Month: August 2019

The longer I live, the more I feel the Tao Te Ching is the most perfect spiritual book ever written.

We only know warmth through cold, he does not say, but well could have, and in the event, did.

The pain of feeling emotional coldness, of feeling unfelt, of feeling radically alone, abandoned, unwanted, is, I feel, the true root of all human evil.

This feeling is sickening. It makes you dizzy, like trying to imagine infinity.  It is something normal people will—and do, every day, in every city and every village and everywhere in between—pay nearly any price to avoid, to keep hidden.

To be sure, in healthy cultures and healthy homes, this feeling is absent. People get, more or less, what they need. They get, to use the au courant phrase, “good enough” mothering.

And it IS mothering. Fathers and grandmothers, and grandfathers, can be “mothers”. But this energy is paradigmatically maternal. There is no humane reason to pretend otherwise.

As I’m sure I’ve shared, one of my daughters—my mini-me as we took to calling her—once told me “you look like my daddy but you are really my mommy”.

I’ve thought about all this, and come to the conclusion that I instinctively gave my children everything I lacked emotionally in my own childhood.

I gave but did not take. This is the firewall.

But it left me feeling cold, alone.  It was a necessary sacrificial process that was e traorinarily difficult.  I only had them on weekends for much of their childhoods, which was best, because it gave me time to recover, and to remain emotionally present most of the time they were with me.

Lao Tzu speaks of “darkness within darkness: the gateway to all mystery.”

I will speak of coldness within coldness: the gateway to love.

Until you can feel where you are, see and feel the water in which you swim and breathe, it will define you, condition you, limit you.

I feel the cold in me, which can only mean I am continuing to thaw.

I do t know where I get my pain tolerance (my “unnatural” pain tolerance as one therapist put it), but it is what allows me to continue my work, and for that I am grateful.

When dealing with narcissists, you have to give up their life, or your own. The only way you can pacify and satisfy them is by offering your own emotional life blood.

And this is hard, for perhaps damaged but mostly psychologically normal people. You can see their pain, feel their loneliness. But they cannot be helped. Not in this life. Not if they cannot feel what they do to others at the level of a deep underground stream.

Unless you pay close attention, the act of stealing can be hidden from your conscious awareness for a long time. But some people will just make you feel tired, will suck the joy out of your life, make you feel weary.  And while all this going on they may feel energized, good, enthusiastic, fun.

Narcissism is more or less equal to psychic vampirism. It is people who did not get enough love when they were tiny helpless little beings, crying for loving and getting none or—perhaps worse—too little.

Those of us who are sensitive can see all this. And there is nothing we can do, but watch, or be dragged down with them.

Cognitively I always try to choose optimism, but logically and experiential I know not everyone can be saved. Not by me, in any event, and not in this life. 

I think many Christians, when they die, find themselves begging for the love and mercy they denied others in this life.

I actually have two specific people in mind.

No Buddha’s can manifest as perfect at this level of reality, because this level of reality is inherently flawed and imperfect.

I would frame this “to attain Buddhahood you must on some level renounce the quest for Buddhahood.

Or, as Lao Tzu put it: renounce sainthood.

Put yet another way, obsession with small imperfections is more likely to lead people away from Spirit and Love than towards them.

I have on my shelf a set of books from Longchenpa, a Buddhist saint, and it is filled with all the reasons people go to hell, and how long, and what their hell is.  From this perspective, I would submit that Lingchrnpas imperfection consisted precisely in his obsession with perfection.

Anyone who is afraid and nervous and chronically angry with themselves reduces their spirit in this way. They become less.

Now, maybe the universe works precisely the way Ali gchenpa said it does, but I don’t think so. In any event, I think I become a lesser human being when obsessed with do’s and donts. Life is less fun. I am less fun.

This is not to say that fun is the purpose of life, but I think all of us feel more, and feel more deeply, when our skin is not crawling with self loathing and self rejection, which must attend the lives even of those who are outwardly blameless but still possessed by “wicked” thoughts.

Let go, and let go of letting go. Let the river flow.

And if you go around mirrors feed the good. Do t worry as much about starving the bad.

I’ve said this before but I don’t remember how, so this may be a slight improvement: humor is a method for defusing and deenergizing latent anger and resentment.

If you think about it, a good laugh is physiologically a full body spasm, a shaking off of tension the way a wet dog shakes off water.

If I mock, for example, someone’s accent, then yes, it is an aggression of sorts, but one which takes energy from a deeper aggression, which actually facilitates peace and connection if the person laughs with me. In effect, I am saying you, Italian/Chinaman/Arab/etc., make me uncomfortable, but if you laugh with me, I will begin to process you unconsciously as safe.

Ethnic or other something-centric “humor” can certainly be a means of channeling hate.  But used with some skill humor is a social necessity. Without it, anger has no outlet BUT violence of some sort, which begins in emotional violence or perhaps, pace Orwell, linguistic violence.

Political Correctness, in other words, as most of us sense intuitively, is an angry, stubborn, inflexible mindset which relies on emotional and social violence and which includes no social mechanism for incorporating spontaneous change, socially deep interconnection, or anything approaching an emotionally intelligent way of dealing with life and people in general.

It consists, I will add, primarily in the demand that we suppress utterly all honest, authentic, spontaneous impulses—impulses which come from our deep, true self—in favor of emotional constipation which cannot but make  people angry and dissatisfied.

The largest projects come from the blankest slates.

This can be read several ways.

The study which some of us were anticipating some two years ago is finally coming out: https://www.ae911truth.org/news/544-building-7-study-to-be-released-september-3-i-need-your-help-to-spread-it-far-and-wide

This study, done by a highly qualified professor in the most relevant field of forensic structural engineering, shows beyond any doubt that Tower 7, at least, was brought down by structural failures which could only have been caused by carefully timed and coordinated explosive charges.  It looked like a controlled demolition, to all eyes, and that is what it was.

We were lied to, in other words. And as I have been saying for some years, if Tower 7 came down that way, there is no reason not to suppose likewise for Towers 1 and 2.  In my view–and I seem to be the only one saying this–United 93 was supposed to crash into Tower 7.  Three plane crashes, three structural failures, all of which were guaranteed, by the timing of it all, to be seen live by hundreds of millions, if not billions of people.  A PsyOp to make everything else look small.

Me being me, me being a low trust individual who looks every gift horse in the mouth, and has great trouble trusting nearly everyone, I have to wonder about the timing of this thing.  I’ve been looking at a link for well over a year saying that in early 2018, when we were expecting an already delayed study, that they just weren’t sure how long it would take.

Me being me, I have to wonder if the murder of Jeffrey Epstein finally instilled a sense of urgency.  I have to wonder if they were worried about what sort of shitstorm they would set off by more or less proving 9/11 was the larger conspiracy some of us have been arguing it to be for some years.

Here is my take on all this: if the bastards win, no distance is far enough.  You can’t hide.  You can’t propitiate them with anything but abject and cringe inducing self abasement.  You can’t survive with dignity, and if you try and keep your dignity, you will not survive.  If the Good Guys (and Gals) don’t win this battle, here, now, then when all is lost, whatever words you chose to hide, whatever information you chose to conceal, will not help you in the least.  In Fascistic regimes of the sort the Mark Zuckerberg’s of the world are trying to bring about (while no doubt lying about it to all, most importantly to themselves) you don’t need to even be guilty to be punished.  Suspicion is enough.  Not jumping high enough when they say jump is enough.

So Leroy Hulsey, perhaps, finally did this math.  Perhaps he finally accepted the existence of something most reasonably termed a Deep State.

Maybe he just finished the study.  I don’t know.  But I doubt it.  This announcement came out of nowhere.  I think he’s been sitting on the finished study for something like a year, and just now mustered the courage to publish it.

If so, kudos to him.  It takes balls to expose oneself to the world, to the slings and arrows of outrageous confusion, to the cynics, to the takers, to the biters and scratchers and haters.

But courage is the only thing that makes life bearable, to me.  Without courage, there is no hope.  Without courage, light can never enter the room, and pleasant breezes never lighten the atmosphere.

I renewed my monthly donations to Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth.  They are making slow progress, but progress nonetheless.  They convinced a fire district in New York to demand a new investigation.  My hope, though, is that this new study will be granted the attention it eminently merits.

I think unacknowledged confusion becomes rigidity.  To remain loose, you need to be able to say “I don’t know” on a pretty regular basis.  You need to remember you are guessing, that we all are guessing, and that past successes are no guarantee of future ones.

In important respects, this is the malady of the present day Left in America, the relics and residue of the 1960’s.  They were so sure they were right.  They were so sure that building a new world just required implementing simple ideas that were so OBVIOUS.

And in their hearts, they are bitterly disappointed.   And they blame us, the conservatives, precisely because most of them suspect, somewhere deep in their being, that we were right.  They realize that the family is not a dispensible non-necessity, that shared religious faith is vitally important, that love of country orients people in a direction of meaningfulness and sense of personal relevance and belonging.

All the plastic, shiny, tokens of “alterity”, of counter to our culture: most of them did more harm than good.  Yes, we are a consumer society which does a very poor job of squaring the tenuousness and shortness of our lives with the decisions we actually make.  There were and remain valid critiques, but none of this is easy or obvious.  It is all very confusing and strange. 

All of these people need to become younger than they were in the 60’s to grow up.  And the people who actually are young need to forget everything they think they know.

I’m watching this show on Amazon Prime, drinking, and bawling my eyes out about Levi, the guy who died.  I guess I always make it about me.  I want to be like the people who sacrifice for others.  I want to be someone who makes a difference.

I think often of Captain Starros in “Thin Red Line”, where he says “the hardest part is not knowing if you are making a difference.”  You try, you do your best, but sometimes, that makes no difference at all.

I feel so blind.  I feel like the world is filled with curtain covered stages, where nothing is shown at the outset, and nothing is what it seems.  I have to undergo this endless amount of guessing, trying, failing, learning, failing, then learning more, failing again,  then perhaps one day succeeding, because I have propitiated the gods with my pain.

Put another way, I don’t feel so bad, but am remembering the beauty in human beings.  I am such an asshole, so often.  I don’t mean to be, but it just hurts so fucking much being me.

I’ll get past this.  I know I will.  It’s just a matter of time and suffering.  And that’s something I know how to do.

There are so many good people, so many heroes.  We all need to remember them, and forget the fucking assholes who teach us that nothing is nothing and that’s all we have or ever can aspire to.

I’m prepared, I think, to give my life for my work.  I don’t honestly know how much else I can offer.

I try so hard, so often, to view life as simple, as something oriented around simple pleasures, and fun, and laughing.  I don’t think it is my personal destiny to be able to do that, although I don’t begrudge it to others.

Some part of me wants to die charging a machine gun nest, but the other part realizes my work involves a similar energy, but no outward death at all.  I just have to deal with the slings and arrows.

What a fascinating, terrible thing this life is.  I would not miss it for the world.

Is this a good principle or not?  Is it in the middle?  Do I need to ask you at lunch in your middle school?

NEVER LET A PRINCIPLE GET IN THE WAY OF A PERSON.

See the person, then the principle, then the principle again. Then the person again.  It’s a dance, where balance and proportion win, if you are well adjusted.

How does this play out over time?  I can’t see.  I’m a bit drunk.

Personally, I deal with all sorts of people just fine.  I had a very good discussion tonight with a lesbian couple about a variety of topics. They were very likable, and I hope to see them again.  I like Camille Paglia a lot, but she identifies, I think, as a man, without doing so theatrically and in your face publicly.  It’s just what she feels.

Last night I was drinking in a black bar. One or two were angry.  Not with me, but with life.  Life can kick you in the balls sometimes, black or white.  Black people emote differently than white people, as a very general, perhaps racist rule.  Personally, I have always had vastly more fun with black folks, starting with a trip to Speakeasy in Philadelphia with a Haitian I knew some time in the mid 1980’s.

We all need this back and forth so much.  Whites need blacks, in so many ways, but blacks also need whites, in some ways. I would say whites benefit from blacks more than blacks benefit from whites, but this is pointing out, effectively, that Leftist cant is completely irrelevant and useless.