Focus, Losing Focus, Fear of Losing Focus

The One Witch I Remember

Safety, Freedom, Power and Family: Notes.


Hassles and ...

Love

Queer moments in which honesty and beauty become feelings.

I thought of art as the appearance in life of safety.  This odd formulation derives from the fear that anything which resembles peace is also cruel.  I suppose -- here we go -- that IN MY FAMILY advocates of peace, such as the hippies, the progressive middle class, etc., did not particularly respect priorities that involve change, but rather respect the continuance of dominance by subterfuge, by self-nomination, by laughter at the expense of us.

So, what is this "us"?  I wish I had the peace of knowing that anyone alive also knew that reasonable treatment of feelings that make love peaceful also brings good, being what is home.

The comforts of home require those who free themselves to love those with safety.

I suppose that there is an implicit threat that if the safe do not love back, that their safety will disappear.

Now it is obvious to me that when I thought of myself as sharing good things such as hopes for peace, I was making thought a fear of anger.

Why in the world would I fear the anger of the secure?  I do not like knowing that anybody who has power can eliminate my ability to provide for my own safety, happiness and well-being at will.

There seems to be a complete upside-downness to this way of the world.

I feel that those who care about power also like strength.  I have been very ambivalent about even my own strength.  I have felt that meritoriousness belongs to me on the basis of my ability to carry out tasks that contribute to the functions of an enterprise.

Strength and hatred of strength are presently a ground of much conflict, at least from what I observe and think and feel.

Law and change are in relationship.  Different groups of people alter their allegiances to each according to their needs.  Is this ethical or justifiable?

Antics that result in pain for me or for others have brought me to distrust my own impulses, which have led to these antics.

Shall I name these impulses for you?  I try to know for myself what the constituents of community are, and contribute to their creation and maintenance.  Is this my job?  Can anyone achieve such a task?  I don't know.  Other impulses:  causes of life/origins of the sacred.  These are certainly identical in their beginnings.

I think that when others don't like my way of making strong assertions, it is because these assertions appear not to allow for the interests of others.  I partially take exception.  Though I have not yet learned to speak for myself only, I believe that similarities among individual relations to powerful institutions exist, by virtue of the choices of those who have created those institutions.  For example, jails, mental institutions and workplaces are ALL places which purportedly inculcate conformity and obedience to higher-ups.

This is getting boring.

Suffice it to say that when there is an artistic impulse or an impulse in the direction of protecting or fulfilling the needs of another, that I hope that friendship and accordance will provide a basis for fulfilling such impulses.

Impulse A:  Am reading laughter as if I were a lost life/personality/woman.

Impulse B:  Can I start with memory?

Impulse C:   Threats to peace often originate with cruelty.

Impulse D:  I was foolish and cruel because I projected onto the knowledge that I learned in school such attributes as fame and coldness.  I suppose that often those are the motivations of people with so-called greatness.

Impulse E:  I love people for their beliefs in laughter.

Impulse F:  Pain is from reading that love does not make reason happiness.

Impulse G:  Lesson is to be home and be strong.

Okeedoke.