A Weird Little Mammal

... "I think, therefore, that instead of a person having Citizenship, in 3 countries, (without much Zen in ours anymore, mind you), Tearing down our government, looking for change in the couch, maybe Elon, passing the couch change ontu us with "Rebates", Maybe he could help the richest Nation (Us) in the world by given us all "Our" money back, and the other nations his citizenship resides (South Africa and Canada) back theirs... for whatever the heck he did to "Help" them live a modest happy lifestyle, like Warren BThuffet, and the rest of the happy people. Why are most M/Billionares so insecure?

Because, in my opinion Elon Musk is a great ape... in so many ways, but like many in the public eye, ridicules and teasing, and seemingly naked truths concerning their lack as a human being. Elon the man, yeah he seems a bit arrogant, especially to his engineers, claiming he took their ideas and made them his, without any credit except those internally who saw his proposal win, and they feel they didn't get their "Fairshare", Their Due of the Credit.

As I'm trying to show with this, you can have all the money and respect you are due being shorted on your honorable goals and, because one guy who "wasn't even there" most of the time, reached in and found the best solution. Both sides are right, and wrong, both at the same time, becuase everyone likes to "Tease the Weasle" and pretty much all Lifeforms deemed below them, and if you read that book as a baby toddler with maybe your mom, wife, girl,,,friend."

This post was deleted by the moderator on FaceBook (or someone higher, when talking with my good friend Rick, today while being written to an anti Obama meme, and my attmpted response, may my mistake was because I failed to mention Mark Zucherberg, and give him his due.. he has it - Just Watch the Anime, Chainsaw Man! :) As you may know if you follow me there (god bless you), I am in the process of moving my two FB sites to other platforms ... trying to avoid too much of other people's problems, O.P.P as they say, unfortunately, it's not true IRL, in either way. Problems, Privates, eh, yeah. Now, the edited, finished (for now) version, before I get back to what I was workin' on, cut off at: the elipses Therefore, interestingly, and indulge me here as I talk about myself, I had stomach issues for the first four or so months too, and couldn't hold down my mother's milk (lactose intolerant). This was before the days of formula without lactose ... I threw up so much that no one but my mother wanted to hold me much, and that sparingly because I would throw up on them if recently fed, or be very fussy and cry if not. She said I cried and fussed most of the time, except when she held me to sleep in her arms until she could transfer me into my crib without waking me. The neighborhood ladies accused her of not taking good care of me because I was so emaciated. :(

If not for my mother and her sacrifices done mostly in joy and love, not suffering, except when enduring the criticism of others when she was working her ass off taking care of this weird biological mammal that couldn't drink milk (Like many people, she cared a lot about what other people thought of her), I'd be like one of Jean Harlow's engineer monkeys, who failed to thrive socially with others due to the lack of early emotional attachment (me). I may have even died like some of the more isolated monkeys, at least on the insides.

Admittedly I still struggle, I'm on the autism spectrum with mild Asperger's, and still get too intense emotionally sometimes. My survival instinct was turned up so high, I think the knob broke off. ... The point is, if not for the love, the patience and sacrifice of my mother, I'd probably be a hell of a lot more autistic than I am, and easily angered and irritated. Indeed, sacrifice does not necessarily have to mean suffering ... the stories you tell are the stories you live ;) .... Especially if you keep an eye on future dividends, many of which you don't even know yet and may even be better and more impactful than you ever imagined .... like your beautiful, talented, and oh so interesting son, Boston Thank you Mothers - Thank You Mom you don't know how important your love and care is in these early years, but we are seeing it over and over with the science of human development, and unfortunately, all human discourse. #Womens History Month

 The Cosmic Goo

Sometimes, in fear, 

we cling to things

that are best for us let go,

when all the time,

every thing else here

simply goes with cosmic flow.

What a drag,

What a drag!,

if we've been snagged, 

bagged, and tagged, severely lagged,

from the places we could go!

Situations new, that wait for you, adventures every turn, 

with loops and dives and slippery slides, 

in and outside you. You panic to find a finger hold, but discover it's all goo.

Inside your face, in your brain case is how you deal with outer space, and every place you live with grace, you'll discover something new ... until you join the goo.

Finding True Love

Dear one,

I know you're lacking motivation and you're full of anxiety about your future ... and your present, probably more the present right now. You would know better than I.

You've pulled back a little. You're disconnected, and worn out from the battle. Maybe you're being a bit lazy, depressed, spending your attention on empty distractions, waiting for something to happen, a breakthrough, a change, without doing much of anything to bring it about. Sometimes, taking it too easy just brings hardship. Life will run you over if you don't keep moving.

Maybe the lack of motivation is because it seems the more you do, the more disappointments and trouble you find. So, you fall into a state of learned helplessness and stop trying.

But you can't do that. You can't avoid these things, lifes little disappointments, but instead, need to avoid these ways of thinking. Learn to recover quickly from upsets. Replace them with positive affirmations and search out the silver linings There is much you can do to change outcomes. 

Some things are fun and easy, but it's never easy overall. Some things are tough, a challenge. You've got to engage. Face the disappointments, recover from every one, and have at it again. Steel your resolve, be resilient. and put in the time with focused attention.

You've got to take your lumps and deal with the chumps. You've got to risk failure in every moment of your life, because only by doing that you'll find success. That's how it works. Don't fear failure; fear not trying enough to succeed. Fear giving up.

That's just how it is, scary, even painful sometimes. Life is suffering and struggle. And with our best efforts, we can overcome when it matters most, and bring comfort and joy into this space, where it was withering on the vine before. 

And those little wins along the way will give you strength to feel the confidence and reward of doing something every day, little wins, and the rush of crossing the finish line, improving your time, your performance, your life, as you gather achievements and capabilities... and some pretty wonderful experiences along the way.

 Achievement against a difficult challenge is one of the sweetest moments in life. Seek your sweetest moments.

You do have it in you. I see it all the time, in different moments when your eyes sparkle with a zest for life in whatever it is you're engaged in ... and it's a beautiful thing. 

You are a beautiful thing. You have it in you. Believe that! Especially when things conspire to make you believe that you're not beautiful  and you don't have it in you. You are and you do! 

Engage it, buckle up. and drive it like you own it! ... because you do. And when you do fully, you'll love it! You can handle it. Life is worth every challenge.

May your measure of your joys far outweigh your measure of your sorrows such that you always feel that life is not only worth living, but worth all the joy points for sure. And your joy is in your hands and mind as you learn to find it every where you can.

It is in you. Be a miner for a heart of joy, the gold will come.

All my love to you, my fellow minor. 😉

Love, 

Major Dad

Freedom of Religion, or Freedom from Offense?

 Freedom of religion is not free speech for the non-religious, or when speaking one belief set to another, in any way that offends their religious views. ... This is not free speech.  It's a special entitlement.

Check! Once again, during the outpouring of religious views on Jesus at this time, I am confronting this in speaking to religious people, and holding my views to myself. I don't try to offend, but my knowledge and beliefs seem to offend them.

Sorry, this is hard for the "monkey see, monkey do" in me, and likely all of us. I do better when I think of it as it really is; Freedom from being offended or belittled. That's a pretty good description for what is really going on, but then I hear Freedom of Religion again, and my chimp brain switches in once more and I'm out of true context sharing my views about religion, and primarily the majority religion of my country, Christianity ... because like almost everyone, words and sentences matter to frame a concept, and in most people's thinking the concept of  Freedom of Religion means to them that they get to say and share anything they believe within their religion, uncontested and unquestioned, maybe even offensive and belittling to others.  This is not free speech.  It's a special entitlement.

Yes, I have a religion, or maybe what I should call a concept. One of its primary tenets are the downfalls of organized religions, given all the good in assisting people in their lives that they may do. And many do a lot of good for those who need help.

I believe, as the Bible says, and I've heard many times, that man cannot fully or truly know or understand god, and shouldn't pretend to. We look through the glass darkly, as Wizard Paul put it.... Saul was his real name, pssst! The P stands for Pagan while he was working in Rome, living their ways, and trying to fit in without persecution from them - he adopted the Pagan ways. Paul was his undercover name he used to round up Hebrew followers of Jesus (who got the worst of it I'm sure, being subjects and slaves of Rome), and the Roman Jesus'ites in Rome. He persecuted and took advantage of them ... maybe beat them if they got out of line as he was marching them to Roman Justice.

P replacement for Saul also stands for Pretend. When in Rome ... change your name!

Ahh, you gotta love Paul. I know him, from the stories he told in his writings, and all the ones I've seen and watched, and read, not just of him, but of all humanity. We are all overly saturated with human stories, because the best stories we love are the ones about ourselves and others. Second best, for most, 1st best for me most days, are stories about science and nature that exclude humans, or where we are not the primary topic ... Stories that predate humans, preclude humans, and focus on the earth, animals and minerals and rocks! Oh my! The spirals and stars  in them moving through space, and the overall magic of what is. Like god, it doesn't need to be understood perfectly, and maybe will never be ... and the tenet that you don't need to be perfect, only good and doing your level best. Perfect never gets anything done, because it's already finished. You can be perfect when your dead!

Saul (sorry, I can't maintain the Pretense), wrote some pretty good stuff about organizing a Church around the hearsay he was getting about Jesus from the Christians he was rounding up for pay. At one point, he saw another way to play the game and still make something off of it. His "Vision" of Jesus on the road to Damascus in Syria was a pivot point, and possibly him changing his mind about abusing and hurting people (and profiting from their pain). I've seen his like before. He also claimed revelations such as this Vision for what he wrote in his epistles to the churches... add a P for Prophet.

Paul had never seen or read the Gospels (Pseudepigrapha), since they had yet to be written, and were in are a lot of discrepancies with what he wrote, and Important information therein, that he never addresses. Not one person who wrote anything in the NT knew Jesus in person, unless any of the writings of Peter can be substantiated, most of Peter's epistles have been determined to be pseudepigraphal ... Written as the person, not by the actual person for more gravitas/appeal. This was news to me as well, as a church member, I was astounded to learn that nearly nothing in the New Testament is from anyone who actually knew and walked with Jesus. They are all secondary sources

Believe it or not, Saul was The Wolf in sheep's clothing that came in shortly after Jesus was "gone", just as Jesus said would happen.

Paul, (The P in his fake name here stands for Public image to non Hebrew Romans (Racist Romans in Rome), Persecutor, later Preacher (Profiteer $), and ePistle!), wrote to the churches. His intention was to build the church organization, with monkey lords! A hierarchy of abuse. The so called Gnostic movement abhorred this, as did Jesus, who railed against those in religious power organizations of his time.

Again, Paul was the wolf of whom Jesus spoke. Jesus was never about organizations, and corporations, no monetizing and mass marketing of his words and teachings (somewhat adulterated, and confused, and definitely corrupted by Saul ... err, Paul.

Hence, I don't trust in the arm of the flesh... especially if the meat wagon (scribe/3rd person) writer is in a position to alter words and text to their liking, or add their ideas and interpretations - remember, Saul never read the gospels. Every body likes a better story (or one that leads advantage). The gospels were taken from oral accounts mostly, and possibly an earlier Q-Source which seems to run through the first three "Gospels", all of which third hand accounts, Mark being the earliest.

Scripture at best is a political document for controlling people's behavior in social settings. I know, a very practical view ... just try putting bums in seats with that!

People need magic in their lives! That's a tenet of my beliefs! We need love, approval, help, others, be they many or few. I take few. But love every one, even if only fellow apes on a fantastic spastic, super elastic journey.

I don't know? You tell me. Can I share or say any of that with others under the Title, Freedom of Religion. Did any of it offend you? Are people free from being offended?

Thoughts About Cages

 Nice! I was hauling hay today and thinking about how growing up in the 80s was so much different for kids than growing up is today. I think god blessed those who grew up without the internet. Where you got to see how real people interacted, in person, and it seems we apes were more polite and kind, not knowing so much about everyone's personal opinions and issues. Not that they weren't there. People just somehow knew how gouche it was to tell everyone amd strangers about those things. But I think the web spins them around hard, and the news does too. Did you notice that impartial and unbiased news all but ran away after 1995, as the internet rose, unbiased journalism started to die, and the news

A Life of Folly

 I've known a lot of intelligent and brilliant people during my life so far, both personally and through reading their works and biographies. From scholars, engineers, biologists, programmers, to highly skilled craftsmen, musicians, artists,  and maintenance repair and restoration people 

They share a common trait/vibe, a hard set devotion to learning and discovery, a good head for details and the integration of such, a passion and focus to know deeply the things they find interesting, even addictively so ... Curiousity and the love for the reward of answered questions (even answers to bad questions) and the thrill of newfound mental and physical skills. Many are walking encylopedias for given topics, experts in the field/topic. Yeah, nerds. I love em!

I've attended 9 funerals in the last 2 years, some of which were "Nerds" of which I speak (N-word ethic at play here folks). 

More than once, while hearing the accolades and accomplishments of their life, I felt the pang as the familiar thought would arise along the lines of,  "They were a brilliant and gifted person. What could they have been if they hadn't devoted so much time in their limited life to the folly of illusory ideas and beliefs?"

I know that sounds harsh, since as the philosopher Daniel Dennet says, "There is no polite way to tell a person that they have devoted thier life to a folly.", which I don't, but there it is ... and here it is too, ironically in a book well known for fomenting much of the folly of illusion in some of the people's lives of which I speak.

◄ Ecclesiastes 1 ► New Living Translation

1 These are the words of the Teacher, King David’s son, who ruled in Jerusalem.
2 “Everything is meaningless,” says the Teacher, “completely meaningless!”
3 What do people get for all their hard work under the sun? 
4 Generations come and generations go, but the earth never changes <not true actually>. 
5 The sun rises and the sun sets, then hurries around to rise again.
6 The wind blows south, and then turns north. Around and around it goes, blowing in circles. 
7 Rivers run into the sea, but the sea is never full. Then the water returns again to the rivers and flows out again to the sea. 
8 Everything is wearisome beyond description. No matter how much we see, we are never satisfied. No matter how much we hear, we are not content.
9 History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new. 
10 Sometimes people say, “Here is something new!” But actually it is old; nothing is ever truly new. 
11 We don’t remember what happened in the past, and in future generations, no one will remember what we are doing now.
12 I, the Teacher, was king of Israel, and I lived in Jerusalem. 
13 I devoted myself to search for understanding and to explore by wisdom everything being done under heaven. I soon discovered that God has dealt a tragic existence to the human race. 
14 I observed everything going on under the sun, and really, it is all meaningless—like chasing the wind.
15 What is wrong cannot be made right.
16 I said to myself, “Look, I am wiser than any of the kings who ruled in Jerusalem before me. I have greater wisdom and knowledge than any of them.” 
17 So I set out to learn everything from wisdom to madness and folly. But I learned firsthand that pursuing all this is like chasing the wind.
18 The greater my wisdom, the greater my grief.

This guy sounds a bit neurotic, and way old, worn out weary and depressed, and if not depressed, totally depressing, but I can relate.

 The truth, as most people wish to accept it, wasnt meant soley to bring comfort, much like life on this planet. If you are seeking comfort here youre chasing a folly. A lot of truth, easily avoided, doesn't serve to make you comfortable. Or as they say, "Ignorance is bliss" ... But only to the ignorant. It's hell to everyone else! 😜 

So as the great teacher says, chasing comfort and happiness, even status through knowledge is a folly.

However, the "redemption" of all of these thoughts is that there are myriad illusions we can use to make life more bearable, usually by magical meanings and vaulted purpose, many with the dream spawned by our overactive survival instincts of living beyond death, some even hope to live forever in some form or another. It's hard to imagine our own demise, and even harder to accept the demise of others whose "presence" continues to resonate in our minds long after they are dead until we are. We carry the dead with us and honor them for their lives and struggles. Heaven is simply a tidy place to put them as they continue to guide us thtough our memories of them. Both my parents are dead. But easily ressurected whenever I consider them, what they would tell me, even imaginary conversations from time to time.

We are meaning machines, blips in time in a potentially meaningless universe. Ultimately, in macro timescale there's no point, no purpose, and no hope. But in our micro timescale, we can only thrive and become actualized individuals (i.e. grown ass mature adults, like Mr. Great Teacher) when there is meaning, purpose, and hope to carry on.

So, to redeem my thoughts about the dead nerds and wierdos I've loved and known, we are all committed to the folly of illusions and unfounded beliefs ... but I think we need them in some ways to thrive in a universe.

And that is what most of these people did in their lives, thrived! Maybe because of thier illusions, or despite them.

My theory is 98 percent of all human endeavor is killing time.

Jerry Seinfeld

Free from the Gilded Cage (Another Vivid Dream)

 Last night I dreamt I was serving a second mission in Dallas Texas for the LDS church. I served there 1982 - 1984 as a missionary, trainer, District Leader, and Zone Leader. All three of my trainees went on to be A.P.s ...Assistant to the President, or Apes, as we liked to call them.  At my release, my mission president shook my hand hard and said he wished he had realized sooner what I great trainer I was since he would have had me doing that my whole mission. I remember being a bit relieved for his delayed ignorance.  And truth told I had a good and patient trainer, made so because he was suffering from colitis and was soon sent home.  This was the perfect environment for me to learn the ropes without being forced into full-on missionary work straight out of the gate.  I was the first new missionary in my incoming group to "Pass Off" on all my scriptures and discussions, mostly due to brother Bill's bad GI, which put him mostly horizontalwith intermittent sitting, which gave me time to get up to speed doing the same reading... sometimes outside our green cinderblock duplex apartment out in the middle of the well-named Plainview, Texas - I unconsciously used that tact whenever I was given a new missionary to open an area (Eastland, Brownsville, and Denton come to mind).

Coincidently, and maybe not so, I was back in Dallas last week doing training for my company at an undisclosable location, and Oh! How the memories of my youth came flooding in again.

Looking at the dream now, awake, and hopefully my senses sober, I was probably something like a mission president, or advisor, train the trainers, etc... The dream was certainly a conflation of  the two events .... So here it is, as best I can recall, my dream:

I was in a big meeting with all the bigwigs, most local, one remote, in a local area conference in the northern suburbs of Dallas, where the swanky people swank it up. Let's just call it somewhere south of Plano toward Farmer's Branch where I lodged last.  I was sitting in the conference with my beautiful girl-friday, my travel assistant. On this fine occasion of verbal drudgery, we were being a little frisky-flirty up in the lower balcony seats, me smelling her neck, she twirling my hair, and we both making goo-goo eyes at each other, sometimes at ourselves, sometimes over what was said, as we listened to the hub blub of blatherers who like to speak far too long about complicated contorted stuff, which is actually, in reality, small and simple stuff really, if you're not too tight butthole over things that don't quite matter (OCD maybe) ... and their continued anxious concerns for looking good on the outside while having a rotten thorn inside them, that they're loathe to pull out, and especially loathe to have it pulled out by others because they were acting like whited sepulchers the J man spoke to, was, may I say, a bit mentally taxing to my chi.  

As the speaker kept speaking and the lectern kept creaking in the amplified mic. And this repeating, as each lecturer took turns at the lectern. The breathers kept breathing their heavy concerns mixed with do or die motivations, and expectations of high perfections, and the weepers cried for lost loves .... Uhhhhg.

In this stream of woes and man yer hoes, keep digging holes, and burying loves lost, I remembered one of my favorite stories as a kid, Aesop I think, of the little mouse that came along and solved a huge problem for what to him would be a horrible beast, by removing a simple thorn from the paw of that very thankful, but fearsome beast.  Being small enough and thus able to get at and remove what it could not. .. And by small things, even simple things are great things brought to pass" ... or at least grateful things.

I always thought of myself, like probably every kid did when hearing the story, as that little mouse... but in my dream, I realized I may also be part of the beast, no being much older, and maybe a fearsome thing.  And of course, as the beast, I'm never going to piddle with a tiny mouse for prey when I've got bigger concerns for my immediate comfort and peace.  Conclusion possible, I may just be the beast here, in this dream.  Now the question is, "Where is my thorn?"  Help me Mouse! ... maybe I need to find the mouse, as the French say at the scene of most crimes of passion, "Cherchez la Femme!"

So on I daydreamed about that story where it led me while muted sounds met my ears.  I zoned out at a zone conference you might say.  But in my reverie and escape, I was pulled back to reality when ... I heard the words "What ever it is that is in you, giving you pain, be brave enough to pull it out."  Still half-dazed I remember looking sideways at her face, with words of concern in my ear ("her" being my assistant in case I lost you), with her left leg draped over my right, and our inner arms loosely around shoulders playing with each other's necks and hairlines, probably looking like some four-legged, two-headed monster.  It was then that I was pulled from my dream within a dream, and pulled from my diversion.  I heard my name, my full name, and title (Rank)

He, the latest speaker, was talking about me now! And looking at me now!   Disgusted a bit it seemed by our PDA.

He said I was being sent back home, and released (fired basically) because I had used the word cunt in my conversation one too many times with the wrong person entirely (CONtext bitch, Context! - words I've been speaking to myself lately to overcome my affliction with jumping tangent without giving enough context for my listeners. and being sometimes woefully misunderstood. lol). 

So I was being kicked out, in public, out of the mission, out of the group, out of my responsibilities, and being sent home early on the reprimand. Probably disfellowshipped or at least dishonored in one way or multiple ways.  I remember thinking, "This is an extreme response. Really!?  Just for calling a rose, a rose?"

After what was a scramble of events of untangling ourselves, like dreams are when panic sets, I calmly stood up, trying not to laugh, be inappropriate as I am sometimes, or say anything I'd regret ... and as I stood, I said, "Thank you for the release. (1) We'll see ya'll on the flipside!"  with nothing but a pleasant grin ... not a finger as implied. 

As I stood up to go, surprised, she took my hand to stand as well. She truly was by my side all the way. This helped immensely as we exited the event gracefully, past open eyes aghast, up the aisle and out the back way, out of the auditorium, and down the elevator to the parking garage, with the city wet waning and a bit windy out the elevator window as told by the motion of the rain droplets on the elevator glass windows as we looked at each other and the city we were sinking into, as cars lit their lights early for the dusking sun. The breeze gently blew into the elevator as the doors opened to the parking garage ... still frisky and both feeling set free from the pain going on in that room, from people who are too afraid to love or admit they might not always be on the right side.  We exited the elevator, stage left, got in our really nice mission car (2021 Nissan Silver Altima, if you're dying to know), that the mission had furnished me. Once in the car and settled, we exited the bowels of the parking garage to join our fellow travelers on the wet, windy, and waning roads. As we exited the out ramp, I lit my lights in a show of solidarity with my fellow travelers. It really wasn't that dark yet. I looked loving at her for her love and support and said thank you for it with my eyes.  I was especially thankful for her understanding. 

We drove home, southwest into the sunset, to our provided digs at Farmer's Branch, which in my minimalist's relative terms were quite swanky.

...Hey, they have outdoor hot tubs AND pools all year round in Texas! ... which means birds flying and perching and carrying on about you as you swim. Heaven! I especially enjoy the crows, and all kinds of corvids, during covid even more, and gained a special interest for that have rudder tails!  ;)  

The cold pool made for some serious Wim Hoffing, if you're into that sort of thing (good for chilling drinks and melons at least)... we moved hotels from La Quinta (haunted house) to Hampton Inn in Farmer's branch because it had better amenities... and I'm all about better amenities - Amen!   
/Tangent....

Arriving back at our digs, we both went to our separate rooms and offices, each seeking to pack quickly what was most dear and needed to get out of town as told.  This was our new mission now, together, to get away before they told us just where to go and how to do it. I was being released, right? Then I'm outta here - don't need ta tell me twice!

The last thing I remember was my phone ringing as I was rushing to pack everything I valued and putting the annoying number of my superior on block.  As we were almost out of our now past digs, there was a knock on the door and more commotion that I won't get into now ... 

As you're probably wanting to know, we managed to avoid more of the yammering hoopla and their desire to settle my fate for speaking bad words to talk about good things.  Yeah. We got away!

That's when my alarm went off or I noticed it going off.  My phone alarm didn't wake me because it was in the dream.  Actually, the dream ended when I heard my son yelling and pounding the wall from his room, "Turn off your alarm!"  ... It goes off at 6 AM.  lol

As I pondered it more, this morning, and now fully awake, it had meaning for me, deep spiritual-sauce kind of stuff.

You see, for me, AWAKE, the simple problem with the religion of my youth, that could be solved so elegantly is for them to pull out the thorn of bigotry and disapproval they hold toward other people not living in accordance with their set ways (and yeah, I'm talking about human sexuality, and homosexuality specifically here since as you may know, my father was such and held the tortured heart of a beautiful man trying to live in a cage that didn't fit him ... but anything goes as far as what is causing you pain.  Whatever it is, I say, "Release It!" ... or at least have it checked. :)  We need more people at peace in this crazy world right now.

Yeah,, sure it will still hurt to step on the wound, touch it, have it touched, or poked, or have any pressure applied, but with time it will heal if you can learn to tolerate the discomfort enough (I broke 3 ribs, and cracked 3 this past summer as I racked my rib cage and collapsed lung being stoo-ped). 

 Maybe most progress from pain, and away from it can be had with just a simple change of heart (policies and how it is spoken about out loud) and a lot more kindness and understanding, just like their savior showed.

And if you really, by definition, cannot feel empathy for the thorn, or those carrying it, at least show compassion.  Maybe just some silence and some serving, with peace upon you and in you ... but you can't have that carrying thorns yourself. 

Maybe we/they really don't even need to talk about it, and it's simply a distraction from other things that REALLY matter RIGHT now in our shared world and universe, "each another's audience, outside the gilded cage." (2)

You may be somewhere else, spinning around something else, but like everything, the same principles apply to very different things. If you are experiencing pain from something, anything at all, pull it out, get rid of it, disinfect the wound and expect some healing ... which means more pain usually.

But have faith that you can heal, eventually.  My dream was about healing.  And if you can't do it yourself, I pray that you have a little mousey friend in this world who can help you get it out - any way you need to have it extracted, so that your soul can be at peace again, and you can regain the flow and calm of the Wu-Wei.

I've said before, I did not leave my religion, I graduated from it. And god bless my Alma Matter, my SPirit Mother, the cradle of my soul.

I can't wait to have another dream about our further travels home together, where ever we call that. At least I hope to dream of it again. I still remember her face - vividly, and she is no one I know or have known (maybe a weird amalgamation). 

I hope to see what happens next in my dream, this particular dream.

... and I sure hope it includes the word cunt! 

Sorry, but I really cunt help it.  :D (3)

Peace be with you my friends and family, in whatever adventure you are presently in.
If I know you, ICU, and you have my <3, always. 
And if not that, I can always get away fast into the cold and the darkness, down a deep dark hole of isolation, where I best find my chi ... I AM a Water Rabbit, sometimes a Jack one too. ;)

Comments welcome.

NOTES:
(1) See my recent blog titled, I Release You, for the tangential reference.

(2) A line from one of my favorite Rush songs which highlights a concept my son recently showed me in another light with his woodshop project he'd done. He selected the simple word Sonder, which was CNC'ed on to an alder placard. I helped him finish it in the garage and gave him access to all my art tools.  It was beautiful naked and turned out beautiful dresses, and a word that helped me immensely in reiteration of the concept that my bad habit of improperly applying the idea of the "Theory of Mind", which higher intelligences, such as ourselves, surely, possess ... me often getting it wrong and making it worse. 

Sonder  n.  the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own, populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, and ways of interpreting and thinking about a shared environment ... Nov 16, 2021 ~ Uploaded by Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows (edited).

(3) Pussy, twat, privates, verginer, pusk'ette, crotch lips, 1-2-3 lock box, vaginal region, etc. :P

 

Is it enough?

 Visiting downtown Grand Rapids as winter is in its last death throes, I'm riding the charter bus in the early hours taking me to a training conference. As large corporate buildings rise across the river and spread throughout downtown with their large corporate logos plastered and lit hard on their facades I consider the greed going on, how people are naturally inclined to take, not what is rightfully theirs ethically, but whatever they can legally.  Thinking of all the one sided agreements and top down enforced, think of hotel pullbacks

Then I thought about this human behavior, that seems natural in each of us - hey, if it's there I deserve it... I can see this thinking in my own life... when is it enough. When will I be satisfied that I am enough and most especially , have enough

Celebrating Life, not Death

 I've been thinking a lot lately about my mental focus and maybe how much I may be addicted to suffering and what I call a "beautiful sadness".  Death and loss have always held me, probably longer than they should, or better put, I have always held them longer than is beneficial.  I tend to have a dark sense of humor and enjoy darkness literally.  As an armchair biologist, I'm fascinated by nocturnal animals that live without much light.  I've even gone off camping along in the desert to record their calls and experience their "nightlife".

I tell myself it's understandable, this somewhat recent and growing intimacy with death given My father died in 2006, November 14th, and my mother died 10 years later, November 7th, 2016. (November has always been a mystical month of births and deaths in my family).  There's also the new farm animal harvest that happened in October, culling the herd for winter - ducks, chickens, bunnies, and goats.  I raise animals for meat so as not to support the meat industry and still feed  and do my best to make it humane and give them a good free range life before they go. As an animal lover, that's been tough, but I got through it more resilient and stronger, and have striv

This winter I hit a hard depressive episode, from which I'm just recovering from, despite all my efforts to "get out into it", and remain active even after the sun goes down in order to avoid the usual hibernation and shut down I go through due to seasonal affective disorder, with its attendant depression and death of all motivational raison d'etre, with the oversleeping, loathing my obligations, and sticking to bed until literally, my back hurts.  I know I'm depressed when I start oversleeping ... that is exactly what happened this Winter.  It has been the worst winter depression I've experienced for a long time and came as a surprise, given my new winter routine that usually holds back the grim reaper of depression.  It sucked. 

 I knew why it was worse, at least by the physical instigators. It coincided with breaking up from a two-year relationship that was mostly very good, but not built for longevity. We both admitted that.  It blew up between Christmas and New Years, with all the hurt and pain needing to be processed, and also coincidence with my resolution to quit nicotine in all its forms (smoke and vape mostly), which threw my dopamine reward system into a downward spin ... I'm getting better.  I'm still not smoking, although truth, there have been moments of weakness when the universe threw me a bone and I took it... but I am smoke free.

...talk about realigning myself to honor Mark Hollis' death February 25th, 2019, and instead honor his life, born Jan 4th, 1955

Top 10 Male Vocalists:

1. Mark Hollis (Talk Talk)

2. Paul Buchanan (Blue Nile)

3. Layne Staley (Alice in Chains)

4. Rob Halford (Judas Priest)

5. David Foster

6. Chris Cornell

7. Jeff Lynne



Top 10 Female Vocalists
1. Imogen Heap (Frou Frou)
2. Connie Mitchell (Sneaky Sound System)

3. Pink
Billie Eilish

Karen Carpenter, Annie Lennox, Dua Lipa

Today, I Rise.

Seems like every day he comes to consciousness with a parched mouth and a full bladder. The delirium of sleep has yet again removed all sense of time and space. Garble-headed, he finally realizes where he is and wonders what time it is since it's still dark outside. Well, that useful knowledge will have to wait since his cell is charging on the bathroom counter. More importantly, he's also wondering how long he can prolong getting out of bed while still making it to the toilet without peeing himself a little. Yes, he's really that lazy, but to be nice, we'll call him lethargic.

Finally, with the utmost effort and courage, he rolls himself 1-2-3 out of bed, right onto his bare feet, and prances in the dark, like a blind cavefish in its cave, right to the bathroom. He puts his hand down to make double sure the lids are up and immediately upon knowing he is in a flow state.

He made it! No leakage! 

He'd hoped so, since these were his favorite man panties and he was hoping to wear them one more day, just one day more, as the song goes. 

Standing now, above the painful stream, becoming less so with the release of pressure, wavering to and fro, chaotically, yet on target, he congratulates himself at his skillful aim. He muses how years of such experience have made him a Jedi master of the stream, as he continues hitting the target center while seeming to float around a toilet bowel telescoping in and out, sometimes appearing so far away. He's standing, wavering like this most mornings, always for what seems far too long and a quart too many. Time seems to pass in slow motion as the peeing continues, as does the euphoria at its release. 

Finally, the flow becomes rhythmically intermittent, like someone milking a goat. This is when he knows it's almost over as he lazily reaches his arm to the flusher and pushes it down. He taps the last drops into the vortex as it all disappears and is replenished with 'fresh" water. 

Drying his hands (after washing them in the sink, not the toilet, mind), he checks his cellphone for the time. When the screen comes on he's squinting at the light, chiding himself at staying up late yet again and eating far too many snacks. It's 5:48, no time to get back in bed. Besides, the alarm will be going off in 12 minutes anyway. He turns on the light and groans at the finality of it being morning, feeling the ongoing exhaustion at burning too many candles at too many ends as he opens the mirror and retrieves his toothbrush, dabs a squat of paste, and begins brushing his teeth while putting the paste back and closing the mirror.

Staring at his messy hair and tired face in the mirror, he tells himself, "I am a warrior with a fierce spirit!" as he raises his electric toothbrush lackluster into the air, punctuating the word spirit. "... who gets to live one day more!", he grins with a rabies smile.

Spitting the toothpaste into the sink, and rinsing his mouth, he rises from the tap and sees his face rising in the mirror with him. Smiling at himself, he winks "lucky sucker!", and pulls a wide-eyed expression at himself in hope of some sort of revival. He stretches his eyeballs out a few more times while brushing his hair and laughs a low energy belly laugh which moves his shoulders slightly up and down.

Yet, underneath his silly steely facade is a heart that continues to get the shit beaten out of it, yet somehow seems to keep brimming with love and ... Oh, God, that bowl of split pea soup he shouldn't have eaten so late is now ready for deposit.  Turning on the fan, he goes back for round two... while hoping this doesn't make him late for work, which it probably will, since he'll likely need to take a shower ... which means his favorite man panties are going in the bin after all. 

"Today, I rise.”

Just Another Day

If You're Bugged - Speak into the Mic.

When I die, I hope death is the end, not because I don't enjoy existing. I just don't like the options presented. 

When I was young, I was told, always a bit too convincingly asserted, that we have a soul which lives on after death, by what turned out to be some pretty insecure people on the subject. That's understandable, and I don't fault them for all the wishful thinking, life is scary and beautiful. It's easy to form an addiction to it, especially with an escalated sense of survival instinct brought about by fear or trauma. Most people don't want to die. Some people do at some times, sure, but mostly, most people, most of the time, want to live. If death isn't the end, like most people hope it's not, I know I don't want to go to heaven. It seems a far too competitive place that everyone wants to go, to commune and vibe with god (goodness). My religion even taught me that there were multiple levels of heaven - like that of a concert ticket, even a nosebleed section ... Nah, no thanks. I'm done with the ranks and the rankings.

Besides, I wouldn't want to hang out with most of the people I know who believe in heaven in the heaven they believe in (and by default then, hell) I also don't care to go to hell, that seems to be a place that is way overcrowded as well (Maybe even by some people who thought they were going to heaven).

Many a religious believer would tell me right now that it's not up to me what happens when I die or where I go. But, the thing you have to understand about my religious upbringing is that I was taught the primary law of the universe, above all other laws, is agency. This means that neither god nor his evil counterpart (nor his trusty sidekick) can force me to do anything against my will, nor do they control the consequences. I always have a choice, and thus I am always completely responsible for said choices and fully accept the consequences - no codependency here! There's no need for further suffering from my bad choices by putting it on someone else.

So, if it turns out by some great surprise, that I'm still around after my body bites the dust, I'm not going to heaven. My life has been so full of both wonderful highs and terrible lows, I feel it would be a bit like putting the guild on the lily. I really don't deserve either, having had so much of both. I'd be okay hanging out around the universe though. I might even revisit some of my old haunts and spook the living, or tiptoe across the backs of frogs croaking in the receding light as day turns to dusk and the insects stand out and glow in the angle of the evening sun as they fly about. If I really had a choice, I'd come back to earth, not as an ape again, but probably an insect, with wings ... I guess in that sense, with my former consciousness intact, or maybe blurred a bit, I'd be an angel. 

I think a lot of people would choose to fly on their next incarnation of life if that's as much an option as going to heaven or hell. Anyway, you must concede that if the other two are actual options, why not reincarnation? Can we really place limits on fantasy?

So, and here's the best point I'd like to make, if you're sitting, standing, or meandering along in your life, wasting time and pondering the depth of your navel, and if that pondering is seeking an answer, maybe even needing a sign or a message from God or a higher power (maybe even your own) ... don't swat a flying insect that comes to you! The damselfly, ladybug, moth, or hornet, or any other flying insect for that matter that comes and flys about your headspace, maybe even alights on you (if you're lucky), that wonderful flying thing may be a reincarnated angel. It might just be some dead person previously, who chose to be an insect on this go about, maybe even your grandma.

 Commune with it, listen, observe, maybe even speak into god's microphone if you feel like you're being bugged. It may have a message for you, from the divine ... even if it is to say, you are heard, noticed, and loved by some part of the universe. I've experienced this so many times that it feels as true as heaven.

The moral to the Story: Never squish an insect! - you may be killing the messenger... and there also may be unavoidable consequences to the act, like becoming what you most hate in your next incarnation (that which you would show no mercy) because you lack empathy and understanding for life, all of life, and what it truly is, in all shapes and forms that it may come to you ... that is unless you'd rather go to blah blah bland old heaven, where nothing bad ever happens, and by default, nothing ever all that good. Every form of life is equally valid, even the bugs.  And guess what?  Maybe God loves insects too.  He certainly loves beetles more than humans and all other insects, if we're going by quantity (Beetles make up 1/3rd of all insect species, and 1/4th of all species on the planet!). ;)

God is said to have told us, "Thou shalt not kill.". No clarifier as to what we shall not kill (most egocentrically assume human life, but god never added a human clarifier to that - we did).  Thou shalt not kill, period... and don't fuck with spiders - seriously bad karma there! *

* The US is home to around 3,500 species of spiders. Most spiders in the USA are not dangerous for humans or larger pets. In fact, only two types of spiders in the US can be dangerous for humans: the black widow and the brown recluse. So basically, odds are, when you kill a spider you're taking a life that did nothing to deserve your ignorant violence ... and most of them were doing you a favor by preying on insects that really can be pests.

I Release You!

 I was reading comments about a recent unintentionally racist fundraiser at a local high school and someone mentioned that we are all created in God's image. It always gives me a chuckle when people say we are created in god's image (yeah, the bible says it too). I don't think most people really stop and consider what that means. If humans are literally created in god's image and likeness, that means God is an ape, a member of or precursor to the family Hominidae, as humans are. God is a Great Sky Simian whom we should all worship and obey if we want to go to heaven after we cease to exist. God is the greatest Grade-A ape of all great apes. That's what humans of the Judeo-Christian bent and some others are saying God is, a souped-up superhuman. Like Mighty Mouse for mice, if mice could image there was a god. So worshiping this humanlike god is just a dressed-up way of worshipping humans, ourselves. Oh, we humans just love humans. We're Great! But all this hoopla is merely rampant hyper self-aggrandizement of the human-animal, us, because, you know … we're built like God, and he's our super chimp daddy.

As for the topic of race, which many love to virtue signal and insult each other over, just remember, we're all black from way back … and we're all insensitive and stupid sometimes too, and many are horribly insecure for all kinds of reasons. No matter what color or culture you are, we are all the same species of ape. Like dogs, we can all interbreed and make more mutants. We're all mutants of god. It says so in the bible, remember. We're like shitty copies of an ideal image, form, or archetype. But the key point here is that we are all the same species, and fighting or feeling insulted because someone isn't humaning right simply causes more division over race. It might make you feel good - self-righteousness with its elevating indignation always does - You are Justified! Yeah, assert yourself! … but as outcomes go, it's just stupid and counterproductive. An argument rarely changes anyone's mind against the point they are trying to argue. And it's stupid because … We are all the same species! And we're allowed to be different in all of the ways humanly possible. Being one or united doesn't mean we have to think and act and be just like each other (that's the stuff of cults). It means we have mutual respect, different strengths and abilities, and are kind to other people's opinions, since people seem to get so attached to them as an identity, maybe just like your skin color, eh? 

Jesus said, "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." He was also fond of pulling his favorite disciple aside (favorite depending on who was telling the story), to tell them the secret hidden truth saved for only those ready to hear it. I imagine, when he got them somewhere alone, their face full of excitement and eager intrigue, he leaned in and whispered secretly, "Pssst! The truth is that people are incorrigible and no one wants to listen to anything that counters anything they already think or believe. You can't really save or change anyone, and neither can I. It has to begin from within. I get no respect among my own. As most people see me, I'm just the brown bastard child my stepdad Joseph claimed so my mom wouldn't be put to death. I'm not the son of God any more than you are. I just hinted at that to be important, so people would listen and give some weight to my words. People don't listen... unless they're desperate or beaten to the bottom of life's barrel, like you were when you began following me around.  So, yeah, sorry, I know it's probably a bummer for you right now, but I'm not the messiah. I'm just a rabble-rouser who likes to roam around and talk smack against the powers that be.  The point is, you have to save yourself, man. You can't save others and you can't save Jerusalem. Oh, come on! don't cry. The kingdom of heaven is within you, not in me, not in others, nor anything external.  Now dry up, and go! be free! I release you! 

Even if Jesus was a pious fraud and a fibber and is now dead as a doornail, and even if God is not an ape (and those bastards who wrote it in the bible lied to make us feel better about being his kids), or even if God doesn't exist at all in any way shape or form, a person should not be held in low (or high) regard simply because of the meat-wagon they're born with, nor the culture they were born into. No one chooses that stuff … and guess what? We're all allowed to be different and express all the variation possible by the human species... even if we're fuckin nuts! It's wonderful!

Just imagine if we categorized and separated ourselves off by what kind of nose you had, instead of skin color. And people naturally got along and hung out with people of the same noses. Seems ridiculous, eh? It's like the blue shirt red shirt psych studies. Groups, classifications, and categories matter very little in reality though, because in every single one there is a human, living a life unique to who\where\how\why and what they are.

Maybe we should all try to treat people as individuals, and look at them from the inside out … all the stuff on the outside is just window dressing, most of it unearned. Just like noses, I've met and interacted with both wonderful and not-so-wonderful people of every skin color in my life. Race or ethnicity never seemed to matter in this regard, neither did their nose. It's about the individual, outside any group, clan or tribal classifications. And if they're being a jerk, or a just jerk in general, remember, it's not because of the color of their skin, but something troubling within, maybe their crooked nose, or the color of their skin. Which has always been an argument so thin.

The greatest troubles and frictions of humankind arise from vanity. Feeling great about ourselves, overconfident and better than others in general, as well as delusions of grandeur, which can be very thrilling, in a very "It's great being me!" kind of way. It's even made a lot of feckless ding-dongs think they could be a great leader, instead of the true sociopaths that they were. But such vanity is easily dispelled by realizing three things: 1. You're just one of the billions of assorted apes "made" over the last 200,000 years in the image of a god, who likely does not exist (You're not that special) 2. Our current way of living on this planet is highly unsustainable and soon, on the human timescale, most, if not all of us will be dead, just like Jesus (Nothing really matters, not even Jesus apparently, unless you're using his life as an excuse to buy the things you want for yourself and others, most of it soon to the landfill), and 3. You are simply a victim of your own value judgments both for what is good and what is bad, and some of these play upon your horrible existential insecurities to make you believe in nonsense - like anything about you was really of your own doing, or that of a simian sky God.

Ultimately, you're not responsible for anyone's actions or thoughts but your own. You don't need to redeem or save other people … Ha! That's a joke. But it's nice to help out sometimes … and ultimately no one is going to redeem or save you (not that they haven't tried … Oh, you poor sweet mother). Remember Jesus' hidden truth, no one likes being told how things are, or who they are, from anyone but themselves, especially if they have a superiority chip on their shoulder, which a lot of people do these days. People only listen if they think the other person is more important or special. That's why Jesus had to lie, or people lied for him when telling their 4th and 5th hand stories (Human apes excel at fabricating and making shit up to suit their worldview (Yeah, I own it). So much so, I think it should have been God's 1st commandment for his mutant children, rather than the blatant self-promotion that's there now, if there really was a god handing them down that is, and not some human seeking to exact power via proxy from the population).  Fact is, you are powerless to change much beyond your own zone and how you see and approach the world. You can't really change other people to fit your insecurities, and that's not your job anyway. It's all on you bucko! You have to save yourself. You have to pay for your own ticket to ride, and continue paying it until you're dead. No one else can, and frankly, no one else wants to. They've all got enough problems of their own to handle. And taking care of yourself is what we call being a grown up.  Don't put your problems on others and try your best not to be a jerk - whatever color you call yourself.

So now you know the truth … May it set you free, astonishingly.

Merry Krampus!

Magic and Mysteries

  I never had any plans on going to college. I never really thought about it much. Always figured I'd just get a job doing manual labor of some sort. In high school I excelled, well, I really enjoyed my blue-collar classes, welding, metal shop, woodshop, wrestling, art. I threw papers in high school, worked on restoring cars with my brother, did landscaping for a bit, tended racing horses after school, worked at a truss plant, and busted tires up until my mission for the LDS church.  All of this was as I was told to do in working hard and saving for a mission. I was told about saving for my mission as a wee lad, but now they really drill it into the little people's heads (They even talk about going to the temple, taking out your endowments and getting married and sealed to you eternal spouse in the temple, to kids from 4 on up - their messaging seemed really desperate to me the last time I attended their primary services). With my mission savings, I was able to pay for my entire LDS mission and more.

  But, just prior to my mission, I went to the patriarch of the stake to get my patriarchal blessing. Now, if you don't know, a stake is a step higher than a ward, covering all the wards in which actual members meet and attend Sunday meetings. So this patriarch guy was somewhat of a big cheese. And if don't also know, a patriarchal blessing is kind of like a fortune told, or a spiritual road map of your life, even telling what once happened, as well as the wonderful things that will happen. This "promise" usually comes with the clause of, "as you stay faithful" ... I always thought that meant to Jesus and the Truth, but the sentiment can be expressed as different as one patriarch is from another in expressing himself into your "Spiritual Path" that is to be taken as your spiritual fortune, and being promised a spot on the right hand of Jesus. The key is that the blessing is null and void if you stray.

  Anyway, my patriarch gave me the usual blessing, even told me I'd see angels ... 

  The point I'm trying to make is that after giving me a wonderful blessing, he pulled me aside when everyone was done shaking my hand, and he told me, almost in stealth, that he had forgotten one thing.
"I wished I had told you in the officially recorded blessing that you should seek an education. After your mission, I had the very strong impression that you should go to college.", he whispered.

Well, I sure thought a lot about that secret of all secrets whenever I read my official patriarchal blessing. All through my mission I thought upon it.  And sure, being somewhat a plausible wonder if maybe IT WASN'T supposed to be IN my officially recorded version!? Or any version at all. Because maybe it t'was an evil spirit that did'th speak to his mind's ear? Especially if you consider that the long-term effects of telling me to go to college and putting that bug in my ear would eventually cause me to leave my LDS faith. 

Well hell! That had to be Satan!

To which I say, "Thank you Satan. 

Satan, as originally used and understood in the old testament, is an angel sent from god to block a way that would prove bad for you or others. Yes, Satan may appear your enemy, since nobody really wants their way blocked. Seems like everybody wants to get their way, do it their way, and have it their way these days. No one wants their way blocked! So naturally, god's angel Satan is dispersed and made the bad horrible thing he or she may be for telling your stupid baby ass NO, but at the end of the day, Satan was just trying to save you from choosing a path not really meant for you, at least in god's eyes ... but, in the end, it's really your choice, isn't it? At least that's what I heard attending my religion, the sanctity of agency, and personal choices.

Anyway, when I got home after my mission, guess what I did?  Enroll in school?

Nope! I went back to what I knew. School honestly scared me, and no one in my family had gone to college. I became a parts puller at a NAPA warehouse distribution center. It took me getting fired after three months and being told that maybe I was more cut out to be a brain surgeon.

That did it. My secret blessing outside my official blessing was right. Maybe Satan did rule this world after all, as I was told ... as god's angel of bad news and a path not meant for you. I should go to college.
I had a tiny severance and the money I'd saved while working three months, as well as that leftover from my mission fund to do it. 

So I enrolled at the UofU, and against all odds, I chose to become an Electrical Engineer on a High School Minimalists' transcript ... 6 years later I was one. (I put myself through college as well)  ... 12 years later, I was using the same tools I used in college, primarily books, learning my way out of the LDS faith, while going a bit crazy in the process of holding on to what "I Know" against what is known.

But my mind gets to wondering sometimes about what if? Like what if that patriarch, high priest, and shaman of fortune had failed to act in telling me what god and angels, maybe even satan wanted me to hear? Who would I be now? Where would I be?  That, my friends, is a world of mysteries. But, I'll tell you one thing, I'm glad I listened to that wise old man and went to university, and I'm glad he pulled me aside. Where would I be today had I not earnestly believed in the words of that man and that their direction came from God?

Religious things will always be a mystery, and I think that's the way they're supposed to be.  Faith is way too easy when you force yourself to "know" a thing you want to believe outside the realms of scientific inquiry. Hell, that's not faith. Knowing is not faith, and things of faith cannot be known until they actually happen, if and when they do. And if they don't - these stories that go past living - you will be none the wiser, or even the sadder for it. You will simply cease to be.  But at least you heard some wonderful stories while you were here, maybe even lived a few of these fantasies in real life.  Who's to say more what a life is worth than the one who lived it?  And remember, people are really good at telling stories along the lines of their own paradigms. ;)

Crisco Kid Was a Friend of Mine

It's kinda funny when I hear people call themselves or others Christians and talk about Christ. Christ wasn't Jesus's name. It isn't even a Hebrew name. It is a Greek title, Christos, meaning anointed one. Jesus, in all of his life, never once referred to himself as Christ.

And even if it was only those Greek geeks who came after him calling him Christos, Christ wasn't the only christ. There were many anointed ones, especially in the Jewish faith. They were anointing everything with oils, both in and out of sacred rites. Desert cultures love oils, especially for the hair and skin. Calling Jesus the Christ literally means Jesus the anointed one, Jesus the one we oiled, Jesus the lubricated and the moist. I'm sure his hair and skin looked great.

So a Christian is a person who follows only one christofied dude, out of the many well-oiled dudes who came out of the Hebrew tradition of being anointed with special oil and some magic words to attain a title, a religious ranking (keep note that the Hebrew society was a theocracy) and they think calling this guy Christ, rather than by his (modernized) name Jesus, is something more special, more significant than his real name and his true identity. I guess it's just more evidence of how people can miss the tree for the forest ... or the case for the lawyer.

Imagine if Jesus was a Lawyer. Lawyer would be his title. It would be perfectly fine to call him Jesus the Lawyer, or even Lawyer Jesus ... if he had his law degree and license to practice that is ... but to simply call him Lawyer is wrong. Imagine hearing, "Lawyer said, we should all love each other and live in peace together."

Yeah, that would be weird in more ways than one. "Which lawyer said that? And why is he calling himself just Lawyer?", some might ask, especially other lawyers. Others might wonder if that cat was really a lawyer since that message is bad news for lawyers everywhere.

So, since back then, religion was the law and the law was the religion, Jesus was anointed to practice and interpret the law of Moses (The Torah) and minister to the Hebrew people as a public servant, illegally it should be noted.

Around the age of 30 or so, he came back to Hebrew town after a long stay in India with his dad (Life in a Hebrew Town - Hey-um-ma-ma-my, Hey-um-ma-my-yah!) He desired to minister to his own people as he had done with his people in the East (His father was an Indian Holy Man. Jesus was a half-breed). He knew in order to minister and practice within Hebrew society he would need a license to preach and the "proper" anointing from some faction of Judaism (The Essenes) in order to give him some street cred among the Jewish people.

So one night, back home, breaking bread with the family (Joe, Mary, his step, and half-siblings), Jesus heard tell of his cousin John, who was living out in the desert, baptizing and anointing people as disciples in his special sect of Judaism.  Knowing that a place within mainstream Judaism as a priest or man of the cloth was blocked from his entry, Jesus stuck it to the man and traveled out and joined John's practice in the desert.  He eventually graduated his discipleship, was anointed with a ton of THC oil, and sent out to wander the desert, HAF, for 40 days. Jewish numerology loves the number 40, so it probably wasn't exactly 40 days, especially if we're relying on someone high on Kannabis to tell us how long he was gone. ;)
40 is simply Hebrew speak to denote "a substantial spell". Yeah, you'd be talking to the devil at that point too.  This rite was part of his graduation ceremony. So yes, if you asked a mainstream Temple Jew, Jesus was given the priesthood illegally within an unrecognized sect and ceremony.

He began his ministry upon finding his way back out of the desert and returning to mainstream society.  When his folks heard from the neighbors he was back in town after his wild trip out to see cousin Johnny in the desert, they also heard that he was out telling crazy stories about himself, the devil, and god, they quickly went off to save their family reputation.  According to Mark, the earliest gospel, Mary his mother, and a few brothers and sisters went to the place he was preaching, a house, and tried to fetch him home thinking he had gone mad, mostly because he was saying unusual things and implying that he was the son of god.  So much for the annunciation, hey Mary?

This also explains why the godly representatives within mainstream Judaism were so often at odds with Jesus and his illegitimacy. So often they are seen giving him shit and arguing with him. Turns out that Jesus the Christ was not properly oiled or Christed enough for them (they never used that word), which is completely understandable. He got his license to preach on the black market while getting high on kaneh bosm (cannabis). Jesus was unconventional, to put it mildly.

I love Jesus and everything that surrounds him.  So when speaking of Jesus by name, keep your Christ ... right next to your Crisco.  If I were to name Christians properly, I'd call them Jesussians, an homage to both Jesus and Dr. Suess with their wild collection of late told stories called the New Testament (aka The Legends of Jesus).  

And by the really far-out chance that people ever take to following me and making up wild stories after I'm long dead and gone simply because I was rumored to be a well-oiled man who may have been said to say some inspired shit, and do some miracles (like filing my taxes every year), I hope they call themselves Ronions and meet every week in an anointed cave to bake, get baked, lube, eat, drink and be hairy, for tomorrow they dry.

If anyone feels the need to tell some stories about me they must do it with the vile breath of garlic and onions on their lips as they speak. And laughter is the best amen, deep and hard, maybe even farting laughter, but never on purpose, especially in a closed space - Come on man! that's rude and inconsiderate, and violates the spirit of Just Ron the Ron ... Namely, Poo unto others as you would have them poo unto you ...

As you've read already, if people end up worshipping me, I also hope to be known as Just Ron the Ron, the Fun Sun of God, because ya'll need to lighten up a bit, turn off your electRONics, quit talking so much crap on the internet, and go outside more. ;)

P.S. I hope you didn't find all this too anointing, and it wasn't seen as unctuous.  Beneath all my joking there is a very sincere heart and I love you, whatever you profess to be... even a lover of those well oiled.

Fearless Leader of the Ronions - Just Ron the Ron
Note: We didn't know what the fuck he actually looked like so this depiction is as good as any

To Sheep, Perhaps to Cream - Udder Calm

Friday, April 9th, 2021

Last night I had a very strange dream.  I know, some, maybe most people don't like hearing about other people's dreams a whole lot, especially when they're just a jumbled bunch of weird nonsense that means and makes more sense to the teller than it does to the told. And of course, they just have to give you all the details.

With that, I'll tell you the weird, wonderful dream I had last night ...

I dreamt that I was myself as an old man, like 20-30 years in the future. I was still living on the family "farm" and tending my place, my personal garden of Eden. As usual, I was out moving dirt and muck around, enjoying the emerging bugs while cleaning and repairing my ditches to be ready for the annual irrigation waters which were soon to come. I was much slower and deliberate now, and progress was slower too. Doggo was "helping", as always, never able to pass up a good dig with all the wonderful smells being turned over or set loose. Like help from a kid, sometimes his digging and investigating was more a hindrance than a help, but he made it up more than good with the company.

 I stopped at one point to straighten my back and rest. I was a bit tired, hot, and working up a sweat. As I paused I thought to myself, "What a very peaceful and happy life I've had.", in a sort of strange recollection of all the years that had passed since this dream started. These were beautiful memories of things that hadn't happened yet, and some sad things too as I searched the time lost to a future state. But, "All sad things are born of love... and return to it" I heard my mind say. Plus, at my age, I'd learned the drive to always be happy was a false god, and detrimental actually to true happiness.  "Into each life, a little rain must fall" also came to mind ... as well as the lyrics to Here Comes the Rain Again... by now a very oldie and still a goodie.

I called it a day and gathered my tools as dark clouds were forming from the south and the air was cooling. It started sprinkling a bit, a cool, almost welcome rain that happens while the sun is still shining. The sun was about to call it a day as well, going down among the still white clouds leaving along with it over the near horizon. The western sky as usual was exiting in all its vibrant glory. "This is like the perfect backdrop for a storybook tale of good and evil", I thought as I stood and admired it.

Seeing dark clouds and storms sweeping in on my left, in a growing mass seemingly devouring the distant Earth with rainshadows streaming downward beneath, raised a strong sense of impending doom ... But I thought, "Nah, that's just my instincts telling me it's about time to take cover from the cold dark wetness to come. It's simply that mammalian urge to keep my fur dry and warm." Ah warm!", I thought. As I looked to my right and up above the sky was clear sunny and setting and producing magical rain that seems to come from nowhere out of the clear blue sky above. I've always believed that this rain had a certain kind of magic, and to get wet in it was a kind of lucky charm, a blessing or baptism by angels. Aside from being magical, these rain sprinkles were so often refreshing and nice on a sunny day.

Shortly, my bones started to take chill with the rain sprinkling me cool and wetting my clothes as I stood enjoying this heavenly drama. The heavens before me and on my right were retreating in a seeming surrender to the dark forces coming on from the deep south. 

"Looks like we got ourselves one hell of a storm coming," I said to my hound dog, Cooper, who was curiously observing the same scene in bouts of stillness too, seeming to ponder the end of a good day and enjoy the cool wetness - more yummy smells being stirring up whose sources needed discovery.

As he wound his way back to me and sat again to observe, I touched his wet head and said, "Let's get our hides inside." He followed me in as I turned to walk toward the house to clean up and get into some dry clothes.

I made myself some clam chowder, the quick kind out of a can, much like the dog's meal.

A bit later I started feeling ill. I couldn't decide if it was from the clams or the cold, maybe both, but feeling like crap, with nausea and fatigue, I took to bed, feeling under the weather. You know how a bad bout of flu makes you feel like you're dying. Well, I was sick and fatigued and felt like I was going to die, just like I always felt when really sick, but this time, in my sick dream, I knew. I somehow knew with certainty that this was going to be the one to come true ...

Uneasy, I woke up just then, back in bed, a little upset and feeling cold and sniffling. I realized I was completely uncovered and cold so I sleepily pulled the twisted blanket glob at my feet sloppily back over me. As I drifted back off to sleep, feeling much warmer and the overtones of my death dream still in the air, it felt like my old man's body was being lowered softly into a hole, into the blackness, the eternal still and calm. 

"This is my death!" I thought in that place between wake and dream, feeling a wee bit panicked, but I was too tired to care and willingly sunk down in it ... into complete darkness, silence... total sensory deprivation. Ahhh - Death, the ultimate relaxation.....The eternal Zzzzzzzzzzzzs

As my mind drifted off into nothing and my entire body rested in this blackest black hole ... a floaty, comforting, and drifting black hole you should know ... I experienced complete and udder calm as we often do in our nightly surrender of all consciousness set to rescue the brain from madness.

Somehow in this udder stupor, I realized that I was back in my dream as my older self who had just gone to bed ill and experienced his death. Seems I died from too much chill to the bone... or from my love of clams.

After how much time, I don't know since I was dead to the world, suddenly, like two neurons waking to spark up a conversation, I saw a flicker, a pin of light that sparkled and expanded and swelled to a soft white-yellow glow all around me as I arose to consciousness again - like a reboot. 

Being neither old nor young, with little sense of my own identity except the vague recollection that I once was an old man who died, I looked into the source of the light, the brightest part streaming in, and moved toward it. This must be "a white hole!" I thought as I curiously pushed my face toward it, delighted in my discovery, and thinking maybe its discovery might just win me some kind of science award and notability. What a discovery! There are White holes too in the universe! "Maybe it's what is at the other end of a black hole!", I thought

Surprisingly, the light was not hurting my eyes much at all even though it was ultra bright. Squinting hard, I put my eye up to the pinhole and had a peek. As I pushed my face to it, it stretched out wider. Squinting out the light hole, the brightness soon faded away as my vision returned. I saw a whole new world out there appear in the light before me!

So I stuck my nose and head out of the hole, as my eyes cleared the hole I opened my now sticky eyelids, and there I was, alive again!  I was being born!  "This must be my new life in Heaven!", I thought.  I was so happy!

Just then, I was squeezed hard out of the hole in one last push and hit the straw strewn ground wet, facefirst in the dirt. With shit in my mouth, I looked up and saw the hole. It belonged to my mother... a goat. "I've just been born into heaven as a goat, and the portal to it was a doe's vagina... do re mi fa so la ti DOE!  The hills are alive with the sound of ... Baaha ha ha hah!!

I was all white, with a tinge of yellow, like the glow of light that enveloped me and brought me back to life. I had beautiful long goat legs, long ears that I could always see in my periphery, and hooves for hands and feet. 

"I'm a goat. Hmm... so this is what it's like being a goat, huh?"  Mom was licking me know... It felt nice, being licked, and even nicer being licked by someone you love.

"Hmm, why am I a goat in heaven?" I thought taking a swerve from my goatish reveries. "In the bible, Satan took the goats and Jesus took the sheep. Jesus was the good shepherd, which makes one think that Satan is a bad one? The same Satan who is often depicted as a goat, horns. cloven feet, a tail! ... Baphomet is a goat-man, and now I'm a goat who was a man!

I must be in Hell!" I thought and felt a bit worried about what was to come. I consoled myself in a weird way, seeing that my worries of going to hell were right. It always feels good being right.

Looking about it was a nice barn with a nice warm patch of straw in a wood worn corner and the side of the barn was warm from the spring day sun outside.

"Oh well, it seems like a nice place.  Who knows...?"

I stood up on my wobbly legs after a short time and nuzzled into my mother's teats.  Soon forcefully in my mouth and butting the bag, the milk began to flow as I sucked it in. It tasted like ice cream, delicious nutritious warm ice cream, and mom smelled so wonderful.

Full of warm creamy milk and feeling great and full of life I mused, "I think I'm going to like being a goat" as I licked my fuzzy goat lips. I laid down in the straw and licked my nethers ...  "I'm a girl!? I'm a girl goat! What the hell is going on here?"

Just then the door to the barn opened and the bright light poured in around the silhouette of a human-like creature making its way toward me. "This must be the Devil", I thought, and I was a little afraid, especially with all the recently unsettling events ... Afraid that is until he walked out of the silhouette and I could see his face. 

It was me from the past!

All I could figure is that when I died as an old man, I must have traveled back in time to the day Roxanne was born, the first baby goat born on my farm, March 15th, 2021. And now I was her and she was me, in the future that was now my past. 

Immediately all my fears went away because I knew I was in heaven knowing how much I had loved me as a goat. I felt completely secure anticipating all the wonderful years of my life to come with this goat lovin' devil ...

Sadly, that's when I woke up, and the light was again coming through the window blinds. Turns out I didn't die, in the present or in the future, although I did have that firehose diarrhea going on all day - musta been all that sweet goat milk in my dreams... or all the ice cream I ate before bed.

Joking aside for a moment, I woke up feeling strongly that heaven can be anywhere ... anywhere you feel loved, protected, and secure. It's anywhere you look with a grateful heart. It's where always know and trust that your needs will be taken care of with plenty of food, water, sunshine, and companionship. Most of all it's a place where you are fully allowed to just be you, with calm correction when necessary, and always loved and admired for who you are, and only expected to be such, who you are ... even if you're a goat, maybe even especially if you're a goat.

And that's why you should always be kind to animals because one day you just might be one (Pssst! you already are), in another heaven you never knew about, in another time, or another place, or maybe, just maybe, you're one right now, running around in on "God's Green Acres", in another place and time, or maybe in the same place and time, while the other you sits and frets about their taxes.

Besides, in my book, if you take good care of kids and animals and give them a good life, full of love, full of opportunity of experience and expression, you are a god, a creator of heaven and peace. You are a god in their heaven, and the keeper and provider of their udder joy and calm, even if you're a goat. 

The End

P.S. I hope my dream comes true someday. Until then I plan to love my kids, my animals, you animals, and my goats, especially Roxanne, who may just know more about me than I do right now ;)

Me as a Goat - Roxanne