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Word
Gems
Personal Statement #14
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January 20, 2009
I have been staring at the "politics" and "economics" inactive link-icons, in my "Coming Soon" docket, for weeks now. It's not that I have nothing to say. Quite the contrary... indeed, virtually every American, right now, is obsessed with these topics; we've always been obsessed, but things are different now.
The Blacksmith's Anvil of Truth I have spoken elsewhere of Dad's policy of "hovering" over blacksmiths, to ensure their prompt attention to his welding job. And I'm recalling one of those incidents, when I was 8 years-old. But this smithy was no ordinary one. He was a thinker. And he took this opportunity with Dad to do a bit of hovering of his own. While he worked, he spoke of corruption in government, creeping socialism and marxist philosophy, the dangers to liberty and the democratic process. I was quite young and tender, but I remember this man's intensity; hot, like his welding rod. His fervency that day registered in my consciousness and has stayed with me. Dad, like many Americans, brushed it all off as hyperbole... couldn't be as bad as all that, you know... just concentrate on the welding, if you don't mind. But, in my later studies, I would learn that it is as bad as all that; and, if there is any hyperbole in the mix, it would be on the side of understatement. This topic is such a large one. And I've been asking myself, what good thing, in a short period of time, might I add to your perspective regarding all this? There's a message that's been percolating within me, for some time. I'm trying to find my voice, and just today as I met with a friend I find myself prompted to say some things. I will speak only a little of politics here, only at the end; the prelude to which will obviate the need to say much... as I think you will see.
Doreen (not her real name) is, primarily, Anita's friend. For over a year, Anita has telephoned this person every morning, just to encourage her to stay alive, one more day. Every day, Doreen speaks of suicide as a way out of this life. We bought our Sheltie from Doreen 15 years ago. At that time, Doreen was a postal worker, with her own walk-about mail-delivery route. Walking distracted her from the terrors in her heart, ones that never leave her. Three years ago she injured her hands; took early retirement. This inactivity has encouraged the ghosts of her past to plague her day and night.
Doreen is an artist. I took this photo today of her work.
Doreen's father was a physician, well respected in the community. But he sexually abused his daughter over many years. And Doreen's mother turned a blind eye to all this. Her father, ever fearful his daughter would tell playmates about her plight, kept her schedule full with busy work, no time for herself, always having to do something, or be somewhere. Doreen has never "forgiven herself" for this tragic past. She has no mental conception of self-love. Ever tormented, her body is anorexic; she eats hardly enough to keep a little bird alive; and if she were to eat more than this, she will vomit. She will not heat her house in wintertime, as she feels she does not deserve to be warm. She wears old clothes, far too good for what she is, she believes. She cannot sleep, begins to drug herself for the evening, to escape another day, at 4 PM, only to rise before the sun, for another lonely, early walk, which will last for hours... anything to get out of the house, which she finds suffocating. I sometimes drive Doreen to a doctor's appointment. I did so again today. Being with Doreen is always a shattering experience for me. I am her "big brother," one of the very few she trusts in life. And when I am with her, I think about how I might begin to get through to her about the fact that she is loved. And today, as she often does, she asks me questions... questions that no human being should ever have to ask. I walk her to the car from her front door... try to take her arm, protection against the ice on the walk... She initially refuses, her sense of self-rejection trying to take over. I goad her: "hey, this is what lovers do, you know." She laughs, and says, "I have no idea what lovers do." I am thinking: She hates herself so much that she will not listen to music. I decide that I will treat her to a song on my iPod. She agrees. Doreen relaxes and listens to a song. After some minutes, without warning, she bursts into tears and sobs convulsively; and then she asks a question that no human being should ever have to ask: "What is it like to feel love?" In an instant, I am mentally transported to a college class, 35 years in the past. Art Mokorow is lecturing, one of the best teachers I ever had. He is talking about counseling the traumatized. He relates a story of a client who was so psychologically injured that, during counseling sessions, all he could do was moan, or grunt, indicating acknowledgement. And this went on for months, until finally, the counselor had created a sufficiently safe environment for this poor person to gather enough strength to begin to speak! Before this stage, the beginnings of a sense of security, the counselor is unwise to attempt to offer any substantive information, as the client will not be able to hear the words... blocked... by the deafening noise... of the patient's own fears! And I immediately sense this to be Doreen's frame of mind. I do not attempt to answer her question directly; but, while driving, I put one hand on her shoulder. She is still sobbing; and I begin to tell her, as I have told her often, that she is loved; she has Anita as a friend, and she has me; she also has her Advisors on the Other Side who love her. And that all of this suffering, here, is temporary, and will soon evaporate like an August's morning dew. This delicate spirit, this little flower, revives a bit. Then, she asks me another difficult question: "Do you love yourself?" I am silent for some seconds... this is not coffee-table chatter. I have had my own "long dark night of the soul"; but I answer this way: "I have learned to love myself." And I offer a few words, to encourage her, so that she might know that she will find healing, too. I am moved to say a few words about her destiny with love: "Doreen, there is someone in the universe who is waiting to be with you... you have a soulmate... and someday, all of this will seem like a distant bad dream; a sad movie, that is over... and you will be with that person... and you will enjoy all of the love that you want and need and deserve." And then she asks me, maybe, the most difficult question: "I guess I know that God loves me; but I have no feelings about this. I have no picture in my mind of God loving me. How can I feel that God loves me?" This is a most difficult question, and my mind now races; but my soul is quick to intervene and supplies an unexpected answer. I double-check myself as I mentally run a tentative answer through my "compliance department" ... it is immediately approved. "You know that I care for you, that I am your friend; so, the next time you want to know how God loves you, and feels about you, I want you to imagine my face... and just do that, for right now." In the aftermath of this comment, in the workshop of my mind, I am evaluating this little speech of mine. I wonder if I did the right thing in what I just said: "Well, at least you didn't encourage her to sacrifice a lamb in your honor." But, then, I remind myself, years ago, in settled state of mind, I wrote of the mystery of God; that, it may be a very long time before we can know Ultimate Divinity directly; because, the truth is, we don't know anything about God...
I rest my case... and no longer fear charges of idolatry. To spend even a short time with Doreen is to be bombarded with her various guises of self-hatred: despite the severe abuse from parents, she wishes to be with them again. She "misses" them! Her love for her dogs is excessive, neurotic, because they accept her without reservation. She wants to leave her money to them; but nothing to humans, never to humans, too much like herself. She oscillates between ascribing near-godhood to those offering even modest altruism, and the darkest condemnation to dysfunctional others. She is convinced, when I touch her shoulder, that I transmit to her guru-like healing energies, so starved is she for even the smallest of human-kindness contact - all these, manifestations of a single haunting element... her own self-loathing. My friend Adrian has just reminded me of the definition of a lunatic: one who has lost everything... except her mind. Somehow this fits Doreen so well. She has lost her faith, hope, and love... for herself! I return Doreen to her home. She hugs me, says that she wishes I could stay with her all the time, that she feels safe with me. I kiss the top of her head. I know that these words, excessive, of course, are merely the fruit of her own fears, and not commensurate with anything I've offered. I gently suggest to her that she really doesn't need me. I tell her that she will feel better... and find healing... within herself.
In the 1960s, direct-voice medium Leslie Flint was able to access soul-persons on the Other Side. One hundred and twenty of these testimonies were tape-recorded. I have listened to all of them. So many of the personalities coming through are immature spirits. Allow me to summarize 95% of the content of such egocentrism: "Well, we're all having such a great time here, not doing too much, though, you know how it is, just a little too busy right now to do anything important; and I certainly wouldn't want to change anything! Oh, no, I wouldn't want to risk losing what I have. I'm just so comfortable here right now, so don't try to say that I should be doing this or that, I'm just feeling so good, that's just kinda guy I am." I think you get the idea. But there were three testimonies of spiritually advanced persons, one especially, from Elizabeth Fry. What a wonderful lady! During her earth-life she worked to reform harsh and cruel treatment of prisoners in England. She was and is articulate, gracious, and wise. I recommend that you listen to the actual testimony. But here are the transcribed highlights:
Consider what she has said: How poignant! There is no spiritual advancement until one loses this dark and untoward attitude of self-importance! If this makes you feel uneasy regarding the political bantam-rooster parade... it should! On her side of Life, there are no "actual leaders," no head-honchos, none there to "give orders"; no one "glories in being a leader"; in fact, it's not even part of their thinking "to want to appear to be important"; and yet, she speaks of this perfect "harmony" of spirit-persons working together. And, most of all, notice her earnest admonition: "I would say to you, above all things ... avoid men of power and position." I have, on my web site, many insights, many quotes, many testimonies; but, if I had to choose one as among the best, I would be hard pressed not to consider the wisdom of Elizabeth Fry. I have found her words, and her spirit, to be incredibly moving to me; and how I should like to be a team member, some day, with her, and of that "groups of souls who do special work." I assure you, with all sincerity, that I shall be there. And I hope to see you there, too.
My apologies to bantam roosters, of the feathery sort; which, with openness of innocent heart, merely present themselves according to instinctive nature; not so much, their cock-of-the-block political imposters. Part of my title is borrowed from Mark Twain: "Lies, Damned Lies..." His problem was that he was too subtle, as the reality, today, deserves harsher assessment. I write these words just hours before a Presidential Inauguration. I am not impressed with the ideas and philosophies of the new President. Some of you are thinking that I must be a Republican... well, as Q of the Continuum once said, "How linear of you!" I'm quite egalitarian about these things, and I do want to be so fair, so that's why, in the main, I hold the ideas of the outgoing President i nearly equal disdain. We have just endured 8 years of policies, the majority of which, will reduce personal liberties, now and in the future, for ourselves and for our children. I notice little things like this. But the new President threatens us with worse.
I will not be cataloging specific sins here... you can get that elsewhere, and there's a lot of that; but that's not why you came here, and not the purpose of this writing; nevertheless, I will mention one thing, because it happened today. Ramos and Compean were finally pardoned today! But the person doing the pardoning, I sense, should receive little credit here, as such commutation of sentence occurred only after a dramatic outpouring of outrage by hundreds of thousands of Americans demanding their release; and these poor men had to endure two years in prison for doing absolutely no wrong while bureaucrats power-postured ersatz compassion and concern.
Is Progress Real? I will support any candidate who will safeguard and augment personal liberties; who will stop and reduce the expansion of government; who will defend contract and property rights. I could go on with this, but let me just summarize it all: I will support the one who promotes the sacred dignity of each human being... and that doesn't mean buy his or her vote, or do for that person what needs to be personally done. I'm still waiting for these points to be included in a party platform. Philosophers have asked the question, "Is progress real?" We look around ourselves, see various advancements, especially in technology, and things seem to be better. Sort of. But if that's true, why are we all so nervous today? so apprehensive about the future? We don't truly believe that our so-called progress is so real, do we? in fact, we intuitively sense that civilization is at a crossroads; that civilization is a most fragile flower, something that might be lost in a single generation, and that we are just a short step, or two, ahead of those dark forces which might plunge us all into a new dark age. Please... do not be naive to think otherwise. We only recently dodged this bullet. Germany was the most scientifically advanced, the most cultured, nation on earth, and we came within a hairs-breadth of that new dark age.
I will be quite honest with you. All of the lies that I hear from politicians, every day, trouble me deeply. Sometimes, most days, I can bear to read only the news headlines. And I always think of the words of British historian, Paul Johnson:
"... proof positive that their argument is false... proof presumptive that they know it is." How eloquent! Here's a little prophecy. At some point, our country's financial and political mess could very likely cause societal unrest, a backlash against those who maliciously engineered all of this for us. And what will likely happen then is an imposition of marshal law, a restriction and elimination of liberties, for our own good, of course... all temporary, of course.
Doreen and Elizabeth Our country is on the verge of economic collapse. I probably know this better than you do. I'm a registered investment advisor, with 25 years experience, and I know some things that the average person doesn't know or understand... it's not pretty out there... and I will say a bit more in the sister-article on economics. But, so what? The question is, what can be done now? Yes, that is the sticky problem, isn't it. Psychologically, so many, more and more, in this country approximate the neurosis of Doreen... when we need to be more like Elizabeth! Doreen's in rough shape, and her world is held together by chewing gum and baling twine. She is an extreme version of self-disparagement; but so many of us today are not so far behind Doreen. By this I mean to say that, it seems, three-quarters of the attitudes we encounter every day are almost as out of touch, almost as delusional, almost as immersed in this cult of self-disrespect, as Doreen. The very practical problem of self-unlove, self-disrespect, is that one becomes susceptible to cult leaders... it took me most of my life to understand that not all cult leaders present themselves as the religious figure; because you will find the same spirit, the same power-dog demagogues, in all sectors of society, wherever there is money, power, and control to be gained; wherever gullible people can be herded like ND cattle; wherever there are willing and weak-spirited potential cult members to be harvested; wherever there are those who voluntarily check their brains at the door, check their hearts; worse, their souls, and surrender their better judgment and autonomy to the latest savior in a pin-striped suit... who promises to save them! Our friend George Harrison liked to tell us about those who "controlled" us ... "bought and sold" us...
George Harrison, While My Guitar Gently Weeps
I have rarely been as appalled, as I was a few months ago, when I witnessed, on tv, the vacuous cult worshippers of the new President, mindlessly chanting, "Yes, we can" ... mindlessly chanting, and happily beckoning some empty blank-check notion of "change" ... how utterly, thoroughly and totally disgusting. Waiter, more kool-aid over here, please.
They should have been chanting to him, as well as to every other prevaricating candidate, "Yes, we don't need you" - "Yes, stay out of our lives" - "Yes, stop spending our children's money, just to buy votes, as you bankrupt the country and our future" ... that's the chanting rally I'm waiting for. I'll lead that singing myself at the front of the church, true believer that I am. History tells us that once these forces begin marching, it's very difficult to stop the progression; until, it all falls apart in chaos, and you'll get your change then... see F.A. Hayek in The Road To Serfdom.
So many of us are like Doreen... so many of us... we think so little of ourselves, of our own opinions, that we seek for a leader, a king, a saviour, a strongman, a nanny, a governess; somebody to look after us, poor victims that we are; so immersed are we in this tarnished view of ourselves, this diminished self-image. Doreen wanted me to stay with her, to save her, to be her resident cult-figure; but what she didn't understand was that, even if I'd agreed to stay, the crazies in her head would have kept right on singing... she didn't really need me... she needed herself... she needed a new healed and whole version of herself. Our problems are spiritual in nature; and growth here is our only hope. Many think that hiring a new cult-leader in Washington will make it all better. But Elizabeth, that great lady who serves us with the rest of her gang, knows what's real, how the universe really works:
"I would say to you, above all things ... avoid men of power and position... because of their material perception of things."
Update: 6-18-10: I spoke to Doreen on the phone today, our first conversation since my return to North Dakota. "I have been so alone and isolated, I haven't spoken to anyone in many days," she offers in near-whisper voice. "I wish I could die, I take pills, but I don't die." I sigh deeply as I perceive that nothing has changed for Doreen. "I miss you sooo much," she continues, but then adds, with a hint of anger, "Why did you have to move so far away?" I suddenly recall the many AfterLife testimonies describing the lower astral realms, below Summerland (P.S. #7), wherein spirit-persons suffer (albeit, temporarily) in self-imposed bonds of self-pity, anger, and regret; and I realize that Doreen's profession of affection for me is not so much reflective of anything that I'd offered to her, small kindnesses that they were, but, rather, a measure of her extreme neediness. I encourage her to continue with her art, that portal-of-entry to Joy, and to find opportunity to serve others. Doreen's next statement shocks me: "I like talking with you because you are like me! Beneath that exterior of yours, you are suffering, just like me. I knew this the moment I met you! Some people are upbeat all the time, in an unreal, pushy, and judgmental way, but you are not like that, you have suffered." I now think of the apostle Paul's words, "Who is weak, and I am not weak?" (II Cor. 11: 29). And I am taken aback by her great perspicacity. She is quite correct in her assessment. And I am suddenly plunged into a greater level of understanding regarding how personal suffering opens, and sensitizes, one's spirit to the hidden realms of the heart, even those of others (P.S. #36, 40, 49). "What keeps you from killing yourself?" she demands of me. I respond as if my secret identity has just been revealed to Lois Lane, and now I simply answer forthrightly: "The world in which we live is a temporary one. It is a classroom, a place of learning, not meant to last. Many things here are not what they appear to be. There is a time coming when each person will have that which his or her soul craves. It might not happen in this life. But it will come. The universe is made that way... and this will happen... for you, too!"
Reality... the Real Life I suggest that you submit your resume to Elizabeth's team for possible inclusion... start now, why delay... there're always openings for the right person... and you don't have to wait until you get to her side of life to do some good things. You see, what many think is so real right now... this grand delusion... this misapprehension of Reality... regarding this artificial and transitory world... is going to evaporate so fast... just like that August dew I mentioned... and we learn from thousands of AfterLife testimonies that those who maliciously use their power to make merchandise of others will have an unscheduled all-expense-paid trip to certain Other-Side regions, ones measurably lower, than Summerland. It's not really too pleasant in those neighborhoods, if you know what I mean... although, it will be a change, which, as we learned at the chanting rally, trumps all, of course... in those dark realms, there are a lot of screaming-meemies running around, beating on each other, arguing politics and religion, with rage and vituperation; sometimes with chanting... such a good time is had by all. But that's where dark and malevolent spirits will have to live temporarily, until they're ready to admit a few things, first of all, to themselves; and to seek a better way... so, don't be too impressed, not too impressed... when you see some of the bantam roosters, in their tuxes, at the inaugural ball this evening... they should enjoy the ball as much as they can, because that's all they'll have for awhile... think of 007 in the new Quantum of Solace... his soiled and disheveled tux... it's gonna turn out like that for them.
Real change is coming; and it begins with each of us! Avoid the rush. Start today.
As I keep telling you, you're pretty neat, and you have alot to offer. You were created in the image of God; and some of you, like Doreen, just have no idea how wonderful you are. Your abilities are vastly unsung and under-rated, and you need to become convinced of this, of your own sacred dignity as a human being; because, finally, when you are convinced, those bantam roosters will be out of a job. America waits for you to wake up.
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