It is Unspeakable – So Speak Out

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As always, a powerful message from rmott….

rmott62's avatarRebecca Mott

I hear many comparing prostitution to rape, to domestic violence – comparing but refusing to see or hear the differences.

I hear around me how rape in war zones is the worse crime that any women or girl could go through – but only if she not prostituted and consumed inside brothels.

I hear everywhere that rape is torture – but it become choice and lifestyle when done endlessly to the prostituted.

I am told prostitution must only dangerous if on the streets and the women have an addiction – as my torture and tortures of millions of prostituted women girls doing indoors prostitution is made fun, safe and our choice to be there.

I hear and see shock and horror if a young teenager is raped – but if the man pays her or she is framed as prostitution she is ripped of being under-age, it just a business…

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Save it all until the final tally…..

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Ffolkes,
One more down, for the count, and one more on deck for full waiting modality. Each day that passes without hearing from Social Security adds just a bit more fuel to the already huge pile of it waiting to ignite my ire into a full-fledged tirade. Actually, I’m not sure what is keeping it from setting itself off, as I have more than enough anger built up to supply the necessary heat.

I know I’m dealing with a federal/state agency (it’s a weird system…. apparently the state has an agency that decides for the federal government who is and who is not disabled, according to some arcane set of standards, none of which are known to the public. This agency claims it is so busy, it is 140+ days behind in its work, and continuing to fall further behind each day….), but it really shouldn’t be an automatic assumption that they are inefficient, even if they are. And, they are…. extremely…..

This may have to do, of course, with their incredible lack of efficiency at almost every level in the department. I was told, on the 14th of October, that the submitted reports on my functioning level had been sent to doctors for their review, but that any decision would be held until receiving the psyche report from the psychologist they sent me to on November 8. Well, that was done, and according to the psychologist, they have had his report now for at least two and a half weeks; it was the last one they were waiting on before making a decision. Well, no decision thus far, and no answer, apparently, since I asked my lawyer’s office to call them and request a time frame. It is getting close to my wanting to take some personal action…. SIGH…. I am a patient man, but they are testing that patience to the extreme…..

Ah well, I suppose I’d best find some other form of recreation for the day, as a rant against SS is not only futile, but somewhat nauseating to write, as it creates bile having to just keep their characteristics in mind, and the longer one rants, the more sick one feels, not from the work, but from having to deal with SS at all. For an agency that is supposed to take care of senior citizens, it certainly puts them through a lot of shit. I’ll leave it at that for the time being, and try to refocus on something else….

How about the weather, eh? Pretty confusing, to say the least…. Summer weather all the way through November, then deep winter weather pattern, skipping past autumn completely. The leaves are beautiful in their colors, finally, while the weather itself has turned cold and wet, common for February, not necessarily November/December, though we do get some rain in the fall some years. Just not like this, one storm after another, in a very winter-like pattern.

It all goes to show that all the shouting and worry about global warming is not a false alarm, as weather patterns all over the world are showing signs of breaking down the old stable, predictable patterns, and showing veritable waves of unusual events. It is only going to get stranger, ffolkes, so you may as well gird your grids for a big one….

Okay, we’ve touched all the salient points that are required in an intro, and probably went way too far, again…. Oh, well…. Such is life, or as the French are fond of saying, c’est la vie, which, translated precisely, means, “such is life”….    🙂     Shall we Pearl?…..
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Where will you spend eternity? Heaven or Hell? — found in Smart Bee, most likely copied from some Christian Sunday School lesson, or perhaps some preacher’s sermon…. And, definitely used as an opening line by any number of sidewalk preachers….

This will be a relatively short pearl, just to take a moment to point out the kind of insidious manipulation that is the common habit of most preachers (as previously defined….). First, let’s examine the first sentence…. Where will you spend eternity?  Eternity? Eternity? Who mentioned eternity? Actually, I had no intention of going there at all, so asking me this question is rather silly to begin with. Eternity is a very, very long time, and I’m not sure I really want to spend my time sitting there, in either of the given choices…. Moreover, who says that, a) I’m going there, or b) you’re going there, or c) we have to decide? I didn’t see that in my manual…..

So, they want to know where I’ll spend eternity…. as if it is their business what I do. Even if it were any of their business, why should I answer? Is it mandatory now to suffer fools? I don’t get these people who insist on proselytizing their religions. They seem to believe that their piety, or their status as believers, gives them the right to throw out all standards of public politeness, and act as if they are entitled to accost anyone they choose, to demand answers to ridiculously biased questions, and generally make nuisances of themselves. As if it isn’t rude enough to try to engage perfect strangers in order to manipulate them, they also will solicit money or time for their cause, showing no sense of shame whatsoever…..

If they are insistent enough to badger us into engaging with them with their intrusive questions regarding their beliefs, (which is the point…. they aren’t interested in YOUR beliefs at all, they only want to force theirs onto you….), then you get hit with the second part…. Heaven, or Hell…. I have to admit, sometimes, just for fun, I tell them the truth…. that I’d much rather spend the time in Hell, where all the independent ffolkes with a measurable sense of humor go to spend eternity, than to have to spend that amount of time listening to their prattle and carrying on about how grand things are in Heaven… what a massive bore!…. Of course, I tell them, that is assuming there is any truth at all to the proposition that going to either place is really what happens, something for which there is no evidence at all….

Smart Bee shows me a quote occasionally that says “If I had property in Texas and in Hell, I’d probably live in Hell, and rent the place in Texas.”, but I forget who said it. Nevertheless, it is closer to what I feel than any other quote I’ve found on this particular subject. I know this will come as a bit of a disappointment to my older relatives, (those valiant few that remain….) and any Christians who are my friends (there ARE some who aren’t entirely hidebound….), but, they’re used to me by now. For any others who may find these comments to be offensive, well, oops, too bad, so sad….. Around here we deal only in the truth, (as I perceive it…. it’s only fair, since it’s my blog…..) and we don’t worry a lot about where the chips may fall….

The correct way to punctuate a sentence that starts: “Of course it is none of my business but–” is to place a period after the word “but.” Don’t use excessive force in supplying such moron with a period. Cutting his throat is only a momentary pleasure and is bound to get you talked about.  — Lazarus Long
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Ode To Psyche

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
The winged Psyche with awaken’d eyes?
I wander’d in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp’ring roof
Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran
A brooklet, scarce espied:

Mid hush’d, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,
They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;
Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;
Their lips touch’d not, but had not bade adieu,
As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,
And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:
The winged boy I knew;
But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?
His Psyche true!

O latest born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Ph{oe}be’s sapphire-region’d star,
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heap’d with flowers;
Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours;
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet
From chain-swung censer teeming;
No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming.

O brightest! though too late for antique vows,
Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,
When holy were the haunted forest boughs,
Holy the air, the water, and the fire;
Yet even in these days so far retir’d
From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,
Fluttering among the faint Olympians,
I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspir’d.
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan
Upon the midnight hours;
Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet
From swinged censer teeming;
Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat
Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming.

Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane
In some untrodden region of my mind,
Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,
Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:
Far, far around shall those dark-cluster’d trees
Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep;
And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,
The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull’d to sleep;
And in the midst of this wide quietness
A rosy sanctuary will I dress
With the wreath’d trellis of a working brain,
With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,
With all the gardener Fancy e’er could feign,
Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:
And there shall be for thee all soft delight
That shadowy thought can win,
A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,
To let the warm Love in!

John Keats
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“Love is that state where the happiness and well-being of another person is more important than your own.” — Robert A. Heinlein

There are some who say that love, ungiven, can wither and die. I don’t agree with that, unless they are speaking of a different kind of love than what I understand. What Bob Heinlein says above is as close a definition that I have ever seen, for a word that everyone seems to define differently, yet believe that they alone know its meaning, while still trying to share it with someone else. For me, true love, once given, never dies. It may become shriveled and old, if neglected or rejected, but it doesn’t die completely. Not in me, anyway…. and I’m the only one I can really speak for, aren’t I? Yes……

Another question that seems unanswered to anyone’s satisfaction is the one raised by Tom Robbins in his book, “Skinny Legs and All”, which asks, “How do you make Love stay?” Again, to me, this is a critical piece of information, and one that I’ve yet to find an answer to, outside the evidence of my own family and friends. With a woman, I have never been able to experience having one remain stable in the relationship, instead choosing to sever acquaintance at some point, and live their life without me. There are, of course, many reasons that could be ascribed for those occasions, but, in my perception, they all boil down to the fact that I was not the one who chose to end the relationship, and I didn’t know exactly what I’d done to cause the other person to choose as they did….

Sure, I can make guesses, but, mostly, after much consideration, I found that it came down to THEIR issues that made them choose their path, and it didn’t have anything to do with what I did, or didn’t do; that was merely the convenient excuse, and easier for them than admitting their own denial of feeling, or taking responsibility for their choice. In essence, they lied, to themselves, and to me. Which, it could be said, is all for the best for me, in the long run…. At least I don’t have to live with lies, as apparently I was for a long time…. Love really is blind, when it is real…

“I believe that it is better to tell the truth than a lie. I believe it is better to be free than to be a slave. And I believe it is better to know than to be ignorant.” — H. L. Mencken

By predisposition of nature, and by experience of my family life as a child, I believe in long-term, loving relationships, where each party is fully engaged in living their life in tandem with another, and has no doubts about that choice. I’ve witnessed many such, as well as the opposite, and don’t feel as if modern culture is such that it is no longer possible to maintain such a relationship; the only factor that matters in the end is the love that the two feel for each other, and what they are willing to do to keep that love, and to nurture its existence for as long as life endures.

Old as I am, I’m still looking for that kind of honest commitment, and have not given up hope of finding a woman who feels the same way….. I guess I should apply some of the skills at waiting that I’ve developed in my quest for SS benefits to the search for love…. and in some ways, I have, I’d say. I’m still here, and still looking, so that’s something, isn’t it?….

“The young man who has not wept is a savage, and the old man who will not laugh is a fool.” — George Santayana (1863-1952)
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I’m not sure how to take this one….. It seems okay, but…. I can’t seem to put my finger on it, but it doesn’t seem quite finished somehow. Ah well, I’ve been over it enough times now that I’m sure that whatever isn’t there will remain a mystery…. I can’t find it (logical, I suppose, as it isn’t there…. ). There seems to be enough to call it a Pearl, once the poem is in place, so I’m going to let if fly…. Stick a fork in me, I’m done…..   Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

The only quest I know….

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Ffolkes,
There is always a lot of stuff going on in my head, and, in spite of how it should, or could be otherwise, I’m pretty sure that not all of it is completely under my control. This, as might be deduced, is both blessing and curse, and causes me no end of moments of temporary confusion, moments that can stretch to what seems like eons….. Hell, sometimes, it seems like confusion is my most natural state, especially when reality is going through its contortions right in front of me like it does; reality does not always conform to what I think of it, either regarding expectations, or expedience. Hard to say which is more annoying, having my expectations dashed by reality, or having my time killed by it, used up dealing with mundane details rather than exotic dreams, or even hopeful ones….. (Whew! A four line sentence, desperately trying not to run on, and failing spectacularly!…. Oh well…. I just got up, give me a little slack, here, ‘kay?….Or, just call me Balzac….)

If this all sounds a bit vague, you are paying attention, as it is deliberately so. I’m trying to discuss a point that can easily slip over into whining about how Murphy always f___s with me, without crossing the line of demarcation for that state of asininity. Whining feels good, right up until it leaves the mouth, then it is just pathetic, and the shame and guilt set in…. I really don’t know why we even bother with it, as it has no effect at all on reality, and only makes us look and feel bad. Another of those delightful human characteristics that we are constantly working to eradicate from our personalities, if we have any sense. Of course, the possession of sense is another discussion entirely, and would take up far too much space right now, so let’s not go there, eh?

To get back to our original point of discussion, not being entirely in control of what is happening in my head is a deliberate state on my part. I’ve found that a lot of my artistic impetus comes from that area of my experience, so I’ve developed the habit of allowing part of my consciousness free rein to go wherever it may wish, without any oversight by the tapes and rules that govern most of the rest of my persona. This is my version of allowing my imagination to soar, and it seems to work for me, so I don’t fuss with it, or think about it much, as I don’t want to disturb whatever balance and tension that keeps it running smoothly.

Below you’ll find a poem, an original I composed last night, under non-normal circumstances. It’s okay…. not the best I’ve ever done, but honest, and real in its intent and style. Oh, and, of course, it rhymes…. to me, that is important in one of my own poems these days. I spent a lot of effort in my youth writing free verse, with no structure, and no deliberate rhyming. Most of what I wrote back then was pretty sappy…. emotional, at times powerfully so, but lacking in direction, or a whole lot of style.

S’okay, I’m good with it, because nobody will ever see it again but me, and maybe my kids, when they go through my things after I pass (Oh for goodness sake, I hope they don’t try to publish any of it posthumously, I’d die of shame….   🙂   ….) Any who, this poem was written on the edge, as I was about two sheets to the wind, an unusual state these days, especially on a mere half-pint over the course of an hour and a half…. not exactly the consumption of a lumberjack, or even myself three years ago….. But, it was enough for my payday splurge for the month, and gave me a full three hours of wonderful relief from back pain (I’d forgotten how alcohol can do that…. it’s just not something one can use regularly, for a lot of reasons, but, occasionally, it sure provides a kind, and depth, of relief that is very rare for those of us who suffer constant pain….)

Any who, let’s see what else we can come up with here on an early Sunday morning, with the rain and wind blowing and blustering outside, making me glad to have a warm, dry place to stay, with food, and things to occupy my mind, and time. I am indeed a rich man, for all that I don’t have, that is to say, the worry of those who have no such advantages as these. It’s almost enough to make me rant, but I’ll wait until I find a pearl to base it on…. Shall we Pearl?…..
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“There is one God, but which one is He?”– Smart Bee

Now, this is the proper use of reason and inquiry! Such a small question, made gargantuan by the depth of its insight. Which one, indeed, is the real God? There are as many answers to this question as there are what I like to call “preachers”, for want of a better word (I should maybe try to pick a better one, I suppose….); “preachers” are men, or women, who have decided upon one particular system of beliefs on the subject of divinity as being the correct one, to the exclusion of all the others. In spite of the lack of hard evidence on hand for any of the different belief systems, these folks choose one, and stick to it like a barnacle…. which, come to think of it, is probably what it feels like, after a while….

Depending on to whom the question is put, the answer may vary from Odin the All Father of Norse mythology, to the God of Zoroaster, whose specific appellation escapes me just now. In between you will find God, also known as Yahweh/Jehovah to the those of the Tribe, Allah to the Muslims, and just plain old God to most of the Christian sects. There is the voodoo god, Jobu, in the Caribbean; Set, or Bal, or Mammon, or any of the other ancient earth gods;  Ra of the Egyptians; Krishna, and all his incarnations, i.e., Kali, Yama, Ganesha, Maya, and the others in the Hindu pantheon. The American Indians seemed to favor the Great Spirit. Ancient Druids and Wiccans follow the Goddess, with gods and goddesses from the Greeks and Romans thrown into the mix, just for fun. The list seems as endless as human imagination….. which it is, since all of them spring from that source.

“If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.” — Smart Bee (and, most likely, the Dalai Lama….)

As far as I know, Buddha never claimed to be a god, and was, to my mind, not particularly clear on the subject of divinity, as directly related to humanity. The same seems true of Taoism, though certain of its sages seem to hold some of the old Chinese mythology beliefs on Heaven, and the creatures who inhabit that domain, another concept for which there is only imaginary evidence to support its veracity, and its reality. In this way, I see these philosophies as superior to the religious doctrines that purport to worship a deity, as they rely on reason, personal responsibility, and compassion to direct action, rather than fear of reprisal, or hope for reward, as is the wont of religious dogma and doctrine.

This perception of mine may be because I have always thought that the entire concept of a deity is not capable of being described, or understood, if one is to assume that a god is what it claims to be. How can a mortal understand an immortal? There is no common ground, other than the assumption of existence, for which there can be any reason for one to be connected to the other, as we could not comprehend their existence. We, limited to our human perceptions, have no direct evidence of a deity that can be experienced by those perceptions.

Anyone who tells you they do is lying, even if they believe it to be true, unless they can share that experience with another human, directly, with evidence for the senses we possess, not merely for what we wish to be true. Feelings don’t count, nor visions only seen by them, or voices in the head, and neither do personal revelations, or religious fevers, or speaking in tongues…. See, hear, touch, smell, taste…. that’s what we have, along with the ability to reason, and our imagination. That is our tool kit, and unless one of the tools fits, it isn’t real, to our perceptive ability. Items purported to be evidence that come from imagination are just that…. imaginary, and cannot be considered proof of anything other than the naivete of the speaker, and of any who choose to believe them.

“It is a great advantage for a system of philosophy to be substantially true.” — George Santayana

SIGH…. People are people, though, and they will choose what to believe according to what they feel, most of the time, rather than according to what is the truth, which requires effort to find. It has even been said that humans have a tendency more often than not to make choices that are bad for them, just for that reason, that it is too much effort to think their way through to the truth that would ultimately help them. As long as this is true, then our species is in danger, from itself, and its own delusions…. Sad, in a species of such promise…..

And on the 8th day, God woke up and said “Whew! It was just a dream!” — Smart Bee
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“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.” — Robert Frost

Placidly falling in amber waves: old friends

Whiskey, oh, whiskey, I’d forgotten thy balm,
thy loving spread of lassitude, and nature’s own calm.
Misery and pain flee in squalid disorganization,
leaving mirth, happily embraced, in just consolation.

James, old friend, thou has not abandoned me at all,
steadfast and loyal, ever ready to answer my softest call.
Ephemeral illusions of normality come at your instigation
blessed moments of peaceful joy, sans vilification.

Gasps of coherence pound at the door to conscious thought,
muffled explosive memories of battles already fought.
Malleable as the changeable airs of time and circumstance
plaintive calls to reason stand not a single, honest chance.

Sober again, reality’s cold reign brings a new day
ringing in old changes in a new-fashioned way.
To know true freedom’s release from our everyday pain
Is worth a bit of headache, even in the cold, pouring rain.

~~ gigoid, two sheets to the wind, and back

“You will find poetry nowhere, unless you bring some with you.” — Joseph Joubert
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If birth is a miracle, is not death also a miracle? — Smart Bee

Smart Bee is living up to its name today…. Here is a question that most will avoid asking…. Well, perhaps not so much avoid as ignore, by preference. Which amounts to the same, little as they’d like to admit it. It’s okay, though, nobody is blaming them, or suggesting they do anything other than what is comfortable…. Karma exists, like it or not, as the proper and logical counterbalance to entropy, giving it meaning, and everyone gets out of life exactly what they deserve. This is not an arguable conclusion, it is mere fact of reality, and fighting against it is pointless, as well as tiring…..

“You live in a deranged age, more deranged than usual, because in spite of great scientific and technological advances, man has not the faintest idea of who he is, what he is doing, or where he is going.”– Smart Bee

Everyone gets what they deserve….. what a novel concept! Of course, many folks, of the sort who don’t like to accept merely what they deserve, try to manipulate reality, and end up accumulating much more than they deserve. What they don’t understand is that time is not on their side, and karma will eventually come to them for an accounting, and all will be brought into balance, at their expense. It’s not a pretty sight when it happens, and it is so unnecessary, considering the consequences that can be avoided by simple acts of honor and integrity. Sometimes, living is a worse punishment than dying, in such cases….

Another lesser-known part of karma is one that most folks have a hard time both understanding, and, once they do, accepting. This principle is stated simply as: Not only are you 100% responsible for what you DO, you are 100% responsible for what happens TO you. Yep…. completely. If the world has punched you in the face, well, all I can ask is, what was your face doing in front of that fist? There are no excuses in the eyes of karma, and we become truly ourselves when we learn to understand this, and to make it a part of how we make decisions in life, including those leading up to the second miracle of our existence, dying.

“When the ten thousand things are seen in their oneness, we return to the source to remain where we have always been.” — Seng Ts’un.

In the ultimate sense, this goes back to the discussion in section one above, tying all of it together in this way: “the ten thousand things” is the Chinese literary euphemism for reality, or Heaven, or the universe at large, depending on who one asks at what time of day….. By this statement, Ts’un shows his knowledge, and acceptance of his own divinity, and connection, according to the principles of karma and how we interact with reality, to everything that exists in the universe, including all gods, or ideas about gods, or God. Take your pick, they are ALL correct, in their own little way, or according their own little piece of the Truth. What is actually TRUE for everyone always makes itself obvious…. because that is what happens. What is, is….

“Happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of one principle. Some things are within your control. And some things are not.” — Epictetus
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I have to say, this one isn’t bad…. I’m not going to even question why it came out as well as it did, but will go with the flow of karma, and accept what is….. Unless I wish to wait until late this afternoon to post this, I will have to hike through the rain for a few blocks to get to the Wi-Fi spot at the coffee shop, which I believe will be the best way to go. I’m no tireless, invulnerable warrior like I used to be, but I think I can make it three blocks in the rain for this without suffering the tortures of hell. Unless, of course, pneumonia sets in…. Well, no point in tempting Murphy any more than that, so I’ll close this here, and hope for the best…. All I need is twenty minutes of cooperation from the rain gods, and all will be well…..  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

The penny screamed when I pinched it….

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Ffolkes,
What an odd sensation I’m experiencing this morning! I am awake, almost fully, it seems, but every bone and muscle in my body wants me to go back to sleep….. I can barely hold my head up from what feels like fatigue (after almost 10 hours in bed….), but my mind is alert and ready for the day, so to speak. Weird…. I’m typing while leaning on my right arm, and my back is bowed, all because I’m tired, or feel that way. I know I shouldn’t be tired, but, there you go…. More gifts from an aging body, I guess, and not one I’m going to worry about, or give in to. Not that I’m bursting with creativity or anything like that this morning…. I’m just tired of giving ground, and I’m not ready for my rocking chair yet….

Oops…. that was a conclusion, given too early, I think. Now I don’t know where to go with this intro section, having already delivered the punch line, so to speak. But, in keeping with the theme of no complaints, I’ll forge onward, despite the self-induced literary suicide I just performed. Well, suicide is maybe a bit harsh…. let’s just call it a faux pas, and let it go at that. A faux pas is much easier to repair than a suicide, that’s for sure…..

Trite, trite, trite…. what was I thinking? Oh well….. It’s looking like today may just be more of an adventure than even I was prepared for; so far, I’ve found myself performing several little contortions that do not bode well for the rest of the day. An egoistic curmudgeonly moment, followed immediately by clumsy lexicography are not the most hopeful signs of brilliance I can think of, off hand. This may take some rather severe mental contortions to make it to the end. Ah well, I had a feeling when I awoke that this would be one of those days, so I mentally “girded my grid for the big one”, as the bozos say….

Hmm…. “gird your grid for a big one” is a phrase that I see might need some clarification, but, oh well. Now is not the time, so unless you feel like plugging it into Google, to see if it knows where it is from, I guess you are S.O.L., as they say downtown, because I’m not going to do that right now. I could, but, I’m not…. leftover curmudgeon, I guess. But, I’ll soften enough to give you a hint…. it comes from one of the Firesign Theater’s albums, and the word “bozo” is a second hint….

Well, none of the above is going to win me any literary prizes, and I have sputtered through five or six paragraphs already, so it’s probably all for the best to go on to the regular program. Not that I think that will be of any use, or help…. this one is already too far off the tracks to worry about trying to get back on…. we’ll just wander through the uncharted territories today, and let the chips fall where they may….  Shall we Pearl?….
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“I am certain that after the dust of centuries has passed over our cities, we, too, will be remembered not for victories or defeats in battle or in politics but for our contributions to the human spirit.” — former US President John F. Kennedy

At last! A worthy pearl! JFK, like the current President, was a superb public speaker, “Ich bin ein Berliner” notwithstanding, and whether he wrote his own words, or relied on his speech writers, he delivered, arguably, some of the most memorable, and insightful, aphorisms in US political and social history. The above statement is a perfect example, as he expresses a sentiment that can only be applauded, if not verified. I say verified because  there is not a lot of verification from the past that history remembers anything BUT the battles. But, one can hope….

Actually, I believe what Jack said very strongly, in the sense that there are different histories that are remembered, most of which become altered in some way over time, as does all memory. The great teachers and philosophers who have lived have left their mark on the world in more ways than always show, in spite of the records of their deeds not always surviving intact. But, throughout history, there have been men, and women, who have done much to advance the human condition, whose words and deeds were never seen, and never recorded, but, nonetheless. whose effects still ripple down the river of time.

Some of the great minds in history, such as Lao Tzu, Zoroaster, Genghis Khan, Gautama Buddha, Jesus of Nazareth, Mohammed, Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, and many others, all made such advances in the human spirit, and their ideas keep proving their worth every day by their relativity to modern society. Men like Leonardo da Vinci, whose genius was so bright it shines even today, and modern philosopher/scientists such as Albert Einstein, and Stephen Hawking, have advanced that human spirit as much as anyone.

I’m not being as eloquent as I’d wish for such a deep subject…. What I’m trying to get to here is that we all, each and every one of us, have the power and opportunity to do the same as these historical figures, to advance the human spirit, just by the way we live our lives. What the philosophers say, and write, and the wisdom they pass on, is all very good, and a lesson to the rest of us…. But, what the average person does every day in their lives is just as important to the future as any scientific breakthrough, because what they do will determine what their children learn, and THAT is where the advancement really takes place, in the moments of teaching that happens every moment for children, and their adult teachers.

Living a life of integrity, with honesty and duty as the watchwords for action, is the best teaching method there is; to provide a good example for a child holds no less promise for mankind than all the work of all the genius’ of all time. How each one of us approaches life will, in the end, determine what happens to our species as a whole. It isn’t easy, especially given all of the people in society who do NOT wish to have any part of advancing anything but their own interests…. especially when so many of those kinds of people are in positions of authority. But, it can be done, and is done, every day, by millions of men and women of good spirit…. They are truly the future of mankind, and, if there is any hope for survival, it lies in their honest hands….

“So live that you can look any man in the eye and tell him to go to hell.” — Smart Bee
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The Wild Old Wicked Man

BECAUSE I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,’
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
‘Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
Daybreak and a candle-end.

‘Kind are all your words, my dear,
Do not the rest withhold.
Who can know the year, my dear,
when an old man’s blood grows cold? ‘
I have what no young man can have
Because he loves too much.
Words I have that can pierce the heart,
But what can he do but touch?’
Daybreak and a candle-end.

Then Said she to that wild old man,
His stout stick under his hand,
‘Love to give or to withhold
Is not at my command.
I gave it all to an older man:
That old man in the skies.
Hands that are busy with His beads
Can never close those eyes.’
Daybreak and a candle-end.

‘Go your ways, O go your ways,
I choose another mark,
Girls down on the seashore
Who understand the dark;
Bawdy talk for the fishermen;
A dance for the fisher-lads;
When dark hangs upon the water
They turn down their beds.
Daybreak and a candle-end.

‘A young man in the dark am I,
But a wild old man in the light,
That can make a cat laugh, or
Can touch by mother wit
Things hid in their marrow-bones
From time long passed away,
Hid from all those warty lads
That by their bodies lay.
Daybreak and a candle-end.

‘All men live in suffering,
I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman erect upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.
Daybreak and a candlc-cnd.

‘That some stream of lightning
From the old man in the skies
Can burn out that suffering
No right-taught man denies.
But a coarse old man am I,
I choose the second-best,
I forget it all awhile
Upon a woman’s breast.’
Daybreak and a candlc-end.

~~ William Butler Yeats
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“The sage wears clothes of coarse cloth but carries jewels in his bosom; He knows himself but does not display himself; He loves himself but does not hold himself in high esteem. Thus he rejects the latter and takes the former.” — Lao-Tzu

In spite of how it must appear, there is a small degree of organization to this blog’s contents. Most days I try to make sure that the first and third sections, while possibly related, are essentially about different concepts. The second section is, of course, reserved for whatever poetry strikes my fancy that day, whether classic, humorous, or original (Though it does seem that my recent outpouring of original poems has run dry, I don’t think I’m done with that, yet…..).  It seems to work for me…. well enough, at least, to keep my internal critics quiet most of the time.

Today, it seems that most of what I’m seeing for pearls are related somehow to what I spoke of peripherally in today’s first section, to wit: the importance of integrity in human life. Integrity…. hmm…. not the precise word, or the characteristic I am thinking of, actually; it’s more than merely integrity. I suppose one could say the concept to which I’m referring is too mystical an idea to be presented clearly, and not be too far off the mark….

However, not being one to ignore a challenge to my vocabulary, I’ll take a few unseen moments here and find the correct word to facilitate further discussion, because, hey, if I can’t, no discussion, right? Right…. Be right back…. instantly, by all you will know and see…..  Well, the challenge is a strong one, and I think best answered with more than one word to describe what I’m trying to say. Those words are all contained in Axiom #7 of Peruaosophy, to wit: Do your Duty. Honor the Truth. Respect Life. Share your Love.

I know that it is my own philosophy, and some may think that is cheating, but, not so. All that I hold to be true is in that axiom, and it represents the four cornerstones of my personal foundation. I find that when I am able to live up to all of these concepts, when I am able to use their direction in guiding my actions, my life is much smoother, and my moments of joy are plentiful, to balance the pain that life brings all of us in turn. This, to me, is the best way to advance the human condition, little by little, with the efforts of each man and woman adding its weight to the forward momentum.

Yes, the actions and discoveries that the best of history’s minds bring to us are wonderful, and work to make the lives of every human better…. It is the everyday efforts of each man, though, that takes that wisdom and turns it into reality, by using ideas, and integrity, to add their experience to that of the rest of society. Since there is a large number of folks who do NOT subscribe to this kind of ethical behavior, choosing to make their own self-interest their primary concern, it is the duty of those who do believe in these ideas to carry them out as best they may, so that the world can retain some semblance of harmony. It doesn’t always work, and, in fact, is in constant jeopardy of not working at all, but, it is the only way that will make the changes our society needs to survive…. which is another discussion for another time…..

“And now there is merely silence, silence, silence, saying all we did not know.” — William Rose Benet
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All in all, not a bad start to December. Now, if the configuration issues I noted yesterday on my site have been cleared up by my renewal of the domain name, all will be well. I am hopeful, if not sanguine…. And, if I want to get this posted today in time to get anything else constructive done, I’d best draw this to a close…. No poem, yet, but, I think you’ll like what I’ve added there…. I’m off to the library and farmer’s market….  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

With a fool for a client…

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Ffolkes,
Life is an adventure, with a new lesson to be learned every day. Here’s a new one about aging that I just figured out…. I’ve spoken of how men need purpose to function with integrity and competence, and how having a purpose gives them the ability, and will, to accomplish whatever tasks are needed to fulfill that purpose. Whatever effort it takes is not to be considered an obstacle, but rather a spur to act….

Well, I have found this to have exceptions as one ages… small, but significant exceptions. If I had a task to perform, it used to be I could go out in any weather to work at it, without ever considering how uncomfortable I might get due to rain, or cold, or mud, or whatever inclemency was happening. I find now, at 62, that a morning of wind and rain is sufficient to cause me to adjust my plans to accommodate my frailty, or at least my lack of will to ignore that frailty….. I need to go shopping for food, but the rain, and having to use the bus system for transport, has me altering my original intent, adjusting the schedule to keep from getting all soaked and miserable….

I don’t feel a bit of guilt, either, which is odd…. I used to hate to have to change my schedule to suit the elements, or even to suit other folks, and doing so added that guilt/angst to my daily emotional stew. This doesn’t seem to bother me at all, which, I suppose, makes me as much of an egotist as anyone else…. but, it is an interesting lesson to learn about myself, and how my attitudes are changing as I get older. Life is strange, is it not?….

“If you want to have a long life, you must give up all those things that would make a long life interesting and fun.” — Smart Bee

What with the change in schedule, my head is now completely disoriented, so I should be ready to start writing…..  funny how that works, eh? The fear of some mere raindrops is enough to stir me up sufficiently to get the old neurons flashing at each other, as my head wraps itself around the concept of staying warm and dry, as opposed to wet and cold, and shivers in relief…… Since I now have at least an hour before the next bus, I will try to re-assume some semblance of efficiency, and start the morning dive…. Shall we Pearl?…..
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Once again, Reality has stepped into my space to give me a message from Murphy, to wit: F___ you…. and the plans you made…. So, in order to assemble an adequate Pearl, I have to go old school…. Here are a series of quotes, all on different subjects, sort of, but all tied together…. Identifying the twine used to tie it is the task of the Gentle Reader, with the caveat that there is no Quiz at the end, and no grades will be given, should it elude your best efforts to pin it down…. Hell, sometimes, it’s a bit murky to me, but, hey, gotta do what we gotta do…. Mmmmm, oatmeal…..

“We are not endeavoring to chain the future but to free the present. … We are the advocates of inquiry, investigation, and thought. … It is grander to think and investigate for yourself than to repeat a creed. … I look for the day when *reason*, throned upon the world’s brains, shall be the King of Kings and the God of Gods.” — Robert Green Ingersoll (1833-1899)

“Happiness follows sorrow, sorrow follows happiness, but when one no longer discriminates between happiness and sorrow, a good deal and a bad deed, one is able to realize freedom.” — Buddha

“Food, sleep, fear, propagation; each is the common property of men with brutes. Virtue is really their additional distinction; devoid of virtue, they are equal with brutes.” — The Hitopadesa (600?-1100? A.D.)

“All things are to be examined and called into question. There are no limits set on thought.” — Smart Bee

For those who didn’t make it to page 249 of “The Anthropic Cosmological Principle” by John Barrow and Frank Tipler, I quote

“In a randomly infinite Universe, any event occurring here and now with finite probability must be occurring simultaneously at an infinite number of other sites in the Universe. It is hard to evaluate this idea any further, but one thing is certain: if it is true then it is certainly not original!”
— Smart Bee

“I am covered with pure vegetable oil and I am writing a best seller!”  — Zippy the Pinhead

So, there you have it…. and it almost makes sense…. close enough…..
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Tableau at Twilight

I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.

A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.

The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.

Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.

Although my raiment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla.

Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I’d rather it melted somewhere else.

Exit child with remains of cone.
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone,

Muttering spells like an angry Druid,
Alone, in the dusk, with the cleaning fluid.

Ogden Nash
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I found this on Facebook a while back, and used it then, because it is exactly what my own father taught to me as a boy, back in the 1950’s. I’m using it again, with no shame…. I still operate by these rules, and believe the world would be a better place if more men did…. a different place, indeed…. If you have any comments, or, heaven forfend, objections, please feel free to discuss it in the comments section, and we can reach a consensus…. always preferable in reality…. Seriously, though, don’t y’all think that society would benefit from having ALL men act this way. Of course…. So, let’s shoot for at least half, and things will HAVE to improve, I’d say….

Rules of a Gentleman

1. A Gentleman is always presentable.

2. Lives a passionate life, with a compassionate nature, and dispassionate judgment.

3. Talent is God-given. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful.

4. Opening a door for a lady is not optional.

5. A Gentleman is one who puts more into the word than he takes out.

6. Nothing beats a good hat, as long as it is removed indoors.

7. Anything worth having, is worth working hard for.

8. A Gentleman will never instigate a fight, but he is allowed to end one.

9. A Gentleman reads and reflects.

10. The best suits are tailored (ties should never be a focal point).

11. A Gentleman means what he says, and says what he means.

12. Be gracious in manner, humble in tone, and thankful for what is given.

13. A Gentleman lives beyond his zone of comfort.

14. The line between confidence and arrogance is very thin, and a Gentleman is aware of it.

15. Drinks are not meant to be mixed.

16. A Gentleman can drive a stick-shift

17. A Gentleman can jump if need be.

18. Know the differences between courage and stupidity.

19. A Gentleman is observant, and takes action without delay.

20. To a lady, a Gentleman will readily offer both his coat and his hand.

I particularly like numbers two, six, eight, eleven, and eighteen…. but, numbers four and twenty are very cool, too, as they reflect one, or more, of the axioms of Peruaosophy…. I’m referring to the axioms that relate to the relationships between men and women, which are an endless fascination to me…. as they are for all men, I think… Well, for Gentlemen, anyway….
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All things considered, not too bad, if a bit light on actual writing. It will have to do, as I’m now involved in dealing with issues complicating the renewal of my domain… wish me luck….  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.gigoid

Figs are a fickle fruit….

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3

Ffolkes,
Echoes of emptiness…. That’s all I hear from the caverns of my mind. I’ve been considering THINGS as they are just now here on Exploring Consensual Reality, and have come to realize that what I’m perceiving is a lack of freshness, a lack of any of the flavor of today, of NOW. For the last couple of months, since losing my internet connection, my input from the outside world is limited to my phone, (which I only use as a phone, so it isn’t much), and the hour or two at the most I can hook up to the Net each day, to read the news and look around society….

During the last year’s run up to the election, that was sufficient; every day’s headlines supplied me, and every other loudmouth with a computer on the planet with more material than we could ever use. The week or so after the election had all the analysis from demographics experts, and the shock and awe amongst the still-reeling GOP pundits, who were shocked, shocked, I say, when they found out they had lost so badly. Of course, that’s what happens when you don’t have a clue about reality; it tends to bite….

Now, however, I find myself limited to my self, and my own little issues, and I’m afraid that is not only insufficient a source, but, I’m getting sick of it, as it makes me focus way too much on my own problems. Not that I should ignore them, but displaying them is tacky, and I’ve been doing far too much recently to feel right about it. I need to spend some time on the Net, seeing what is happening out there in the world beyond Northern California, in order to find some stuff about which I can write, or at least rant…. If I don’t rant enough, all that angst could turn inward, and what a mess that would be!

“The greatest genius will not be worth much if he pretends to draw exclusively from his own resources.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

For the nonce, though, I’ll have to make do with what I have, which, I would suppose, can be said to be a rather appropriate metaphor for my life right now…. making do with what I have, until I can persuade the world to supply me with more…. Metaphor, and Smart Bee, seems to be all I have, so I’ll take it….. At least it is not exclusively my own resources….

Shall we Pearl?…..

“Do you think there’s a God?”
“Well, SOMEbody’s out to get me!” — Calvin & Hobbes
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“Are we at last brought to such a humiliating and debasing degradation, that we cannot be trusted with arms for our own defense? Where is the difference between having our arms in our own possession and under our own direction, and having them under the management of Congress? If our defense be the _real_ object of having those arms, in whose hands can they be trusted with more propriety, or equal safety to us, as in our own hands?” — Patrick Henry

Here is a subject that is always worth a few words…. I’m a firm believer in the right to bear arms. I do feel that it is probably unnecessary for a private citizen to own, or feel they need, an automatic weapon such as a machine gun, or even an M-16 assault rifle. I can’t think of a lot of everyday situations where one might be called for, but, I wouldn’t want that to be a factor in whether or not I would be allowed to have one, because what Mr. Henry asks above remains valid today….”in whose can they be trusted..  with equal safety… as in our own hands.”

That simple question is one that MUST be answered to even CONSIDER the idea of disallowing citizens the ownership of firearms. It is a certain conclusion, with more than ample evidence, that the police, military, and government agencies and people that I know of, are NOT to be trusted to have the monopoly on guns. Nope, no way will those who seek entitlement and power over others in society ever be trusted fully by the likes of me….

“A strong body makes the mind strong. As to the species of exercises, I advise the gun. While this gives moderate exercise to the body, it gives boldness, enterprise and independence to the mind. Games played with the ball and others of that nature, are too violent for the body and stamp no character on the mind. Let your gun, therefore, be the constant companion of your walks.” — Thomas Jefferson — Encyclopedia of Thomas Jefferson, 318 (Foley, Ed. reissued 1967)

Tom may have gone a bit overboard in his enthusiasm for his personal artillery, but, it does reflect the environment in which he lived, and the culture of the time. In today’s world, of course, physical health needn’t depend on the environment, per se, to provide the exercise our bodies enjoy, and need, to stay healthy and strong. Now we have a fitness center, a faux gym, every third block in major cities, open all night for those insomniacs who want to obsess over their abs. We don’t need to go tramping through the woods with our forty pound musket, trying to spot something appropriate for dinner.

But, even without the need for the exercise involved, if one is going to have a gun, it needs to be used in order to retain its functionality, and one needs to practice occasionally, in order to maintain the skills needed to actually hit whatever at which one is aiming. Society, because of the average person’s fear of guns, and of violence in the whole, has made that more difficult for citizens as time has passed, as those who don’t want to have to deal with violence at all in their lives add the power of the common man’s fears to the effort of the beloved ruling class to take away our guns, which they’ve been trying to do regularly since the inception of this nation.

Our country is still one of the very few in the world where the government actually still has to keep in mind the fact that the citizens are well armed, and able to defend themselves…. Very few governing groups will allow that, and those in power in this country are still trying to get us to give ours up, too. It has been obvious since 1782, when the Constitution and the Bill of Rights came into effect, that those in power would prefer that the populace give up their weapons…. just check Congressional records to see how often a bill is introduced to that effect. To now, all of those attempts have been thwarted, until the latter half of the 20th century, when some limitations were placed on what kinds of weapons would be legal for citizens to own.

But, the effort by the beloved ruling class to disarm the populace continues, and every year I hear talk about new legislation designed to limit the citizen’s access to guns, and place that power monopoly in the hands of the government. I won’t have it, I tell you, and there are a LOT of people in this country who feel the same way…. I have not seen ANYTHING that convinces me at all that the people who run the government are to be trusted with that kind of power. I have seen many, many pieces of evidence to the contrary, especially in the actions of about half of the police forces in the country, who are filled with power hungry sociopaths, who believe they are above the law, and should be allowed to interpret the law to their advantage, and to the advantage of the people who buy them, er…. pay them……

Nope…. none of what I see in society is any evidence of the trustworthiness of the government, and until there is no question of their integrity, (like THAT will ever happen), you won’t be convincing me that they are worthy of my trust…. ESPECIALLY regarding guns…..

“So live that you can look any man in the eye and tell him to go to hell.” —  Smart Bee
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As a matter of course, I don’t usually make dedications, but this one just fits so right…. I have a friend on WP, whose site is dedicated to all things beautiful, and everything she posts meets every standard I know of in justification of that. In short, it is a small island in the huge ocean of the WWW where one can go to find a short respite from all the ugliness of modern life, and the vagaries of the human experience…. so here’s one for Carol Welsh, whose site you can find here:   http://carolwelsh.wordpress.com/

A Thing of Beauty (Endymion)

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkn’d ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

John Keats
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I have stuff to do in the real world today, so I’m cheating a bit here…. I love dogs (and cats, and…. well, any animal….), so I’m reprinting a couple of photos with text that send a message to everyone to share about rescue dogs, and the need for people to put aside species chauvinism, and begin to regard animals of all kinds as the same as ourselves, without thinking we are superior, for we are not…. any who, please share these thoughts, and if you can, find an animal you can love…. it will change your life….

I found the pictures on Facebook….. and both give my own feelings on the subject….
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Okay, quick ending here…. stuff to do….. I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise, provided I can figure out how to pay WordPress for my domain renewal before it expires…. Any who….  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

What’s a few platitudes among enemies?….

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Ffolkes,
It’s  been said, with good reason, that true freedom is the release from pain, and I am ready to go on record as willing to testify to that in a heart beat. Not all gone, of course, some degree of it is bound to be my constant, boon companion for the rest of my days, and I can live with that, albeit reluctantly. But, for the greatest part, my recent overload seems to have eased off enough to make life worth living again. SIGH, now if I can score a bowl of oatmeal, and my check hits the bank today, I’ll be a happy camper…..

Yay, me….. and enough about me. The last few days of pain and angst have been too self-oriented for me, too involved in personal drama for my spartan tastes in that department. Yet the pain grabs hold, and occupies the major part of one’s attention, until it fills the world, so it seems. Finding any objectivity becomes a struggle, and the perceptive world shrinks to include only the pain, and the struggle to get past it. When the fever breaks, so to speak, and the struggle lessens, the sense of relief is so great, it is actually greater than the pain, and the world almost seems to be in balance for the time being…..

“Pain is just nature’s way of telling you you’re alive.” — Smart Bee

So, I’ll take advantage, and use the time to try to write something more than just an intro, or an old-school pearl, with mostly quotes and a few comments. Who knows, maybe there’s a poem in there, waiting to come out…. We’ll see I guess…. I think I should get to it before my body decides I’ve had enough of a break, and gives me more BS to deal with….. Shall we Pearl?…..
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“Perhaps one of the only positive pieces of advice that I was ever given was that supplied by an old courtier who observed: “Only two rules really count: never miss an opportunity to relieve yourself; never miss a chance to rest your feet.” — Duke of Windsor

I would say the Duke was going for the cheap laugh here, and missed, slightly, but the old courtier knew something of life, for sure. Both rules are quite important to a life lived well, as they both offer techniques to keep one prepared for whatever life may present…. as well as offering advantages in life over those who do not use them….

First, think about NOT taking care of business when you can, and later having to deal with say, a bus ride over a road under construction; the pain would be excruciating, although the dancing one would be forced to exhibit would be, I’m sure, quite entertaining to others on the bus. Or, perhaps you find yourself meeting the Queen, who wants to discuss your latest book, for the next hour, while you stand there and dance in place, growing redder in the face by the moment… It’s a good rule…. Always take the time to be prepared, is what it can be boiled down to, and it isn’t just for Boy Scouts….

The second line is similar in its proactive nature, and in being prepared for action. Jim Brown was considered one of the greatest running backs in NFL history, setting records for almost every category of statistics for his position during his relatively short career (He played nine years, getting out without ever suffering a major injury…. an unusual accomplishment for NFL retirees…..). He claimed that one of the secrets for the consistent bruising power in his running style, and his apparent tirelessness at the end of games, had to do with his habit on the field, of resting completely between plays…. When he carried the ball, and was tackled, he did not spring up and run back to the huddle… He would lay on the ground for a couple of breaths, then slowly roll over onto his hands and knees, taking another breath or two in that position.  Only then would he push up onto his feet, whereupon he would WALK slowly back to the huddle, always getting there in plenty of time, but with his breath already under control, and his muscles relaxed, ready to run again.

Using ideas such as these to give oneself the advantage in a game is the same as in life. Foresight and preparation are as important as skill and dedication, and the intelligent use of available resources for maximum benefit is far more effective than merely reacting to perceived need. These are skills that, it seems, are more apparent to older ffolkes, as it is the kind of thing one learns over time, rather than as one illuminating lesson, sent down in a flash of thunder by the gods. Old folks know how to save energy, as we only have so much, and it wouldn’t do to run out right in the middle of a tango, now would it? No, it wouldn’t….  in fact, that would be quite embarrassing, and none of us old farts would ever be caught flubbing a tango….

“Whose undertakings are all devoid of desires and purpose, and whose actions have been burnt by fire-of-knowledge, him the wise call a sage.” — Gita, Chapter 4, Verse 19.
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I sat here, and opened up a couple veins, but, nothing has flowed out but random globules of greasy, grimy, gopher guts…. sorry, just a bit of adolescence left over…. No poem is forthcoming from my head, though, so we’ll have to go classic, or perhaps, exotic…. we’ll see what comes up when I get to Google…. Ah, perfect….

A Dog Has Died

My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I’ll join him right there,
but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I’ll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with sex.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he’d keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea’s movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean’s spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don’t now and never did lie to each other.

So now he’s gone and I buried him,
and that’s all there is to it.

— Pablo Neruda

Translated, from the Spanish, by Alfred Yankauer
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“I’m having an emotional outburst!!” — Zippy the Pinhead

“It’s the last one, I promise!” — gigoid

Repercussions, Part IV

Reality Considered As A Slippery Slope

“Yes! Living in today’s complex world of the future IS much like having a hive of bees live  in your head. But…..there they are!” – Firesign Theater.

Sometimes, in my more lucid moments of reflection, I wonder if everyone else ever feels like that. If they did, then maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much when I do, because a burden shared is a burden eased…. To this, I can personally attest…..

In the immediate aftermath of the events described in detail yesterday in Part III, I continued to work at NSH, on the adult units, and for some strange reason, not a single psychiatrist or psychologist, nor any other therapist or administrative staff, suggested that perhaps the staff members who were involved might wish to talk about those events. It didn’t occur to me that maybe I should take some time off; I thought keeping busy was best, and when staff take time off, the ones who remain have to cover the time one would be off, thus making the job even harder. So I came to work, but I had changed, both my attitude, and my approach to the job.

Holding group therapy, and other normal, mundane functions of the job became low priority in my sphere of perceptions, while being alert to the possibility of small situations that could conceivably worsen became my focus. In retrospect, I firmly believe that my adrenal gland was regularly and periodically giving me doses of our natural defense system’s ‘pick-me-up’ in response to how I perceived the events around me. My hearing became extremely acute; I distinctly remember hearing a small noise one evening while standing in an office doorway, one night a few months after the incident with Al, and when I had tracked it to its’ source, I found that I had to go around three concrete walls, and through two metal doors to find what turned out to be two young men arguing, but not in particularly loud voices. No one else had heard anything.

Instead of a mental health therapist, I became a ‘brain cop’, ever alert to the slightest quirk in even the most delusional of individuals, often being able to intuit what they would do before they acted, magically appearing just as they would start to move. Even these agitated individuals can be fairly easily redirected, or at least distracted from their initial violent impulses, with the correct timing. And if the timing wasn’t quite right, well, I became even faster at assuming physical control, with the intent of entirely removing violence as one of their behavioral options, no matter what the situation.

As became obvious later, I was becoming somewhat grandiose myself, trying to assume the sole responsibility for the safety of ‘everyone’ in my space. I had forgotten, or refused to remember, a very old saying in the field of mental health, which cautions, “You will know that a nervous breakdown is imminent when you begin to believe that what you are doing is very important.” In my narrowed field of perceptions, what I was doing assumed a HUGE importance.

After a year of this, I wish I could say that I’d had enough, and asked for help. Perhaps my feet would have found the path I needed to follow sooner. But, I didn’t; another friend at work finally worked up the nerve to point out to me some of the things I was doing, and how they weren’t in my best interests, or in the best interests of the folks I was there to help. She was very compassionate and supportive, and despite what I wanted to believe, I’m not deliberately stupid, and had to admit the veracity of what she was telling me. I was broken inside, and no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t going to be able to fix what was broken by myself…..good thing for me, I didn’t have to do that all alone. In that, I was a fortunate one….

I asked to see the on-duty physician the night my friend spoke to me, and after some discussion, often somewhat heated on my part, I decided to leave work, due to a temporary disability caused by repeated exposure to extreme stress. In the next days, I began seeing a psychiatrist, at the suggestion of a lawyer I had been advised to see, who would ensure that my claim for disability  got me the help I needed. For the next two years, I saw the good Doctor K, and my time with him became a weekly hour of calm in the midst of the intermittent storms in my mind. My last year of work had been marked by sleeping problems, periods of anxiety & depression, and the advent of the beginning symptoms of a physical disorder that wouldn’t fully manifest for another five years, but caused a constant feeling of lethargy and general malaise.

With time away from work, and compassionate care from my psychiatrist, and the presence of my family, my anxiety and depression became less pronounced, and eventually I processed my feelings about what had occurred to the point where I was no longer troubled by daytime flashbacks and nightly dreams of the horrible events. I found my way back to my center, but as a changed person. I am much more in touch now with my emotions, and have learned not to block them out as much when they are too strong. It has taught me that it is okay to break down, and even to cry, as long as you remember to believe that you can always get back up…..

Hopefully, The End….

P.S.  I can’t leave it there, being who I am now…. Tomorrow, or, if not by then, in the near future, I’ll finish this story, as far as it has gotten since last explored. I got back up, yes, and am still up, but, there remains not only a lot of pain and anguish in my soul about those events, but echoes of that pain that I still hear today, in spite of my nearly constant struggle to mitigate anything that will bring me this kind of emotional turmoil. Reality does intrude, though, and life still must go on…. Any who, enough of being mysterious and obscure…..  More later….

The picture is an image of a Celtic Knot from the MS Clip Art collection.

P.P.S.  Above the title of this last section, I made a promise…. and it seems now like a good one to fulfill. I’ve read over this again, and felt again all the anguish I felt then… but with a hopeful sign. The aftereffects have not lasted as long, and I’m achieving some emotional stability earlier in the process… That’s a good thing…. But, I’m tired of all this re-hashing of old business, and hereby resolve to put it away for a time…. It’s certainly taken up enough of my life’s portion of time spent on negative events and issues, and it’s time I try to spend some time elsewhere in my reality…. So be it… gigoid has spoken….
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Now that the delusional third party nonsense is over, I think I’ll get on with life. I have high hopes…. for what I’m not sure, but, in the wake of the last few days, I’ll take whatever comes up, gladly. Hmm… as I look outside, I see that Murphy has turned his attention to the outer world, and it is raining significantly, which will complicate my trip to the library…. Ah well, c’est la vie, as they say in Nice, and probably Lyon, too….  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

Kowabunga!

Entirely costumed in pale green aspic….

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Ffolkes,
It’s been a long time since I’ve been down like this physically; I guess I’ve been lucky without being aware of it. I suppose that’s normal, to take for granted our times of peace, because they are so easy and pleasant that we tend to just coast along, never realizing how different it can be when things aren’t as well aligned, or working better. It’s an easy state of mind to fall into, until one doesn’t feel well, and realizes how much it is missed….

My physical conditions are of the type that don’t put me in agony, per se, but are just always there, preventing me from feeling very good, and sort of dragging me down into a morass of fatigue and discomfort. It’s not life-threatening, at least not yet, and it’s not particularly bad, when considered in the light of things like cancer, or lupis, or such conditions. It’s just not very comfortable, and makes me want to hole up in my cave and growl at anyone who comes to the door. Fortunately, nobody does….

Writing is hard when this happens…. It does keep me at home, pretty much, but it makes it hard to sit for long at the computer, so anything I write tends to peter out before I can get far into it. Around here, writing is always an adventure anyway, so that isn’t so much of a handicap, since I can’t sit long anyway, because of the need to move my back almost constantly to find a comfortable position. It just tends to make it hard to rant for any length of time, and as is known, I love to rant. It’s what keeps me so calm the rest of the time, and able to look at things dispassionately; I take all that out in what I write about priests, preachers, politicians, and human stupidity, my four horsemen of the apocalypse……

Today, though, we’ll be presenting part III of Repercussions, which is the hardest piece for me; it was hard to write, and it is very hard to read it again, as it deals with perhaps the most destructive moments of my entire life. The first section pearl will be old school, in that I won’t be writing as much as pointing…. and a poem, of course, will ease our spirits in section two, as is now the rule….. We should get on with it, eh?…..

“Writing is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement. Then it becomes a mistress, then it becomes a master, then it becomes a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster and fling him to the public.” — Winston Churchill

Well, now, if that isn’t an apt description of what goes on around here pretty much every day now, I don’t know what is, or would be…. Actually, in thinking about it, the process Winnie outlines happens in a flash of time for some, and each step is individual to the author doing the writing…. Hell, you know, I don’t think he knows any more than I do in this instance, and, since I’ve always passed on the experience of having a mistress,  have never acknowledged a master, and never lived under a tyrant (Well, other than my ex-wife…. Sorry, too easy, just kidding…..) , it rather breaks down for me, anyway. It’s really the last part I like, about killing the damn thing and flinging it to the public…. that feels quite right….. So, here, allow me to fling you along the path to the end of today’s adventure through my head… Shall we Pearl?…..
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For humans, the truth is a slippery concept to hold on to; it seems to change form on us if we do not clutch it tightly enough. Everyone feels that what they believe is the basic truth, and what others may hold to be true do not count in their world. Yet actual truth has nothing to do with our belief; the universe itself defines what is truth, and we can only change its labels to suit our own prejudices. I can, and no doubt have, supplied any number of examples of how humans can twist the truth to suit their own purposes, but today, I give you instead some of the thoughts others have had on the subject (with one random quote thrown in to challenge the Gentle Reader, one that speaks to part of the reason why truth is so slippery for us…. you have to figure out which one it is yourself…..)…. all of which combined gives a good idea of my own take on the matter…..

“It is hard to believe that a man is telling the truth when you know that you would lie if you were in his place.” — H. L. Mencken

“I have never been hurt by anything I didn’t say.” — Calvin Coolidge

“Humanity has been searching for an all knowing intelligence for as long as there has been a question it could not answer.  Until it learns to use its own mind it will continue to chase it’s tail.” — R. Thomas

“By means of shrewd lies, unremittingly repeated, it is possible to make people believe that heaven is hell — and hell heaven.  The greater the lie, the more readily it will be believed.” — Adolph Hitler, Mein Kampf

“A half-truth is usually less than half of that.” — Smart Bee

“Everyone, I think, remembers Voltaire’s famous line about freedom of speech. The version of it that you are familiar with is actually based on a faulty translation. What Voltaire actually said was this: “I do not agree with what you say, sir, though I will defend to the death your right to say it. But for now … shut up!” — Steve Allen

It would have been nice to have one more, but, that last one says it pretty well….. I hope you found your way to the point of the exercise, as it, too, says it pretty well…. and, in many fewer words than I COULD use, to be sure….     🙂
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Fragment

I WALK’D along a stream, for pureness rare,
Brighter than sun-shine; for it did acquaint
The dullest sight with all the glorious prey
That in the pebble-paved channel lay.

No molten crystal, but a richer mine,
Even Nature’s rarest alchymy ran there,–
Diamonds resolv’d, and substance more divine,
Through whose bright-gliding current might appear
A thousand naked nymphs, whose ivory shine,
Enamelling the banks, made them more dear
Than ever was that glorious palace’ gate
Where the day-shining Sun in triumph sate.

Upon this brim the eglantine and rose,
The tamarisk, olive, and the almond tree,
As kind companions, in one union grows,
Folding their twining arms, as oft we see
Turtle-taught lovers either other close,
Lending to dulness feeling sympathy;
And as a costly valance o’er a bed,
So did their garland-tops the brook o’erspread.

Their leaves, that differ’d both in shape and show,
Though all were green, yet difference such in green,
Like to the checker’d bent of Iris’ bow,
Prided the running main, as it had been–

Christopher Marlowe
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Repercussions, Part III

On a day in mid-August of 1984, I was working once again at Napa State Hospital (NSH) as a Psychiatric Technician. Since the adolescent program where I previously worked had closed, I was assigned to a unit designated T8, in the T-building, a two-story edifice which encompassed enough space for 10 units housing up to 45 individuals each, an industrial kitchen with two separate dining rooms, serving meals in both rooms in rotation, for eight units, and several program offices for the Program managers and support staff.

The population was all male, in a program whose purpose was to treat a variety of different diagnoses. The residents of the program, who were diagnosed with Schizophrenia, Bi-Polar Disorders, Personality Disorders, along with a wide variety of other psychiatric conditions, were housed together on eight units with dormitories where they slept at night. On this particular late summer’s day, the men on T8 were relatively quiet, as everyone tried to cope with the stifling heat common to the area at this time of the year. The buildings at NSH were built in the 1950’s, all of concrete, and could be very uncomfortable.
A couple of hours into the shift, we escorted our charges out the door, downstairs to the hallway leading to the dining room for dinner. It is always the most dangerous part of the shift; the residents are hungry, and the walk to the dining room necessarily leaves the staff spread apart in order to keep an eye on everyone. The team I worked with was a good one, and with all of us staying alert, we got to the dining room and supervised the clients, who were conversant with the routine, until all were seated and eating, except a couple of stragglers still in line.

The phone on the wall rang, and one of the kitchen employees picked up to answer. She listened a moment, then turned to quickly address us nursing staff, saying in a strained voice, “T-6 needs help, stat!” “Stat” is the medical code word for an emergency situation, requiring staff to respond as fast as possible to lend assistance. Two of us, myself and Hoi-sing Lee, another PT, immediately broke into a run, out of the door to the left down the hallway to the stairway door leading up to T-6. We hit the open hall door at a full run and bounded up the stairs, slowing as we came to the doorway to scan the situation before entering into the main day hall of the unit.

To the left was the medication room door, bottom half closed, top open to the room. A female staff member in the open upper half pointed across the day hall at a resident there, saying only, “that’s him” In the middle of the room, near the chairs grouped in front of the TV, lay another of the residents, curled into a ball and shivering violently. A female staff member could be seen in the nursing office, still calling for help. No one was in the TV area to the left of the door; most of the clients were on the way to the dining room, as were most of the staff, so my teammate, Lee, and I were the first responders at the scene. I looked straight ahead from the door as I moved into the room, and saw a sight I will see in dreams for the rest of my days, burned indelibly on my memory in an instant that lasted forever.

I saw the body of a male staff member, obviously unconscious; he lay on his back straight in front of me about 10 feet away. I recognized him as the T-6 shift lead, a friend named Al, who had oriented me to the program when I first came on board. I observed that he was breathing, but his complexion had a very bad looking chalky grey cast to it, eyes closed, and obviously insensate. Another 15 feet beyond where he lay paced the apparent perpetrator, who immediately began yelling at me in a threatening voice, shouting, ” Yeah I did that, come and get me!.” He was about 6’1″, approximately 190 lbs., appeared to be in good shape, and very obviously was in an agitated psychotic state, just coming down after an explosion of rage, and still pumped up to fight.

As I approached him, I had to step over the body of my friend, and very carefully moved toward the agitated individual, on full alert and fully adrenalized. Time had slowed to a crawl, and I could hear the harsh breathing from the aggressor as he paced in a tight circle, mumbling to himself between yells in my direction. Hoi-sing, an experienced PT, and like me, a veteran of many such situations, silently crossed behind me to the left, quickly circling around to his opposite side, so we could approach from both directions. As I stepped up to him, I casually took his left arm, just as Lee did the same on the other side. Both of us had been trained to use a special hold which allows control of the arm without stressing it by putting it in unnatural positions, allowing you to use your weight to control the arm, quickly tiring the subject. He began to try rip his arms from our grasp, yelling obscenities at us, and flailing about.

Hoi-sing was experienced, but only weighed about 110 lbs. dripping wet, and I could tell he wasn’t going to be able to hold the right arm much longer, and I would then be the unhappy recipient of an attempted blow to the head. I had to think fast, so I dropped my weight while holding his arm, then lifted him upward until his weight went onto his toes, just enough that I was able to control the direction of our movement. I quickly directed all three of us right into the chairs a few feet away, knowing that I could direct him hard enough to cause his legs to run into the arm of the heavy chair, causing him to imbalance and fall over to the floor, with me still on top grimly keeping a death-grip on his arm. This unfortunately left Lee underneath him, but as I knew he would, he wriggled free, still holding the right arm, and we were then able to use our combined weight to hold him securely on the floor until more help arrived.

Very soon after we got control of the still wildly struggling individual, more people arrived, and helped us to restrain him, then per procedure, move him to a secure room, where he could be restrained with leather straps on a bed until he regained control, as the psychotic rage passed. Once he was secure, Lee and I returned to the day hall where Al still lay, being examined by the on-duty physician, surrounded by silent and worried looking staff. A paramedic team arrived with a gurney stretcher, Al was lifted onto it gently, and rushed to the emergency room at the nearest hospital a few miles away. The doctor was only able to stand there shaking his head sadly, with a grave expression, saying over and over, “it’s bad, it’s bad”. After writing up the incident reports, Lee and I finished our shift on our unit, quietly raging inside but still outwardly under control.

After our shift ended, we went to the hospital to see if Al had been stabilized and/or had regained consciousness; before we left work, we had heard only periodic updates that told us he was still in surgery. When we arrived, we were told he was in a coma, in critical condition, and being monitored for fluid pressure on the brain. His prognosis was serious and guarded, meaning the doctors didn’t know whether he would recover or not, only time would tell.

Four days later, Al died without ever waking up. The doctors explained that he had apparently been struck full in the face, a massive blow to the nose. The doctors explained he had received in essence two blows, one to the face and nose, and one to the back of the head when he fell to the floor. In reality, he never stood much chance of a full recovery; even if he had lived, the likelihood of a severe loss of brain function would almost certainly have made him a full-time bed patient, requiring full nursing care to survive. He would never have been able to speak, or walk, or hold his family again. He was survived by his wife and four children.

At the funeral a day after his death all of us who had worked with Al stood by his casket at the memorial service as we and his family bid him a tearful farewell. We could but stare in shock, and wonder at the terrible waste of a good man’s life, silent as the sadness filled us.

And I, I was filled with a such a sense of rage and sorrow, such waves of pain and anguish that I could barely speak for the clenching of my jaw. For the first time in my life and career, I had been unable to protect someone I had cared for, and I was filled with an immensely deep sense of regret for having arrived on the scene too late to save my friend…..My equilibrium was completely shattered, and I could not find my center, nor even momentary peace, despite recognizing that we had done as much as we could, and held no personal responsibility for his death. That knowledge gave me no comfort, and I entered the realm of the “walking dead”, gripped by madness and and soul-deep pain….
To be continued…..
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Whew…. I managed to get down here to finish this off without stopping to read the third section, which for now is a good thing. I’ll have to do so at least once more, to do the final edit and spell check by eye that I always do, so I don’t need the angst right now….. Once again, I don’t know how this one came out, as I don’t have the wherewithal just now to decide…. It looks okay, and it’s done, so…. it flies….  So be it…..   Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

Kowabunga!

Adequate portions will not be forthcoming….

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Ffolkes,
It is unclear to me, even when I most try to understand, just how I’m supposed to cope with the different issues that keep arising. Without getting detailed or graphic, allow me to just say that I have three medical conditions that cause me either physical and/or emotional pain on a daily basis. Sometimes, only one is active, or giving me a problem. Sometimes, there are two of them working at once to drag me down. And some days, like yesterday, and, so far, today, all three of them bless me with their own particular demands for my attention, whether to merely acknowledge what cannot be changed, or to cope with symptoms that become extremely out of control or prominent. When all three are clamoring for my mind’s time, they each have their own little ways of grabbing the attention they want…..

One has to do with pain, of a muscular type, and is the most easily controlled; usually extra medication and time will fix it. Another, unfortunately, doesn’t respond to that kind of treatment, and requires a different approach to avoiding issues, essentially dietary boundaries that must be maintained. The last is the most insidious, and strikes in my mind, the depression and tears and guilt that swamps me at times, and only can be dissipated by spending a long time trying to do something positive, or other kinds of activities that distract me from the dark thoughts that come with the emotions…..

None of them are any fun, to speak of. And days like this, when all three are active, are massive challenges to get through. Today may be especially hard, for environmental reasons that I won’t go into right now…. If you can’t tell, I’m trying really hard to be discrete, and to not turn this into another litany of complaints, that only serves to worry those who care about me, and I don’t want to upset anyone for something that I have to do on a daily basis…. today, and yesterday, have just been a bit more difficult…. lots of back and abdominal pain, interspersed with tears, guilt, and adrenaline rushes, and aftereffects of adrenaline, which, in me, lasts for hours and hours…..

That part is over, so today becomes a challenge for two types of pain, which isn’t so hard to deal with, in one sense…. Once I’ve finished this morning’s Pearl, the only task I have for the day is to make it down to the library to post and check the yahoo email, and I’ve become accustomed enough to the walk that I think I can do it without any extra difficulty, as long as I rest up well first…. No worries, as the library is open until 9 tonight….. Easy money…. Now that I’ve bored y’all to tears with my problems, I think I should turn my head to the process of diving….  It should turn out to be a more positive activity, and work out as well as anything else….. Shall we Pearl?…..

“I just had a mental breakdown. Got any jumper cables?” — Smart Bee
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“The simple rights, the civil liberties from generations of struggle must not be just fine words for patriotic holidays, words we subvert on weekdays, but living, honored rules of conduct amongst us…I’m glad the American Civil Liberties Union gets indignant, and I hope this will always be so.” — Senator Adlai E. Stevenson

“It is not a man’s duty, as a matter of course, to devote himself to the eradication of any, even the most enormous wrong; he may still properly have other concerns to engage him; but it is his duty, at least, to wash his hands of it, and, if he gives it no thought longer, not to give it practically his support.  If I devote myself to other pursuits and contemplations, I must first see, at least, that I do not pursue them sitting upon another man’s shoulders.  I must get off him first, that he may pursue his contemplations too.” — Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience

Okay, I give up. It’s been three hours now, almost, and these two pearls, excellent though they are, make up the entire results of those three hours…. That’s right, two. I keep refreshing Smart Bee, but it seems to want to keep offering up stuff I’ve been rejecting for years as not useful…. too short, too silly, too long and boring, or just boring. So far, every time I’ve rebooted SB, it seems to start showing me even older stuff than the time before….. Bah, I’m taking a break….

The remainder of today’s Pearl is hereby canceled. I can’t do it…. I’m in pain, and I can’t concentrate. I hate to waste the above two quotes, as they would make very good material. But, they’ll still be available…. I’ve been down for two hours, taking a break, and don’t feel much better. So, this will have to do. Think about the above quotes, when you have a moment; they’re good stuff. I’m going to get myself to the library, add a poem, post this, and try to get back here, where I can get back to what my body wants from me today, i.e., curled up in bed, trying to ignore it all…. see ya….

“I’d like some JUNK FOOD…  and then I want to be ALONE….” — Zippy the Pinhead
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“If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities.” — Maya Angelou

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

~~ Dylan Thomas
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Here is the second part of the series begun yesterday, about a dark time in life for me…. this is some more background material about my skills and training, and a lead-in to tomorrow’s piece, wherein the hammer comes down…. or came down, right on my head….

Repercussions, Part II

In 1973, at the age of 23, I attended school to study to take the state examination for a license as a Psychiatric Technician (PT). The classes were subsidized by, and took place at, Atascadero State Hospital (ASH) in Central California. Junior college credits were given through the local J.C., Cuesta College in nearby San Luis Obispo. In conjunction with the classes, students were allowed, and encouraged, to work 20 hours per week in the hospital, as a supplement to the clinical hours required to complete the courses. So began my journey in the mental health industry, and unknown to me at the time, down the path to darkness…..

The hospital at Atascadero is a maximum security facility that houses up to 1200 individuals, committed to the bleak, prison-like hospital by the courts, as being either unable to stand trial due to being unable to understand the charges, or because they were unable to cooperate in their defense, due to mental illness. Some of these men (it is an all-male facility; women in the same legal categories were housed elsewhere, at Patton State Hospital, or PSH, in San Bernardino) were also committed by the courts as being Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity, or were those who had manifested symptoms of mental illness after being convicted of crimes and sent to prison. A very few of them were not insane, but were master manipulators, career criminals with very good lawyers who had convinced the court to send them to the hospital rather than prison. These individuals caused a great many problems, as they would manipulate their less functional peers into giving up their property, or doing their will, or  incite them to violence, just to watch the results from a safe distance, for amusement.

Working in a maximum security facility as a therapist is possibly one of the most difficult jobs man has ever created; a prison-like environment makes it difficult to create the ambiance necessary to allow the men being treated to feel safe and comfortable enough to deal with their individual problems. The danger of housing so many people with mental illness is an ever-present and overriding concern, as one of the primary characteristics of those with these types of diagnoses is a lack, or even absence, of impulse control. As a result, managing assaultive behavior becomes a necessary adjunct to treatment.

The Department of Mental Health, working with employees from all the state hospitals, developed a policy for dealing with the issue, and training in Management of Assaultive Behavior (MAB) was given to every employee who came into contact with the committed individuals. Since the facility was classed as maximum security, the training was especially important for the Hospital Police, who were responsible for maintaining the security of the physical plant, and for the therapists (psychiatrists and psychologists, nurses, psychiatric technicians, and ancillary staff such as occupational and rehabilitation therapists) who were the primary care-givers for the individuals. These teams were taught specific techniques for recognizing the warning signs of impending violent behavior, re-direction when possible, and for physically controlling individuals who were acting out in a violent manner, without causing or sustaining injury.

Most of these principles and techniques, if not all, were very similar to the Judo and Ju-Jitsu that I had been taught, so my prior training and experience became valuable tools for me in being able to keep safe both the aggressors and victims involved in the violent episodes so frequently found in settings such as ASH. I became one of the people who specialized in MAB, which necessarily meant that whenever a violent incident broke out, I was one of the first to respond, as I was adept at controlling the situation without any of the participants sustaining injury, the primary goal in such instances.

Working in such a high stress environment as a maximum security hospital was both physically and emotionally draining, and after three years at ASH I had had enough, and moved north to work at Napa State Hospital in order to get back to being a therapist rather than a glorified cop. I obtained a position as a PT in a treatment program for adolescents. To me, it was  a wonderful change; the kids in the program, a co-educational environment, were smaller as a rule than the full-grown men I was used to, and there were far fewer individuals who resorted to violence than at ASH. It was also different for being co-ed, as I had previously not worked with any women, or girls, in a therapeutic setting. Because of my experience in MAB, violence on the unit where I worked became a non-viable behavior for the adolescents, and after a few months the number of incidents that took place were greatly reduced.

After a few years at NSH, I decided to take an extended sabbatical from working as a PT, and traveled around California for a few months, until not working became a bore; I was raised to be productive, and needed to get back to work. I applied to and was hired to work in another state hospital in Camarillo, a relatively small town near Ventura in Southern California. At CSH I once again worked with adolescents, as they had a similar program patterned after the one at NSH. My martial arts training, which I had continued all this time, once again proved to be a valuable tool, and I again became the first responder at any outbreaks of violence among the individuals under treatment.

I met my wife at Camarillo; she was another PT in the adolescent program. We worked together, began dating, fell in love, married and started our family. It was a challenging period for me; between work, parenting, maintaining my marriage, home maintenance, and the myriad of little things that are the activities of daily life in this country, I was a very busy, very stressed individual. But I loved it that way, and was happy and content for some years. The economy at that time changed for the worse; we were unable to keep up with our mortgage payments, and lost our house to foreclosure. We decided to move north, to the Sonoma Valley, to raise our children in a country setting, with very well-respected schools, and a much lower crime rate than the southern California area in which we had lived.

I eventually hired on back at NSH, but the adolescent program was no longer open, so I began working with adults, on an all-male unit with individuals with a wide variety of diagnoses. As the level of security at Napa was not maximum, and the degree of training was not up to the higher standards at ASH, the units in the program where I worked were very dangerous, a situation which ultimately led to my downfall. It was about this time when I calculated that in my career as a PT, I had worked in the most stressful environments in the entire world, outside of battlefields, constantly in danger, and my martial arts background had become not just useful, but absolutely critical. I estimated the number of violent incidents in which I had been involved, and found that over the years I had an average of one major incident (translation: a knock-down, drag-out fight) per week since I had started as a PT at ASH. My calculations came to a minimum of 728 incidents. I was appalled, but also somewhat proud of this figure; in all those incidents only one of the individuals had sustained a minor injury, and I had sustained one minor injury myself. Not a bad record all in all…2 failures and 726 successful outcomes.

However, the damage to my psyche that had accumulated through the years had by this time reached an unprecedented and dangerous level, and I was finding it extremely difficult to maintain the now uncertain equilibrium I had achieved. My experiences had left me burdened with an indelible yet hidden wound in my soul, in my very center. The experiences to which I’d been exposed culminated in an incident that brought all of my pent-up stress to the surface, and affected me so deeply that I still feel the effects today……I became, quite literally, one of the “walking wounded”, a condition with which my generation, due to the Vietnam War, had become all too familiar. It was a single incident, that happened one night in 1984, and to this day I have never fully recovered…..

To be continued…..
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Naturally, Murphy felt he should make a contribution to today’s effort; I don’t know how I could have ignored the possibility. Ah well, blame my distractions…. but, regardless of his efforts, or my own, seemingly, it is done. It seems like a lot, considering how I feel, and I have to point out to myself, and y’all, that a lot was created way in the past, and a lot was faked, big time. Like I said, though, it’s done, and nothing will make me give it back…. I’ve tortured myself long enough, I”m done….  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

Kowabunga!

And take what the day gives us….

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1

Ffolkes,
Vast, empty corridors stretch into infinity, with doors every few yards on both sides. Silence rolls ahead of the quiet footsteps that pace down the hall, seeming to absorb the slight sound of the soft shoes worn by the tall, darkly humanoid being who paced there. Shimmering pillars of moonlight shone through the windows that marched between the doors on the east side, throwing shadows across the floors and walls as the trees outside trembled in the soft breeze. No other movement, and no other sound invaded the space around the walker as he moved toward a door on the inner side of the hall, where a light blazed from under the bottom edge, glaring against the softer moonlight on the walls. Even as his hand moved toward the handle, the door opened wide…..

And then I woke up, and smelled the coffee…. Not too shabby, I suppose, but I never know where to go from where I stop…. just as well, then, I guess, that I don’t keep going, so I don’t end up somewhere I hadn’t planned to be…. Boy, this waking up business is getting complicated…. It has been some time since I felt a shortage of material, but there seems to be a large void spot in my head today, soaking up any directed focus I try to put out. It being Sunday, the library isn’t open but a few short hours this afternoon, so I have plenty of time to get this done before posting. That is a good thing, considering how it’s gone thus far. I can see already it will be one of those days when I spend an inordinate amount of time waiting for inspiration to strike, hating every moment until something pops up that I can use…. It’s that purpose thing I told y’all about the other day; us guys just feel better when we have a defined purpose….. even in the small things in life….

Without a defined purpose, like most men, I tend to wander around like the proverbial bull in a china shop, crashing into delicate items left and right, creating havoc. That is what it feels like anyway, a sort of out-of-control rushing about, with shattering glass sound effects and the whole nine yards. It’s probably not as bad as it seems to me, but, mine is the only perception that counts, and I don’t much like it…. However, there have been any number of times during life when I’ve had to do stuff I didn’t much like doing; we all have that cross to bear. So, I guess I’ll quit whining about it, and get on with the search for material I can turn into a Pearl. There has to be something out there I can use; Smart Bee has never failed me yet, and I don’t expect it to do so now….. fool that I am….

So, without further ado, shall we Pearl?…..
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“If you disclose your alms, even then it is well done, but if you keep them secret, and give them to the poor, then that is better still for you; and this wipes off from you some of your evil deeds.” — Koran (c. 651 AD)

“Don’t let your mouth write a check that your tail can’t cash.” — Bo Diddley

“It is a waste of energy to be angry with a man who behaves badly, just as it is to be angry with a car that won’t go.” — Bertrand Russell

“It is as useless to argue with those that have renounced the use and authority of reason as to administer medication to the dead.” — Thomas Paine

Okay, so here’s the deal…. The three first pearls in this group were collected in one swell foop, all together. The fourth one I added this morning. When I saved the others, I didn’t know just why; the three quotes don’t seem to have much of a connection, though all are good trains of thought around the subject of righteous behavior. The last one almost ties them together, but actually speaks to a different subject altogether. So…. it’s a wash…. none of it means anything, and I’ve wasted the time it took to put them together. SIGH…. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a spectacular failure of systemic nature like this one. All the usual lack of control I use to semi-direct the subject matter had no effect at all….

Sure, all four of these are pretty good pieces of advice, or good knowledge to possess…. but they don’t do anything special, and they don’t fit together like I intended…. I’m not sure now what I ever intended, as those first three, looked at now, have very little to do with each other, and certainly don’t stretch to cover a portion of reality that means anything important. The last one is damn good, for what it is, and shows us that we are not the only culture to have to deal with the deliberately ignorant; they’ve apparently been around, bugging the rest of us, for a long time. But, it doesn’t tie all the others together into a neat little lesson for the Gentle Reader, not by a long shot….

Hell, now what? I guess I’ll try to find a closing pearl that can save this section from complete uselessness….. Hmm, how about this?….

“If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of potential — for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints; possibility never.” — Soren Kierkegaard

Now THAT’S a pearl! And, now that I see it clearly arranged, it actually DOES save this section from uselessness. It issues a joyous peal of hope, that passion for potential, that is exactly what I try to capture in a POVW (pearl of virtual wisdom). The last line says it well, and goes a long way to pulling the entire exercise in imagination together into a coherent mass…. A bit jumbled, and tumbled, but coherent. What we are trying to do here at Exploring Consensual Reality is just this, to bring the joy of the elevated spirit and mind to life, to give everyone who reads this, that sparkling, electrifying connection with the potential that exists in every single moment….. Grab on, ffolkes, and hang on for the ride of your life…..

“Each of us has a spark of life inside us, and our highest endeavor ought to be to set off that spark in one another.” — Kenny Ausubel

“When you said “HEAVILY FORESTED” it reminded me of an overdue  CLEANING BILL..  Don’t you SEE?  O’Grogan SWALLOWED a VALUABLE COIN COLLECTION and HAD to murder the ONLY MAN who KNEW!!” — Zippy the Pinhead
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I’m feeling a bit stressed today, for reasons best left alone for the time being. But, it gave me an urge for some Emily…. so, here she is….

To my quick ear the leaves conferred;
The bushes they were bells;
I could not find a privacy
From Nature’s sentinels.

In cave if I presumed to hide,
The walls began to tell;
Creation seemed a mighty crack
To make me visible.

————————————–

One wasn’t quite enough, I wanted more, so…..

Delight becomes pictorial
When viewed through pain,–
More fair, because impossible
That any gain.

The mountain at a given distance
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,–
And that’s the skies!

~~ Emily Dickinson
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Okay…. I’m not feeling all that well after all; since I started this a couple hours ago, my body has decided to give me a few symptoms to deal with, (which I won’t detail…. too graphic, and unnecessary….). What it boils down to is that I’m not up to a lot of sitting and cogitation right now…. so, I’m going to fall back on some of the stuff I’ve written previously…. About a year or so ago, in a form of self-therapy for some depression I was fighting to overcome, I wrote a four part series of short pieces that described my life, and the events that led to my acquisition of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is what I have as a complement to the relatively constant physical pain with which I live…. I’m just lucky, I guess….

Any who, I’m going to reprint those four articles, beginning today, as the third section of the daily Pearls. As I created these documents, I re-lived a lot of the events, which was both painful, and helpful…. I’m hoping that doing so again will also help again, as the darkness threatens to creep into my head, and I cast about, seeking the light…. and, it can’t hurt, so, I’m doing it anyway…. So, here is part one of what I called “Repercussions”….

REPERCUSSIONS, Part I

When I was four, my father was stationed in Japan with the US Army, at a base near Okinawa. He was there for about 18 months, and the rest of the family, my mother and, at the time, four kids joined him there for the last seven months of his tour of duty. During that time, I was made aware, simply by traveling to and living there, that the world was much larger than I thought, and there were a lot of different kinds of people living in it. He was an officer at the time, so the six of us lived in a large house on base, with two Japanese housekeepers. Learning about Mariko and her sister, whose name escapes me, taught us many things about Japanese culture, and my mind grew in leaps and bounds.

One of the things we learned were some basic Judo (the gentle way) techniques, by one of Mariko’s friends who was member of a dojo (school). This exposure to the martial arts stayed with me, but after returning to the USA, there was little opportunity to pursue the arts further. Especially when my parents had another child, and money became a permanent issue in the household. But I never forgot Mariko, (who made the best cinnamon roles ever), or any of my experiences in Japan.

Much later in my life when I went to college, at the University of California at Berkeley, Judo was offered as a physical education course, and I at last had the opportunity to study in earnest what so long ago had made such an impression on my young mind. I took the course for 3 quarters (UCB had switched to a four-quarter-per-calendar year schedule some years before my admission), much as a duck takes to water, and after less than 9 months I had been awarded a second-degree brown belt, Nikkyu, one level below a black belt, 1st degree.

I loved the arts with a passion I had not felt since I first discovered science-fiction at age ten. It was, perhaps, a lesser passion than when I discovered that girls weren’t so yucky after all, but studying the arts became a significant part of my life, and I have studied one art or another ever since, a matter of about 42 years. After Judo, I took some lessons in Karate (the empty-hand), Tae Kwon Do and Shotokan styles, a little bit of Tai Chi, and some Aikido.. Then in my late twenties, I joined my first class in the Chinese art of Kung Fu. All my other exposure, Tai Chi aside (which though useful in that respect, is an art not primarily designed for use in fighting), had been to arts developed in Japan and Korea. I learned that all of those arts had been patterned after the precepts of Kung Fu many centuries before.

The origins of Kung Fu are shrouded in some mystery, but the consensus is that the monks of the Taoist temple of the order of the Shaolin were the first to learn the basic art, and developed it as a means of protecting their temple from the degradations of the numerous marauding warlords fighting over the various geographic regions in China. It is said that the art was brought to them by none other than Bhodi Dharma, an ancient warrior of India who traveled all over the Far East during his life, using his unspeakably powerful skills, developed by him during many years of studying Yoga, to protect the weak and oppressed, much like a wandering knight in Europe during the age of chivalry.

The Shaolin monks developed the skills they learned to such a high degree that the temple was eventually destroyed by warlords who had developed cannons, because they feared the monks so much. The monks scattered over the rest of China taking their skills with them, teaching them to the people, and to monks at other temples. It was said that a Shaolin monk could disappear from sight, could walk through walls, and fly through the air, and their reputation protected them probably as much as their fighting skills.

In the 1970’s there was a show on TV called Kung Fu, loosely based on a figure in Shaolin history, their greatest warrior, whose name on the show was Kwai Chang Caine. Though subject unfortunately to the occasionally bizarre demands of Hollywood culture, it was nonetheless a relatively accurate representation of how such a monk would have approached the new culture in the United States, and gave a good idea of how effective the skills learned by the monks could be, even against superior forces and weaponry.

When I was first introduced to Kung Fu, it seemed as though all the other arts I had studied became irrelevant. I had graduated from the high-school level of Karate and Aikido to a more advanced university, that started with basics, then led the student into deeper and deeper knowledge, not just of the techniques of fighting and training, but knowledge of both the body and the mind, which are never considered to be separate entities in Chinese culture.

The techniques learned became only a part of what one learns; much of the rest of what is taught was concerned with learning to control one’s mind and spirit. The first lesson was the most important one, and it consists of one concept…..restraint. Simply put, we do not learn these skills to fight, but to grow; to learn how to accept the danger that exists in human society without being paralyzed by fear, allowing one’s higher principles to guide action for the betterment of all creatures.

Learning Kung Fu, as well as the other martial arts I studied, was a seminal part of my own developing philosophy of life, and has been, in my mind, an invaluable tool in my own growth. But learning the arts, as I was later to learn, would have repercussions so powerful, and so all-encompassing, that they would send shock waves of pain and anguish down every step of my path in the world; repercussions that would stay with me for the rest of my life…..

To be continued…….
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Well, I kind of feel as if I’ve cheated a little bit, but, given the way I feel physically right now, that’s just too bad, so sad, because it’s done now, and nothing will make me go back and do it over. It will be all I can do to get down to the library to get this posted later, so I’m going to go deal with my physical issues, and hopefully get past them….. I’ll be fine, it’s just miserable for a while, until it all passes…. life goes on……  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

Kowabunga!