We All Live in a Capital I

Of the handful of happy memories from when I was a little girl, Sesame Street ranks in the top three, following closely behind Mr. Rogers & tadpoles in open barrels of rain water found in the woods.

My formative Sesame Street years were during the early and mid-70’s. By the time my own children would watch the show, the program had replaced most of the content to be more current than what had been aired during the Carter administration.

There were three songs I have never been able to get out of my head. In fact, I sing two of them all the time to my birds, even today. And, I wished I could see it one more time. I Googled every so often but never found it.

Yesterday, I hit pay dirt.

 

Life throws you a little nugget sometimes.

This  gem was broadcast in 1969, the year I was born. It explains everything.

There Comes the Day

 

When the day ends, there will have been many thoughts I would have liked to have shared with someone else and invariably, quite a few that would have been best kept within the confines of my skull.

No doubt, the confusion in there creates some challenges for the gatekeeper (my mouth) from distinguishing between the two.

To be fair, the lesser of them, in retrospect, are much more demanding to be heard than the words that should have been. Such is the paradoxical nature of life. Well, my life, any way.

But, if I were given foresight to know that this day, this very day, would be my last; that at today’s end every word I could or would speak would be accounted for and informed “It’s a wrap!”, this is the totality of that single bit of learned wisdom I would be compelled to leave behind as my last and final say in the matter of living:

To every single fellow human being that is yet to be or has not yet come to learn this universally, inescapable truth: You are a question that has no answer.

There may come a moment in the thrash and tumble of your otherwise unremarkable daily doing when you will realize that in every way that is possibly meaningful, you are very much alone with a problem of such existentially profound and personal suffering as to rip away any illusion you had that someone or something could deliver you from it.

“It” being experienced as what can be understood, only, as that visceral agony that attends our alienation as a human being completely, and irreconcilably separate from all other things living, thriving, lush with promises of hope, of yearning, of things eternal and pregnant with possibility; when our conscious frailty meets the constraints of self-reflected flesh mingling with common matter.

But no one will have prepared you for this moment. It comes cloaked and veiled by ordinary things. It lies waiting until an opening in the blackness of lost focus, a moment it finds your attention wandering unoccupied with no thought attending it. It is then, in the vulnerable crossroads of time when now is in its zenith of split second awareness that turns inwards towards itself and consumes the marrow of your mind as milky tendrils wind their way down drafty haunted halls of what is remembered, dust covered remains of obliterated understanding, that happens in the fractal span of eternity–an eternity that has abandoned you and  left you to suffer what it all means, alone. Completely and unequivocally alone.

You will realize all too soon that nothing *could* have prepared you for this moment. It escapes imagination. It defies the mind’s will to understand. But what you will only know once you’ve given yourself over to the demands of breathing in and breathing out long enough to let the deadness fall away around you, is that in this moment you are in a problem that has no solution. It becomes a problem that is not. All problems must have solutions. No solution, no problem.

You are a question that has no answer. Nothing exists on, in or below earth that can help relieve you of the torture that is the full bearing of this simple truth: nothing can bridge the distance between you and the life that bleeds all around and through you. Everything you believed of love, of happiness, of family, compassion and goodness lies dying at arm’s length away. This you will discover as instinctively you grasp for it with all of your mind’s intent. You will fail.

If you are one of the fortunate, failing, you will be broken. Not broken like splintered bone, but you will know you have been thoroughly destroyed. Whoever you believed yourself and everyone else to be is gone in that awareness of that being now impossible. It wasn’t really as you had thought, at all. Not at all.

Here, crawling on knees bent at cross roads all leading towards death and the vacuum of nothingness, you will find how blessed you are to be emptied and a perfect vessel for the Grace and Mercy given to you upon coming to call upon God in the anguish cries of your silent, private desperation. God willing, when this moment falls upon you, that you remember to submit to that awful truth and become your desperation.

This is the Golden Road to an Unlimited Devotion.

(original post October 2013)

A Snowflake Like No Other

Atheists. Atheists and their cynical nihilist skepticism. Because, unlike the bulk of humanity, their analysis of the universe is unique to their having been born apparently super human in intelligence and general mental acuity. Oh, you, special, special snowflakes you are that shake your heads in exasperated resignation at we, the unwashed masses of human civilizations, past and present, that could and cannot know what it is like to be you, the masters of reason and logic and well, plain, good sense.

Of course the concept of god is an evolutionary vestigial tail concocted by billions of people throughout the course of human history that speaks nothing of what is only known by you, the fortunate compositions of genetic jackpot winnings that make your brain a futuristic George Jetson jet pack compared to our four cylinder fuel combustion hoopties.

Compound Cost of Rebellion

 

A rebellious man seeks only evil, So a cruel messenger will be sent against him.…Proverbs 17:11

uh oh.

This, in its highest reference, is an anticipation of the divine philosophy of St John, “sin is lawlessness” (ἡ ἁμαρτία ἐστὶν ἡ ἀνομία). “Sin is lawlessness. Sin and lawlessness are convertible terms. Sin is not an arbitrary conception; it is the assertion of the selfish will against a paramount authority. He who sins breaks, not only by accident or in an isolated detail, but essentially, the law which he was created to fulfill,” Westcott on 1 John 3:4.

ouch.

“He that kicks against the pricks is waited for of the sword.” (Ancient Greek proverb)

…like the rebellious ox—driving the goad deeper and deeper.

“Stern discipline awaits him who leaves the path” (Proverbs 15:10).

Brutally true.

“The way of the unfaithful is hard” (Proverbs 13:15).

No kidding. This must be the greatest understatement ever made.

Savage Mind

Objectively speaking, I evaluate as being ‘smart’. My primary cognitive fallacy is associated less with any self-aggrandized Omni’s (omnipresence, omniscience, omnipotence, Omnificence) and more so with my habit of overindulging my mind by not placing restrictions on where my thought process is leading. In my case, there are two trains of thought, if you will: thought that is productive in its’ *intent* and thought that is purely mental masturbatory experience, a gyration in abstraction. It does not lead to any objective reality.

I think our mind has a nature that tends toward being quite enamored of itself. Since thinking is the fundamental nature of the mind, it will favor thinking and it will favor the formation of thoughts that feed more of the same. In this way, the mind can be seen as a cannibal of its’ own children.

Being ‘smart’ does not ensure against making stupid decisions. It’s quite possible to be stupidly smart and equally foolish.

My educated guess is that human beings that are born with inherent intellectual ability two or more standard deviations above what is considered normal average, are prone to having considerable challenges in life if they are not raised in an environment that supports their developing mind. Pointedly, ‘gifted’ children who have primary caretakers that are unable or unwilling to recognize the unique strengths and vulnerabilities of high intelligence, are more likely to be damaged in a way that may be impossible to repair. The end result being a person with superior intelligence who doesn’t know how or doesn’t want to use their abilities to optimal effect.  I suspect this would be caused by their impaired sense of belonging or feeling alien to others. Just a guess.

Meaningless

Sometimes, it seems that all of us, not simply those labeled and tagged as such, are deluded. This is the optimistic explanation. The alternative conclusion is much more jaded and infers accountability. That we have no excuse to harbor under, but that we are all by nature hypocrites, self absorbed willfully dishonest finger pointers.
We condemn others for doing what we also do. We make grand claims and promises that attest to our generous desire to give to others when they need us most, if only they ask. if only we know. But those requests fall on our deaf ears. If we’re silent long enough, we reason, their need will pass or someone else will fill it.
We still take credit for those words we spoke though. We always identify with the wonderful qualities we tell others we possess. We feel entitled to believe we’re good people because of the good we say we will do even if we never actually follow through with what was said. We are shocked, resentful and hurt when any person depending on our words to be fulfilled lets us know we have disappointed or harmed them. They are so ungrateful.
Words have meanings but are rarely meaningful. What we speak is often meaningless. What we do is the only means of telling a truth. The tongue lies, actions reveal.

Living Rough Tonight

By nightfall, I expect the birds and I to be outside. I have been looking for dry, hidden places along any route I walk but still haven’t found a safe enough space to head towards first.

I converted one of my bags into a carrier for my 16 year old Senegal, Qt. I’ll carry Louie in the carrier Qt is in, now.

Today, I’m here by myself cleaning up the aftermath of believing someone wasn’t exactly what they are. I wanted so badly to be loved and to feel safe that I allowed myself to accept living instead with fear and hurt. 

There are broken doors and cracked walls left as scars from. Moments of excessive, unexplainable rage. The love I felt would be overshadowed by fear of that rage. I have had more than enough fear in my life. I didn’t understand why this was happening, but I do now.

I am afraid, now, of what will happen to the birds and I out there. I don’t know how I’ll keep us dry or protect us from being harmed by others. This isn’t a great neighborhood.

At least I have work if I can manage to keep my laptop safe and charged.

It’s going to be a tough day to get through. It will be an even tougher night. I will be living rough as they say across the pond.

I can just pray. My faith is all I have left to believe in. And I just can’t let myself become discouraged. It would lead to losing my faith. No faith means no hope. 

I need to dig deep and see the hope in all this.