Everyone has a Photographic Memory...some lack film... ~anonymous

Time with a man that I believe to be a psychopath and his extended other-worldly family members, led me from the paralysis of shock in what I had chosen and allowed into my life, through a maze of recovery.  But, the word recovery is not altogether accurate.  I came out the other side of the surreal nightmare as a different "me."  It was as if the naivete of  my delicate aspects of compassion and empathy had undergone compression as coal does when forming a diamond.  

 

My entry into this fun-house experience of frightening preternatural behavior began with my marriage; the one I jumped to embrace as I romantically and hopefully expected love in later life with all the trimmings.  The relentless surprises from the onset of our marriage, following the whirlwind courtship, proved extremely costly as I worked to bestow balance to the tsunami of needs and never-ending financial crises from my spouse and his family members. 

 

Looking back, I gave as freely as they took; as if there was a replenishing cycle from "on high" that would eternally fill the empty bank coffers.  Believing the familial love and basking in my unity with the clan, I jumped as a key player in a trained animal act to supply any missing ingredients to this sad "toxic cocktail" (Sandra L. Brown).  The anguish and out-of-place-and-time feel developed from being so quickly used, devalued, and discarded (Lisa E. Scott).  I had been no more than a tool of convenience to a traveling troop of grand actors as they paraded across the stage of my life and inner goals. 

 

The goodnesses of decency, love, and sacrifice for the greater picture had been surreally cut from a connection to me, the being, and devoured by the clan as an entree from the menu.  There is a skit from the TV sitcom, "Everybody loves Raymond," where the beleaguered wife describes her dysfunctional in-laws as a "traveling freak show that pitches a tent outside her home."  That was my take on the reality into which I had placed my roller coaster car in this carnival.

 

Two years past the timeline mark of being discarded, I have journeyed far within myself as I've sought answers and the ticket office to comprehension.  This beast of psychopathy and turn of directions for living left a deeply embedded scar as if I had been unwittingly vaccinated.  My immunity from contact with this attenuated organism has produced a state of nonresponsiveness to this disease of ponerology, the theological doctrine of dark wickedness.  But just hopefully I AM still a compassionate, bright, and aware presence.

 

Checking my email, I found a question from a lovely person from a forum to which I belong.  She was puzzled by the "unfriending" of an individual when her response to a post was simply questioning a written thought.   Facebook is such a strange land.  It reminds me of much of my life and especially that time with a narcissist.  Always wary of how I present myself...I find that even two years out, I watch my responses a bit.  I like many authors, page and forum creators, and even individual posters very much, however, I think ego for people who have attained an essence of familiarity is highlighted.  And the "unfriending" on this social network has struck me many times as traumatic. 

 

Being so "damaged" as I was in the beginning with the psychopath...and truthfully, as Sandra Brown writes because of the attraction for both me with my own baggage mixed with this entity and its need to be appreciated, I have found myself at times feeling adrift.  These forums are marvelous, and yet, there comes a moment when we have to be prepared (in my way of thinking) to figure out just who each of us (me, in this case) is on the inside, and how we want to proceed.  It sounds so simple when I write it, but it's full of unknowns.  I'd like to say I know exactly who I am, and where I am headed, but I'm just beginning...AGAIN.

I finished watching the movie, "Another Woman," with Gena Rowlands, Mia Farrow, Gene Hackman and many other well known actors.  It deals with a relatively accomplished woman who finds herself not really happy with the choices she's made in life.  That's a bit how I feel.  Did I manage to hide it before the psychopath?  Was that just the wake-up call?  But, somehow in dealing with "putting it out there" for all to see, trying to reasonably assess responses, and continuing on, I think it must really have to do with finding our own strengths and acknowledging that we have every right to be who we are.  Unconventional or not.

Sounds simplistic when put down in words.  Did we on that "unfriended" list do anything wrong?  Perhaps not at all.  I do believe that PTSD has affected me...and just maybe all of us.  AND if Brown is correct, it's to be a lifelong condition.  I used to take negatives from the "ether" so to heart.  Now - and I hope I haven't become too much in line with the psychopath's modus operandi - I look at my "intention."  I suspect I am now and perhaps forever "screwy."  I tread lightly at times with others because I don't always agree - especially as we each are living and picking up the pieces at our own stages and pace.  I know I do not look at life as I did in my enthusiastic vivacity before the psychopathic encounter.  Maybe that's not a bad thing.  BUT, I will say that we must each be as honest with ourselves and our thoughts/responses as possible...for ultimately it isn't even about the acquisition of data to make sense of the ordeal.  We are learning to be authentic once more.

There seems right now to be a huge amount of energy spent on dealing with plagiarism.  I have written a couple of little books and I make a pittance...but truthfully, they simply allowed me to say what I had and felt I needed to express.  I am not those written works.  And yet, that is in itself naive because words of valuable impact touch other's souls as the ones writing them reach from their most genuine essences. 

Monetary exchange seems always to pack a punch.  I not long ago noted a beautiful thought:  "the universe doesn't require us to toil."(unknown)  We seem to be operating from a place of concepts dealing with exchange.  There IS exchange, but it may not appear as strictly equivalent.  I am returning more and more to looking at my intent when communicating.  AND I find that even with all my faults, absurdities, idiosyncrasies, and oddball beliefs, that I'm not such a bad person.  I'm just a plain- Jane human being with no particular credits of fame and right now looking at finding more income within  some parameters I have created myself.  I have only gingerly toyed with the idea of romantic liaisons.

I am smiling as I remember the movie, "The Mirror Has Two Faces."  In it the rather strange male lead wants a relationship of mutual trust, respect, love and he feels it can only be found on the elevated mental and emotional plane of health if sex is not part of the mix.  He proposes to his lady-friend, another college professor, and with her prospects for romance with a capital "R" being low to nill - she feels herself to be oh-so less than attractive as a woman - she accepts. 

While the hormones remain at bay, she quips to his friend that the relationship is all so " sanitary."  As the attraction between the couple grows from genuinely "seeing" the other, the idea of sex becomes less than ethereal and passion begins to develop.  He remains afraid to add that ingredient, fearing the amazing zest and friendship will dissipate as in past experiences.  She, on the other hand, longs for the unifying adventure where all the walls fall.

Maybe that is what we who find our way to forums and networking sites seek.  A freedom of expression and openness.  But, the feel of closeness may only be imaginary because we need more than a two-dimensional representation of our humanity.  "Faith always contains an element of risk, of venture; and we are impelled to make the venture by the affinity and attraction which we feel in ourselves." ~ Dean Inge

The Now...with Gusto

My two grandsons, ages 6 and 7, and I beat-feet riding a longer distance than usual on our three bicycles to outrun an incoming thunderstorm.  Old Grandma, in my mind's eye, looked a bit like a hippo paddling a storm tossed lake with gale force winds swinging the canoe as I huffed and puffed and pushed to pedal the bike...all the while muttering, Dear Power Above, please don't let me keel over.  The little men with determination on their side pedaled with great strides and periodically stopped to give Ol' Grandma a chance to catch up.  The dark clouds swept closer and the wind kicked sand and dirt into small swirling dervishes as we strove to keep-on-keeping-on until their apartment was reached.  Worn out, but full of the joy of camaraderie, we put the bikes away and waddled inside.  They and their mom had been invited to an amazing blue-ribbon resort, The Yellowstone Club, and they were full of eager anticipation for this delightful summer adventure to begin early the next day.  With their trip, I would find myself using my free days to handle a few chores I'd put on the back burner.

 

Following an office cleaning job, my energy levels dipped and I drug myself home to lounge in a hot bath.  Suddenly the pulled thigh and knee muslces roared into raging leg cramps.  As I worked with different body positions, I spoke with the Power Above, imagining what the newspaper headline might be the next day.  "Elderly women rescued from tub by paramedics responding to the forlorn cries of her two dogs and cat."  Not so much over my plight because they have a most well adjusted connection with the All That Is, but lamenting the absence of a thumb to open the pet food cans.   Moments later, I was delivered from the agony and climbed tenderly over the edge of the tub.  Less than graceful, certainly, but functioning.

 

The next day I helped pack my daughter and her sons' van and bid them a "high ho, Silver...and glorious adventure."  My to-do list of an apartment to clean and two vehicles to detail was successfully completed and I celebrated with six ounces of "hard" lemonade, a gift from my youngest daughter and her fiance.   An ace bandage and the alcohol had wonderfully delivered relief to my antiquated body parts.  I settled onto my reclining piece of furniture with a small meal.  However, the sun, heat and missing a couple of food portions in my enjoyment of accomplishment found me in very intimate coherence with a bathroom lavatory.  Once again expressing my plight to the Power Above, I evaluated that I could tidy myself and crawl to the livingroom couch, but could I re-clothe my bedraggled body in the process with my knickers having been rather unceremoniously discarded.  Within a few brief moments, I found enough strength and willpower to dress in a semi-appropriate attire and make my way to the haven of the sofa, promising the Power Above never to become schnockered like that again.

 

Vernon Howard states that living in the Now is being mindful of actions and thoughts that we so often slot as running on autopilot.  He suggests being aware of even the smallest styles of movement and body functionings.  "Watch yourself as you turn the door handle, walk, and follow through with tasks."  The same is true for conceptions.  James Allen wrote an amazing work called As A Man Thinketh.   People "themselves are makers of themselves by the thoughts they choose and encourage.  The sum of a man's thoughts are his character and character influences the conditions and circumstances of his life." 

 

So this "now" should be experienced as new with each passing segment of time.  Awareness of this amazing biological machine and the challenges of this physical domain keep the spirit alert.  We really are connected to a grand Universe and there exists a large scale map with an overview.  Gabriele in the movie, "The Prophecy," has returned to his path as an angel and says to the hero of the third in the series, "there is a plan...get used to it."  I love this set of movies.  Enjoy this now...it is a spectacular bestowal of Grace.

 

                                "I went to the bookstore and asked the saleswoman,

                                              'Where's the self-help section?' 

                                 She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose." 

                                                             ~George Carlin

 

Libidinal Investment

Working on my own path in this old world, I had an experience with a spouse I believe to be a psychopath and his nutter-clan.  Why the categorization?  The definition and offshoot emotions explain my state of present mind and the ordeal from which I am "recovering."  What an odd word, "recovering."  Because in reality, it was simply a well placed and powerful wake-up call to reclaim and restate myself.

 

Scientology in my family and extended family members brought the awareness of this belief system to me.  MUCH of the data and processes do work.  Having said that, I feel that power and a segregatory element of socialization offers a rather well-tread path of control.  We all want to belong, to find that brotherhood of like minds.  And we seem to desire a connection with decency, on the whole.  I watched a very interesting interview with Jason Beghe on his experiences in Scientolgy, and he has now departed that organization.  He made a rather remarkable observation, one that hit home: many of us get involved to help others.  His physical affectations and choice of colorful adjectives in the interview reminded me so of myself when attempting to fathom what happened to me in the aftermath of a narcissist/psychopath in my recent history.  He repeated numerous times the statement, "I just don't get it."  He was speaking of many levels...most of all, I suspect, of what went wrong.  Where did the ideals fall short?  How did that drive to be of service to humanity take a surreal fork in the road?  Where did loyalty to the organization (or in my case, the clan) override the desire to aid mankind?  Why did a choice have to be made and why couldn't the call to help humanity fit with the goals of the organization? 

 

One of Hubbard's famous ideas is that of the "stable datum" - the principle that confusion sits at the base of uncertainty and insecurity of self must be reached.  Too much information brings a condition of disordered thoughts and a hodgepodge of reactions because the initial point of questioning the unknown part was not comprehended.  I agree with this.  In dealing with the aftermath of horrific upset, many of us mortals find ourselves on shaky terrain because our own beliefs and place of being finds us in less than grounded territory.  Our visions seemed tilted and the directions we took to engage in actions and group connectivity faltered.  We felt that communication had been in play and that our highest interests of kinship with the attraction of community had found agreement with "reality."  But, not just any reality, the entity or substance from cumulative choice and like beliefs.

 

And therein lies the rub.  To maintain this "reality-entity" one must offer his own thought processes to the alter of agreement, all for the common good.  Doctrines keep that definition of the "common good" in line with group leadership's belief systems.  Perspective determines the outcome.  This is no doubt the reason for our confusions when we assign ourselves to collectives.  Even within the smaller aggregations of families, we find that our feathers are ruffled, on the lower end of the emotional upset scale, and our worlds of personal ethics blasted on the highest levels of anguish in colliding beliefs.

 

Fear of loss tends to keep us in place; even in the very groups which were joined with the hope that THAT anxious concern of danger would be put aside in the camaraderie of togetherness.  So what happened?  As I muse and assess my own life situation with an evaluation of my place within spirituality, I suspect that emotions overflowed the banks of reason.  I will give Hubbard his due in that this life and associations appear formatted as a game.  The stakes exist as  emotional investment.

 

Just why is emotional investment such a powerful control mechanism?  I have the feeling it centers around idealization and the libidinal investment.  Libido is not just about sexual action.  The definition includes "instinctual psychic energy that is expressed in conscious activity."  As we who seek answers take the bits and pieces of the montage of our lives and sort with information from others, this particular definition makes awareness of Hubbard's friendship with Aleister Crowley all the more fascinating.  Thelema, Cowley's created "religion," was one that rivalled Baal with heavy emphasis on sexual interplay.  This is the reason Sandra L. Brown, author of Women Who Love Psychopaths, tells all to "stop sleeping with dangerous men."  Bonds are cemented and the mind will work feverishly to execute a rationale.  So, too, in group liaisons. 

 

How and why is this appropriate in my own path of evolutionary awareness?  For me, time with a psychopath set a battle scene that assaulted my core belief systems and spirituality of being.  Reason SURELY entails perspective.  Cause, intelligible motive, and inference along with exercise of mental capacity, all, lay the foundation for sanity.  This is a complex weave of life-threads and the tapestry must include not only our own expressive display, but a reverence for differing designs.  Diversity should be encouraged and coupled with cognizance of the effects spreading as ripples in the pond. 

 

I am reminded of Ursula LeGuin's "Turn of the Lathe," where the protagonist awakes every time from sleeping to discover a "new reality of life."  The world changes each time the cycle of sleeping and waking occurs.  The hero is an ethical presence and as he discovers "the truth" of this "reality," he tries valiantly to save the therapist who has at first attempted to aid him, and then began to use him to alter the world for his own determinations.  In the end as the therapist finds himself faced with a landscape of charred and burning earth, he goes mad at learning that he, too, is a creation of the hero's.    As George Bernard Shaw said,"I never thought much of the courage of a lion-tamer.  Inside the cage, he is at least safe from people."

"If" ~ Rudyard Kipling

What happens when a person recognizes that we in this reality are NOT the same?  In my time with a psychopath and his oddball clan, I was hurt, wounded, frightened by my inability to understand the unfolding schematic of living, and shaken to the core of my belief systems.  Nothing I "knew" and practiced, worked with the setup.

 

Everything that I shared as a part of a soul which I felt to be generous and nurturing was tilted on it's side and it was as if I had been living in a bubble of protection until this time frame.  Many will find my paths of inquiry now to be unsettling and I may even face some denigration for delving into ideas that others feel fervently oppose the depth of humanity.  But, the bits and pieces of evaluation find their way to my doorstep of awareness and I am now ready to take a closer look.

 

I have never been much of a "joiner" because I found that I simply couldn't accept the totality of data provided by various groups, even religious ones.  There are touches of amazing "truth" in so many practices and studies.  So, just how does one "find a home"?  I suspect there is no such thing EXCEPT within our own beings. 

 

My family, including many on extended levels, was deeply involved with Hubbard's teachings in my youth, but there were also blatant upsets from the experiences of those departing the organization.  What happened from the time that information was offered and disseminated to the point-of-no return for many who departed that belief system?  I have the gut feeling this precipitate turned on the very point of this study: to teach one NOT to be a blind follower.   

 

Looking back to my romantic zest for finding "Mr. Right," I sought more than just that connection.  I hoped to find a special niche and to effectively "belong."  I did not succeed.  Perhaps THAT is the inscrutable test.  If as in the short story, "The Turn of the Lathe," by Ursula LeGuinn, we are our sole creators, then just what is it that we seek?  Are these pains to connect part of the memory of what we truly are?

 

I can comprehend those who suspect "Illuminati" contributions to this realm of life.  Whatever avenues of mysterious endeavor may open themselves, ultimately, how are we to live in this here and now...and why would it matter?  The cute movie, "Groundhog day," shows one man's choices and effects when "there is no tomorrow" and there appears no consequence for actions taken.  But there ARE important intents and repercussions to the use of personal power. 

I'd like to have a clear cut pathway and plotted course to offer not only myself, but others.  I just don't feel it works that way.  There are no simple and clearly excavated passageways.  Life for those who are more than flesh and bone requires risk and bringing all the spirituality of beingness to bear.  Peril exists and I am reminded of Carl Sagan's thoughts that we might not wish to meet the aliens to whom we send our welcome to Earth messages.  Maybe naivety is the necessary ingredient for the explorer in us.  In the journeys of discovery we must always be accountable to that unique gift combination of ethics, integrity, and honor. 

My search from my present platform will be different than the one I find farther down the road.  Who will I be?  Something inside me underscores that the pathway is essential.  I think Rudyard Kipling says it well:  "IF"...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

"At the Touch of Love, Everyone becomes a Poet" ~ Plato

My cousin writes and is part of a blog, http://fourfoxesonehound.wordpress.com/.  We have shared thoughts, our treks with self-education and choice, and we have remained friends with our differing styles and perspectives.  As I look back over the last two years, being "set free" by the psychopathic ex-spouse and his clan with their never ending black hole of needs and financial crises when my usefulness ended, I see that I really "have come a long way, Baby."

 

Just why DO I write?  Part of the reason is to share my journey - a bit of altruism?  yes, but also to "air my side" of the recovery process.  And then, there exists that marvelous gift of journaling: to become clearer on beliefs, experiences, and who I have become over time.  A touch of awareness gently breezed past me when my youngest grandson of six told me of a dilemma he found in his life.  His single mom's boyfriend had given him a bike that the boyfriend's son had outgrown and it is a HONEY - camouflage green with "cool handlebars" and I can see his mind of imagination churning as he rides it, meshing his present moment with the colors and grand adventures of the resourceful mental images which he blends with his feelings of daring-do.

 

The difficult decision?  I had also given him a racer's bike with blazing orange wheel rims and refitted to update with safety items such as new handle grips, petal pads, and tires.  He thought that the gentleman told him he needed to have only one bicycle at his apartment and that the fellow would take the camouflage bike back to his place.  My remarkably wonderful grandson looked at me with big brown eyes as I imagine King Solomon must have faced in the past .  The first emotion that bubbled up was one of a territorial sense of indignation.  The next was anger that a "gift" had strings attached.  My hackles shot into high gear and the battle gear automatically unfolded, as if I were some amazing super-heroine of film fame. 

And, finally, I looked at that magnificent presence who felt comfortable enough to share his concerns with Grandma. 

 

Whatever the gentleman had actually told my grandson and his thoughts and intentions, I cared about my young person's development, his heart and soul, and his integrity in dealing with this old world.  Of course I assured him he could keep the "orange avenger" at my house.  And then ushered him along with his older brother to the glorious speeds and worlds of enchantment as they rode down the way, smiling with eyes shining and seeking the newest childhood exploits.

 

It occurred to me as I thought about this later that there exists a difference between "being OK with a situation" and "allowing the situation to be as it is", whatever that might be.  What in the world does that mean?  If one can accept that something is "as it is," choice remains viable.  You don't have to like or agree with it and that problematic picture may just not suit or sit well.  But, if one can let go of the burning desire to "make it better or correct" by some method, then, you really do have a direction for reason.  The situation loses its power to affect your emotional state and whatever decisions evolve from the encounter, the status of that prick to personal ego was but a moment in time.  Ah, wisdom...where were you when I was in the depths of self-doubt and heartache?  I agree with Robert Frost's quote," I'm against a homogenized society, because I want the cream to rise."

 

Possibilities and Accountability

I have been fascinated by the Katie Holmes/Tom Cruse divorce developments and the connection to Scientology.  My close family members were once keenly involved in the technology and rising on "the bridge" of this looking glass thread of reality creation.  Although some became power mongers and slid past the idea of the dynamics of connectivity and responsibility, believing that their superiority altered personal ethics and permitted them to abuse relationships, others remained faithful - quietly so - to the tech, itself.  I remember the definitive lines of ostracization with the "wog" world because those of us "lesser beings" were not of the same caliber.  Nonetheless, I found and still find amazing cognizance, skill, and power within the teachings of dealing with this world and its many presences.  The communication techniques alone stood me in terrific stead UNTIL I ran into a psychopath and his oddball clan.  In truth, even during this period, the methods were valid - especially the "choice to communicate or not."  Unfortunately, I became stuck in the need to "right the scenario" and have a "happily ever after" ending.

 

The great gurus of "what if" in the 40' to 50's - Napoleon Hill, Emmet Fox, Norman Vincent Peale,  Ernest Holmes, Claude Bristol, and numerous sci-fi authors - have touched my being and offered doorways for comprehension of others, but most auspiciously, of myself.  Jim Channon of the First Earth Battalion was the core of the movie, "Men Who Stare at Goats."  There are so many portals of "just maybe" that we fail to understand.   Somehow much revolves around a huge overview and self-introspection of the rightness of actions and the ripples of those choices.

 

My daughter posted photos of my family on an adventure to a ghost town yesterday.  I looked at my pictures showing wrinkles, lumps, bumps, sags, and antiquity and was at first surprised.  Just as in the movie, "The Mirror Has Two Faces," Lauren Bacall's character says, " I look in the mirror and I'm old...but I feel young...like a kid," I can say that I share that sentiment.  One of the techniques from Scientology is to peer into a mirror, blinking as infrequently as possible, and watch the changing faces of oneself.  Could it be one's familial lineage?  Maybe.  Could it be oneself through the dimensions of time? Perhaps.  But I am always astutely aware of the eyes.  And this is now, more than ever, the way I see myself in "life in the aftermath of a narcissist."  I am changed.  I have reclaimed many of my old - no matter how oddball others may declare these - ideas.  

 

MOST importantly, the fear of separation and not being understood or found within company of agreement has dissipated.  My beliefs hold validity for me.  And along with this freedom has arrived a kindness in allowing others their choice of beliefs.  I still have no blanket answers for this world of reality, but my appreciation for the splendor has sky rocketed.

 

Many share terrible tales of abusive situations for the soul in their dealings with Scientology, some within my own family.  Others remain faithful to the technologies.  Some, of course, have joined the ranks of the "priviledged" and find that we who struggle and work on our place in the scheme of things may not be deemed worthy.  I find myself kinder, less afraid, and more strongly steadfast in my belief systems.  I have a feeling that ultimately, this may be the entire purpose of lifetime or times.  

 

Having survived the ordeal of a psychopath, the trek through the bowels of the "Twilight Zone" where nothing fit the parameters of my selfhood and ideals, and a coming to be OK with me even if I discover myself island-locked, I am reminded of Ursula le Guin's "Turn of the Lathe."  No matter where we locate ouselves on the growth spectrum, we have the option of evaluation, cognition, emotion, decisions, and awareness that our control is of ourselves.  The slippery slope involves others, but the best of us in humanity can be accountable while allowing others their creativity.  "It is good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey that matters in the end" (Ursula le Guin).  

Freedom, history, and ethics...

Coming through this period of life where I found myself immersed in my trials and tribulations within the experience with a psychopath and his oddball clan, I forgot to recognize this as a step in growth.  I just read Bill Harris' Thresholds of the Mind.  I am 59 and have some awareness of Scientology and the thought-gurus of the '50's.  I found the book most interesting and written in a down-to-earth style.  It struck me as very similar to much of Hubbard's works.

I find myself in a new stage of awareness of myself as I continue my journey into tomorrow.  Meditation has long been practiced and urged by spiritual teachers, writers, and those seeking inner peace.  I can't help but wonder, being a science fiction appreciator, if  that is not our path in this evolutionary platform.  In the end of the original "Matrix" film, the protagonist Nero knows he can control much of his living experience, and yet, there comes a sequel.  Harris and other authors believe that upheaval is the signal for a readiness for growth, expansion of awareness, and new evaluations.  Although even Hubbard's techniques lend themselves to a connectivity to an energy band of more than this plane of experimentation, what if this "mystery" of attempting to master Fate by controlling emotions has us forever trying to "avoid" anguish.  And this very angst is the driving force for our undertaking of the set of unfolding circumstances leading to modifications and distinguishable differences in our development.

With all the writers of this period in our history, there appears a strong undercurrent of the cognizance of social dynamics, personal responsibility, and an ethical framework that signals a direction away from the lower divisions of taxonomic kingdoms.  Howard Bloom speculates in his book, Global Brain, that man and the bacterial kingdom vie for dominance on  planet Earth.  If mass-mind and cohesion in the form of love bring the sensation of jurisdiction, just what are we as individuals?

It falls within my belief system that we - individuals - forge pathways for acknowledgment of achievement in the same vein as time is compartmentalized by us on this physical plane.  We need to mark the flow of our coming-to-know.  And just perhpas THIS IS the point of it all.  Bloom in his work, The Lucifer Principle suggests a new way to look at sociology. 

In my contact with psychopathy, I have, also - like Bloom,  felt that evil may be intrinsically set within the formative structures of humanity.  The essential character of an indivisible entity may mirror a god-like presence of compassion and desire for expanding expression of creativity or it may pull inward the boundaries of the significance of symbols of communication.  The lovely children's movie, "The Never Ending Story" explores the idea of evil being the cessation of imagination and halting the supplement of a forever moving "more."

As I work my way into deciphering my personal path, I discover that this life must be more than simple attainment of food, clothing, and shelter.  But, it must also be more than settling into a comfortable cushion of philosophy.  The cutting edge of LIFE, in capital letters, is boldness of conception AND execution.  Still, the magnanimity must include personal ethics.  I believe we strive for a distinction of excellence.  History must be taken into account as one charts a forward path.  Perhaps that's why journaling serves such a wonderful purpose: it's history's first draft.  Winston Churchhill may have touched a chord of truth: "For my part, I consider that it will be found much better by all parties to leave the past to history, especially as I propose to write that history myself."