Childbirth And Primal Screaming

I think people are surprised by how willing I am to beg. It may come to them as a total surprise, but that's pretty much the whole point. I'm a little sad today. I had an e-mail exchange with my ex-wife about our/HER oldest daughter having her first child as she nears her mid-thirties. Her post wasn't exactly prim and proper, but it seems to have always taken more focus than she wants to express intimately about what she perceives sensually.

She was so intimidated by her own mother that when she was in the delivery room with her feet in the stirrups and this same child who is extremely pregnant herself right now crowning and stretching thangs to the extreme with only a minimum of legal opiates to temper the pain... she needed permission to scream... even though other women all around her had been screaming for hours.

Primal screaming is just part of the deal of giving birth. I think she needed and had needed to scream with pain from that medium-sized child emerging with contempt from her belly. I had to scream at her to scream. I don't know who will scream at HER daughter to scream during childbirth. She's a Virgo, so primal screaming may not fly with her.

This crude woman and I had the child together (the same one who is having the child soon with her present husband in the State of Washington clear across the whole of America) in a 'tres simpatico' 1970s hippie spill-over fashion. We wuz hip. We wuz cool. We farted in the face of the Golden Rule. Hypnosis. LaMaze, and "You can't fool Mother Nature!" ruled the day. No mas. This too will pass, and karma is still a mofo.

There seem to be more universal principles about than what I took to be my personal mandate to live as I've lived. This woman who corresponds through an e-mail discussion group wrote about the term "discernment" in a way I didn't think made sense in an unbiased way. Fair treatment, and all that jazz. Several times she accused one of her favorite pawns of not understanding what she meant by "discernment" (her quotes).

Something seemed hyped or extremified by her terse insistence that she wasn't being understood. She writes that a lot, so it's a little like crying "Wolf". But, this time she was correct. She wasn't being understood. But, it was because her understanding was prejudiced by her Catholic upbringing. She appeared to assume that her treatment of "discernment" was universally understood as she learned it. No blame. Who doesn't do that?

It was easy for me to resolve. The Dictionary associated with the Apple Operating System is easily evoked by a right-click. With the upgrade to Leopard, booting up the dictionary to read the definition of a word like 'discernment' also retrieves any information about it on Wikipedia and as a separate option, Google. Amazing. Here's the link to the Wikipedia article:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Discernment

Man, I'm dragging this out. I can't seem to get over the hump with why I'm writing about this. I may be looking for a way to justify why I have lived with such abandon. I really mean, lived with myself, after having abandoned the responsibilities of my two former marriages.

I might need some very fanciful ideas about how to get outta going to some Super Hell reserved for the worst of the worst, because I'm convinced to the bone that I saved both of my ex-wive's lives by marrying them whether they bore my babies or not.

After having lived with myself for seventy years now, nothing would surprise me about how cold and unfeeling I can appear to others at times. The personas my ex-wives and other fell in love with could be an empty shell when other interests co-me-d into being. That's why when I knew it was a permanent fixture I might as well send them away for their own good.

It's not really an enigma, but a nature I've enhanced by formal and informal training. Of course, none of that mattered anymore once I received my remembering vision, but I didn't REALIZE it didn't matter anymore for an additional thirty years. Here's a poem I apparently composed for what I've become:

ECSTAGONY

Caught eternally between
the love of my hating
and the hate of my loving,
I sit unconcerned,
alone
in my reflections of fear.
Hoping with the deliberation
of hard-earned patience
for the ti-me to co-me
of my final deliverance
from the agony and ecstasy
of making believe
the images of my imagination
will set me free
from the ever-clinging
fate of dualistic opposites.
Realization is always
one step beyond knowing
the unknown.

©October 3, 1971

Life has always been a series of surprises for me. I knew I had been given something special, but it took me thirty more years to figure out what.