An incomplete attempt to love

My freedoms are lost to and, taken, usurped, and altered by a superior world that is the elite world of rationality divorced from the Earth's gentle urgings toward love, kindness and acceptance.

Perhaps you don't know what I mean? Consider the world of Plato, of Aristotle, of the great and the systematic authors and sciences, of Freud, of Marx. Where did those images, those imperatives, those analytics come from. Plato wrote of the "forms," of the Ideal. I claim those to be the hellish (because cold and destructive to individual personality) forces which intervene in my thoughts and cause them to appear to others to be disrupted, malformed and inhumane.

The paradox is that there are sky goddesses, Inanna among them, whose works I allude to and respect.

I have dehumanized myself and the mental health system with its drugs and its therapies exists to keep safe those who would advance such dehumanization in the name of society, of stability, of order.

For a long time I have bashed my only head against the walls of this universe of superior self-conception, only to be thought of by friend and keeper alike as "chaotic" and "unproductive" or "crazy."

It is "crazy" to me to stare, fascinated, at the dagger hanging from the ceiling and guide it to the place in my body where I live. It is crazy to NOT love whatever exposes hypocrisy and power for what they are: selfish and devious attempts to work out a mode of survival which keeps the vast majority of people in the dark about themselves and the world they live in to the extent that they must live with dreams unfulfilled, with lives without hope.

What is the commonality between the philosophical formulae of "Western" order and the oppression going on today in the streets of Egyptian cities? It is the inculcation of fear, the use of power to insist there is only one way forward, and the use of people's own self-hatred to confirm the necessity of hierarchy and control for social existence.

I tonight prayed, to my surprise, to the Devi, the Mother Goddess, again for happiness. I am tortured by the disparity between my hopes and dreams and thoughts and the behavior I have shown toward others. I have made others unhappy, yet I wish to be happy myself. But I cannot adopt a posture of sorrow and self-flagellation because this will only replicate inwardly the mistakes I have made outwardly, thus redoubling the pain and the likelihood of repeating the same mistakes. I live to be happy and then to remember myself AS I AM. I say, remember, because, as you also know, these moments of time we are living are also the recollections made at the moment of passing.

Somehow I must render in my life and/or in my writing the source of the pain I feel and its tensions with the imperatives of living with others in a world of control and hatred, doing my best to alter this world, these imperatives and lessen my pain. What of the pain of others? I must recognize that pain for what it is and perhaps indirectly or perhaps directly offer my life as a source of warmth and kindness that will be an aid to self restoration. Those who know me know what a struggle that is for me to do.

I treat myself with love so I can treat others the same.

The knowledge for me of being good to live is the knowledge that I made love to the Goddess at all times when there was coldness in me.

Sincerity is helpful. I love dosing girls with money.

I have to stop.

Baby, your truth is "strONG"

I need to grieve my mother as she is.