Thor's Day's UnWholy Temptations

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There was something I didn't know that was holding me back from what I didn't currently understand I needed. I had surrendered all of the attributes I received from my family, and rebuked my foolishness for holding on to what I was taught sustained me, and yet the transition I sought through spiritual questing still evaded me. I am is pretty sure it committed myself to the state hospital for the insane to finish what was left of my father's son off. Good riddance.

In the past, I've written that I committed myself to the nut house forty odd years ago to successfully discover what "crazy" really is. I still believe it was somewhat for that somewhat sociopathic reason, but there was another purpose for performing such a self-murdering faux pas,

Even as I went through the motions of allowing the legal arrangements to be made in my nayme, I sort of knew that it would eliminate any chance at all that I could follow the path of my caretakers to be academically brilliant in order to impress humans instead of gods.

Committing myself to the insane asylum was the final act of a sojourn I'd been on since puberty to find true spiritual guidance for what was otherwise, to me, a disgusting lifetime of being a patsy. I'd looked around. I was a bright little boy. It became easier and less avoidable to grasp that the adults around me (that I was encouraged as a child to emulate) were hypocrites of the lowest order.

They preached one thing and did another. Hypocrisy was the one word I learned during my pubescent years that tilted the scales of justice for me. The "law" my mentors were teaching me to obey seemed to be subject to their own snickering ridicule.

That is, when they weren't giving themselves airs about their immodest superiority, in order to suggest smugly that if I really wanted to be successful in life like they were, then I would do what they said do and not what they did. I was a very confused kid. I'm a confused adult too. I cope with confusion with the best of them. '-)

It was only when I read the Jesus saying below that I realized that by running away from the role my parents and other mentors had insisted upon, that I had instinctively chosen a path with heart:

55 Jesus said, "Whoever does not hate father and mother cannot be my disciple, and whoever does not hate brothers and sisters, and carry the cross as I do, will not be worthy of me."

http://users.misericordia.edu//davies/thomas/Trans.htm

It was by fighting against becoming a respected member of society that I did the right thing, but even now nobody believes that destroying any chance I ever might have at attaining social recognition as a "good man" could I have ever received my remembering vision.
Receiving that vision was the beginning of living a magical life. These days I call that event by the term "bejinning", because it was only after remembering all that my me had ever been since it's arrival on the planet Earth, this time, was I able to write the poetry that revealed my true fate.

Ecstagony

Caught eternally between
the love of my hating,
and the hate of my loving,
I sit unconcerned,
alone
in my reflection of fear.
Hoping with the de-liberation
of hard-earned patience
for the time to come
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

Only this morning did I write about how suffering created speech, and speech created mind. I wrote as an example about the mourning so-me women do when they give birth to a child. Classically, they curse the man who caused them to experience this woeful event. Aaaiiiyyeeeeee!

I like to hyphenate words to explore them phonically (like the Phoenicians did?). The suffering a woman endures when the baby crowns just before final delivery can be an agonizing experience to listen to them. Having a baby seems very undignified from an external point of view. It does thangs to the a female's id. It changes a woe-to-man-s (woman's) perspective of her own damned, de-virginized flesh.

If flesh is created by suffering, then, is spirit created by joy? This may seem strange to the uninitiated, but for those who have studied the Gnostic sayings it's written in the Gospel of Thomas in very lucid terms:

29 Jesus said, "If the flesh came into being because of spirit, that is a marvel, but if spirit came into being because of the body, that is a marvel of marvels.

Yet I marvel at how this great wealth has come to dwell in this poverty."

http://users.misericordia.edu//davies/thomas/Trans.htm

It's readily apparent to me that the great majority of the humans I encounter would think they were crazy to be writing tossed word salad like the statements above. I don't blame them a bit. They might not be able to live with themselves as a wacked-out nincompoop, but they've never had their me-more-s reframed like I have, so it's just as well they're not tempted. '-)

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