Tuesday, July 29, 2014

An A-theist Fishing Fantasy

I am an a-theist, in that I don't believe in any personification of the power of the universe, other than what we experience in the energy made into matter and other experiential manifestations in our own universe. We can all access "god"force  in all that we see, hear, touch, smell, think, and feel. The miracle of humanity, as compared to being a simple Homo sapien or Homo erectus, is that we can choose for ourselves what universal forces we embrace and bring into our own bodies. This takes self-discipline that can only be learned by observing others exercise this ability.

I don't believe in priests or shamans who have special powers to pull The Sacred out of the universe and impart The Sacred to lesser beings. I believe that full humans teach their young, like what we call the "lower" animals, by example. It matters not what blessings or curses others call down upon us or our offspring, they will learn what we model and assist them in mastering.

Because of the complexity of human life, it takes many more years to teach our human children than it does for other animals to become self-sufficient. The commitment we must make to behaving ourselves in a manner that is beneficial to our offspring, both in our tribe and outside of it, is great. We must be constantly vigilant regarding those who attempt to take our children away from us, both physically and in spirit.

It is difficult for human parents to know when to let go. It often feels as if we are fishing, letting out a little line and allowing them to swim away, only to have to reel them back into our boats. When they finally cut the line and swim away, the emotion can be overwhelming. We are tired of fighting the tension on the long lines of parenthood of human children, so we are relieved. Simultaneously, we are lost. The ways that we have lived for so many decades have become habit for us. How do we use these old "muscle memories?"

Some of us insist on meddling in the lives of our grown offspring, not trusting that we have imparted to them all the strengths that they need to survive. Some insist that their children produce more children that they will then guide. I am at a point where I am free to cast my line in unfamiliar waters, trolling for any who may want to be on my line. I tried allowing my "muscle memories" to atrophy, but they continued to twitch for a new challenge. I now am a mentor to some from across the oceans, and this is very satisfying to me.

My mission is to help others experience The Sacred in all around them and endeavor to impart the importance of living in this light to their own offspring and all they encounter in our universe.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Weak Woman

I have had trouble dealing with the women in my life for as long as I can remember. I have come to the conclusion that I've simply been dealing with the wrong women.

We southern women have been brought up to be duplicitous. Never are we to tell the truth if a sweet lie will keep everyone calm. To refuse a weeping woman anything her southern heart desires is seen by all bystanders as the worst kind of abuse. It is absolutely unheard of that one should continue to say no to a sweet southern woman who takes to her bed until one comes to his or her senses. A sweet southern woman simply doesn't understand the word "no," even though she uses it very freely herself.

Of course, with a southern woman of breeding, all meaning is in, not the words, but in the tilt of the head, the flinging of the hair, the look in the eyes, and the vocal inflections.  Unless one learns how to interpret the silent signals, one never knows what a southern woman really wants or means. This can be very dangerous, as a wronged sweet southern woman can be quite like a cobra. One never knows when, why, or where she will strike, but her strikes are usually deadly.

I have given up on southern sweetness, along with all the saintly sisters without any admitted sins. Since I still live in the south, this makes me out to be a ball-busting bitch in the eyes of those of strong southern breeding. I'll wear the label, but I will no longer carry the responsibility for the lack of courage in others.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Ancestral Attachments

I honestly have never understood attachments to people, places, or properties. I carry the spirit of all of these with me wherever I go. Every person, place, and thing that ever impacted me on a conscious level still lives vividly in my present through the human mind's miracle of memory.

I learned very early in life that I had no control over my physical destiny, so I began to repeat the stories of who, what, when, and where to myself on an endless loop. The saddest experience for me is in understanding that others need physical continuity in order to feel that they are centered in their own lives, and that many refuse to share in memory what we shared in experience.

It is my experience that when we live fully aware of what is going on around us, our pasts and our present become melded as one. I cannot see my grown children without also seeing them as infants. I feel the same way with all that allow me into their spiritual selves.

I don't mean to have others feel as if they have been stripped naked. I obviously, wrongly assumed that we all felt naked. How foolish I have been in assuming that intimacy was a universal need, or that any wanted to embrace true intimacy with me.

How I wish that all Homo sapiens felt comfortable emotionally naked in front of each other. Perhaps then we could bury our long-dead ancestors' issues with each other and embrace peace.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

No Priests or Prayers for Me

I finally came to the realization that it wasn't my fear that was holding me back from being the biggest, boldest blessing I could be. It was the fears of my family and friends, who still believe that other people have the power of eternal life and death spells over us.

I have been involved in too many near-death and death scenes not to have given a great deal of thought to what happens from the time of drawing our last physical breath until the time the earth ends. I have searched the scriptures and asked everyone I knew, but could get no answers that simply seemed true to me. In a few recent Eureka moments, precipitated by a long-awaited silly time with my daughter and her youngest daughter, I finally feel good with what I know to be true for me.

I am catholic down to the marrow of my bones; not the Vatican brand, but the brand of being catholic that leads me to embrace the universe as my friends and family. I have suffered greatly at the hands of those who continue to attack me to see where my boundaries actually end. The fact that I don't react to others in traditional ways has, more than once, put me in jeopardy . Those who really love me have noticed this and many have simply given up on attempts at saving me from myself.

It is reasonable to rely on the shared boundaries of one's immediate family to sort out which behaviors are good for the group and which ones are detrimental. It is not reasonable to have one's friends and family who have no dependence on one's continued life define the boundaries for oneself. This is the glory of old age; we can stop having others dependent on us.

I love to laugh with those I like. I also cry with great abandon. I am sorry for those who aren't tough enough to take big bursts of me, but I will no longer allow their boundaries make me feel badly about my own. In an effort to make it possible to be anywhere but in a private padded cell together, I generally establish what is appropriate behavior for any given public situation. I also avoid most public situations where laughter and other forms of passionate interchange are not allowed or accepted.

At the time of my death, I want no priests and prayers to the gods that rule the lives of others. I have full faith that the huge energy I have shared with others will live on after my physical shell is long gone. I don't want another physical shell, and certainly hope all who believe in such things as resurrection of the body don't wish such a thing on me.

I have had a recurring dream, ever since my daughter was threatened with death. It is that I could, at will, breathe in deeply enough to rise above all the earth and fly; not with wings, but with the sheer power of my spirit. I look forward to the day that my spirit is freed from dragging along the old hag that keeps it too close to the ground and unable to simultaneously see, hear, and feel all my friends on earth. What a party that will be, in so many languages and colors!

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Sticks and Stones

I live my life for the written word, because only those words can we be held to. There is a saying, "Say it and forget it; write it and regret it." I absolutely abhor that saying and that way of thinking. Words can be as harmful to the life of the spirit as swords are to the life of the flesh. Those who say what they will and then deny any responsibility for having said it are usually guilty of self-delusion. Any words that don't fit into their views of themselves simply could not have come from their mouths.

The denial of their actions adds insult to the injury. It is to call into question the sanity of those attacked. This, in my opinion, is the worst form of bullying, when one hides from what one has done behind a facade of lost memory. It isn't even as deep as lost memory, as it wasn't deemed important enough to the attacker to be paid attention to as it happened. This leaves the attacked emotionally bleeding, while others continue to believe in the friendly facade of the attacker. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words denied by friends can make me feel crazy.

I have no use for parroted phrases, no matter how powerful they may be to some. Unless a person is willing to attach enough thought to how a phrase has actually impacted or inspired their own experience, and is willing to put that into words that can be dissected and discussed, it seems to me not worth sharing. Passion is personal for me; I don't enjoy following mindless crowds.

How can it be that whole societies can be taught to deny what they see and hear with their own eyes and ears? What is it in humans that we are taught to avoid the danger signals that our animal instincts were fine-tuned to pick up? We wear perfumes to hide the animal smells that should tip us off about aggressive instincts of others, and learn to look into other than a person's eyes to see what is in the spirit.

I would rather live a life with one true friend than many lifetimes with multitudes of mindless admirers.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Cautionary Tales and New Creation

Every time a woman or child cries in despair, I cry with him or her.
We simply can't control what we're brought into when we are born.
There are men who have achieved ascendance climbing onto others;
The rest of us have to live our lives under these white men's heels.

I am a white, attractive woman, living among my appointed peers,
And the thought of how we agree to present ourselves sickens me.
I wish I had the strength of even one of my past black employees,
Those who served me as their mistress and returned home to families.

I was reared for beauty and cunning, not to be an example of success.
White males were to be the masters of their family's and the world's fate.
It mattered not what sins they committed against family or community;
We were to all bound, or be rejected, in protecting their supremacy.

Until women stop obtaining their strength to fight injustice from children,
And until men cherish the women that produce their sacred progeny,
Their is no hope of bringing only cherished children into our world,
And no hope for all protecting our children from the destruction of war.

We continue to produce more young men as expendable creators
Of children and themselves to feed the maws of ancient  retribution.
We force women to carry and birth children that they don't accept,
Only to have more angry animals taught none of the ways of humanity.

When will we forget the fights handed on by our ancient ancestors,
And accept our responsibility to create our own human society?
The words of the ancients are seen by me as cautionary tales,
Not as the instructions for the ways humans are meant to be.