of our parents ventured upstairs to check on us....again, it seemed that life was to continue on as if this horrific episode had never occured.
my brother and i decided it was time to run away from home....yet again.
we awoke the next morning before dawn and made our escape with the collection money from our newspaper route....as i remember it was about $18 and change.
before embarking upon our great escape it was necessary to divide the money and stock up for the arduous journey.
we headed to the local confectionary and purchased the essentials, several comic-books each, as much candy as would fit in our pockets and of course, pop and cigarettes.
in those days there was no "I.D." ritual for yound children purchasing smokes.
we actually had a plan....brilliant even for our worldly selves.
we would take a bus to the eastern edge of the city and hitch-hike to the american border (about 40 miles away)....not having a clue how we would actually cross into the USA.
we would then continue to hitch-hike to a town we had seen on the buffalo TV channel's weather report....
tonawanda....how we determined this who knows ?
years later i was to learn from my mother that this was where her father had spent many of his early years....hmmmm ?
we were certain that if we went to a "nice" neighbourhood and just sat outside of a "nice" house, that the "nice" people would take us in and take care of us for life.
what a plan !
we actually made it about 10 miles or so....no rides, with a lot of determined walking.
at last, in the late afternoon we saw a highway bus heading the other way and decided to flag it down.
it actually stopped and soon we were headed back from whence we came.
of course we needed to formulate a realistic alternative survival strategy.
it wasn't long before determining that the best course of action was to head back to the area nearby our house and camp out in the "city yard" a block or so behind our residence.
at night we would sneak into our home through our well known secret entrance and raid the refrigerator for food.
again, a plan of genius !
not having learned our lesson regarding breaking and entering, we had arrived back in the downtown area just as darkness was settling in....and decided it would be a great idea to attempt to break into a restaurant we knew of that was closed.
that plan was quickly foiled by being heard clattering around in the alley behind the place.
it wasn't long before the police were searching for us in that back alley.....being small and flexible we found ourselves squeezed between several large empty wooden crates behind the local fish market.
holding our collective breaths and remaining still and silent, the cops finally gave up and left.
upon determining the coast was clear, we surfaced and headed towards the end of the alley to continue our journey towards "home ?"
there was a garage blocking this end of the laneway, and the only way to reach the street beyond was to scale it, climb over and down the other side.
this we did, and just as our feet hit the pavement, the police were there to nab us....the jig was up !
we were excorted about 5 blocks to the police station, walking beside the cop car.
we had actually gotten into the vehicle, but were immediately ordered out again, as we reeked of fish from the storage yard we had hidden in.
i will always remember that scene in the police station, wishing it would be possible to tell the real truth.
but that thought didn't last long.
in our minds, breaking the code of silence was unimagineable.
i often wondered what would have happened if the police had seen those horrible welts all over our bodies.
of course we were terrified again of our father, what would he do now ?
the police drove us to our house, but all were strangely quiet, my father seemed unusually subdued....i now understand he likely was aware of this too-close brush with the law and would not risk any more possible trouble to himself by punishing us any further.
the next day dawned and life was to continue....as though none of this had ever happened.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
partners in crime
was partners in crime with my next older brother, conniving together to break into restaurants, a bowling alley, gas stations, and whatever else, wherever else we felt we could get away with.
at my age 11 and his age 13, we had conspired to break into the restaurant my mother worked at....we may have thought we were clever, but in this case, we proved to be quite stupid !
it was about 4:30 a.m. early one summer morning, we had arisen before dawn as usual, to head to the local golf-course to be at the front of the line for caddying opportunities.
we had no idea that the restaurant proprieters, who knew us well, were actually sleeping in the back room behind the diner.
suddenly, as we were attempting to pry the screen window off,....the owners shouted...."get out of here, you little bums !"
off we sped at the speed of light, as fast as our legs could carry us, to be at that golf-course a.s.a.p. as if nothing had happened.
well, we hadn't been there 10 minutes before noticing our father's car winding up the road towards the caddy-shack.
(gulp)....we had really done it this time....no doubt there would be hell to pay....and there most certainly was !
"get in the car !"....was all he said....as we soon found ourselves trembling in terror in the back seat during a chillingly silent ride home.
"get in the garage !"....of course we complied....what else was there to do ?
there we were, looking at each other knowing we were really in deep doodoo this time.
my father soon entered the garage carrying a broom-stick, the type that screws into mop-heads or push-brooms.
the interrogation began...."why did you do it ?"...."we didn't do anything !"
each time my father heard our denials his rage cranked up a few notches and "whack!"....a hard blow across the back, neck or legs was issued.
he was taking turns hitting us, waiting for one of us to finally break and admit our guilt.
after about 9 or 10 blows i had had enough and responded "because we wanted the money !!!"
he lost it completely, and again i was witness to the inhuman beast i'd last seen face to face at age 7.
"wham !" full force across the back of my head, again and again, it was me again that had to bear the full brunt of his murderous rage.
the last memory i had before what i again believed to be death, was seeing that monster with hateful fury in his eyes swinging the broomstick full-force at my head for the 4th time....
sometime later, i regained consciousness on the dirt-covered garage floor, much to my amazement i was still alive.
my brother was standing there looking down at me, as my father had returned to the house.
we both knew that mom was home, i'm sure it must have been one of her most difficult moments, realizing her kids had been trying to rob her workplace and therefore jeopardize her position there, while having to sit helpless inside the house as her husband and our father was in the garage beating her kids mercilessly with a broomstick.
why was i still alive ?
each of those blows to the head was issued with maximum strength and force by an enraged athletic full-grown man.
of course, the culture then was such that there was nowhere to turn and no-one to tell.
another horrific incident that would not be spoken of again....as if it had never happened.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
this particular tale continues....more to come....
at my age 11 and his age 13, we had conspired to break into the restaurant my mother worked at....we may have thought we were clever, but in this case, we proved to be quite stupid !
it was about 4:30 a.m. early one summer morning, we had arisen before dawn as usual, to head to the local golf-course to be at the front of the line for caddying opportunities.
we had no idea that the restaurant proprieters, who knew us well, were actually sleeping in the back room behind the diner.
suddenly, as we were attempting to pry the screen window off,....the owners shouted...."get out of here, you little bums !"
off we sped at the speed of light, as fast as our legs could carry us, to be at that golf-course a.s.a.p. as if nothing had happened.
well, we hadn't been there 10 minutes before noticing our father's car winding up the road towards the caddy-shack.
(gulp)....we had really done it this time....no doubt there would be hell to pay....and there most certainly was !
"get in the car !"....was all he said....as we soon found ourselves trembling in terror in the back seat during a chillingly silent ride home.
"get in the garage !"....of course we complied....what else was there to do ?
there we were, looking at each other knowing we were really in deep doodoo this time.
my father soon entered the garage carrying a broom-stick, the type that screws into mop-heads or push-brooms.
the interrogation began...."why did you do it ?"...."we didn't do anything !"
each time my father heard our denials his rage cranked up a few notches and "whack!"....a hard blow across the back, neck or legs was issued.
he was taking turns hitting us, waiting for one of us to finally break and admit our guilt.
after about 9 or 10 blows i had had enough and responded "because we wanted the money !!!"
he lost it completely, and again i was witness to the inhuman beast i'd last seen face to face at age 7.
"wham !" full force across the back of my head, again and again, it was me again that had to bear the full brunt of his murderous rage.
the last memory i had before what i again believed to be death, was seeing that monster with hateful fury in his eyes swinging the broomstick full-force at my head for the 4th time....
sometime later, i regained consciousness on the dirt-covered garage floor, much to my amazement i was still alive.
my brother was standing there looking down at me, as my father had returned to the house.
we both knew that mom was home, i'm sure it must have been one of her most difficult moments, realizing her kids had been trying to rob her workplace and therefore jeopardize her position there, while having to sit helpless inside the house as her husband and our father was in the garage beating her kids mercilessly with a broomstick.
why was i still alive ?
each of those blows to the head was issued with maximum strength and force by an enraged athletic full-grown man.
of course, the culture then was such that there was nowhere to turn and no-one to tell.
another horrific incident that would not be spoken of again....as if it had never happened.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
this particular tale continues....more to come....
baba's tale from india
reminded of a story picked up while wandering in india....
a man had decided to turn his back on wordly affairs, broken and desperate, he came to india looking for some hope of peace and serenity.
he happened upon an elderly swami who invited him to stay at his ashram.
every day he and his fellow "renunciates" would travel to a nearby village where the townfolk would offer them food and blessings.
often the villagers would stoop to kiss his feet.
this disturbed him greatly, so he approached the head swami crying...."master, i don't understand why the villagers wish to kiss my feet, i am such a miserable wretch, if they only knew what i have done, they would not wish to sully themselves so !"
the kind master uttered...."it's because they know you go within....to places they dare not dream to venture, or they wish to but cannot go , due to family and/or other wordly obligations."
"it's reverant appreciation and homage duly warranted....in time, you will come to know that this is truly so !"
another saying heard along the way...."religion is for those afraid to go to hell, spirituality is for those who've been there."
i have been that cardboard character
along some concrete highway
you caught out of the corner of your eye
as you sped on by.
mommy, daddy, look at me, look at me, look at me !
only just to be seen and heard for who and what i truly am....that's it, that's all....it's as simple as that !
a man had decided to turn his back on wordly affairs, broken and desperate, he came to india looking for some hope of peace and serenity.
he happened upon an elderly swami who invited him to stay at his ashram.
every day he and his fellow "renunciates" would travel to a nearby village where the townfolk would offer them food and blessings.
often the villagers would stoop to kiss his feet.
this disturbed him greatly, so he approached the head swami crying...."master, i don't understand why the villagers wish to kiss my feet, i am such a miserable wretch, if they only knew what i have done, they would not wish to sully themselves so !"
the kind master uttered...."it's because they know you go within....to places they dare not dream to venture, or they wish to but cannot go , due to family and/or other wordly obligations."
"it's reverant appreciation and homage duly warranted....in time, you will come to know that this is truly so !"
another saying heard along the way...."religion is for those afraid to go to hell, spirituality is for those who've been there."
i have been that cardboard character
along some concrete highway
you caught out of the corner of your eye
as you sped on by.
mommy, daddy, look at me, look at me, look at me !
only just to be seen and heard for who and what i truly am....that's it, that's all....it's as simple as that !
celebrating borrowed time
coming 64 in a few months....how have i celebrated this borrowed time....just for today ?
mmmm....the grapes i "pilfered" today from a neighbour's vine are almost ripe....a little tart but quite edible.
2 or 3 days more and perfection !
if i could only climb his apple tree, there's this amazingly perfect apple just out of reach, as well as just a bit too far over the fence....darn.
takes me back to life as a boy just on the edge of southern ontario's fruit-belt.
almost every yard had some sort of fruit tree or two....or three....yum !
attended 2 AA meetings....am so grateful for vast improvement in mental and emotional health....am now eager to give back that which was given freely....unconditional love, acceptance and support from virtual strangers.
they had proclaimed they would love me til i learned to love myself again....and they proved to be good for their word.
it's comforting to feel ABLE to be present and available for others in similar lost states of body, mind, heart and soul....as i was, not so long ago.
sounds so hokey....that's okay....i am alive today, not just existing in that endless not-so quiet despair, but with the sparkle in my eyes returning....as people are noticing and commenting upon lately....which is so rewarding to hear.
the human race i had resigned from, all you folks, you're not as scary as i had made you out to be.....thank the powers that be ! !
i almost checked out permanently, without giving you all that one more chance....more to the point....to give myself one more chance to let you close enough to find out what you're really like.
and trust that perhaps a few of you might care to learn what i am really like.
thanks to you, thanks to me, and thanks to those powers that be !
mmmm....the grapes i "pilfered" today from a neighbour's vine are almost ripe....a little tart but quite edible.
2 or 3 days more and perfection !
if i could only climb his apple tree, there's this amazingly perfect apple just out of reach, as well as just a bit too far over the fence....darn.
takes me back to life as a boy just on the edge of southern ontario's fruit-belt.
almost every yard had some sort of fruit tree or two....or three....yum !
attended 2 AA meetings....am so grateful for vast improvement in mental and emotional health....am now eager to give back that which was given freely....unconditional love, acceptance and support from virtual strangers.
they had proclaimed they would love me til i learned to love myself again....and they proved to be good for their word.
it's comforting to feel ABLE to be present and available for others in similar lost states of body, mind, heart and soul....as i was, not so long ago.
sounds so hokey....that's okay....i am alive today, not just existing in that endless not-so quiet despair, but with the sparkle in my eyes returning....as people are noticing and commenting upon lately....which is so rewarding to hear.
the human race i had resigned from, all you folks, you're not as scary as i had made you out to be.....thank the powers that be ! !
i almost checked out permanently, without giving you all that one more chance....more to the point....to give myself one more chance to let you close enough to find out what you're really like.
and trust that perhaps a few of you might care to learn what i am really like.
thanks to you, thanks to me, and thanks to those powers that be !
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
don't say anything !
obviously, for anyone who has followed along, have spoken about several examples of extreme child abuse visited upon myself and my siblings.
now, this far into the telling of those times, i must speak of the most profound moment of this life.
at age 7, was at home with sibs and father, mom was out working at a local diner, dinner cleanup had just finished and i was alone in the "parlour" of our old house drawing and coloring, while the others were together in the front room watching TV.
dinner had been reasonably calm, as dad wasn't in an obvious bad mood....YET !!!
suddenly, my father stormed into the room asking "did you take a cookie ?"
in my innocent 7 year old mind, i began to say "yes, i had one for supper !"
just as i had uttered "yes....", my father's hands were around my throat lifting me off the floor like a rag doll....and squeezing !
he was dead serious, worse, it seemed he was no longer the father i recognized.
i will never forget gazing into that face, that of a vicious animal with death in it's eyes.
i was being murdered, alone and helpless, his iron fists squeezing the consciousness out of me.
this was the end of life, no doubt.
just as visual focus was centering into a tiny white circle, i saw the eyes of this monster change, he seemed to come to, released his grip on my throat, and tossed me, again like that limp doll, onto the couch.
i lay there silent and motionless, not able to speak or move if i wanted to....stuck in the "freeze" defense position, just like a terrified rabbit.
consciousness was returning, my sensibilities were coming back, i saw my dad's silhouette standing in the doorway, he turned, seeing i had come to, and said...."DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
not bloody likely would i ever say a thing, even at 7, that was a no-brainer.
there was no point of mentioning this to mom, being certain that if i did so, she would tell my father i had broken the silence, and he would finish me off.
another belief was, she was just another helpless victim like us, what could she do anyway?
i knew then absolutely, i was "S.O.L....and completely on my own".
nothing about my known world suggested there might be help for someone like me, (or us).
who was there to tell? who was there to care? there was no-one to tell !
the first time i ever spoke of this incident was at age 28, to a psychologist, finally realizing i could not go on without some sort of therapeutic help.
my mother went to her grave not ever knowing of this incident.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
quite a dramatic body memory....keep it inside....don't air dirty laundry in public....what happens behind closed doors stays there....OR ELSE !!!
still to this day, when triggered into panic, my throat muscles seize up and constrict, making it virtually impossible to speak and difficult to breathe.
i can still see that face, many times in horrifying nightmares, of that animal disguised as my dad strangling the life out of me.
get over it, will....put it behind you....let go and move on....what's the matter with you ?....suck it up, buttercup....everyone has suffered, you're not special, and on and on and on.
easier said than done....
these statements are but an innocent intimate gesture to anyone with ears to listen....
imagine that little 7 year old boy....wishing only to be heard, understood....and forgiven....for whatever it was about him that brought on such horrific punishment.
for the crime of taking a cookie....which, in that case, was not true !
now, this far into the telling of those times, i must speak of the most profound moment of this life.
at age 7, was at home with sibs and father, mom was out working at a local diner, dinner cleanup had just finished and i was alone in the "parlour" of our old house drawing and coloring, while the others were together in the front room watching TV.
dinner had been reasonably calm, as dad wasn't in an obvious bad mood....YET !!!
suddenly, my father stormed into the room asking "did you take a cookie ?"
in my innocent 7 year old mind, i began to say "yes, i had one for supper !"
just as i had uttered "yes....", my father's hands were around my throat lifting me off the floor like a rag doll....and squeezing !
he was dead serious, worse, it seemed he was no longer the father i recognized.
i will never forget gazing into that face, that of a vicious animal with death in it's eyes.
i was being murdered, alone and helpless, his iron fists squeezing the consciousness out of me.
this was the end of life, no doubt.
just as visual focus was centering into a tiny white circle, i saw the eyes of this monster change, he seemed to come to, released his grip on my throat, and tossed me, again like that limp doll, onto the couch.
i lay there silent and motionless, not able to speak or move if i wanted to....stuck in the "freeze" defense position, just like a terrified rabbit.
consciousness was returning, my sensibilities were coming back, i saw my dad's silhouette standing in the doorway, he turned, seeing i had come to, and said...."DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
not bloody likely would i ever say a thing, even at 7, that was a no-brainer.
there was no point of mentioning this to mom, being certain that if i did so, she would tell my father i had broken the silence, and he would finish me off.
another belief was, she was just another helpless victim like us, what could she do anyway?
i knew then absolutely, i was "S.O.L....and completely on my own".
nothing about my known world suggested there might be help for someone like me, (or us).
who was there to tell? who was there to care? there was no-one to tell !
the first time i ever spoke of this incident was at age 28, to a psychologist, finally realizing i could not go on without some sort of therapeutic help.
my mother went to her grave not ever knowing of this incident.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"
quite a dramatic body memory....keep it inside....don't air dirty laundry in public....what happens behind closed doors stays there....OR ELSE !!!
still to this day, when triggered into panic, my throat muscles seize up and constrict, making it virtually impossible to speak and difficult to breathe.
i can still see that face, many times in horrifying nightmares, of that animal disguised as my dad strangling the life out of me.
get over it, will....put it behind you....let go and move on....what's the matter with you ?....suck it up, buttercup....everyone has suffered, you're not special, and on and on and on.
easier said than done....
these statements are but an innocent intimate gesture to anyone with ears to listen....
imagine that little 7 year old boy....wishing only to be heard, understood....and forgiven....for whatever it was about him that brought on such horrific punishment.
for the crime of taking a cookie....which, in that case, was not true !
Monday, September 26, 2011
the 4th strike
by age 10, was working several evenings weekly at a local bowling alley as a pin-boy....before the era of automatic pin-setters came about..
from age 10 to 16, worked 4 to 6 nights a week, as well as caddying at local golf courses on weekends, or delivering groceries by bicycle in the off season.
was earning good money, certainly enough to be able to have those things i needed or wanted.
EXCEPT, all of the money was turned over to my father, this was considered his money, as he believed it was an equal exchange for the privilege of living in HIS house.
at age 12, experienced having my 4 front adult teeth removed, a combination of tooth decay and a boot to the head from my father during one of his "rage" episodes.
i did receive a partial denture, but outgrew it within a few months, and was advised there would be no replacement.
the conversation went something like...."dad, i can't wear them because they don't fit (of course i was growing) !"....with his reply being...."they don't fit because you're not wearing them !"...yet another example of his twisted logic.
the fact was that from age 12 to age 17 (entire high-school career) i had a toothless gap where the smile ought to have been, which certainly didn't help self-esteem and dating prospects.
of course, being a working "man" at age 10, it was crucial that i smoke cigarettes along with my peers, i became addicted to nicotine almost immediately....smoking approximately a pack a day until eventually stopping at age 27.
since money earned was never to be mine....i necessarily began to steal in order to feed the smoking habit, and being a thief, i naturally became a liar !
by age 12, had been to juvenile court 3 times....with a vivid memory of the last appearance, standing before the judge knowing that standard procedure was 3 times and you're out, like in baseball.
i fully expected to be shipped off to the infamous "reform school" at bowmanville, ontario.
i certainly had mixed feelings about that prospect, rightly fearing being sent there, having heard many horror stories from running mates, BUT it did present an opportunity to escape my father's iron rule.
the judge looked down at me and said, "i don't know why, i'm going to give you one more strike, your mother speaks highly of your marks in school and exceptional artistic ability....DO NOT darken my doorway again, do you understand, young man ?"
"yes sir, thank you sir !"
"no problem....you definitely will not see me again !", i thought....having determined never to get caught from then on.....and i wasn't.
the petty crime career was to continue....economic reality demanded that i continue to steal, con and lie.
i needed to smoke, plus pay for other "necessities" of your average 12 year old working man.
the funds had to come from somewhere.
the economic realities of life at our family home also applied to my 4 brothers.
later in life, my older brothers revealed that much of the money given to our father actually went towards feeding his addiction to playing the horses.
in his mind it was his money, and he could do what he wanted with it.
i think i've had issues regarding work and money....as well as authority figures....go figure !
from age 10 to 16, worked 4 to 6 nights a week, as well as caddying at local golf courses on weekends, or delivering groceries by bicycle in the off season.
was earning good money, certainly enough to be able to have those things i needed or wanted.
EXCEPT, all of the money was turned over to my father, this was considered his money, as he believed it was an equal exchange for the privilege of living in HIS house.
at age 12, experienced having my 4 front adult teeth removed, a combination of tooth decay and a boot to the head from my father during one of his "rage" episodes.
i did receive a partial denture, but outgrew it within a few months, and was advised there would be no replacement.
the conversation went something like...."dad, i can't wear them because they don't fit (of course i was growing) !"....with his reply being...."they don't fit because you're not wearing them !"...yet another example of his twisted logic.
the fact was that from age 12 to age 17 (entire high-school career) i had a toothless gap where the smile ought to have been, which certainly didn't help self-esteem and dating prospects.
of course, being a working "man" at age 10, it was crucial that i smoke cigarettes along with my peers, i became addicted to nicotine almost immediately....smoking approximately a pack a day until eventually stopping at age 27.
since money earned was never to be mine....i necessarily began to steal in order to feed the smoking habit, and being a thief, i naturally became a liar !
by age 12, had been to juvenile court 3 times....with a vivid memory of the last appearance, standing before the judge knowing that standard procedure was 3 times and you're out, like in baseball.
i fully expected to be shipped off to the infamous "reform school" at bowmanville, ontario.
i certainly had mixed feelings about that prospect, rightly fearing being sent there, having heard many horror stories from running mates, BUT it did present an opportunity to escape my father's iron rule.
the judge looked down at me and said, "i don't know why, i'm going to give you one more strike, your mother speaks highly of your marks in school and exceptional artistic ability....DO NOT darken my doorway again, do you understand, young man ?"
"yes sir, thank you sir !"
"no problem....you definitely will not see me again !", i thought....having determined never to get caught from then on.....and i wasn't.
the petty crime career was to continue....economic reality demanded that i continue to steal, con and lie.
i needed to smoke, plus pay for other "necessities" of your average 12 year old working man.
the funds had to come from somewhere.
the economic realities of life at our family home also applied to my 4 brothers.
later in life, my older brothers revealed that much of the money given to our father actually went towards feeding his addiction to playing the horses.
in his mind it was his money, and he could do what he wanted with it.
i think i've had issues regarding work and money....as well as authority figures....go figure !
favorite sayings
my opinion is worthless, my experience is priceless.
you can't bullshit a bullshitter...so why try ?
there are no extrordinary people....only ordinary people doing extraordinary things.
judge not, that ye be not judged.
dont't tell me....show me !
beware an honest man, he's likely to tell you something you don't want to hear !
carry the message....occasionally use words !
as you are to the least of us, this is how you are to me !....attributed to the man known as jesus.
you can't bullshit a bullshitter...so why try ?
there are no extrordinary people....only ordinary people doing extraordinary things.
judge not, that ye be not judged.
dont't tell me....show me !
beware an honest man, he's likely to tell you something you don't want to hear !
carry the message....occasionally use words !
as you are to the least of us, this is how you are to me !....attributed to the man known as jesus.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
the journey...NOT...the destination
well....to be absolutely honest and candid as in private journals...this is what i wish.
to choose consciously to be present with these "hundred forms of fear" that manifest as perceptual tricks of sight, sound and mind.
and speak....only just to be heard.
i sometimes experience intense rage and fury, often having no real idea why, some mysterious PTSD trigger violently ripping the lid off of the "pandora's box" deep within.
have come to label these emotional implosions as "road-rage without the vehicle".
what exactly is it that i wish to express ?
the process....this precious medium of self-exploration, discovery, articulation and expression.
without which i doubt i would still have chosen to continue in life.
until a few months ago, daily life presented as a terrifying landscape riddled with hidden emotional "land-mines".
for example, almost daily, i would be enjoying a reasonably positive and productive day, until at around dinnertime being suddenly triggered into extreme anxiety and depression....having no idea why.
was also mystified to observe that this phenomenon rarely occured on mondays.
working along with an expert mental health/addiction counselor, as well as daily journalling, i was to realize that these triggers were related to early life circumstances in the family home.
dinner time was when my father returned home from his work, so often i remember being terrified to go home after school fearing my father's "bad" moods.
this was also the time of "shift change"....because my mother would leave for evening waitress work at a local restaurant from 6: p.m til 1: a.m every evening but monday.
if my father was in a nasty state, which was quite often, this meant he had us alone behind closed doors for the whole evening.
almost to the day, since realizing that these historical body memories were very likely the triggers into extreme dinnertime panic attacks decades later, those same related sudden emotional implosions ceased.
imagine the relief.
to choose consciously to be present with these "hundred forms of fear" that manifest as perceptual tricks of sight, sound and mind.
and speak....only just to be heard.
i sometimes experience intense rage and fury, often having no real idea why, some mysterious PTSD trigger violently ripping the lid off of the "pandora's box" deep within.
have come to label these emotional implosions as "road-rage without the vehicle".
what exactly is it that i wish to express ?
the process....this precious medium of self-exploration, discovery, articulation and expression.
without which i doubt i would still have chosen to continue in life.
until a few months ago, daily life presented as a terrifying landscape riddled with hidden emotional "land-mines".
for example, almost daily, i would be enjoying a reasonably positive and productive day, until at around dinnertime being suddenly triggered into extreme anxiety and depression....having no idea why.
was also mystified to observe that this phenomenon rarely occured on mondays.
working along with an expert mental health/addiction counselor, as well as daily journalling, i was to realize that these triggers were related to early life circumstances in the family home.
dinner time was when my father returned home from his work, so often i remember being terrified to go home after school fearing my father's "bad" moods.
this was also the time of "shift change"....because my mother would leave for evening waitress work at a local restaurant from 6: p.m til 1: a.m every evening but monday.
if my father was in a nasty state, which was quite often, this meant he had us alone behind closed doors for the whole evening.
almost to the day, since realizing that these historical body memories were very likely the triggers into extreme dinnertime panic attacks decades later, those same related sudden emotional implosions ceased.
imagine the relief.
freedom of expression ?
freedom of expression....what exactly does that look like ?
experience suggests it's an ideal....something to aim for.
do i feel free to express ?....no !
why is that ?....some guesses....
1 ) cultural/societal/familial expectations.
2 ) not airing "dirty" laundry in public.
3 ) fear of revealing "dark"side of personality.
4 ) ancient fear of unreasonable extreme reactions, punishment and condemnation.
5 ) body memory of "don't speak" rule of family-of-origin home.
6 ) real-life experiences in adult life of harsh consequences due to "free" expressions.
7 ) instinctive urge to belong as one of the "pack".
8 ) not wishing to be seen as the "odd" man out for fear of being "culled" from the pack.
these are a few guesses.
i am a creature who has lived with almost constant fear.
imagine the dog who has been consistently beaten with a stick while young, picture the tail between the legs.
imagine this dog having been rescued and gone to a kind gentle owner.
whenever the new master lifted a stick with innocent intention, the dog compulsively cowered, tail betwen it's legs, cringing in a corner.....an instinctive knee-jerk reaction.
imagine this dog when anyone other than the owner (old or new) lifted a stick....sudden attack !
no one would ever beat this dog again....not if it could help it !
it is certainly not easy to admit to myself or others as being that dog. i accept it has been so.
am i seeking sympathy ?
damn right no !!!
understanding, hopefully acceptance, to be heard, that is all !
anyone with critical judgement or advice, save it.
is there anyone there who will just listen....that's all....just listen ?
have lived life in shame and guilt as someone who was unable to get over what occured, while my siblings seemed to know how to do this.
a reknowned family dynamics and addiction expert named "john bradshaw" states....
"a family is like an army, it has no mercy for it's deserters !"
yes, i fled, it was all too much for me....and for any of you to stand in judgement of this, who are you to look down your nose at this pilgrim, or any other ?
have said this before on this site....i am filled with rage, grief and disappointment at feeling judged, convicted and excommunicated by the "pack" called my blood family.
during all those years of feeling lost and alone, these folks were the last people i would ever turn to for emotional or moral support.
still i imagine i've been branded a weakling, traitor and a failure.
experience suggests it's an ideal....something to aim for.
do i feel free to express ?....no !
why is that ?....some guesses....
1 ) cultural/societal/familial expectations.
2 ) not airing "dirty" laundry in public.
3 ) fear of revealing "dark"side of personality.
4 ) ancient fear of unreasonable extreme reactions, punishment and condemnation.
5 ) body memory of "don't speak" rule of family-of-origin home.
6 ) real-life experiences in adult life of harsh consequences due to "free" expressions.
7 ) instinctive urge to belong as one of the "pack".
8 ) not wishing to be seen as the "odd" man out for fear of being "culled" from the pack.
these are a few guesses.
i am a creature who has lived with almost constant fear.
imagine the dog who has been consistently beaten with a stick while young, picture the tail between the legs.
imagine this dog having been rescued and gone to a kind gentle owner.
whenever the new master lifted a stick with innocent intention, the dog compulsively cowered, tail betwen it's legs, cringing in a corner.....an instinctive knee-jerk reaction.
imagine this dog when anyone other than the owner (old or new) lifted a stick....sudden attack !
no one would ever beat this dog again....not if it could help it !
it is certainly not easy to admit to myself or others as being that dog. i accept it has been so.
am i seeking sympathy ?
damn right no !!!
understanding, hopefully acceptance, to be heard, that is all !
anyone with critical judgement or advice, save it.
is there anyone there who will just listen....that's all....just listen ?
have lived life in shame and guilt as someone who was unable to get over what occured, while my siblings seemed to know how to do this.
a reknowned family dynamics and addiction expert named "john bradshaw" states....
"a family is like an army, it has no mercy for it's deserters !"
yes, i fled, it was all too much for me....and for any of you to stand in judgement of this, who are you to look down your nose at this pilgrim, or any other ?
have said this before on this site....i am filled with rage, grief and disappointment at feeling judged, convicted and excommunicated by the "pack" called my blood family.
during all those years of feeling lost and alone, these folks were the last people i would ever turn to for emotional or moral support.
still i imagine i've been branded a weakling, traitor and a failure.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
the unusual guide....cont'd
had ended recent entry....just beginning to introduce the "unusual" guide and friend i encountered in rishikesh.
had been in town 3 or 4 days, and was just settling into rented hut on ashram grounds....50 rupees ( $2 canadian ) per night, including 2 meals.
this ashram was approximately 100 meters along a pathway from the large spiritual centre of "maharishi mahesh yogi" of "transcendental meditation" fame....yes, the place where the beatles hung out during their india days.
quite separate from what brought me to the area, i learned that a major hindu festival was soon to occur in the next city down-river, haridwar, a hindu holy pilgrimage site some 30 kilometers away.
"Kumbha Mela"....translated...."Big Party" !
wasn't long before discovering that approximately 30 million visitors were expected from all over the sub-continent (and the world) over the next 6 weeks or so.
these were the weeks building up to this monumental spectacle.
beggars, hawkers, entertainers, and anyone with something to sell or a service to offer, were arriving in the area from far and wide....hopeful of exploiting this incredible marketing opportunity.
both sides of almost all pathways, byways and narrow streets were lined with these folks.
one afternoon i chose to take advantage of a shoe repair wallah along the narrow trail leading down from my hut....who for a few rupees, was busily working on one of my boots, while i sat in amazement admiring the deftness of his handiwork.
suddenly at my side, this slim articulate native fellow materialized, seemingly from thin air and introduced himself as "thiagi".
i was immediately impressed by the ease and sophistication with which he spoke in flawless english....this was no average local villager.
he was dressed in typical "baba" attire, basically two robes and a head wrap, with old tennis runners in need of laces.
what's a "baba" ?...the term used to describe a "saddhu" or "renunciate male"....one who has chosen to renounce wordly affairs and devote his life to spiritual pursuits....someone we in the west might call a homeless man.
i'm not exactly sure of the moment the unspoken agreement occurred, but it was soon quite obvious we could help each other.
during my time in rishikesh, he would prove to offer priceless service as a guide, interpreter, bodyguard, middle-man for purchasing jewellery and silver ( he was able to receive the "native" price), a buffer person keeping me safe from countless threats and potential cons, and ultimately as a friend and companion.
it seemed mutually understood from the first meeting that we were equals freely choosing to engage in a relationship within the roles of employer and servant/guide.
had been in town 3 or 4 days, and was just settling into rented hut on ashram grounds....50 rupees ( $2 canadian ) per night, including 2 meals.
this ashram was approximately 100 meters along a pathway from the large spiritual centre of "maharishi mahesh yogi" of "transcendental meditation" fame....yes, the place where the beatles hung out during their india days.
quite separate from what brought me to the area, i learned that a major hindu festival was soon to occur in the next city down-river, haridwar, a hindu holy pilgrimage site some 30 kilometers away.
"Kumbha Mela"....translated...."Big Party" !
wasn't long before discovering that approximately 30 million visitors were expected from all over the sub-continent (and the world) over the next 6 weeks or so.
these were the weeks building up to this monumental spectacle.
beggars, hawkers, entertainers, and anyone with something to sell or a service to offer, were arriving in the area from far and wide....hopeful of exploiting this incredible marketing opportunity.
both sides of almost all pathways, byways and narrow streets were lined with these folks.
one afternoon i chose to take advantage of a shoe repair wallah along the narrow trail leading down from my hut....who for a few rupees, was busily working on one of my boots, while i sat in amazement admiring the deftness of his handiwork.
suddenly at my side, this slim articulate native fellow materialized, seemingly from thin air and introduced himself as "thiagi".
i was immediately impressed by the ease and sophistication with which he spoke in flawless english....this was no average local villager.
he was dressed in typical "baba" attire, basically two robes and a head wrap, with old tennis runners in need of laces.
what's a "baba" ?...the term used to describe a "saddhu" or "renunciate male"....one who has chosen to renounce wordly affairs and devote his life to spiritual pursuits....someone we in the west might call a homeless man.
i'm not exactly sure of the moment the unspoken agreement occurred, but it was soon quite obvious we could help each other.
during my time in rishikesh, he would prove to offer priceless service as a guide, interpreter, bodyguard, middle-man for purchasing jewellery and silver ( he was able to receive the "native" price), a buffer person keeping me safe from countless threats and potential cons, and ultimately as a friend and companion.
it seemed mutually understood from the first meeting that we were equals freely choosing to engage in a relationship within the roles of employer and servant/guide.
Friday, September 23, 2011
not so simple
been wrestling lately with inner editor/censor.
began this blog-journalling process believing it would be simple to transfer candor and spontaneity of private journal entries to these pages.
easier said than done.
today decided to jump into deeper section of the pool.
acknowledge process of inner dialogue and self-determination as to what ends up being expressed here.
aiming at "truth"....seems to be about the journey and NOT the destination !
had to consider "anonymity" principle of 12-step program....it is AA's pivotal guiding principle.
chose AA some years back....seemed to offer a more predictably stable and "sober" atmosphere than NA rooms....of course from this recovering addict's view only....which is what matters ultimately.
for a long time i struggled with uttering "my name is.......and i am an alcoholic !" in the AA rooms.
felt like some kind of "special" addict/alcoholic as the drug of choice for this dude had long ago become marijuana.
have yet to encounter a "marijuana-anonymous" group, and after several uncomfortable visits to the rooms of "narcotics anonymous", there seemed no realistic option for this addict but to attend AA meetings.
early life history for this guy was all about exploring and exploiting the "soft" recreational drugs of the "hippie" movement ( alcohol, pot, hash, LSD, mushrooms ).
the first 16 years of my adventures with intoxication as a lifestyle were all about the booze....whatever was available.
had first drink at age 10, smoked first joint age 26.
still to this day it's challenging to be in the company of chronic "hard" drug users in and around the rooms of recovery....just hard to identify with or relate to most of the stories.
after about 2 and 1/2 years of discomfort and wondering if i "belonged" in the AA rooms, a long-timer kindly pulled me aside and directed me to the page in our "big book" which states that no-one can decide i'm an alcoholic but me....ever ! what a freedom this was....i now knew i belonged in the rooms of AA, for my reasons and because i decided it !
since then, have made a conscious decision to "make" myself at home in the rooms of alcoholics anonymous.
reminded of my late mum's rule of thumb at home....being a large household, lots of kids with lots of visiting friends, her stated rule was...."the first visit i'll make you a sandwich, the second visit you make yourself at home and get your own sandwich, and of course clean up afterward !"
seemed to work fine for her and us !
began this blog-journalling process believing it would be simple to transfer candor and spontaneity of private journal entries to these pages.
easier said than done.
today decided to jump into deeper section of the pool.
acknowledge process of inner dialogue and self-determination as to what ends up being expressed here.
aiming at "truth"....seems to be about the journey and NOT the destination !
had to consider "anonymity" principle of 12-step program....it is AA's pivotal guiding principle.
chose AA some years back....seemed to offer a more predictably stable and "sober" atmosphere than NA rooms....of course from this recovering addict's view only....which is what matters ultimately.
for a long time i struggled with uttering "my name is.......and i am an alcoholic !" in the AA rooms.
felt like some kind of "special" addict/alcoholic as the drug of choice for this dude had long ago become marijuana.
have yet to encounter a "marijuana-anonymous" group, and after several uncomfortable visits to the rooms of "narcotics anonymous", there seemed no realistic option for this addict but to attend AA meetings.
early life history for this guy was all about exploring and exploiting the "soft" recreational drugs of the "hippie" movement ( alcohol, pot, hash, LSD, mushrooms ).
the first 16 years of my adventures with intoxication as a lifestyle were all about the booze....whatever was available.
had first drink at age 10, smoked first joint age 26.
still to this day it's challenging to be in the company of chronic "hard" drug users in and around the rooms of recovery....just hard to identify with or relate to most of the stories.
after about 2 and 1/2 years of discomfort and wondering if i "belonged" in the AA rooms, a long-timer kindly pulled me aside and directed me to the page in our "big book" which states that no-one can decide i'm an alcoholic but me....ever ! what a freedom this was....i now knew i belonged in the rooms of AA, for my reasons and because i decided it !
since then, have made a conscious decision to "make" myself at home in the rooms of alcoholics anonymous.
reminded of my late mum's rule of thumb at home....being a large household, lots of kids with lots of visiting friends, her stated rule was...."the first visit i'll make you a sandwich, the second visit you make yourself at home and get your own sandwich, and of course clean up afterward !"
seemed to work fine for her and us !
Thursday, September 22, 2011
getting it right...OR ELSE !
hit some kind of wall today....been quite reluctant to speak in this format.....curious !
fear....of what, of whom ?
tricks of the ego-mind.
for this pilgrim, it's amazing how initial perceptions dictate emotional reactions.
as if each sensory observation throughout the day triggers the instinctive reptilian fight/flight/freeze/camouflage survival response.
understand completely that in this time and place, there is no audience for these expressions.
am 100% in control of whether what is spoken ever reaches other eyes or ears.
recognize decades old tendency to pre-edit content of....whatever....believing i must get it just right....OR ELSE !
certainly understand how that personal trait was born.
in the 12-step rooms, alcoholism/addiction is described as a disease of perception.
absolutely true through this guy's life experience.
for most of life, these eyes perceived almost all others as potential threats.
being so sensitive to intense knee-jerk emotional reactions around people, it became a survival tactic to remain aloof, and avoid any form of intimate relations.
the pain of this isolation and alienation finally became unbearable.
it became clear there were only 2 choices....commit suicide to end the suffering, or choose life and move toward the seeming impossible task of re-joining the human race.
since embarking upon a sincere mission to heal and learn how to live in the world again ( not of it ! ),
now observe that most people no longer immediately appear dangerous through these eyes.
through no conscious effort on my part in the moment, it's as if a veil of fear and mistrust has fallen away.
by the grace of my higher power, a lot of hard slogging through scary territory, and with the help of so many friends, supporters and allies in the "recovery" world, to quote the old spiritual song, " i was blind, and now i see !"
no-one needs explain to a desert dweller what water tastes like !
fear....of what, of whom ?
tricks of the ego-mind.
for this pilgrim, it's amazing how initial perceptions dictate emotional reactions.
as if each sensory observation throughout the day triggers the instinctive reptilian fight/flight/freeze/camouflage survival response.
understand completely that in this time and place, there is no audience for these expressions.
am 100% in control of whether what is spoken ever reaches other eyes or ears.
recognize decades old tendency to pre-edit content of....whatever....believing i must get it just right....OR ELSE !
certainly understand how that personal trait was born.
in the 12-step rooms, alcoholism/addiction is described as a disease of perception.
absolutely true through this guy's life experience.
for most of life, these eyes perceived almost all others as potential threats.
being so sensitive to intense knee-jerk emotional reactions around people, it became a survival tactic to remain aloof, and avoid any form of intimate relations.
the pain of this isolation and alienation finally became unbearable.
it became clear there were only 2 choices....commit suicide to end the suffering, or choose life and move toward the seeming impossible task of re-joining the human race.
since embarking upon a sincere mission to heal and learn how to live in the world again ( not of it ! ),
now observe that most people no longer immediately appear dangerous through these eyes.
through no conscious effort on my part in the moment, it's as if a veil of fear and mistrust has fallen away.
by the grace of my higher power, a lot of hard slogging through scary territory, and with the help of so many friends, supporters and allies in the "recovery" world, to quote the old spiritual song, " i was blind, and now i see !"
no-one needs explain to a desert dweller what water tastes like !
mysterious ways
before turning to this blogsite....had been journaling daily with video blogger camera....for about 9 months .
being a self-admitted electronic dinosaur, had yet to educate self on how to transfer these video entries onto the computer.
so-o-o-o, considering they were intended as personal journal entries, they haven't been saved.
sometimes it occured to me to store them, but also being a self-admitted procrastinator, that had yet to happen.
i could have saved them to cd's....i could have done a lot of things, but it seemed i was satisfied with viewing the entries on the TV monitor....and deleting them as the storage space within the camera became full.
about 6 weeks ago, i happened to be enjoying a canadian football league game being played in my home town, and for some reason the cameraman turned the focus to a close-up of my younger brother in the grandstands, not once but twice.
this seemed remarkable to me, and without conscious intention, found myself thinking of him and other close family members for the next several days.
it so happened i was working on a certain phase of the 12-step process at that time, and reflecting upon unfinished business with family was just where i needed to be.
have come to accept these so-called coincidences as a part of the fabric of daily life experience....and considered this occurence as no accident.
approximately 2 weeks later, awoke to discover an e-mail from a sister i hadn't heard from in several years.
this same brother (2 years younger) was now in hospital having suffered a massive stroke and they weren't sure he would survive.
he has survived and is paralyzed on one side of his body, and now engaged with the process of re-learning how to walk and talk.
of course, i feel all sorts of emotions related to what happened with my brother, as well as his family, but what came of this from my point of view, was motivation....to finally get off the couch and start writing.
that could easily have been me, being 2 years his senior, with common genetic tendencies and a similar history of substance abuse.
suddenly the not-so-fine art of procrastination was lifted from me.
not being a puppy any more, am convinced that one main reason i'm still here is to share experience, strength and hope of the journey to date....as a legacy....with the hopes of making a difference somehow.
often struggle with assessing actual personal motivation(s) for writing, as this process unfolds.
today, for example, it seemed i needed the comfort and safety of video-journalling with the blogger camera, to sort out some frustrating and confusing emotions, before feeling able to sit here and speak honestly, open-mindedly and willingly.
one thing is certain....these entries must not fall prey to ego enhancement or glorification....as i am a sucker for any hint of that motivation....which can so easily draw me in.
have always been one to seek the quick fix, rather than endure emotional duress in any given moment.
in the 12-step rooms, our ritual opening includes sharing a moment of silence in honour of the still suffering alcoholic/addict.
often reflect upon how i was most definitely guided and protected during those lost times wandering in a desert of hopelessness, isolation, alienation and despair, (no doubt i ought to be dead many times over).
choose to believe that it was the grace of those collective prayers being uttered in however many thousands of 12-step rooms at any given moment of any given day.....that saved my sorry butt, again and again and again.
today i am truly grateful for my health, (mental, physical, emotional and spiritual), as 16 months ago, was completely bankrupt in all of these aspects of life.
the stories of what's transpired during that period will unfold here.
i can honestly declare that not one major life-altering circumstance since then has been contrived or scripted on my part.
from the moment of truth, when i became absolutely willing to go to any lengths to save my life, and would reach out for any and all help, guidance and support available, the universe has continued to present opportunities to move forward, in ways i could have never dreamed of.
more to come.....
being a self-admitted electronic dinosaur, had yet to educate self on how to transfer these video entries onto the computer.
so-o-o-o, considering they were intended as personal journal entries, they haven't been saved.
sometimes it occured to me to store them, but also being a self-admitted procrastinator, that had yet to happen.
i could have saved them to cd's....i could have done a lot of things, but it seemed i was satisfied with viewing the entries on the TV monitor....and deleting them as the storage space within the camera became full.
about 6 weeks ago, i happened to be enjoying a canadian football league game being played in my home town, and for some reason the cameraman turned the focus to a close-up of my younger brother in the grandstands, not once but twice.
this seemed remarkable to me, and without conscious intention, found myself thinking of him and other close family members for the next several days.
it so happened i was working on a certain phase of the 12-step process at that time, and reflecting upon unfinished business with family was just where i needed to be.
have come to accept these so-called coincidences as a part of the fabric of daily life experience....and considered this occurence as no accident.
approximately 2 weeks later, awoke to discover an e-mail from a sister i hadn't heard from in several years.
this same brother (2 years younger) was now in hospital having suffered a massive stroke and they weren't sure he would survive.
he has survived and is paralyzed on one side of his body, and now engaged with the process of re-learning how to walk and talk.
of course, i feel all sorts of emotions related to what happened with my brother, as well as his family, but what came of this from my point of view, was motivation....to finally get off the couch and start writing.
that could easily have been me, being 2 years his senior, with common genetic tendencies and a similar history of substance abuse.
suddenly the not-so-fine art of procrastination was lifted from me.
not being a puppy any more, am convinced that one main reason i'm still here is to share experience, strength and hope of the journey to date....as a legacy....with the hopes of making a difference somehow.
often struggle with assessing actual personal motivation(s) for writing, as this process unfolds.
today, for example, it seemed i needed the comfort and safety of video-journalling with the blogger camera, to sort out some frustrating and confusing emotions, before feeling able to sit here and speak honestly, open-mindedly and willingly.
one thing is certain....these entries must not fall prey to ego enhancement or glorification....as i am a sucker for any hint of that motivation....which can so easily draw me in.
have always been one to seek the quick fix, rather than endure emotional duress in any given moment.
in the 12-step rooms, our ritual opening includes sharing a moment of silence in honour of the still suffering alcoholic/addict.
often reflect upon how i was most definitely guided and protected during those lost times wandering in a desert of hopelessness, isolation, alienation and despair, (no doubt i ought to be dead many times over).
choose to believe that it was the grace of those collective prayers being uttered in however many thousands of 12-step rooms at any given moment of any given day.....that saved my sorry butt, again and again and again.
today i am truly grateful for my health, (mental, physical, emotional and spiritual), as 16 months ago, was completely bankrupt in all of these aspects of life.
the stories of what's transpired during that period will unfold here.
i can honestly declare that not one major life-altering circumstance since then has been contrived or scripted on my part.
from the moment of truth, when i became absolutely willing to go to any lengths to save my life, and would reach out for any and all help, guidance and support available, the universe has continued to present opportunities to move forward, in ways i could have never dreamed of.
more to come.....
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
random chapters
was visiting with friend today who has read blogs to date, positive feedback....great !
if these entries are ever bound together in a collection....i think that's called a "book", the title ought to be something like "random chapters" (not necessarily in any order).
chronological sensibility has never been a strength....might have something to do with all that smoke-doping along the way.
the only way this process seems to work is to just spit out whatever appears next on top of the jumbled store of tall-tales, experiences, lessons learned, etc. stuffed down in the ol' gunny-sack !
spoken often of 12-step meetings and the "program" of recovery that seems to work so well for me.
this malady called addiction (as well as the complication of PTSD) manifests with me as a disease of perception....almost always not feeling able to trust my thoughts, beliefs, responses, emotions, wishes and/or ambitions as being TRUE !
one of the central symptoms of my father's version of this sickness was, not being able to be anything but RIGHT !!!....ever, about anything or anyone, at any time !
he seemed to be uncontrollably compelled to attempt to confuse the "enemy"...basically anyone who expressed an opinion other than his !
i've read about this sort of tactic while studying issues regarding war...."confuse the enemy", "keep the enemy guessing", "plant seeds of doubt within the mind of the enemy" etc.
my father was in fact at war with the world he knew....the enemy being everyone....and the battleground was our family home....BEHIND CLOSED DOORS !
only recently, after much persistent hard work, and more than a little "divine" intervention, do i experience moments when there's no compulsive need to triple check my every thought, emotion, belief and response, the early-life conditioning having been so profound and complete.
there's a promise made within the context of our 12-step literature that goes something like this.
if one is painstaking about this phase of their spiritual development, they will intuitively know how to deal with things which used to baffle them !
yup, it's happening for this guy....imagine how freeing this is for someone who was convinced there was no hope for relief from existence in a chronic state of "high alert".
learning how to manage and somewhat tame the beast seemed the best i could possibly hope for in this life.
to be able to trust my thoughts, beliefs, emotions, and responses as true and valid just as they're experienced, in real time....this is truly a miracle for me.
just like the desert dweller, no need to explain what life-giving water tastes like.
the 12-step rooms have proven to be an oasis....i am truly grateful.
if these entries are ever bound together in a collection....i think that's called a "book", the title ought to be something like "random chapters" (not necessarily in any order).
chronological sensibility has never been a strength....might have something to do with all that smoke-doping along the way.
the only way this process seems to work is to just spit out whatever appears next on top of the jumbled store of tall-tales, experiences, lessons learned, etc. stuffed down in the ol' gunny-sack !
spoken often of 12-step meetings and the "program" of recovery that seems to work so well for me.
this malady called addiction (as well as the complication of PTSD) manifests with me as a disease of perception....almost always not feeling able to trust my thoughts, beliefs, responses, emotions, wishes and/or ambitions as being TRUE !
one of the central symptoms of my father's version of this sickness was, not being able to be anything but RIGHT !!!....ever, about anything or anyone, at any time !
he seemed to be uncontrollably compelled to attempt to confuse the "enemy"...basically anyone who expressed an opinion other than his !
i've read about this sort of tactic while studying issues regarding war...."confuse the enemy", "keep the enemy guessing", "plant seeds of doubt within the mind of the enemy" etc.
my father was in fact at war with the world he knew....the enemy being everyone....and the battleground was our family home....BEHIND CLOSED DOORS !
only recently, after much persistent hard work, and more than a little "divine" intervention, do i experience moments when there's no compulsive need to triple check my every thought, emotion, belief and response, the early-life conditioning having been so profound and complete.
there's a promise made within the context of our 12-step literature that goes something like this.
if one is painstaking about this phase of their spiritual development, they will intuitively know how to deal with things which used to baffle them !
yup, it's happening for this guy....imagine how freeing this is for someone who was convinced there was no hope for relief from existence in a chronic state of "high alert".
learning how to manage and somewhat tame the beast seemed the best i could possibly hope for in this life.
to be able to trust my thoughts, beliefs, emotions, and responses as true and valid just as they're experienced, in real time....this is truly a miracle for me.
just like the desert dweller, no need to explain what life-giving water tastes like.
the 12-step rooms have proven to be an oasis....i am truly grateful.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
the unusual guide
attended local noon 12-step meeting....subject of "guides" came up....reminded of india experience concerning an "unusual" guide.
late autumn of 97 learned that my "former" guru was travelling to india with his family.
contacted his son, whom i had come to know, asking if there was room for me on the expedition.
the answer was affirmative....it was agreed we would meet in baroda, gujurat state, on a certain date, as they were flying out of new york and i was departing from vancouver.
of course, i became very excited, as this would be the realization of a life long dream....to visit and tour india.
on the evening before departure, returned home to a voicemail, it was the voice of the old boy himself, "sorry kavi, we are postponing our trip for one month !"
gulp !...much of my feeling of excitement and confidence was related to the belief that upon arrival, i would immediately be in the safe secure company of these natives of india.
now what ?
had no cancellation insurance, so-o-o-o....off i flew....into the great unknown, not knowing a soul in india, armed only with a few contact names provided by the guru's son.
even at 50 years of age, i was quite apprehensive about the prospect of being alone in this immense fabled land, knowing it would be at least a month before connecting with a person that i recognized.
back in the early 90's while residing at the american ashram, learned about the city known as rishikesh (city of rishis or sages), as our centre had for some time been dispatching volunteers to a local ashram to work on creating a spiritual community there.
all reports were that this was truly a magical place, along the sacred ganges river, which at that point is approximately 1/8 mile wide, crystal clear water still charging down from the high himalayas towards haridwar, the next city downriver, where holy mother ganga met the flat-lands and proceeded eastward across the sub-continent eventually to the sea.
so-o-o-o....back to the maiden indian adventure of yours truly.
one of the main contact names i carried was of the head swami at the afore-mentioned ashram in rishikesh.
whatever connections to the american ashram that might have been, had dissipated since the "scandal" of '94.
after a few days of checking out new delhi, decided to head to rishikesh to hang out there til the guru and his entourage arrived sometime the next month.
hopped on an over-nighter indian bus (can say i've done it, but once is enough)....and after about 6 and 1/2 hours of bump, grind and rattle, awoke from an uneasy doze to the driver advising we had reached rishikesh.
now what ?
the unusual guide of which i've spoken was soon to appear.
late autumn of 97 learned that my "former" guru was travelling to india with his family.
contacted his son, whom i had come to know, asking if there was room for me on the expedition.
the answer was affirmative....it was agreed we would meet in baroda, gujurat state, on a certain date, as they were flying out of new york and i was departing from vancouver.
of course, i became very excited, as this would be the realization of a life long dream....to visit and tour india.
on the evening before departure, returned home to a voicemail, it was the voice of the old boy himself, "sorry kavi, we are postponing our trip for one month !"
gulp !...much of my feeling of excitement and confidence was related to the belief that upon arrival, i would immediately be in the safe secure company of these natives of india.
now what ?
had no cancellation insurance, so-o-o-o....off i flew....into the great unknown, not knowing a soul in india, armed only with a few contact names provided by the guru's son.
even at 50 years of age, i was quite apprehensive about the prospect of being alone in this immense fabled land, knowing it would be at least a month before connecting with a person that i recognized.
back in the early 90's while residing at the american ashram, learned about the city known as rishikesh (city of rishis or sages), as our centre had for some time been dispatching volunteers to a local ashram to work on creating a spiritual community there.
all reports were that this was truly a magical place, along the sacred ganges river, which at that point is approximately 1/8 mile wide, crystal clear water still charging down from the high himalayas towards haridwar, the next city downriver, where holy mother ganga met the flat-lands and proceeded eastward across the sub-continent eventually to the sea.
so-o-o-o....back to the maiden indian adventure of yours truly.
one of the main contact names i carried was of the head swami at the afore-mentioned ashram in rishikesh.
whatever connections to the american ashram that might have been, had dissipated since the "scandal" of '94.
after a few days of checking out new delhi, decided to head to rishikesh to hang out there til the guru and his entourage arrived sometime the next month.
hopped on an over-nighter indian bus (can say i've done it, but once is enough)....and after about 6 and 1/2 hours of bump, grind and rattle, awoke from an uneasy doze to the driver advising we had reached rishikesh.
now what ?
the unusual guide of which i've spoken was soon to appear.
Monday, September 19, 2011
divine intervention
saw shrink today....was asked....when was the moment exactly of the turnaround from despair to hope ?
good question...was actually paying very close attention at that precise moment.
had returned from a 8,000 mile road-trip spring of 2010....to the exact location i had determined would never return to. ( a beautiful island in the strait between vancouver island and the lower mainland of BC.)
life, fate, the mysterious forces that be, directed me back.
during this expedition, was actually hours from the mexican border, heading to belize in my trusty camper van.
a friend with property there had extended an open invitation to come and stay indefinitely....seemed like a very good idea to me.
was about 20 miles east of baton rouge, louisiana....suddenly began experiencing acute abdominal pain.
had already picked up a hitch-hiker, who just happened to be in possession of a working cell-phone.
within less than an hour, i was unable to drive, hunched over in agony, and the pain was getting worse, fast !
fortunately this fellow was able to call 911 for an ambulance, and within another hour i was being prepared for emergency surgery to attend to a ruptured abdominal hernia.
had this been a day later, would have been in mexico....can't begin to imagine that scenario.
thank the lucky stars the baton rouge hospital chose to honour my canadian health card....as i carried no travel medical insurance.
the doctor was emphatic....had i arrived an hour later, i likely would have died, as the internal infection was spreading fast.
my hitch-hiker friend had kindly stayed with the van until my return....surely an angel in disguise.
upon release from hospital it was obvious that belize was no longer in the cards.
after dropping off my saviour friend, only one choice, head due north, to my home province of ontario, as obviously, i would be in need of follow-up medical care a.s.a.p.
from that point on it became clear, the most practical place to be eventually, was in fact the place i had called home in BC, that very place i'd left weeks before.....never to return.
after receiving medical clearance , had determined for yet another time, that life in ontario was not for me, off i headed back to the west coast of canada.
after all was said and done, had covered approximately 8,000 miles in 6 weeks or so, only to arrive exactly where i had begun.
again....the best laid plans of mice and men.
back to the crucial moment, the moment of truth !
unfortunately/fortunately that "ME" i had been attempting to escape from, chose to come along for the ride....and when i was finally brought to a screeching halt....darnedest thing...there i was waiting for me.
and the emotional/psychic pain was soon agonizing in intensity.
there seemed to be no solution, i felt unable to stay in one place, and now was medically unable to continue travelling.
it seemed that as long as i had stayed a mile or two ahead of the ghosts and demons nipping at my heels, the pain would subside....as long as i kept moving.
now what ?
i couldn't stay on the island....everywhere i turned proved to be another intense emotional trigger....and like so many other places at so many other times....i now knew where to find my long-time sweetheart....mary-jane.
that was my typical m.o....once i found myself unable to stop pot use, i would pack up and leave for somewhere i didn't know....often fleeing to the usa, knowing i wouldn't dare risk smoking weed for fear of getting caught.
no-one has to explain that i'm a classic alcoholic/addict....for as long as i could remember, i could never stop at the first or second drink and/or toke.....more was always better.
relapses lasted for weeks or months....once i'd re-adapted to the pothead lifestyle.
too much always ended up being not enough !
i stole myself away from thee...and me....for love of sweet mary-jane !
at this point in life (15 months ago), the inevitable had occurred for this pothead....the weed had stopped working...it had become like a poison to my system.
i couldn't smoke marijuana any more....and the emotional agony of sobriety seemed unending and unbearable.
now what ?
suicide seemed the only realistic option to end the pain, anxiety and confusion.
i had planned it out, taken along the rope, and drove out into the nearby wilderness....to a remote area i knew of....wishing only for merciful death.
of course at that moment of truth the action was not so easy to follow through on, so i prayed and prayed, cried and cried, wailed and wailed....certain that the god i used to believe was there....was too busy for me at that time.
i prayed anyway....that my god would eventually hear these cries and help me.
it must have worked, as before long i experienced a sense of relief and intuitively knew that my god was available to me again.
i became aware of the fact that it wasn't life i wished to end, it was the pain !
history took over...i was led to the alcohol and drug services of the town i now live in.
within 15 months, through the grace and mercy of the god of my understanding, i am no longer homeless, am able to actually enjoy my small 1 bedroom flat, and have a supportive network of friends and allies locally.
i've begun to feel stable and strong enough to reach out to friends and family i had long ago abandoned.
i must honour myself....because at that moment of truth, i intuitively understood that there was help available, and my job now was to seek it out.
i was now willing, if not completely able, to do whatever it would take to save my own life.
there's been lots of suffering since, lots of confusion, learning how to face down those ghosts and demons, nine months in a government sponsored safe house with 24/7 counselors available to help me through the toughest of times.
there came a time some 6 months ago, when the powers that be at this facility suggested i venture out into the world again....it was decided i was ready to be "gently nudged" out of the safety of the nest.
and here i sit....independent in my own flat....feeling secure within myself finally.
it's easy to be grateful....i know i've cheated death over and over...this is definitely borrowed time.
to the best of my ability daily, i continue to move forward....by the grace of my higher power....and the love and support of many recovering alcoholics and addicts who continue to guide the way for me and others like me.
good question...was actually paying very close attention at that precise moment.
had returned from a 8,000 mile road-trip spring of 2010....to the exact location i had determined would never return to. ( a beautiful island in the strait between vancouver island and the lower mainland of BC.)
life, fate, the mysterious forces that be, directed me back.
during this expedition, was actually hours from the mexican border, heading to belize in my trusty camper van.
a friend with property there had extended an open invitation to come and stay indefinitely....seemed like a very good idea to me.
was about 20 miles east of baton rouge, louisiana....suddenly began experiencing acute abdominal pain.
had already picked up a hitch-hiker, who just happened to be in possession of a working cell-phone.
within less than an hour, i was unable to drive, hunched over in agony, and the pain was getting worse, fast !
fortunately this fellow was able to call 911 for an ambulance, and within another hour i was being prepared for emergency surgery to attend to a ruptured abdominal hernia.
had this been a day later, would have been in mexico....can't begin to imagine that scenario.
thank the lucky stars the baton rouge hospital chose to honour my canadian health card....as i carried no travel medical insurance.
the doctor was emphatic....had i arrived an hour later, i likely would have died, as the internal infection was spreading fast.
my hitch-hiker friend had kindly stayed with the van until my return....surely an angel in disguise.
upon release from hospital it was obvious that belize was no longer in the cards.
after dropping off my saviour friend, only one choice, head due north, to my home province of ontario, as obviously, i would be in need of follow-up medical care a.s.a.p.
from that point on it became clear, the most practical place to be eventually, was in fact the place i had called home in BC, that very place i'd left weeks before.....never to return.
after receiving medical clearance , had determined for yet another time, that life in ontario was not for me, off i headed back to the west coast of canada.
after all was said and done, had covered approximately 8,000 miles in 6 weeks or so, only to arrive exactly where i had begun.
again....the best laid plans of mice and men.
back to the crucial moment, the moment of truth !
unfortunately/fortunately that "ME" i had been attempting to escape from, chose to come along for the ride....and when i was finally brought to a screeching halt....darnedest thing...there i was waiting for me.
and the emotional/psychic pain was soon agonizing in intensity.
there seemed to be no solution, i felt unable to stay in one place, and now was medically unable to continue travelling.
it seemed that as long as i had stayed a mile or two ahead of the ghosts and demons nipping at my heels, the pain would subside....as long as i kept moving.
now what ?
i couldn't stay on the island....everywhere i turned proved to be another intense emotional trigger....and like so many other places at so many other times....i now knew where to find my long-time sweetheart....mary-jane.
that was my typical m.o....once i found myself unable to stop pot use, i would pack up and leave for somewhere i didn't know....often fleeing to the usa, knowing i wouldn't dare risk smoking weed for fear of getting caught.
no-one has to explain that i'm a classic alcoholic/addict....for as long as i could remember, i could never stop at the first or second drink and/or toke.....more was always better.
relapses lasted for weeks or months....once i'd re-adapted to the pothead lifestyle.
too much always ended up being not enough !
i stole myself away from thee...and me....for love of sweet mary-jane !
at this point in life (15 months ago), the inevitable had occurred for this pothead....the weed had stopped working...it had become like a poison to my system.
i couldn't smoke marijuana any more....and the emotional agony of sobriety seemed unending and unbearable.
now what ?
suicide seemed the only realistic option to end the pain, anxiety and confusion.
i had planned it out, taken along the rope, and drove out into the nearby wilderness....to a remote area i knew of....wishing only for merciful death.
of course at that moment of truth the action was not so easy to follow through on, so i prayed and prayed, cried and cried, wailed and wailed....certain that the god i used to believe was there....was too busy for me at that time.
i prayed anyway....that my god would eventually hear these cries and help me.
it must have worked, as before long i experienced a sense of relief and intuitively knew that my god was available to me again.
i became aware of the fact that it wasn't life i wished to end, it was the pain !
history took over...i was led to the alcohol and drug services of the town i now live in.
within 15 months, through the grace and mercy of the god of my understanding, i am no longer homeless, am able to actually enjoy my small 1 bedroom flat, and have a supportive network of friends and allies locally.
i've begun to feel stable and strong enough to reach out to friends and family i had long ago abandoned.
i must honour myself....because at that moment of truth, i intuitively understood that there was help available, and my job now was to seek it out.
i was now willing, if not completely able, to do whatever it would take to save my own life.
there's been lots of suffering since, lots of confusion, learning how to face down those ghosts and demons, nine months in a government sponsored safe house with 24/7 counselors available to help me through the toughest of times.
there came a time some 6 months ago, when the powers that be at this facility suggested i venture out into the world again....it was decided i was ready to be "gently nudged" out of the safety of the nest.
and here i sit....independent in my own flat....feeling secure within myself finally.
it's easy to be grateful....i know i've cheated death over and over...this is definitely borrowed time.
to the best of my ability daily, i continue to move forward....by the grace of my higher power....and the love and support of many recovering alcoholics and addicts who continue to guide the way for me and others like me.
ashram life cont'd
more about ashram life.
have had to consider the wisdom of awakening so many sleeping dogs.
even keeping names and places out of it, those who were there would likely already know who and what i speak of.
after all, how many ashram's in north america with over 300 staff people are there ?
since signing up for facebook, have discovered a whole network of former volunteers available to connect with.
call me mr cliche....beginning to reflect and speak about that era has certainly opened up a "can of worms" of confused convoluted feelings.
that was about a 7 year stretch of intense emotional investment in what i now believe to have been a "cult".
have spoken briefly about the guru's fall from grace, amid allegations of sexual misconduct and financial skullduggery.
am not qualified to speak to those issues....but i was there when the proverbial doodoo hit the fan.
as a lowly serf in the hierarchy, i was one of the last to learn about the scandal that rocked our known world then.
was devastated to learn one morning in late autumn of '94, that my beloved guru had been "fired" and would be departing the premises ( the house that he built ) within 3 or 4 days....forever !
i was gazing out of our dining hall window as the guru's motorcade left the grounds for the last time.
there were angry residents running along behind, cursing and hurling objects at the vehicles.
later that evening there was a large bonfire on the property....burning any reminder that he had ever been there.
this was the place i had hoped to call home for this lifetime, having taken sacred vows and been quite intent on fulfilling my end of the bargain.
talk about the best laid plans of mice and men.
within 8 weeks i had had enough, life there had become intolerable and no longer resembled anything i wished to commit to.
it seemed as if the heart had been ripped out of the beast....my beloved guru was gone to parts unknown, seemingly forever, through no wilful choice of mine.
before long found myself on a bus headed west to vancouver, canada.
now what ?
the unknown seemed preferable to the confusion, anxiety, and undercurrent of rage that permeated the ashram community after the guru's demise.
i had experienced heartbreak before, but nothing like this, still believe that much of an abiding deep personal sense of grief and fury is related to those times and that particular set of circumstances.
have often wished to write about those days as seen through these eyes.
in 2005, experienced painful break-up from woman i was convinced i loved endlessly.
would have done anything to keep that relationship together.
in retrospect, so glad we're not together now, the dysfunction would only have gotten worse.
same with the guru experience....comfortable now with awareness that there was never really the same commitment on his part....towards me.
live and learn !
have had to consider the wisdom of awakening so many sleeping dogs.
even keeping names and places out of it, those who were there would likely already know who and what i speak of.
after all, how many ashram's in north america with over 300 staff people are there ?
since signing up for facebook, have discovered a whole network of former volunteers available to connect with.
call me mr cliche....beginning to reflect and speak about that era has certainly opened up a "can of worms" of confused convoluted feelings.
that was about a 7 year stretch of intense emotional investment in what i now believe to have been a "cult".
have spoken briefly about the guru's fall from grace, amid allegations of sexual misconduct and financial skullduggery.
am not qualified to speak to those issues....but i was there when the proverbial doodoo hit the fan.
as a lowly serf in the hierarchy, i was one of the last to learn about the scandal that rocked our known world then.
was devastated to learn one morning in late autumn of '94, that my beloved guru had been "fired" and would be departing the premises ( the house that he built ) within 3 or 4 days....forever !
i was gazing out of our dining hall window as the guru's motorcade left the grounds for the last time.
there were angry residents running along behind, cursing and hurling objects at the vehicles.
later that evening there was a large bonfire on the property....burning any reminder that he had ever been there.
this was the place i had hoped to call home for this lifetime, having taken sacred vows and been quite intent on fulfilling my end of the bargain.
talk about the best laid plans of mice and men.
within 8 weeks i had had enough, life there had become intolerable and no longer resembled anything i wished to commit to.
it seemed as if the heart had been ripped out of the beast....my beloved guru was gone to parts unknown, seemingly forever, through no wilful choice of mine.
before long found myself on a bus headed west to vancouver, canada.
now what ?
the unknown seemed preferable to the confusion, anxiety, and undercurrent of rage that permeated the ashram community after the guru's demise.
i had experienced heartbreak before, but nothing like this, still believe that much of an abiding deep personal sense of grief and fury is related to those times and that particular set of circumstances.
have often wished to write about those days as seen through these eyes.
in 2005, experienced painful break-up from woman i was convinced i loved endlessly.
would have done anything to keep that relationship together.
in retrospect, so glad we're not together now, the dysfunction would only have gotten worse.
same with the guru experience....comfortable now with awareness that there was never really the same commitment on his part....towards me.
live and learn !
Sunday, September 18, 2011
what's REALLY going on ?
staring at a blank page and nothing is coming....perhaps i'm not the legend in my own mind i thought i was.
why not talk about what's REALLY going on around here ?
by here i mean this apartment....it's the first dumpster i've lived in not on wheels....for years actually.
i keep praying for the volunteer maid to show up and save me from myself.
keep praying is my motto.
it's not so bad....had my nose adjusted in a scrape some time ago....don't smell so good....so consequently don't smell so good !
neither does my place !
grateful for virtually airtight residence....but man, does it ever hit me when i first open the door.
reminds me of the first time the air-seal was broken in the airplane upon landing in new delhi....the diesel fumes were like a hot stanky brick wall.
amazing how quickly human animals adapt....before one knows it, it all seems normal.
the neighbours haven't sent out a petition yet....been six months now.
speaking of neighbours, the tenant next to me is an elderly woman with selective hearing....i heard through the super that she was wondering if i was just let out of an institution....some of the strange noises resounding from my flat.
eventually explained to her i was a screenwriter and sometimes had to really get into the roles on the blogger camera.
of course this was my therapy modality of the time.
needless to say working through several layers of ancient fury, rage, and other assorted flavours of pissed-offness.
she looked at me with what seemed a deep abiding understanding....yup, this guy is indeed nuts...but not dangerous crazy.
now that i'm engaged with this blogging shite, i'm as quiet as a "normal" person again.
why not talk about what's REALLY going on around here ?
by here i mean this apartment....it's the first dumpster i've lived in not on wheels....for years actually.
i keep praying for the volunteer maid to show up and save me from myself.
keep praying is my motto.
it's not so bad....had my nose adjusted in a scrape some time ago....don't smell so good....so consequently don't smell so good !
neither does my place !
grateful for virtually airtight residence....but man, does it ever hit me when i first open the door.
reminds me of the first time the air-seal was broken in the airplane upon landing in new delhi....the diesel fumes were like a hot stanky brick wall.
amazing how quickly human animals adapt....before one knows it, it all seems normal.
the neighbours haven't sent out a petition yet....been six months now.
speaking of neighbours, the tenant next to me is an elderly woman with selective hearing....i heard through the super that she was wondering if i was just let out of an institution....some of the strange noises resounding from my flat.
eventually explained to her i was a screenwriter and sometimes had to really get into the roles on the blogger camera.
of course this was my therapy modality of the time.
needless to say working through several layers of ancient fury, rage, and other assorted flavours of pissed-offness.
she looked at me with what seemed a deep abiding understanding....yup, this guy is indeed nuts...but not dangerous crazy.
now that i'm engaged with this blogging shite, i'm as quiet as a "normal" person again.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
ashram life
life at the ashram....before, during and after the guru's fall from grace....through the eyes of wil kavi.
wasn't in the habit of daily journalling in those days, seems so much yet to (acknowledge, comprehend, articulate and express).....translate = process !
arrived in spring of 88, knowing only i was quite ill, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
had discovered ashram's promotional mag some time previous, and was attracted by the "spiritual lifestyle training" program.
a work exchange proposition, 40 hours of "karma yoga" (volunteer work), access to the "spa" facilities while off-duty, room and board with very high quality vegetarian quisine, some 300 volunteer staff people from all over the map, and a supervised program providing expert instruction in yoga, meditation, and how to live that spiritual lifestyle.
one central attraction was....there was virtually no fee to engage in the program.
as per usual for this guy, at that time was scratching and scraping to get by.
also craved a structured disciplined lifestyle with plenty of physical and spiritual focus.
on all fronts, life at the ashram was a drastic upgrade in lifestyle....began experiencing dramatic improvements quite soon.
the guru happened to be away travelling during my first weeks there, and when he returned i began to feel curious about who is this guru dude and what's he about ?
in other words, he had definitely not been the attraction for me to be there, as he seemed to be for most others.
wasn't in the habit of daily journalling in those days, seems so much yet to (acknowledge, comprehend, articulate and express).....translate = process !
arrived in spring of 88, knowing only i was quite ill, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
had discovered ashram's promotional mag some time previous, and was attracted by the "spiritual lifestyle training" program.
a work exchange proposition, 40 hours of "karma yoga" (volunteer work), access to the "spa" facilities while off-duty, room and board with very high quality vegetarian quisine, some 300 volunteer staff people from all over the map, and a supervised program providing expert instruction in yoga, meditation, and how to live that spiritual lifestyle.
one central attraction was....there was virtually no fee to engage in the program.
as per usual for this guy, at that time was scratching and scraping to get by.
also craved a structured disciplined lifestyle with plenty of physical and spiritual focus.
on all fronts, life at the ashram was a drastic upgrade in lifestyle....began experiencing dramatic improvements quite soon.
the guru happened to be away travelling during my first weeks there, and when he returned i began to feel curious about who is this guru dude and what's he about ?
in other words, he had definitely not been the attraction for me to be there, as he seemed to be for most others.
Friday, September 16, 2011
why then speak ?
fascinating process this....understanding that whatever i may hold to be true in this moment will certainly change.
knowing this fact presents the challenge....why then speak ?
something like the blank canvas for the visual artist....one stroke or swash at a time reveals the eventual whole....or for the one who sculpts....one whittle or chip at a time.
"kavi"...this name was bestowed upon me by more former yoga master, in 1990 at a solemn sacred ceremony described as "initiation".....a ritual of surrender and devotion.
this signified a commitment to a life of poverty, chastity and selfless service....much like monks and nuns of our most faiths.
in those days i wished only just to be my master's faithful loving servant.....for life !
"kavi" means...."poet"....i was soon to discover it's translation from india's mother language, sanskrit.
hmmmmm.....in those times that was the last thing i would have called myself.
some twenty years later, here i sit searching for the next "most appropriate" word to express....????....who knows what.
while living at the ashram i encountered a world-renowned east indian vedic astrologer.
when he learned of my sanskrit name....he declared through his translator...."aahhhh....kavi....one who goes where even the sun cannot go !"
while considering personal motives for embarking upon this project (book)....it's most likely number #1....revealing lessons learned and challenges met while lost and wandering in those dark and lonely places where even the sun could not reach.
i have been to hell....and back....and back....and back again.
what have i learned ? that's where the fallen angels dwell !
by my higher power's grace and mercy the gates of hell were opened to let me out....so far the gates of heaven remain closed to allow me in.
i must be working at earning back my wings.
p.s.....later that day....
since writing this entry, i left for my usual daily AA meeting, having committed to the chairperson role this day.
after the session, while counting the customary donations, i was to discover an unusual coin, on it was the inscription "when you come to the edge of all you know, you must believe in one of two things, there will be earth upon which to stand or, you will be given wings !"
only a few hours after penning the line about earning back my wings.
a little synchronistic message from on high...
sometimes my higher power speaks to me in this way....often actually.
i must be doing something right !
knowing this fact presents the challenge....why then speak ?
something like the blank canvas for the visual artist....one stroke or swash at a time reveals the eventual whole....or for the one who sculpts....one whittle or chip at a time.
"kavi"...this name was bestowed upon me by more former yoga master, in 1990 at a solemn sacred ceremony described as "initiation".....a ritual of surrender and devotion.
this signified a commitment to a life of poverty, chastity and selfless service....much like monks and nuns of our most faiths.
in those days i wished only just to be my master's faithful loving servant.....for life !
"kavi" means...."poet"....i was soon to discover it's translation from india's mother language, sanskrit.
hmmmmm.....in those times that was the last thing i would have called myself.
some twenty years later, here i sit searching for the next "most appropriate" word to express....????....who knows what.
while living at the ashram i encountered a world-renowned east indian vedic astrologer.
when he learned of my sanskrit name....he declared through his translator...."aahhhh....kavi....one who goes where even the sun cannot go !"
while considering personal motives for embarking upon this project (book)....it's most likely number #1....revealing lessons learned and challenges met while lost and wandering in those dark and lonely places where even the sun could not reach.
i have been to hell....and back....and back....and back again.
what have i learned ? that's where the fallen angels dwell !
by my higher power's grace and mercy the gates of hell were opened to let me out....so far the gates of heaven remain closed to allow me in.
i must be working at earning back my wings.
p.s.....later that day....
since writing this entry, i left for my usual daily AA meeting, having committed to the chairperson role this day.
after the session, while counting the customary donations, i was to discover an unusual coin, on it was the inscription "when you come to the edge of all you know, you must believe in one of two things, there will be earth upon which to stand or, you will be given wings !"
only a few hours after penning the line about earning back my wings.
a little synchronistic message from on high...
sometimes my higher power speaks to me in this way....often actually.
i must be doing something right !
first contact
today i received first human response to these entries.
exciting, i am smiling and chuckling as i speak (write).
several attempts at re-locating to my home-town area where loved ones reside just didn't work.
i finally decided to live where this soul feels most at home....the west coast of canada....actually my second most favorite place....first being rishikesh, a hindu holy city along the ganges river in the himalayan foothills of india.
i have often felt frustration at the geographical reality of canada....those loved ones are and have been 3,000 miles away....and the "outa sight - outa mind" phenomenon has played out.
short visits were not possible, and personal finances prohibited visits at all.
this is my way of reaching out across the miles (kilometers) to share the "reality" of daily life on this end.
i am also hoping to inspire open-minded/hearted communication and exchange.
i never actually fell off the map....just been wandering much of the time in uncharted territory....at least unfamiliar terrain to most humans who have chosen a "conventional" set-up.
early in life i realized this would not be my fate.
karma, destiny, whatever it's called led me into the unknown, like it or not.
had i known what was in store perhaps i might have stayed put.
am reminded of old song...."fools rush in where angels fear to tread !"
this fool was definely no exception !
exciting, i am smiling and chuckling as i speak (write).
several attempts at re-locating to my home-town area where loved ones reside just didn't work.
i finally decided to live where this soul feels most at home....the west coast of canada....actually my second most favorite place....first being rishikesh, a hindu holy city along the ganges river in the himalayan foothills of india.
i have often felt frustration at the geographical reality of canada....those loved ones are and have been 3,000 miles away....and the "outa sight - outa mind" phenomenon has played out.
short visits were not possible, and personal finances prohibited visits at all.
this is my way of reaching out across the miles (kilometers) to share the "reality" of daily life on this end.
i am also hoping to inspire open-minded/hearted communication and exchange.
i never actually fell off the map....just been wandering much of the time in uncharted territory....at least unfamiliar terrain to most humans who have chosen a "conventional" set-up.
early in life i realized this would not be my fate.
karma, destiny, whatever it's called led me into the unknown, like it or not.
had i known what was in store perhaps i might have stayed put.
am reminded of old song...."fools rush in where angels fear to tread !"
this fool was definely no exception !
early blogging days
early days for blogging....seems to be working tho....the "book" is actually getting written....one random chapter at a time.
beats the hell out of the chronic procrastination of the last ( who knows how long ? ).
often heard "why don't you write that shit down?"....while spinning some tall-tale or other, hanging out in the pot-bars of vancouver's downtown east-side.
mary-jane seemed to awaken the story-teller within....and creative juices would flow freely for a spell.
another word-picture of the one within who wishes to be heard.
my name is kavi the dark and plump,
and i live under the bridge,
i rarely come out in the daylight hours,
as i'm likely to frighten the kids.
i'm scruffy and rumpled,
i don't smell so good,
and my teeth are a hideous green.
i live in the shadows
and know all the tricks
i'm not really nasty or mean.
wow....just became aware that a younger relative is reading one or more of the blogs.
not easy sitting with the subtle fears of disapproval, disagreement, judgement and condemnation.
life has been for me...."one MUST always be appropriate when one speaks !!!!....or else !"
for me the only way to face these fears is to walk straight into the apparent darkness.
15 months ago, i was a walking dead man....convinced there were no caring ears to listen....wishing only for merciful death to end the agony.
by grace and good fortune, i'm still here....what now ?
my higher power guides me....i must speak !....not for you or you or you....but to free my aching soul.
your response is what it is....i cannot risk colouring this shite to accomodate sensitive eyes or minds.
that would be like admitting they were right....the emperor was clothed....and i was wrong and bad and out of line.
again !
beats the hell out of the chronic procrastination of the last ( who knows how long ? ).
often heard "why don't you write that shit down?"....while spinning some tall-tale or other, hanging out in the pot-bars of vancouver's downtown east-side.
mary-jane seemed to awaken the story-teller within....and creative juices would flow freely for a spell.
another word-picture of the one within who wishes to be heard.
my name is kavi the dark and plump,
and i live under the bridge,
i rarely come out in the daylight hours,
as i'm likely to frighten the kids.
i'm scruffy and rumpled,
i don't smell so good,
and my teeth are a hideous green.
i live in the shadows
and know all the tricks
i'm not really nasty or mean.
wow....just became aware that a younger relative is reading one or more of the blogs.
not easy sitting with the subtle fears of disapproval, disagreement, judgement and condemnation.
life has been for me...."one MUST always be appropriate when one speaks !!!!....or else !"
for me the only way to face these fears is to walk straight into the apparent darkness.
15 months ago, i was a walking dead man....convinced there were no caring ears to listen....wishing only for merciful death to end the agony.
by grace and good fortune, i'm still here....what now ?
my higher power guides me....i must speak !....not for you or you or you....but to free my aching soul.
your response is what it is....i cannot risk colouring this shite to accomodate sensitive eyes or minds.
that would be like admitting they were right....the emperor was clothed....and i was wrong and bad and out of line.
again !
narcissistic...5 time really fast
i must be really narcissistic (say that 5 times really fast)....this is like living in a world of word-mirrors.
who needs the rest of you all ? you'll be sorry !
nothing personal !
o well, maybe i have to die before the true genius is appreciated.
i have certainly turned off those who were foolish enough to respond when i first signed up for facebook.
holey crap, who needs to listen to some old geezer ranting on about what he believe's to be true ?
at least not in real time, for pete's sake....jeez, what's the matter with me ?
old saying...."beware the honest person, they're likely to tell you something you do NOT wish to hear !"
i will be downtown in the park at 2:30 this afternoon signing autographs and hockey-sticks for the pigeons and squirrels.
don't miss it !
now that i'm on these new meds, i'm less likely to wander the streets in my jammies drooling oatmeal and raiding people's trash-bins for collectible edible delights and such.
who needs the rest of you all ? you'll be sorry !
nothing personal !
o well, maybe i have to die before the true genius is appreciated.
i have certainly turned off those who were foolish enough to respond when i first signed up for facebook.
holey crap, who needs to listen to some old geezer ranting on about what he believe's to be true ?
at least not in real time, for pete's sake....jeez, what's the matter with me ?
old saying...."beware the honest person, they're likely to tell you something you do NOT wish to hear !"
i will be downtown in the park at 2:30 this afternoon signing autographs and hockey-sticks for the pigeons and squirrels.
don't miss it !
now that i'm on these new meds, i'm less likely to wander the streets in my jammies drooling oatmeal and raiding people's trash-bins for collectible edible delights and such.
the emperor is naked !
often thought of myself as like that little boy in the children's tale "the emperor who wore no clothes".
"hey, mom....the emperor's naked !"
"no he isn't ! sshhhhh ! someone will here you !"
"but....but....but...."
"quiet, don't let me hear you uttering such blasphemy again (especially in public) or there'll be serious consequences, young man.....just wait til your father comes home !"
and so on and so and so on....
i didn't write that story....it's a common children's fable.
i was always profoundly curious why the adults seemed so quick to agree that in fact, the emperor was clothed in extremely rare and precious exotic invisible silk which had taken months of arduous travel to arrive all the way from china.
i still am confounded til this day....seeing examples all around me, all the time !
sometimes it seems the only respite is to hide away in this hermit's cave,
and the only emperor who wears no clothes is me....at least there's no mystery or charade.
"hey, mom....the emperor's naked !"
"no he isn't ! sshhhhh ! someone will here you !"
"but....but....but...."
"quiet, don't let me hear you uttering such blasphemy again (especially in public) or there'll be serious consequences, young man.....just wait til your father comes home !"
and so on and so and so on....
i didn't write that story....it's a common children's fable.
i was always profoundly curious why the adults seemed so quick to agree that in fact, the emperor was clothed in extremely rare and precious exotic invisible silk which had taken months of arduous travel to arrive all the way from china.
i still am confounded til this day....seeing examples all around me, all the time !
sometimes it seems the only respite is to hide away in this hermit's cave,
and the only emperor who wears no clothes is me....at least there's no mystery or charade.
PTSD #1
been re-reading posts....noticing tendency to "perform" or "impress"....obviously choosing words differently from recent private journal entries.
natural thing i guess....
i now wish to speak freely....forgetting about potential audience....and let er rip....from the hip.
subject to challenging mysterious emotional relapses....what i mean is....often, ( but less frequent than earlier days ), triggered into confusing convoluted jumble of intense disturbing emotions.
i most often observe this occuring in group settings.
some years ago i latched onto phrase "i'm allergic to dysfunction !"
many years of attempting to understand or "crack the code" of these mysterious internal implosions have led to a few conclusions.
these can be described as PTSD episodes (Post-Trauma-Stress-Disorder).
approximately 90% of emotional intensity has been directly related to past experience(s).
approximately 10% of emotional intensity was directly related to real-time circumstantial facts.
PTSD and it's frustrating, confusing and deeply disturbing symptoms have been this dude's "cross-to-bear" throughout life.
many times i came to decide that life with this seemingly incurable emotional/perceptual disorder was not worth living....truly believing i was "terminally unique" and hopelessly incurable.
having shared some of this despair with others with similar experience (12-step meetings), i came to the first crucial awareness that would provide hope....I WAS NOT ALONE !
til this day, i feel it's impossible to attempt to relate the truth of my life's experience with the only living survivors ( 7 siblings ) of what precipitated the suffering....life in the homes of my family of origin....before i felt strong and brave enough to escape.
i believe that it's highly unlikely any of them would choose to read these posts.
there never has seemed to be an honest opening to share the horrific truth of how i've been affected by what happened.
we were all there....8 kids born within 13 years...quite close in age.
they all seem to have known how to put the atrocities, torture and abuse behind them, and create successful lives and families.
not this guy !
it seemed as if i was born not knowing that one special secret....HOW to put the horror and terror behind me.
all i could manage was to bury it, to move about the world avoiding, denying, running from, minimizing the truth of that endless suffering.
after discovering booze, at least i had a dependable medication to make the world seem right for a while.
it wasn't long before determining the appropriate dosing required....and life became one-pointed....make sure i had the meds i "needed" to function....and keep this secret from any and all prying eyes.
a sudden fork in the road took me to a whole new world at age 26.
and as previously stated, i met my one true love....sweet mary-jane !"
i stole myself away from thee, and me, for love of sweet mary jane.
natural thing i guess....
i now wish to speak freely....forgetting about potential audience....and let er rip....from the hip.
subject to challenging mysterious emotional relapses....what i mean is....often, ( but less frequent than earlier days ), triggered into confusing convoluted jumble of intense disturbing emotions.
i most often observe this occuring in group settings.
some years ago i latched onto phrase "i'm allergic to dysfunction !"
many years of attempting to understand or "crack the code" of these mysterious internal implosions have led to a few conclusions.
these can be described as PTSD episodes (Post-Trauma-Stress-Disorder).
approximately 90% of emotional intensity has been directly related to past experience(s).
approximately 10% of emotional intensity was directly related to real-time circumstantial facts.
PTSD and it's frustrating, confusing and deeply disturbing symptoms have been this dude's "cross-to-bear" throughout life.
many times i came to decide that life with this seemingly incurable emotional/perceptual disorder was not worth living....truly believing i was "terminally unique" and hopelessly incurable.
having shared some of this despair with others with similar experience (12-step meetings), i came to the first crucial awareness that would provide hope....I WAS NOT ALONE !
til this day, i feel it's impossible to attempt to relate the truth of my life's experience with the only living survivors ( 7 siblings ) of what precipitated the suffering....life in the homes of my family of origin....before i felt strong and brave enough to escape.
i believe that it's highly unlikely any of them would choose to read these posts.
there never has seemed to be an honest opening to share the horrific truth of how i've been affected by what happened.
we were all there....8 kids born within 13 years...quite close in age.
they all seem to have known how to put the atrocities, torture and abuse behind them, and create successful lives and families.
not this guy !
it seemed as if i was born not knowing that one special secret....HOW to put the horror and terror behind me.
all i could manage was to bury it, to move about the world avoiding, denying, running from, minimizing the truth of that endless suffering.
after discovering booze, at least i had a dependable medication to make the world seem right for a while.
it wasn't long before determining the appropriate dosing required....and life became one-pointed....make sure i had the meds i "needed" to function....and keep this secret from any and all prying eyes.
a sudden fork in the road took me to a whole new world at age 26.
and as previously stated, i met my one true love....sweet mary-jane !"
i stole myself away from thee, and me, for love of sweet mary jane.
the real mary-jane
okay....so i'm talking about weed, pot, marijuana....obviously.
mid 20's made leap from blue-collar home-town alcohol-based culture....to the wonderful artsy-fartsy world of the hippie arteest let loose in the big city....with a whole range of intoxicants and mood-altering drugs to explore and experiment with.
had first taste of booze at age 11, experienced first joint of marijuana 15 years later.
violence was personally an integral reality during those alcohol years.
almost all social/familial cues and messages suggested that drinking liquor and violent behaviours were virtually socially acceptable....if not romantic and desirable characteristics.
then came the initiation into the new age.
i was ripe for peace, love and let's get high.
and miracle of miracles, came the awareness that potheads didn't want to fight....most especially, this pothead didn't want to fight while under the influence of weed.
problem solved....what a revelation !
the solution was perfect....just switch recreational drug of choice from booze to pot !!!
so simple, so elegant, so cost efficient...it was amazing....how had i not discovered this sooner ?
of course there was no way of foreseeing the psychological, social, mental, emotional and spiritual consequences to come some decades later.
after all, these were soft drugs, recreational drugs, it's safe to say that most in the circles i associated with were just like me....in for the full-meal deal.
smoking up and exploring "outside the box" perceptual experiences was a common intention with marijuana use.
speaking for this dude, it seemed nothing short of boldly going where straight people refused to go !
.
mid 20's made leap from blue-collar home-town alcohol-based culture....to the wonderful artsy-fartsy world of the hippie arteest let loose in the big city....with a whole range of intoxicants and mood-altering drugs to explore and experiment with.
had first taste of booze at age 11, experienced first joint of marijuana 15 years later.
violence was personally an integral reality during those alcohol years.
almost all social/familial cues and messages suggested that drinking liquor and violent behaviours were virtually socially acceptable....if not romantic and desirable characteristics.
then came the initiation into the new age.
i was ripe for peace, love and let's get high.
and miracle of miracles, came the awareness that potheads didn't want to fight....most especially, this pothead didn't want to fight while under the influence of weed.
problem solved....what a revelation !
the solution was perfect....just switch recreational drug of choice from booze to pot !!!
so simple, so elegant, so cost efficient...it was amazing....how had i not discovered this sooner ?
of course there was no way of foreseeing the psychological, social, mental, emotional and spiritual consequences to come some decades later.
after all, these were soft drugs, recreational drugs, it's safe to say that most in the circles i associated with were just like me....in for the full-meal deal.
smoking up and exploring "outside the box" perceptual experiences was a common intention with marijuana use.
speaking for this dude, it seemed nothing short of boldly going where straight people refused to go !
.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
a love letter
seems time to speak of my life-long love and mistress, mary-jane.
we first met in the big city, i fell hopelessly head over heels almost immediately.
she was everything i could hope for or dream of.
she made me laugh, smile, took me places i couldn't have imagined.
when she and i were at one, the universe seemed in perfect order.
at first there were others, but i soon realized she was the only one for me.
if i grieve, and indeed i do, it's for her, the one who, when all others seemed not to care, was always there to comfort and console me....to ease my troubled mind and heart.
without whom i would surely not be here, she saved me, again and again, and seemed to want nothing in return, only just to stay together, til death did us part.
we were not always together, but we most certainly found each other again and again and again.
i will always remember those wonderful days and nights, when love was in it's full and hearty bloom, those times seemed as though they would last forever.
UNTIL.....
the time came to end the affair....what had been so sweet and nurturing had turned to bitter poison.
i saw that to stay would be to die.
she was willing for me to stay, calling me to death, wanting only to take me to the grave,
she did not want our relationship to end.
when we parted, i often heard her haunting calling, whispering for me to join her where she dwelled.
i wanted so much to follow her, it was so painful to have to choose to let her go.
i sit here now, in calm and welcome solitary ease, thinking of her with grateful fondness.
we were together for a reason, i'm alive to prove that true, and i'm glad she's laid to rest in peace.
she had led me
to the gate
she was always
pointing the way
i just wasn't ready
to choose to see
now i know
no need to wonder
where i go is where
i know she'll be.
we'll be together
there again, no doubt,
with no more need
for longing or desire
we'll be as one again
embracing in the dance
of the one and only
everlasting fire.
we first met in the big city, i fell hopelessly head over heels almost immediately.
she was everything i could hope for or dream of.
she made me laugh, smile, took me places i couldn't have imagined.
when she and i were at one, the universe seemed in perfect order.
at first there were others, but i soon realized she was the only one for me.
if i grieve, and indeed i do, it's for her, the one who, when all others seemed not to care, was always there to comfort and console me....to ease my troubled mind and heart.
without whom i would surely not be here, she saved me, again and again, and seemed to want nothing in return, only just to stay together, til death did us part.
we were not always together, but we most certainly found each other again and again and again.
i will always remember those wonderful days and nights, when love was in it's full and hearty bloom, those times seemed as though they would last forever.
UNTIL.....
the time came to end the affair....what had been so sweet and nurturing had turned to bitter poison.
i saw that to stay would be to die.
she was willing for me to stay, calling me to death, wanting only to take me to the grave,
she did not want our relationship to end.
when we parted, i often heard her haunting calling, whispering for me to join her where she dwelled.
i wanted so much to follow her, it was so painful to have to choose to let her go.
i sit here now, in calm and welcome solitary ease, thinking of her with grateful fondness.
we were together for a reason, i'm alive to prove that true, and i'm glad she's laid to rest in peace.
she had led me
to the gate
she was always
pointing the way
i just wasn't ready
to choose to see
now i know
no need to wonder
where i go is where
i know she'll be.
we'll be together
there again, no doubt,
with no more need
for longing or desire
we'll be as one again
embracing in the dance
of the one and only
everlasting fire.
speak...and someone will listen
am involved with anonymous 12 step group....designed to address issues underlying substance use and/or abuse.
one strong suggestion within this circle is this....it is not my business to take care of another's emotions.
another tenet....it is not my concern what you think of me.
not exactly how i was conditioned to think in the "society" i grew up in and around.
in fact, quite the polar opposite.
why does it seem so important for me to choose this medium of expression?
because it is potentially a public forum....no hits yet....but that's okay.
one chronic source of personal frustration has been this....the old "elephant in the room" syndrome.
this has been a central theme in life so far....experiencing the excruciating agony of being in a group of people who seemed to share an "unspoken" common rule of understanding/behaviour/communication style.
my belief was that i was supposed to already "know" this unspoken rule....i was not able to ask what this unspoken rule was, as this would centre me out as a non-understanding so-called member and therefore must be excommunicated (culled from the herd) a.s.a.p.
almost always life presented as myself not 1) having 2) knowing 3) believing 4) feeling 5) understanding
that which all others seemed to take for granted....on all levels, material, financial, status, comprehension.
i was certain, based on what seemed real evidence, that i was unlike other people...being often amazed to observe that i appeared to possess all of the physical attributes of a human, i looked and sounded human in the mirror, seemed to present as human superficially to others, but ultimately being convinced i was in fact the only member of a lesser sub-species that wasn't quite human and ought never dare to presume human status.
jeez, if this is so, it's certainly time to dust that old belief off and let it out of the closet to the light of truth.
experience lately suggests that i will intuitively know how to manage situations that used to baffle me.
if only i exercise faith...and continue to risk letting all those old core beliefs see the daylight....the next right statement or action will become obvious.
if any of you can identify and have not yet found the words or the methodology to express your inner world, well, doesn't that seem a useful purpose for these journal entries ?
if not, okay, skip to the next page or blog.
my higher power hints that if i speak it, an audience will definitely eventually witness these words.
one strong suggestion within this circle is this....it is not my business to take care of another's emotions.
another tenet....it is not my concern what you think of me.
not exactly how i was conditioned to think in the "society" i grew up in and around.
in fact, quite the polar opposite.
why does it seem so important for me to choose this medium of expression?
because it is potentially a public forum....no hits yet....but that's okay.
one chronic source of personal frustration has been this....the old "elephant in the room" syndrome.
this has been a central theme in life so far....experiencing the excruciating agony of being in a group of people who seemed to share an "unspoken" common rule of understanding/behaviour/communication style.
my belief was that i was supposed to already "know" this unspoken rule....i was not able to ask what this unspoken rule was, as this would centre me out as a non-understanding so-called member and therefore must be excommunicated (culled from the herd) a.s.a.p.
almost always life presented as myself not 1) having 2) knowing 3) believing 4) feeling 5) understanding
that which all others seemed to take for granted....on all levels, material, financial, status, comprehension.
i was certain, based on what seemed real evidence, that i was unlike other people...being often amazed to observe that i appeared to possess all of the physical attributes of a human, i looked and sounded human in the mirror, seemed to present as human superficially to others, but ultimately being convinced i was in fact the only member of a lesser sub-species that wasn't quite human and ought never dare to presume human status.
jeez, if this is so, it's certainly time to dust that old belief off and let it out of the closet to the light of truth.
experience lately suggests that i will intuitively know how to manage situations that used to baffle me.
if only i exercise faith...and continue to risk letting all those old core beliefs see the daylight....the next right statement or action will become obvious.
if any of you can identify and have not yet found the words or the methodology to express your inner world, well, doesn't that seem a useful purpose for these journal entries ?
if not, okay, skip to the next page or blog.
my higher power hints that if i speak it, an audience will definitely eventually witness these words.
another word picture
sep 14/11
another word picture....the one within who wishes to be heard.
larger than life, lonesome, driven to communication of some sort or other, ( memoirs? ) on the downslide, longing for completion of ????, sedentary, suspicious, dancing the razor's edge between fear and excitement, expecially wary of exploring truth of the moment, suspect it's cultural, familial conditioning...not to feel, trust and/or speak, often tripped into reptilian-brain flight/fight/freeze syndrome....confuse these perceptual shifts with "everyday" life experience, prefer solitude on physical plane, enjoy communion on spiritual plane, extreme fear of intimacy on emotional plane, curiouser and curiouser, been silent (by choice) for decades, fear of "what will "THEY" ( YOU ) think/feel/decide about me ????", self-absorbed, reaching out for innocent intimate contact.
now in position to not have to answer to anyone, for any reason, retirement offers this privilege, choose to explore this freedom to the best of ability, one day at a time !
who do i think i am ???....well, that is the question ?....to speak or not to speak ???
if i was afraid of speaking candidly, frankly, without glossing over or pasteurizing this or that....well....why speak at all ? who do i think i am anyway ?
another word picture....the one within who wishes to be heard.
larger than life, lonesome, driven to communication of some sort or other, ( memoirs? ) on the downslide, longing for completion of ????, sedentary, suspicious, dancing the razor's edge between fear and excitement, expecially wary of exploring truth of the moment, suspect it's cultural, familial conditioning...not to feel, trust and/or speak, often tripped into reptilian-brain flight/fight/freeze syndrome....confuse these perceptual shifts with "everyday" life experience, prefer solitude on physical plane, enjoy communion on spiritual plane, extreme fear of intimacy on emotional plane, curiouser and curiouser, been silent (by choice) for decades, fear of "what will "THEY" ( YOU ) think/feel/decide about me ????", self-absorbed, reaching out for innocent intimate contact.
now in position to not have to answer to anyone, for any reason, retirement offers this privilege, choose to explore this freedom to the best of ability, one day at a time !
who do i think i am ???....well, that is the question ?....to speak or not to speak ???
if i was afraid of speaking candidly, frankly, without glossing over or pasteurizing this or that....well....why speak at all ? who do i think i am anyway ?
gone forever
sep 15/11
perhaps someday someone will read these posts....perhaps not.
had experience approx 20 years ago....returned to vancouver from travels in camper van....to my ideal traveller's gig....driving taxi.
one busy night returned to the lot to discover the van had been broken into....ALL of my precious belongings were gone....forever !
had neglected to prioritize dropping possessions off at storage locker first.
personal effects.....diaries, photos, personal original art, a hand-made african drum....everything of personal and sentimental value....gone !
about 2 years ago, returned to vancouver from travels....to discover that storage facility had disposed of whatever valuable belongings i had acquired since the last major loss....again diaries, photos, more original art....gone !
of course, each time i felt emotionally devastated, of course in order to move on, i had to resign to these seemingly crucial items to life....being gone....forever !
have since determined to NOT place emotional attachment upon people/places/things.
what seems important with these entries is that i feel bound to truth....something about awareness that someone might read these words.
of course i do hope these entries are read, understood, and hopefully appreciated.
perhaps someday someone will read these posts....perhaps not.
had experience approx 20 years ago....returned to vancouver from travels in camper van....to my ideal traveller's gig....driving taxi.
one busy night returned to the lot to discover the van had been broken into....ALL of my precious belongings were gone....forever !
had neglected to prioritize dropping possessions off at storage locker first.
personal effects.....diaries, photos, personal original art, a hand-made african drum....everything of personal and sentimental value....gone !
about 2 years ago, returned to vancouver from travels....to discover that storage facility had disposed of whatever valuable belongings i had acquired since the last major loss....again diaries, photos, more original art....gone !
of course, each time i felt emotionally devastated, of course in order to move on, i had to resign to these seemingly crucial items to life....being gone....forever !
have since determined to NOT place emotional attachment upon people/places/things.
what seems important with these entries is that i feel bound to truth....something about awareness that someone might read these words.
of course i do hope these entries are read, understood, and hopefully appreciated.
a picture in words
in previous life, i chose to be known as a visual artist/cartoonist.
recently someone suggested i draw a picture of myself rather than post a photo.
the words were something like....why not draw a picture of that one within wishing to speak ?
am now inspired to do so....working on it...thanks to that person.
first attempt.....
small, curious, wary, confused, doubting every thought/feeling,
unwashed due to prevailing conditions, saturday night came but once a week.
smart, clever, creative, hiding the light to not anger dark forces about.
must be very careful in how to voice things....terrible consequences if not perfect and appropriate.
no right answer, only yes sir or no sir, maybe is never a possibility !
only ever alone, who exactly am i speaking to ?
i think it's to the other only ever alone ones.
who am i speaking to ?
those who wish to know truth....not the popular preferred version.
who is there listening ?
who is there to tell ?
who is there to care ?
who is willing to acknowledge they know what is so ?....and sometimes are afraid to reveal this truth.
who will speak in return ?
who will risk to acknowledge this innocent intimate gesture ?
is there anyone out there ?
there is definitely someone within here !
here's a picture....in words.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
out of the dark ages
wow....living in dark ages for so long....it's not easy doing this SOCIAL stuff.
i had recently hit a bottom in life (15 months ago) thinking i was incurably mentally/emotionally damaged (FUBAR).
i saught help through available resources (hospitals, psychiatrists, counselors, etc.) and was advised that the problems were SOCIAL in nature....in other words i wasn't nuts or terminally emotionally screwed.
the prescriptions were the same....get me to the rooms of AA....and plug away at re-joining the human race.
most who have casually known me didn't seem to buy the socially-challenged label....but i certainly knew !
i have been quite socially adept and gregarious on a superficial level....but absolutely confounded when it came to honest intimate ralations.
i have also been subject to extreme fear of groups ( potential mobs? ) and would often find myself extremely agitated, anxious and feeling like a panicked hostage within a gathering of people.
this problem became worse and worse over the years....until i felt unable to commit to group events of any kind.
over working life, i had been an art and ESL teacher, public speaker, entertainer, an artist working and demonstrating in public....and eventually found myself unable to risk attempting these types of work again.
fortunately, i discovered that i was not in fact "S.O.L. and completely on my own !"....and began the long arduous process of learning how to live with....P.T.S.D. !
experience suggests that only those who have experienced PTSD can understand it's limiting and crippling effects.
i suffer with what i'm comfortable calling a disease of perception....not ever being able to trust that what i thought, felt or believed....was true.
i now look for truth inwardly, with the help of my version of a higher power, other folks sincerely working at their recovery, and the 12-step methodology of AA .
i have learned to trust those inner voices....not the ones in the hampster cage rattling between my ears.
so-o-o-o....i have gained clarity and courage to risk these words....what else do i have to do?
perhaps something in these tales will make a difference to someone....if not, they are certainly serving to help this old dodger.
i had recently hit a bottom in life (15 months ago) thinking i was incurably mentally/emotionally damaged (FUBAR).
i saught help through available resources (hospitals, psychiatrists, counselors, etc.) and was advised that the problems were SOCIAL in nature....in other words i wasn't nuts or terminally emotionally screwed.
the prescriptions were the same....get me to the rooms of AA....and plug away at re-joining the human race.
most who have casually known me didn't seem to buy the socially-challenged label....but i certainly knew !
i have been quite socially adept and gregarious on a superficial level....but absolutely confounded when it came to honest intimate ralations.
i have also been subject to extreme fear of groups ( potential mobs? ) and would often find myself extremely agitated, anxious and feeling like a panicked hostage within a gathering of people.
this problem became worse and worse over the years....until i felt unable to commit to group events of any kind.
over working life, i had been an art and ESL teacher, public speaker, entertainer, an artist working and demonstrating in public....and eventually found myself unable to risk attempting these types of work again.
fortunately, i discovered that i was not in fact "S.O.L. and completely on my own !"....and began the long arduous process of learning how to live with....P.T.S.D. !
experience suggests that only those who have experienced PTSD can understand it's limiting and crippling effects.
i suffer with what i'm comfortable calling a disease of perception....not ever being able to trust that what i thought, felt or believed....was true.
i now look for truth inwardly, with the help of my version of a higher power, other folks sincerely working at their recovery, and the 12-step methodology of AA .
i have learned to trust those inner voices....not the ones in the hampster cage rattling between my ears.
so-o-o-o....i have gained clarity and courage to risk these words....what else do i have to do?
perhaps something in these tales will make a difference to someone....if not, they are certainly serving to help this old dodger.
don't speak, feel or trust !
i was born into a violent unpredictable hostage environment....probably like many of that era.
the 3 basic rules were....DON'T speak....DON'T feel....DON'T trust !!!...and let's all pretend this is a "normal" safe home, shall we ?
i was 11 years old when awakening from the second attempted murder at the hands of my father, the first being at age 7.
at other times i had witnessed him "killing" my 2 older brothers....the rest of us ( 8 kids in total ) having been forced to witness the beatings.
much to my surprise....we just didn't die....it sure seemed like murder to me....a drunken raging 200 pound man viciously beating and strangling his innocent children....with no reservations at all as i remember.
i will speak more of these and other acts of abuse and torture.
at this time, i wish only to provide background to help explain later decisions, attitudes, and beliefs that have ultimately led me to here and now.
i have probably lived out any and all variations on the victim/hostage/casualty personas.
i am not fishing for sympathy....perhaps some understanding, hopefully compassion....it certainly hasn't been an easy road.
i have been carrying around a gunny-sack full of intense, convoluted and confused emotions for far too long.
this journalling process has helped greatly as a medium to focus and articulate the truth of what happened....express it....and....LET IT GO !
this telling isn't about blame....or even responsibility....who exactly is to blame for countless preceding generations of folks doing whatever they felt was appropriate given the times and prevailing conditions ?
i am living in the mystery these days....each moment an invitation to look deeper, explore, discover, articulate and express that which seems to be so....just for today.
i have little interest in opinions....particularly mine....they have proven to be as reliable and predictable as the weather.
am discovering an endless wealth of personal experience to mine....almost 64 years on this planet....and still alive and alert is remarkable to me, as well as a few functional brain-cells to put to the challenge.
given what i know about myself....this is nothing short of a miracle.
AA's 12-step methodology suggests that not one millisecond has been wasted....that somehow, in some way this experience might be useful to myself and/or others.
the 3 basic rules were....DON'T speak....DON'T feel....DON'T trust !!!...and let's all pretend this is a "normal" safe home, shall we ?
i was 11 years old when awakening from the second attempted murder at the hands of my father, the first being at age 7.
at other times i had witnessed him "killing" my 2 older brothers....the rest of us ( 8 kids in total ) having been forced to witness the beatings.
much to my surprise....we just didn't die....it sure seemed like murder to me....a drunken raging 200 pound man viciously beating and strangling his innocent children....with no reservations at all as i remember.
i will speak more of these and other acts of abuse and torture.
at this time, i wish only to provide background to help explain later decisions, attitudes, and beliefs that have ultimately led me to here and now.
i have probably lived out any and all variations on the victim/hostage/casualty personas.
i am not fishing for sympathy....perhaps some understanding, hopefully compassion....it certainly hasn't been an easy road.
i have been carrying around a gunny-sack full of intense, convoluted and confused emotions for far too long.
this journalling process has helped greatly as a medium to focus and articulate the truth of what happened....express it....and....LET IT GO !
this telling isn't about blame....or even responsibility....who exactly is to blame for countless preceding generations of folks doing whatever they felt was appropriate given the times and prevailing conditions ?
i am living in the mystery these days....each moment an invitation to look deeper, explore, discover, articulate and express that which seems to be so....just for today.
i have little interest in opinions....particularly mine....they have proven to be as reliable and predictable as the weather.
am discovering an endless wealth of personal experience to mine....almost 64 years on this planet....and still alive and alert is remarkable to me, as well as a few functional brain-cells to put to the challenge.
given what i know about myself....this is nothing short of a miracle.
AA's 12-step methodology suggests that not one millisecond has been wasted....that somehow, in some way this experience might be useful to myself and/or others.
"cult"-ure clash
been attending 12 step meetings lately (over last 5 years or so with serious intent)....my way of re-joining the human race....re-learning how to intuitively move through worldly affairs....and respond appropriately re people/places/things/circumstances/events.
the 12 step world offers something rare and special for me....a medium for communion amongst other like-minded souls without fear of critical judgement or exclusion.
previous life experience had led me to enlist in a "cult"....of course at the time, it seemed that each step of the way was guided by free choice and careful consideration. a "cult" to me is nothing more than an "exclusive" culture....
this one i speak of, as well as others i'm aware of historically, professed something quite attractive....it was presented as a non-denominational, non-discriminatory, all-inclusive spiritual community.
the folks i associated with in this "cult" represented a very small range of humans....middle class, at least 95% caucasian, accustomed to a reasonably comfortable standard of life.
the 12 step world offers me the broadest range of humans to associate with and learn about....from all ranges of the socio-economic spectrum.
i\have come to see through experience the book must not be judged by it's cover.
guardian angels and heavenly messengers rarely appear as one might imagine.
there are those who have been driven to the dark places of existence, through circumstance and/or fate, and have found a guiding light there all the same....just not a generally accepted sort of flame.
if you're afraid....that's good....you're alive....if you're that afraid you're compelled to move away....to a safer more comfortable distance....i suggest....the "unknown" is only frightening til it's known !
many folks i've "known" in life know me as a sort of subservient "lesser" being....my level of self-esteem has always seemed extremely low.
i had come to accept this dynamic as my fate.
no longer !
if you wish to commune-icate with me, we can have a relations-ship, if not....it's all a figment of someone's imagination....certainly not mine.
my old "poor me" song has been "why is it always me reaching out to say "hi" ????"....very good question.
been accustomed to settling for that....simply because i believed that these "friends" were better than no friends at all.
now ?!?!....we shall see....am truly trusting in powers that be.
expressing and revealing self as i am....here and now....will invite friendship if it's meant to be....or not !!!
the 12 step world offers something rare and special for me....a medium for communion amongst other like-minded souls without fear of critical judgement or exclusion.
previous life experience had led me to enlist in a "cult"....of course at the time, it seemed that each step of the way was guided by free choice and careful consideration. a "cult" to me is nothing more than an "exclusive" culture....
this one i speak of, as well as others i'm aware of historically, professed something quite attractive....it was presented as a non-denominational, non-discriminatory, all-inclusive spiritual community.
the folks i associated with in this "cult" represented a very small range of humans....middle class, at least 95% caucasian, accustomed to a reasonably comfortable standard of life.
the 12 step world offers me the broadest range of humans to associate with and learn about....from all ranges of the socio-economic spectrum.
i\have come to see through experience the book must not be judged by it's cover.
guardian angels and heavenly messengers rarely appear as one might imagine.
there are those who have been driven to the dark places of existence, through circumstance and/or fate, and have found a guiding light there all the same....just not a generally accepted sort of flame.
if you're afraid....that's good....you're alive....if you're that afraid you're compelled to move away....to a safer more comfortable distance....i suggest....the "unknown" is only frightening til it's known !
many folks i've "known" in life know me as a sort of subservient "lesser" being....my level of self-esteem has always seemed extremely low.
i had come to accept this dynamic as my fate.
no longer !
if you wish to commune-icate with me, we can have a relations-ship, if not....it's all a figment of someone's imagination....certainly not mine.
my old "poor me" song has been "why is it always me reaching out to say "hi" ????"....very good question.
been accustomed to settling for that....simply because i believed that these "friends" were better than no friends at all.
now ?!?!....we shall see....am truly trusting in powers that be.
expressing and revealing self as i am....here and now....will invite friendship if it's meant to be....or not !!!
success ?
sep 14/11
later that afternoon...or is it this afternoon ?
often pictured self as a writer....but couldn't imagine being anything but shallow and pretentious....this is obviously still true....but since pulling head out of proverbial "sand"....am observing that this fact seems no real obstacle to success....
question...."what would "success" look like ?
hmmmmm.....facing, feeling, acknowledging and accepting myriad "fears" that surface while engaged with this process....
in theory, these are words available to anyone/everyone....not so comfortable and secure as private journal entries.
must be fully present to observe mind-tricks that compel me to seek emotional safe ground....and be willing to proceed with an honest open mind and heart.
long ago resigned to "poverty" level financial circumstances....existing on barely adequate disability pension.
life experience has taught me to not overstep personal capacities....meaning everytime i actually had a few bucks....i inevitably was compelled to squander it.
i am reminded of an elderly gentleman encountered in a small village in india.
at age 50, i had determined to celebrate by realizing a life-long dream....to visit and tour india.
a canadian friend, upon hearing of these upcoming travels, asked if i would pass along $ 20 to a fellow he knew of at one of my destinations there.
of course i agreed, and quite by accident encountered this man while out exploring the countryside nearby the town.
this kind and gentle soul invited me to visit his home and family.
upon discovering this was the very same fellow my friend had mentioned, i presented him with said money in rupees.
he happily accepted, but soon i noticed he seemed quite uncomfortable and anxious having the "cash" in pocket, and within a half hour or so had dispatched various family members here and there to fetch this and that....and only when the "cash" was gone....did he dramatically visibly relax.
i realized he was quite unfamiliar with having "cash" in his daily life....after all, his wealth was measured in water buffalo and their milk....and "cash" was definitely something he did not wish to have around at all.
he seemed so like me, that "cash" burned a hole in his pocket also !
later that afternoon...or is it this afternoon ?
often pictured self as a writer....but couldn't imagine being anything but shallow and pretentious....this is obviously still true....but since pulling head out of proverbial "sand"....am observing that this fact seems no real obstacle to success....
question...."what would "success" look like ?
hmmmmm.....facing, feeling, acknowledging and accepting myriad "fears" that surface while engaged with this process....
in theory, these are words available to anyone/everyone....not so comfortable and secure as private journal entries.
must be fully present to observe mind-tricks that compel me to seek emotional safe ground....and be willing to proceed with an honest open mind and heart.
long ago resigned to "poverty" level financial circumstances....existing on barely adequate disability pension.
life experience has taught me to not overstep personal capacities....meaning everytime i actually had a few bucks....i inevitably was compelled to squander it.
i am reminded of an elderly gentleman encountered in a small village in india.
at age 50, i had determined to celebrate by realizing a life-long dream....to visit and tour india.
a canadian friend, upon hearing of these upcoming travels, asked if i would pass along $ 20 to a fellow he knew of at one of my destinations there.
of course i agreed, and quite by accident encountered this man while out exploring the countryside nearby the town.
this kind and gentle soul invited me to visit his home and family.
upon discovering this was the very same fellow my friend had mentioned, i presented him with said money in rupees.
he happily accepted, but soon i noticed he seemed quite uncomfortable and anxious having the "cash" in pocket, and within a half hour or so had dispatched various family members here and there to fetch this and that....and only when the "cash" was gone....did he dramatically visibly relax.
i realized he was quite unfamiliar with having "cash" in his daily life....after all, his wealth was measured in water buffalo and their milk....and "cash" was definitely something he did not wish to have around at all.
he seemed so like me, that "cash" burned a hole in his pocket also !
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