"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."

Letting Go of the Attachment to the Outcome

Revolutioniz.com likes to say that shaking life up a bit with new paradigms of thought tends to open doorways to a touch of chaos as one begins the trek.  I'd have to add an "amen" to this one.  I suddenly and quietly came to an awareness - or rather, had one gently wash over me:  Letting go of the "attachment to the outcome" brings amazing freedom and allows one (me!) to stretch my boundaries of "what if's."  The insane asylum of my past marriage with a narcissist/psychopath and his oddly highlighting clan, will be a part of my life and thinking patterns - and this is actually a good point of reality.  It mandates a little clarity be undertaken regarding belief in choice, responsibility, accountability, and the freedom to start, stop, and change (Hubbard). 

Time is such a fascinating tool.  However we accept the premise of this compartmentalized aspect of creativity, whether "it" exists or serves only to illustrate and measure change, some formatting of this concept is required to witness the expression of altered living energy from the idea state to the physical playing field.  As I am becoming clearer on my own deliberations about belief and power in the process of innovative imagination that we call "life," I recognize amazing energy.  I'd like to smile boldly and state that I "get it."  Unfortunately, I don't grasp the formula and schematics totally; however, I do feel the power and sense the accumulated possibilities that are so close and yet, remain just beyond reach. 

In my own experiences, Time appears to need mindful lucency and almost two-weeks to bring a wish to fruition on this plane of reality.  Maybe this is a type of sieve and filtering system to allow each of us to evaluate our choices before they manifest.  As my personal development continues in the aftermath of the upsetting awakening to the portrait of my life journey with many a bump along the way, I recently had my laptop fail to return from the land of black screen death, my antiquated pc tower valiantly attempt to reboot all to naught, and my ancient automobile simply stopped, as if to say, that's all there is.  I might have collapsed into a puddle of angst, fear, and utter frustration, but I didn't - there was a momentary flash of fear...but then there was "thought." 

The help of my daughters, son-in-law, and tremendous generosity of my brother and his wife flew in as some invisible super heroes to offer aid.  These people opened their hearts, wallets, use of vehicles, and compassion - without maudlin sympathy.  Suddenly I experienced a wave of the sense that I was not only "worthy" and valuable in my meager way, but that I had touched the template of something grand and astonishing.  Emotions - so many in the lower ranges of my experience within the Stockholm syndrome of my marriage and feelings of utter loss, apprehension, and alarm that my beliefs may not have been valid - seem to serve as a tether to particular states of being and the stronger the band of feeling, the tighter the chord binds one to that place and state.

In an episode of an old "Star Trek," Spock, Capt. Kirk, and some other comrades were trapped in an energy field.  Spock who could dampen the projected expanse of his energies (especially fear in the fight-or-flight mode), was the one to decrease the intensity of the prison's dynamic power fluctuations and pass through the barrier to freedom.  Looking at Vedic philosophy, there always exists choice of pathway.  If I understand the knowledge of this terrain, repercussions don't really exist when one is "on the path of enlightenment."  The struggles and points of "re-do" occur only when ego and emotional attachment take place.

Oddly, the wisdom remains freely available, but the student graps it only when he is ready to release old ideas of self and "shoulds."  Gratitude accompanies me along my own walk today.  Melodie Beattie states it so well: "Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.  It turns what we have into enough, and more.  It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity.  it can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.  Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow."

Living on Purpose

A relatively lazy day and Father's Day found me with free time - after household chores, thoughts on expanding my business, application for a car loan, and a short drive through my picturesque town with my youngest daughter.  I decided to watch a DVD I stumbled across at the library a couple of days ago,  "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly."

This is an autobiographical account of how utterly dramatically, drastically, and with lightning-quick speed life can change within the parameters of moments.  Jean-Dominique Bauby pushed that velocity envelope at the age of 44 when, as a well liked and valued editor of the high profile "Elle" magazine, he succumbed in life's mid-stride to a rare stroke attacking his brain stem.  Awakening from the  20-day coma to a body completely paralyzed except for his mind and the ocular movement of his left eye, he strained with undaunted effort and spirit to keep alive his wit, style, and impassioned approach to the distinctive quality of his soul.  He continued his grand adventures of this lifetime through his kaleidoscope spectrum of personal imagination and produced the manuscript by using a system of blinking to each letter of the alphabet read to him.

By connecting exquisitely with the vast array of sensations within his memory, he linked not only to himself but to the world around him.  He thrilled to life fully expressed, his children, love, and the passionate embracing of choice and opportunity.  The tale is poignant, bitter sweet, and ineffably overpowering as a testament of conviction for living-on-purpose.

My own minor - by comparison - turmoil in the aftermath of time with a narcissist/psychopath and his dysfunctional clan  left me metaphorically comatose and stuck in a murky purgatory of static existence.  Dragging my battered heart, beliefs, and antiquated carcass into a wake-up mode has been an excruciating process of reconnecting to this life.  Where once I held impassioned views on interactions, my self-protected cessation of hope and expectation crippled my grip on forging my own role in this experience of metabolic vitality.

Tony Robbins likes to say that man will act more diligently and exert more effort to avoid pain than he will to consciously magnetize pleasure.  I find that I personally can agree with this, especially when the anguish comes expressly through the torment of the soul.  When beliefs and one's stability of data on individual purpose are shaken to the core, life takes on a mechanical rhythm - much like the life-support for Bauby.  The continuum of subsistence shrinks to a very narrow band width and with it, the capabilities of a blossoming presence falter and lay stunned.

After the trigger of a cascade of ideas found in the movie, I wondered "what kept me moving, always with optimism in my past" - before the violation of my spirit?  What had left me as a lump of clay?  Was it because I accepted the thought that it was "my choice"?  I believe I chose to see goodness...I chose to be upbeat in expectation.  Now I choose to limit my exposure to self-doubt and anger. Unpleasant, detrimental, and even life-altering deviations from one's path do occur.  BUT...

At some point, we can see and feel that each of us are "worthy" of other adventures...higher tone journeys.  Those which produce expanded and uplifting proficiency.  I also watched "Alien Hunter" this weekend and was moved by the characters portraying wounded people who, for the most part, rose to the occasion of greatness in decency.  There, of course, was a renegade being who catapulted wildly in fear and the attempt to escape a doomsday scenario.  But on the whole, the staff of the locked-down research facility, who had unwittingly opened a plague that could wipe humanity from the Earth, were honorable and aware of a mandatory sacrifice.  In the final scenes, the remaining few were "rescued" by other-worldly presences and we are left hoping that their new trek will be exciting, challenging, and filled with the joy of their uncharted next adventure.

In both of these movies a fear of the unknown reigns.  However, overcoming that emotion, valiantly rides honor and the choice to make a positive difference.  This may well be our purpose.  It isn't what we do so much as the spirit of integrity that accompanies our actions.  Claude Bristol's The Magic of Believing is true.  So, for me, I will pretend that I am following my purpose of being until I recognize that this is, indeed, the case.  As Bristol states, "to win, you've got to stay in the game."

Adventure, relationships, ideals, and seeking the best - re-post corrupted blog

This life is amazingly complicated and quite unabashedly grand in it's multi-faceted terrains of experience.  Just as I was beginning to see some light at the end of the tunnel I had forged for myself - letting the ex-spouse narcissist/psychopath and his clan forever exhibiting their black hole of never-ending needs sap my entire portfolio of financial assets - my old car died.  My niche of office cleaning with a leaning toward special attention to equipment in a variety of office fields, is just beginning to offer a glimmer of growth.

Looking at life in my "later chapters," I felt weary.  The trek through the bowels of the Twilight Zone in my last marriage in which I was used, devalued, and so easily discarded once my funds and usefulness as a hired hand and care provider had evaporated, had deposited me within the grasp of a crisis of faith.  I have been groping my way forward and this deletion of a vehicle from my present-day grab bag of dealings rumbled the reminder of those devastatingly fearful feelings of violation of trust.  Now, I faced my own thoughts of being alone in this predicament.  My youngest daughter and her fiance loaned me their truck, having the fiance use his motorcycle to generously share their second automobile with me. And my oldest daughter compiled her Christmas money to be on-the-ready to aid me. I still have the legwork to perform, but there is an air of generosity and warmth.  God and the Universe still know I'm here.

The calendar has marked two years away from the constantly overwhelming chaos of changing persona of the psychopath, the tag-team neediness of the invalid mother, ailing father, always present first wife, alcoholic adult son, first wife's drugged-out and alcoholic sister forever sexually in competition with her sibling, aunts who attempted to push me into becoming a live-in care provider for the mother...and the starkly conflicting upbeat expectations I held when entering the marriage.  Forging ahead, I find my courage in strange places, and a collage of ever expansive optimistic expectation of living in the time spent with my delightfully individualistic grandsons.


What does this living in the Now for me look like?  My 7 year old grandson wanted to go on the Y's indoor contortionist death slide into the pool while his younger brother (too young to ride the water slide) waited below...but he wanted me to go with him.  If anyone else other than grandchildren had asked me to take the trek, I might easily have declined.  Once at the top of the stairs, he asked me to go first...so I with my round and aged body grabbed the bar, stepped to the edge of the multiple switch-backed slide and just as I was going to let go gracefully - WHOOOOSH!  Slick as greased lightning...I went from a sitting position to a flat on my back luge-run reminiscent of an experience with baby oil in the shower.  I think I broke "Mach 1" within two meters of the bottom...and I can only imagine the sheer and stark terror on my face as I slam-dunked into the 4 feet of water at the bottom.  I was never so glad to see the splashing water lapping the edge of the bottom area of the slide.  I didn't black out from G-force, but neither did I breathe.  My grandson went another 16 times with me waiting to catch him in the water...moving farther from the end to let him savor his run each time.   Balancing the thrills, my youngest grandson explored the deep end of the poor with his snorkel, jumping to me from the rim to add some zest.  At my point in life now, THIS is my "living in the moment" with two amazing grandsons that think ol' grandma is pretty spiffy in her reliability as they taste life.

Renewal of heart and spirit can also be exemplified by the movie, "Galaxy Quest," a favorite of mine.  It's a spoof of the terrific series, "Star Trek," and the behind-the-scenes' drama with the personalities of the actors, all seeking to find a specialized arena of success, some acclaim, and personal expression and fulfillment.  It's very much a reflection of life and coming to validate the idea that we are not alone and disconnected.  We find ourselves in high and lower level drama, emotional turmoils and joyful exuberance, favorable outcomes in specific endeavors, and for me, a coherence of continuity in the flows of energy in this duration of human consciousness.  As the actors playing the crew of the Galaxy Quest bash each other over ego and the praise of fans, they also rally to "fight the good fight" and in doing so become astutely aware of the unique attributes of each of them as valuable individuals.  The story is one of marvelous redemption of the egotistical lead actor portraying Captain Jason Nesmith, and the powerful camaraderie that ripples from the causal and dynamic change in awakening to more than self.

So, I find myself here, too.  Letting go of old hurts and fears.  Rushing down the water slide with heart racing and partaking of the fabulous successes of my grandsons...now and tomorrow and all the tiers above and below.  As Jason Nesmith says, "<with> this fine ship and this fine crew...never give up...and never surrender."

Some days the bug, some days the windshield...

Listening to Anna Quindlen on a TV book review program this morning, I found her candid and openly expressed thoughts on this life, purpose, joy, relationships, and always the love of writing to touch a chord of comfortable camaraderie within me.  It drove an awareness home.  Style, speech, the written word, and character seem part and parcel of the very aura of personal expression.  Quindlen mentioned that writers inevitably want to share something of the life force of experience so that another will not be so alone.  What an amazingly appropriate sentiment with such an uplifting air of decency.

Facebook proved a doorway to sharing my upheaval when I found myself deep in the stark abyss of confusion in the aftermath of a narcissist/psychopath and extended family.  Much of the hopeful expectation that returned to me came on the heels of voicing descriptions of my encounter with these vapid sycophants - doing so on open forums proved a test of faith in my own strength of determination and served to validate this excursion as mine. Tumultuous difficulties introduced me to myself once again, but it was the acceptance of making these choices on my own that offered a proprietary air to the mix.  In using the social medium to frankly expose sectors of my life in an undisguised method without subterfuge, I had the opportunity to face fear on several levels.  Beyond what others thought of me, I discovered that I chose the tone of my writings - how to respond to less than supportive rebuttals on my contributed selections  and to accept agreement with a humble touch.  

In the course of my treks into an individualized choreography of this flowing existence, I have begun to seek my purpose once more.  There are those who posture and present personas as they struggle to comprehend the inscrutable fallout from picking a door on this unusual game show of life.  The upset may settle in the fastidious hope while turning the knob  and then soon recognizing that the entryway held specters and goblins. 

I find that I robustly desire to nurture a resonating spirit of being worthy.  I choose to be a better becoming self.  That doesn't mean that the "keys to the Kingdom" fall gently into my waiting hands.  Working in self-employment has brought me onto the shore of those who tend to take advantage.  It's not always under the umbrella of conscious knowledge for those who desire to wring that last inch from a generous offer.  How much responsibility sits on our shoulders?  I am not the same person I once was before time with that clan of ever-draining black hole of needs.   Responding with "no" can be processed with a bit of kindness and even class.

And that quality of integrity is my goal for myself.  William Foster reflects quite aptly on this, "Quality is never an accident; it is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, intelligent direction and skillful execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives."  This relationship with self is a remarkable entity in its own right.  Although we are each more than the accumulation of our assets, traits of character, and choices, this crucible of living pushes us to desire a sounder mix along with more than a whisper of intuitive link to the ether beyond ourselves.  

What I am finding to be true is the incorporation of energies from others in our sphere shades the functionality of the crucible.  To be valuable, the vessel must be melt-proof and the high temperature chemical reactions of difficult trials within the container cannot alter the core structure.  There is not a point of no-return for the spirit of us.  However, choice of direction will occur from a self-determined platform or by default.  I choose sovereignty over my own lines in this high adventure dramatic work.

I think we are all children in this quest for expression of beingness.  Erma Bombeck sums life so very well: "All of us have moments in our lives that test our courage.  Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them."