Day 132 - Women Falling In Benchmark - Part 2

           Musings From The Heart

An Essay A Day For A Year

By Roe

Day 132 May 11, 2012

Women Falling In Benchmark

Part 2

A woman and her sexuality is egg-mind-heart, in that order, and then two bodies, not just one.   A woman is infinitely more complex and complicated than a man. Women have split off their beautiful faces and voluptuous bodies and sexualities from their hearts many millions of years ago as a need for defense from the abuse of power and the misuse of her sexuality.  A woman uses one sexual body her as a welcome system to love her mate with, and uses her other body as a hate and anger system to defend herself from all other males, by her choice.  She also uses her defensive body against men when sex happens against her will, by splitting off the act that is happening to her from her self and heart, just like she does by her own free will when she is promiscuous.  The giving of a woman’s body and sex and even fertility to a man is not necessarily a gift of her Love at all, and it usually is not as her heart is far more tentative than the offering of her body.  She is progenitor, and the veritable goddess of human Life, and after millions of years of subjugation as his prize and victim, she cannot afford to have her self and heart directly connected to her body and sexuality. He is merely humpy-dumpy, he humps her in mating, and then he dumps the seed in, and off he goes, and there are many, many males after her sex.

 Of course women cannot do without men to procreate, but after a 3 minute quicky sex, she does not need him anymore, not for heart or mind or body, once the fertilized egg is out of the way. Loving a man is a choice for her, but for a man, loving a woman is a direct need, he needs his Mommy as a little boy, and for him to have and maintain children, he needs his Mommy as an adult. Men are lost without their Mommy and their wife, while women are not lost without men.

A woman sees a man biologically as a mate to mate with, and as a conscious, loving human, a woman sees a man as a person to Love, that resonates with her conscious and uncouscious memory and need for her Daddy, and the repeat of the imprint of how she loved her Daddy and how he loved her, and how her Daddy laid with her Mommy, just like for males with their Mommies. But the fundamental difference is that a woman always measures and judges and assesses the ability of her male to get her pregnant, and to support her and her babies, and protect her and her babies. A woman always looks for the benchmark of a man, not depending solely on her childhood imprint and needs, but in defense and protection of her egg. A woman can love with her egg and body and mind and heart, as a continuum of her self and the history of her self vis a vis her parents as procreative and loving humans if she chooses to, just like a male. But she has the choice to Love with just her egg and body and mind, and maintain her heart separate from herself as a sexual and procreative creature.  A woman can appear to be in Love, to herself and to her “him”, but she may actually simply be in “benchmark”.  She found her benchmark male, the best impregnator, the best provider, and the best protector, the highest of all males according to her, and her egg becomes so hot as to warm her heart, causing her to feel in Love.  This is not the same Love that a male feels, and perhaps actually not romantic Love, but procreative egg Love, something a male does not feel, and something a male mistakes for his Mommy Love.

When a woman is single and looking for a mate, and when she sees an attractive and sexy man, she is Kitty in heat, and her egg is driving.  She also sees the modern and handsome recreation of Daddy, and she also seeks to possess him based on how she experienced Daddy and Mommy as a newborn infant, but her egg is still driving, and she is still measuring and judging and assessing, and looking for her “benchmark” male that can impregnate her and support and protect her better than any other male.  The grade of man, which is his place in the hierarchy, the type of man, which is her taste and preference, and the quality of woman, which is her view and need of him based on her view and need of herself, is not just determined by the grade and type and quality of Daddy and how she related to him and her mother during infancy and childhood, but also his benchmark ability to impregnate her and support and protect her and her babies.

A woman can love a man as a continuum of egg-body-mind-heart and as a continuum of little girl to woman, but she is always benchmarking men to find the ultimate male based on her and his level in the hierarchy, and his ability to impregnate her and support and protect her and her babies.  When a woman is attached and married, she views other attractive and sexy men as a Kitty who’s egg is searching for the ultimate male to impregnate her and support and protect her and her babies, no different from the process of choosing her own male, despite the fact that she already has a male. A woman cannot stop doing this, it is part of her inheritance as a procreatress, and a survivor of a billion years of having her chosen male killed by other males, and being takin by the stronger male, and after a billion years of having her male stolen by superior females.  A woman only has one egg per month, from age 10-14 to age 40-55, and her selection process is critical to her and to all life.  She is designed to mate with as many males as possible when she can conceive, and to make all the males believe that they are the father so that all males will support and protect her and her babies.  She is not designed for conjugal or loving a male singly. Conjugal and monogamous love, which is a billion years of mating with all the Toms, in the context of time, happened only seconds ago, maybe 10,000 years ago or less. Conjugal and lifelong love for women is brand new in time, and she still surveys all men to find and keep the ultimate male that can impregnate her, and who can support and protect her and her babies, and she always keeps her eye on all other males and females all the time. For her and her babies’ best interest. She also surveys all the men looking for the recreation of her Daddy, and for someone to love her like Daddy did, better than the Daddy she is already attached to and married to. But this is not necessarily heart Love to her, whether she is aware of it or not, and this is determined by her egg-body-mind history that goes all the way back to the beginning of time.

Women are fiercely hierarchical with other females, and ferociously competitive with other females.  Male hierarchy is ladder based, who is the top rung of the ladder, and then the lesser rungs on the ladder on down, but always a ladder, and a male ladder, called a “pack”, is a hierarchy of power-alliance-friendship. After the alpha male wins or takes the female or females, the rest of the lower males simply take turns mating with her too. Female hierarchy is survival of the best egg, and who has the best egg inseminator and egg best supporter and best egg protector. Females are their own independent ladders and share no rungs with other females. Females do not have friendships in the male sense, but instead alliances of truce between rivals with irreconcilable differences.  When a male walks into a room with many yummy females, it is mating season, and there may or may not be a good Mommy there, and if he does not have what it takes to woo or win his choice of female from the top male present, he simply waits for his turn afterwards, or he settles for a lesser female.

When a female walks into a room full of males, she instantly measures and assesses and judges the threat to her, and possibilities for her, and seeks the leader of the pack within her own quality and ability, and this is determined by her value and power vis a vis other females.  She will covet the male that has the best possibility to impregnate her, and support and protect her and her babies with her procreative body.  To every other male, especially the ones she does not like or that cause her threat, she presents her defensive body. If another woman walks in, she is instantly threatened, and she must compare and contrast herself with the other woman, and “rival” her and find her place above or below herself, noticing every nuance of the other woman.  If the other woman is accompanied by a male, she measures and assesses and judges the male to find his level in the ladder pack, and if he is a supreme or alpha male, or superior to her own, she immediately becomes interested in this male, offering him her egg and the batting of her lashes.  The ability to attract and win this woman’s male will put her above her rival.  She falls in” benchmark” with her new male, even if she is accompanied herself by her own male, and even if she loves her own male and does not love her own benchmark.  She gives the impression of being in Love, while the whole hierarchical survival rivalry does not involve her heart, but simply her egg which is in “benchmark”.

The Love game has high stakes indeed, for human females and males engage mostly in defensive sex and procreation as a result of defensive sex.  Sex that is part of Love, that is not an assessment or measuring or judging, or benchmark, is virtually non existent in early relationships, as procreative biology is so powerful, and the Mommy and Daddy imprint is so powerful.  True Love may actually be a stage of late coupledom or marriage when the sex has faded, and when the muscles and beauty have faded, and then the kids are up and out of the nest.  This is also the time for marriages and relationships to fall apart or become lifeless or loveless, revealing a life of being in love with a benchmark, or a life of being in love with how someone loved you, rather than being in love with a person.

Where do we women and men fall in the lust and benchmark and biology and imprint of Love?  What a wonderful and complex question.  Let’s all go out and lust and benchmark and mate, and Love, and find out. Or let’s just evolve ourselves and our lovers and mates and the Love we already have. 

Meow, meow! 

Woof, woof! 

Meow-Woof!

See you tomorrow.

www.dear-roe-the-muse.com

yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com

Day 131 - Women Falling In Benchmark Part 1

Musings From The Heart

An Essay A Day For A Year

By Roe

Day 131 May 10, 2012

Women Falling In Benchmark

Part 1

You might think that a woman falls in “Love” just like a man does, but in fact a woman does not do anything like a man does, especially fall in Love.  Men fall in lust before they fall in love, and women fall in benchmark before the fall in love.  Lust  of course is the power of the loins in sex, but falling in benchmark is the power of the egg searching for the best and the “just right” lust from the best and the “just right” man. Women are like kitty cats, and the traits and behaviors of a cat closely match the traits of women if you think about it. Men are like doggie dogs, and the traits and behaviors of men closely resemble dogs if you think about it. Kitty cats and doggie dogs do not share very many traits, they are completely different species. Human she’s and human he’s are like two different sub species of humans for they do not share very many traits either.

Love is a very complex and complicated “feeling” of many different things, Love has psychological and emotional aspects, and Love has psychic and spiritual aspects that transcend humanity. Human conjugal Love follows in the tracks that Mommy and Daddy lay, and when Mommy interacts and lies with Daddy she is prototyping and imprinting how daughter and son will interact and lay with their respective “Loves” when they grow up. When Daddy interacts and lies with Mommy he designs how Sonny and Princess will lay with their own loves someday. Women and men feel love and fall in love differently.

Women are the progenitors of human Life, while men are the inseminators of human Life.  One quicky oingy boingy to get kitty cat preggie and off Tom goes to carouse and parole the neighborhood, and find more kitties to make preggie, and this is the billion year old biological inheritance of all males. Once kitty is preggie, “she” has an enormous task and responsibility ahead, for Life will remain in her womb and breasts and paws forever, and this is her billion year old biological inheritance of all females. For human females this completely changes how she perceives and feels and expresses Love. Sexual Love, romantic Love, conjugal Love, is procreative Love, and She Loves as a billion year old biological responsibility, to become pregnant by the best male she can find and keep, and for humans, to raise her babies with the best support and protection of the best male she can find and keep.

A man and his sexuality are body-mind-heart and more directly penis-mind-heart, in that order. A man’s penis is an extension of his very self, and all little boys and a lot of full grown men can be seen walking around holding onto their penises for safety and comfort and joy. A man sees a woman biologically as a mate to mount and impregnate, and as a conscious, loving human, a man sees a woman as a person to Love that resonates with his conscious and unconscious memory and need for his Mommy, and the imprint of how his Mommy loved him and how he loved his Mommy, and how his Mommy laid with his Daddy. A man Loves with his penis and his mind and his heart, in that order, and this continuum of his self and the history of his self vis a vis his parents as procreative and loving humans is his future as a mate and Daddy and husband.

When a man is single and looking for a mate, and when he sees an attractive and sexy woman, he is a Tom that sees a kitty to mount and mate. He also sees the modern, beautiful recreation of Mommy, and he seeks to possess and Love her based on how he experienced Mommy and Daddy as a newborn and infant.  The grade of woman, which is her place in the hierarchy, the type of woman, which is his taste and preference, and the quality of woman, which is his view and need of her based on his own self view and need, is all determined by the grade and type and quality of Mommy, and how she related to him and his father during his infancy and childhood. 

A man loves a woman as a continuum of penis-mind-heart and as a continuum of little boy to man.  When a man is attached and married, he views other attractive and sexy women as a Tom that sees yummy kitties to mount and mate, no different from how he feels about his own mate that he already has.  A man makes 2-6 billion sperm every 2-8 hours, 7 days a week, from age 10-14 to over age 100, and he is not designed by nature to be conjugal or singly devoted to any female. Conjugal and monogamous love, after a billion years of mounting and impregnating one female one after the other, happened only seconds ago in the context of time, perhaps 10,000 years ago or less. Conjugal and lifelong love for men is brand new in time, and he still surveys all women to mount them and mate them.  He also surveys all women looking for Mommy, and for someone to Love like Mommy, better than the Mommy he is already attached to or married to, and this is determined by his penis-mind-heart history, the same history that caused him to choose the lady he chose.  Men love differently than women.  Tomorrow we will look at how women love, and how women fall in benchmark before they fall in Love.

Continued tomorrow in part 2.

See you tomorrow.

www.dear-roe-the-muse.com

Day 130 - Amazon Triggers

Musings From The Heart

An Essay A Day For A Year

By Roe

Day 130 May 9, 2012

Amazon Triggers

Pull the trigger of a gun, and the linkage to the hammer drops it against the firing pin, and “Bang!”, your victim is dead. (That is if you can hit more than the broad side of a barn).  Say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time, and “Bang!” your victim is dead, and maybe even you are dead, despite the fact that you were talking about the broad side of a barn, and didn’t mean to offend anyone, and the person started crying and now hates you.  What the F am I talking about? I am talking about mental and emotional “triggers”, and how what we do and say in the present “triggers” us and other people into reactions that are often irrational and difficult to understand.  What are emotional and psychological triggers and why are we so irrational due to them?

Imagine that we are each the great Amazon river, and as water flows into us, we sort the water, keeping the pure and beneficial water in our main Amazon flow, and if we receive water that is harmful and threatening, we branch it into a separate tributary, and once we have done this, we forget all about it to protect us from the terrible knowledge of it. Now imagine that we receive so much turbulent and dirty, threatening water, that this tributary becomes far larger than our main artery. Imagine that the murky and dangerous tributary becomes the real Amazon, and our pure and sweet river that we are aware of is relegated to being only a vestige of a river, and a mere tributary of the forgotten behemoth Amazon dark river.  This analogy is the description of our conscious mind, the original pure Amazon, and our unconscious mind, the turbulent and threatening, dangerous tributary that we had to split off and hide, and then forget, but which becomes so large as to become the main river of ourselves. Our unconscious minds are far larger now and far too threatening to remember, and we are now all repressed and denied murky Amazon rivers unconsciously.

The human mind is not meant to be conscious and unconscious, for we are meant to be completely whole, and “one” with ourselves and all Life and the universe.  This is the actual definition of enlightenment, and enlightenment is simply total and complete unification of the true and whole heart-psyche-body, and this state of being has never been actually accomplished in history.  Moses and Jesus and Mohammed and Buddha, and many others, were simply ancient prophets that approached the “ideas” of true divinity and spirituality, but they were primitive ancients with extremely unhealthy unconscious minds, and thereby a very, very long way from enlightenment.  True unification of self in one-mind and true-heart is actual death, or non existence, for the complete wholeness of Life lovingly negates the very need to Live, the most beautiful of all conundrums.  Life is meant to be the balancing act of unbalance, and once the unbalance is balanced, Life ceases to be.

Imagine you standing next to the tiny, but pure, river of self, and yelling “FAT!” into the jungle, and your faithful, hard working, skinny little indigenous river guide begins to become enraged and ultimately shoots you with a poisonous dart, and you die.  As you sit in imagined purgatory, bound for imagined heaven or hell, you say to yourself, “What the fuck”?  Why did that skinny little canoe paddler get so upset about hearing “FAT!”, and why did he kill me?  The funny thing is the jailed for life, skinny little river guide is wondering the same thing. In his local language he is saying, “What the fuck”?  Why did I kill the white guy when he yelled “FAT!” into the jungle?”  The obvious truth, since this essay is about Amazon triggers, is that deep in the jungle of the white guys unconscious brain, there was an enormous push to yell “FAT!” into the jungle, a trigger from deep within his psyche that penetrated through into his conscious, and he reacted to something that he didn’t really remember or understand, and it cost him his life.  The obvious truth, since this essay is about Amazon triggers, is that deep in the jungle of the indigenous guy’s unconscious brain was the completely repressed memory of him eating every fried piranha in site when he was a little boy, and being the fattest jungle kid in history, and the deep trauma of him always being called “FAT!”, and being left behind in the scary jungle.  When his white boss yelled “FAT!” into the jungle, the skinny little river guide felt deep trauma from his past, which he reacted to without becoming conscious of why. He reacted to deep pain that he didn’t remember or understand, and it cost him life in prison.

When our hearts are broken so badly after being jilted in love that we consider dying, and we take years or a lifetime to get over it, it is emotionally and psychologically impossible for the person in our adult present to be able to cause us this much grief and pain. Our current loves and losses are triggers for our repressed past.  We love as small and pure tributary rivers, yet we are connected to the viral and life threatening past of our Amazon jungle unconscious.  For any woman who ever virtually or even actually died from a broken heart, it was most certainly her own father who really broke her heart in her babyhood and childhood, deep in her repressed and forgotten psyche, and tragically the trigger of the present is blamed on someone who triggered the past, and both parties suffer without realizing what the deeper truths are. For any man who ever virtually or even actually died from a broken heart, it was most certainly his own mother who really broke his heart in babyhood and childhood, deep in his repressed and forgotten psyche, and tragically the trigger of the present is blamed on someone who triggered the past, and both parties suffer without realizing what the deeper truths are.

Everything that everyone does all the time is a trigger for everything that has happened to us our entire lives. Every nuance of human interaction, every word, every gesture, every body language is constantly compared and contrasted with and by our heart-brain-body super computer to assess its threat to us, and even though we are only maybe 1-10% conscious and 90-99% unconscious, this comparing and contrasting penetrates into our entire selves, and we react as entire selves, yet the truth of what is happening and the truth of our reactions does not penetrate our conscious-unconscious heart-mind barrier 90-99% of the time, and we remain in the dark to ourselves and our own reactions.  This means that we are not truly aware of what we are doing or saying, we are not conscious of how we are reacting or living 90-99% if the time, and that 90-99% of the time we are reacting simply to triggers that reach deep into our past, and we are not aware of it.  This explains all the irrational reactions of seemingly rational people, and all the tragedies of us all, from mistreating our own beautiful little children, to war and genocide.

The only way to become aware of why we do what we do, and what is happening inside our own jungle-Amazon-trigger brains, is emotional and psychological healing, and the only way to do that is to mourn and grieve our traumas and deprivations and unfulfilled needs from our births and childhoods, and the only way to do that is to mourn and grieve our births and childhoods.  That seems redundant, so I will repeat it again and again to make a point about this point that I am pointing at:  The only way to heal our split psyches and react truly to triggers instead of irrationally to triggers is to mourn and grieve all the things from our births and childhoods that are deeply repressed and forgotten for our own survival and protection, and to bring our unconscious conscious.

You cannot heal by remaining repressed or amnesiatic of pain, and you cannot heal by awareness of pain alone, and you cannot heal by preaching or meditating or simply becoming a sage of ideas about anything, unless you are preaching and meditating and saging about the need to mourn and grieve pain. Our ancient sages and prophets, from Moses to Jesus to Mohammed to Buddha, and all others, failed to make this point clear, and they were therefore terribly conscious-unconscious split.  You cannot ever approach God or enlightenment when you are full of repressed pain, and God and meditation cannot make pain go away, and neither can your belief in “Him”, or engaging in “His” practice.  Did I mention that the only way to heal and become whole and finally enlightened is to mourn and grieve our pains and unite our split psyches and become completely conscious?  

I hope that my broken record reminder that the only way you can heal yourself and not become irrationally reactive to triggers is to mourn and grieve your birth and childhood traumas and deprivations and unfulfilled needs.  If I have become an effective trigger in this essay to annoy you, you can shoot me with your poison dart, (trigger) or you can go deep into the Amazon jungle and hide avoid me (trigger). Either way I got you.  Or you can try and remember how annoying your parents were to you harping on you a like I am a long time ago and try and mourn and grieve your birth and childhood, and realize that I am just a trigger for your own issues and conflicts. I know that I am a trigger for you, so I will hide from your poison dart so I can stay alive.  I know and you know now that you are a trigger for me too, so whatever you do, don’t yell “FAT”! anywhere near me or you’ll bring up all my fried piranha traumas and suffer the consequences!

See you tomorrow.

www.dear-roe-the-muse.com

yourpersnalmuse@gmx.com

Day 129 - The Religious Fetish Of Violence

Musings From The Heart

An Essay A Day For A Year

By Roe

Day 129 May 8, 2012

The Religious Fetish Of Violence

Everyone has a fetish for violence, and violence has a fetish for everyone. Some people believe that all the violence on television and in the movies makes us more violent, and others believe that all the violence that we get off on vicariously works as a relief valve and palliative to keep our violence from being lived out in reality. I’m sure that there are arguments and studies and proof for both points of view, but I am also sure that our violent “nurtures” precede television and the movies. I didn’t say our violent “natures”, I said our violent “nurtures”.  We as humans are nature and nurture. Our nature is our genetics and our biology, and our instincts, and our nurture is our life experience of how we are treated, what our experiences are, and how we react and adapt to our treatment and experience.  There is a ridiculous notion in academic disciplines that we humans are naturally a violent species, and I say ridiculous because our “nature” is purely Love, and loving.  The correction is that we humans are “nurturally” prone to violent displays of defensive and offensive violence if we are nurtured with violence.  That is one of those “duh” statements. Picket fences that are painted white are prone to look and act like white picket fences, yup.

At the core and heart of violence and our violent familial, societal, and global paradigm are our sick and violent religions.  All the monotheistic, archaic religions are perpetrations of violence, and the great texts of these violent religions propagate the idea of sin, or original sin, and of punitive hierarchy. The notion that we are sinful, that we are born into sin, and that there is anybody or any spirit that can or should punish us is the root of violence and our violent reactions, and in terms of our beautiful and natural human hearts, it is complete rubbish.  “Ooh I am bad, whip me!  Ooh I have done something bad, I am bad, punish me!”  Monotheistic religion patterned after our sick human paradigm is sick, and our largest and main sick fetish. The notion of sin and bad and evil and the need to punish it and the need for forgiveness from it and need for redemption from it is the gasoline that makes violence so delicious for all.  Gods that decimate the Earth in floods and burn cities full of people engaging in natural and pleasurable anal sex, and a lot more juicy and hateful violence from the Man himself, yikes.  What do you do when the Gov himself is the most violent and hateful and punitive entity of all, besides be a chip off the old block. Don’t we just get off on the morbid blood dripping from the virtually naked body of his supposed son, and all that he did for us to die so violently and horribly.  Double yikes.

There is no such thing as sin, it is an invention of violent people and the misuse of power and ignorance over people who are ignorant and without power. There is no such thing as anything but original Love. I always marvel at the vehement defense that I hear from religious people defending things like the notion of sin and evil and the fear and wrath of “god”, and put the highlight on vehement.  The idea of vehement anything is a vehement idea indeed. What we see and enjoy on Tv and in the movies every day is our own life and lifestyle, and we are drowning in the flood and dying of the flames of having been born faulty, and reared and raised by other inherently faulty people drowning in the flood and dying of the flames of having been born faulty.  How much yikes can we tolerate?  A lot since violence, especially religious violence, is our most delicious fetish

When we are murdered in the womb and when we are murdered in the horrific hospital manner that we are born in, when we are murdered the moments after birth by sadistic medical practices, when our parents murder us the first few minutes of our lives, right up to the murder or our freedom and hopes for our care and individuality and personhood every day of our childhood, when we see and feel and live murder every minute of every day, we tend to murder and like murder and want murder and we tend to make Tv shows and movies about murder so that we all can murder and be murdered.  Paint the pickets white so that the fence looks and acts white, and then watch Tv shows and movies about white picket fences which justify fences that are inherently white.  Even our religions are white picket fences that He floods and burns as the grand violent white picket fence god. Duh-duh-duh.  Now I’m stuttering.

Why do our religions so perfectly match our human lives?  Are we so arrogant and self centered as to believe that there may be anything human whatsoever about god? What about the other 8-9 million species of living things on Earth? Do they have their own gods?  ? Nature is undeniably violent, and we are part of Nature, and so are we undeniably violent?  And what about the supposed creator of all, no doubt the veritable prototype of genocidal violence, isn’t He violent?  Oh, he is justified, and you, His greatest creation, are not? Are the bugs and trees and microbes and armadillos inherently sinful and violent too, or do they answer to their respective bug and tree and armadillo gods? And what about the other life in the universe, the at least many million Earths with their own many million species, do the very peaceful Wollies from the planet Wol have a violent human god too, or do they have their own peaceful Wollie god, and watch only peaceful Wollie-vision?

We are Love as Nature, and inherently peaceful and loving, from our DNA right to our beautiful entry of sperm in to egg, from there it is simply nurture, and you get the color fence that you paint.  Peace is our natural state, and Love is our natural heritage, that is until you fuck with our beautiful apple cart with sick hospital birth and inept and inadequate parenting, and sad and cruel childhoods for us all, then literally all hell breaks loose, simply form being hurt and mad, and from needing to defend ourselves and survive.  But if you heal that upset apple cart, if through therapy and grieving and healing you address the wrongs and integrate the pain of being hurt and violated, the human spirit returns to Love and peace, our beautiful and natural state.

If you want to believe in being bad and needing guidance and forgiveness and redemption from “him”, the son of “her”, you are in fact simply worshipping your own violent and inadequate parents in the guise of all powerful and pure and good parents in your imagination, to make you feel better for you loss and suffering about not having the parents you dreamed of. Otherwise god would be a Wollie or an armadillo, or a glow of light, and not a bleeding, naked, dead human to leer at and weep over and be grateful for as a violent and sexual fetish.

Yeah, all of us have a fetish for violence, some for gnawing on a juicy steak bone of an innocent animal, some for watching the innocent animal die with perverse joy on Tv, and some for perversely killing the innocent animal directly.  And we are those animals, those violent human animals that can’t help being violent to our own baby human animals that will grow up to be violent to their own baby animals, and enjoy watching the violence on Tv and in the movies that they have lived their whole lives, just like us.  And we learned our violence from our great books, and our great fathers, the ones in the next room, and the ones in the sky, who supposedly had pure mothers. Our own mothers and fathers perpetrate the violence upon us that they themselves learned from their sick religions, and they too worship supposedly better parents in the sky, the ones that effect genocide and hatred upon the Earth in floods and fires and the most lurid, violent , and pornographic scenes in history in the pathetic, not-so-great books.

I think I’ll go out and paint the fence a peaceful and joyous purple with pink poca-dots just like the Wollies have, and hope for the end to archaic religions and any and all violence against all Life, especially against children.   And I’ll turn off my violent Gv, my God-vision.  What will you do?

See you tomorrow.

www.dear-roe-the-muse.com

yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com 

Day 128 - Growing Up Without A Childhood

Musings From The Heart

An Essay A Day For A Year

By Roe

Day 128 May 7, 2012

Growing Up Without  A Childhood

When I was a little boy, I never got to be a little boy. I am the son of two post war Germam immigrants to America, and I was raised in the Hitler youth tradition of wunder-boy-uber-alles, the wonder boy that had to be better than everyone. This is a wunder way to steal the childhood away from any child.  Since I was a little boy, I have seen 10’s of thousands of little boys and little girls, including and especially your little boys and girls, and I have yet to see a child that had a true childhood, even children who were raised by decent parents. The closest I have ever come to witnessing a real childhood was at Summerhill School in England, the world infamous do-as-you-like “free school”, where I have had the privilege to live for a time and witness true childhood.  At Summerhill School class attendance is optional, there are no chores, and since the children govern the school in the weekly meeting, there is no ban on any kind of behavior whatsoever, except adherence to laws that the children themselves enact. Children at Summerhill School are approved of to be just like they are, without any cohersion of or molding or any kind from adults. The tragedy of Summerhill School is that it is a boarding school in the English tradition, and the children grow up away from their parents. 

I wish I could have grown up as a Summerhillian, free to be who I am, yet I also would wish to be with my parents. I really liked my parents, my Mom was so beautiful, and my dad so handsome.  I used to think when I was a little boy that they were Gods, they were far handsomer a couple then John and Jacqueline, who we adored in Camelot. I felt like I lived in Camelot when I was a little boy, our house was a showpiece since my dad was a German carpenter, and you could have eaten off of the floors, as they say, my mom kept house so well.  We kids, my younger sister Michelle and I, were always impeccably dressed, and my “german” family set an example for the whole neighborhood.  Despite the fact that my parents were grateful and proud to be brand new “Americans”, we at home were thought to be superior to the other Americans, since we had better table manners, we worked harder and put more effort into life and the quality of things, and we cared more, or so my parents believed.

In truth my family was just a façade of euro superiority and cleanliness, and just a typical, old school, family abuse asylum, with virtually total soul murder effected upon my sister and I. I can gratefully say that I was not sexually abused, and I was not overtly beaten or, on the surface, tortured, but the sickness of being children during WWII, with hideously abusive parents, followed my beautiful parents across the atlantic, and when no one was looking, my sister and I were chiseled at and crushed down until we became supposedly perfect “subjects” of my parents’ regime. 

Child abuse is so widespread as to be completely normal in our world, and it exists in every family in the world to one degree or another. I suffered more than most people, yet less than some. My mother was a wire cage of a mother, serving and beautiful, but maternally vacant.  She worked the good cop, bad cop Germanic soul murder scythe with my explosive father perfectly, and “wait until your father comes home” was the motto of my childhood home.  My father believed in “respect”, and he filled our home with the great books that he never read, and he did everything so that others would respect his high standing. He cared so much and tried so hard  that he would become overwhelmed by his own enthusiasm and lack of patience, and explode into tirades often enough to keep the family terrified. Ambition for my father was working hard enough out there and doing everything for himself, in the guise as if it was for us, as to not really ever notice that he was not fathering at all.  My father was an intense Gestapo captain, always concerned about how he might look, and forgetting our childhoods like his was forgotten.

Childhood is about worshipping and loving the parents that worship and love you right back. Childhood is about not having a care in the world except that you don’t have a care in the world.  Childhood is about feeling that you matter to your parents, and feeling that you are approved of and accepted as you are. Childhood is about play, and having all the time in the world to do nothing but play, and when you do have time for other things that matter, you do it playfully. Childhood is about feeling safe, and feeling liked and valued and welcomed. Childhood is about being heard and feeling listened to, and about having a voice.  Childhood is about knowing that your parents care enough to make you the most important part of their lives. Childhood is about fun and happiness and joy and hugs and lots and lots of affection and praise. I’m afraid that I did not benefit from one single, beautiful dream of childhood listed above, and I would wager that you might have had only one or a couple yourself.

Childhood is not about lessons, for all life lessons come in time.  Childhood is not about manners, for all good manners come in good time.  Childhood is not about school, for any free and passionate children with free and passionate and educated parents becomes free and passionate and educated in time themselves,  without school. Childhood is not about chores and responsibility, for responsibility and chores come soon enough as young adults.  Childhood is not about bugging or berating or yelling or hitting or punishment or mistreatment of any kind from parents. All children have a healthy conscience and need for harmony and repair themselves in time. Childhood is not about abuse, physical, or emotional, or sexual, and if you are a parent that hits your child, or teases and taunts and verbally tortures you child, or if you allude to or insinuate or live out any form of sexuality with your child, you are very sick, and you must find someone else to care for your child while you seek help.

I miss the childhood that I never had, and I still try daily to live out the joys that were denied me.  How about you?  Or if you had a decent childhood with the usual problems or others, how are you doing or how will you do with your children?  We all hope to do better than our parents did, and our parents said the same thing, despite having fallen short in our eyes, and in fact actually falling short. You CAN just fish all day, and you CAN play dolls with your child right now, and they WILL grow up great just having fun ALL day.  There is no such thing as growing up without an education, for being a happy and loved child that is free to be themselves to play, next to the fun loving parent that values the childhood of their child, is infinitely superior to a graduate degree at Harvard. We were all sold a million silly and stupid lies, and when we were children we looked up at our parents and thought: “Are you kidding?”  Now we believe those lies, now we send our children to school, we make them do their chores, we remind and hound and annoy our children until we and they are sick, and ironically just like our parents did to us, and supposedly “for their own good. We don’t have a clue what that even means since we have never had it any other way. For our children’s good is to let them simply be children, and get off their backs.   

It is time to turn off the Tv, turn off the computer, turn off the cell phone, turn off the video games, turn off the car, turn off the myriad distractions, fire the teachers, fire the baby sitter, and tell the “friends” of your kids that Mom and Dad want to be with their kids and play with their kids. It is time to return to what we all dreamed of as kids right now, and sit down eye to eye with your own kids and just laugh and play and have awesome and silly and useless fun.  Every healthy and wonderful, loving and kind, compassionate and caring person in our world has a lifetime full of funny and playful and awesome, silly and useless experiences with their wonderful parents.  The rest of us that didn’t have fun and kind parents know exactly what we are doing with all our expectations and blah, blah, blah at our children, just like our faulty parents did, and we still struggle with our less than wonderful lives, just like they did.  There is no time like right now to allow your children that childhood that they deserve, and that you miss so much.  Have fun and give them a hug for me.

See you tomorrow

www.dear-roe-the-muse.com

yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com

Day 127 - My Dream Is . . .

Musings From The Heart

An Essay A Day For A Year

By Roe

Day 127 May 6, 2012

My Dream Is  . . . . .

Isn’t it cool that we all have dreams?  I don’t mean the ones that we dream at night, I mean the hopes and desires for ourselves and our futures. Even if you are a humdrum and apathetic after a life of unfulfilled dreams, I know that you secretly dream of things. I appreciate the idea of Buddha-man with the concept of being one with the moment, and the idea of all our existence being an illusion of reality, but even if I appreciate the idea I don’t agree with it. I must remind him that the idea of living in reality, even if it is an illusion,  is living, and though dreaming of the future may be living in projection to another time, I feel that this is part of truly living. I do realize that the idea is to be fully present, even in dreaming of a better tomorrow, but in truth we are all dreamers and doers and not meant to only “om” in centeredness, but hope and dream and suffer and succeed, and pass Go to get the $ 200 bucks, the week right after we went broke and landed in jail.  The idea here is of course that Life is a process, and a never ending adventure of trials and tribulations, and at the core of “moving forward”, is dreaming.

What are your dreams? I dream of a Life surrounded by Love, being happy, being healthy, and living with Love, happiness, and health for a very long time. If I had a genie to grant me just one wish I would remind her that in the fine print it says that one wishes can be very long words.

My one wish is:  livingsurroundedbylovehappinesshealthforaverylongtime.

I also asked her for the key to Barbie’s bedroom, a bottomless bucket of money, and a new Ferrari every year, but she said not to push my luck. In my life I have dreamt of doing many things, having many things, accomplishing many things, and being many things, and I am so disappointed to say that I have actually become or had or realized only a tiny fraction of these things. Poo Poo. The cool part is that I am a proverbial double Pisces, idealistic, a professional dreamer, and so after having at least a hundred sincere dreams a day for the last almost fifty years, you have to use exponents to calculate how much joyous calories are expended by me in dreaming. Dreaming of the future and all the amazing things that I will be and do and have and accomplish is sex for me, and I “do it” a lot.  Hell yeah.

The amazing statistics of me include being one of the world’s greatest failures.  I have such a long string of attempted and failed dreams to cause one to think that I actually have a problem here, since I actually do have a problem here. Of the no less than many millions of dreams that I have dreamt for myself, I have actually attempted or begun hundreds at least, and of all those the vast majority are just embarrassments and failures and food for mocking from others.  I take a lot of heat from family and friends and Life for having hundreds of debacles and “now what’s” and “not agains”, but my list of amazing accomplishments ranges in the dozens.  The people that are my critics dreamt a couple of dozen, and attempted several, and failed amazingly only a few of those.  And they have each have a couple major dream accomplishments.  The point is not stats or ratios, but that you don’t go anywhere, or do anything, or have anything, or be anybody, without dreaming.

You might think that dreaming is simply, “there’s nothing to it but to do it!”  Or you might think that accomplishing dreams is like arithmetic, or baking.  This plus that, over some more oomph, divided by luck equals the square root of blah blah.  Or a dash of this and a bunch of that with just the right amount of leavener, during slow bake, is surely the recipe. The truth is that the prime ingredient for success in dream fulfillment is our very self, and the surefire way for us to fail our dreams and never get anything or go anywhere is our very self.  How bizarre. We are the heroes and yet our own villains, we are the winning army, and we are our own worst enemies. It seems like dream fulfillment is more about our own self dynamic and the relationship between hope and will, and the resistance to hope and will. How bizarre again.

Dreams are most certainly mental and imaginative translations of the heart.  Anyone who dreams, and dreams wel,l and dreams big, can feel a warm glow and a tingle, from the tips of their toes, through their genitals, right into the heart.  Dreams are emotions that manifest into form, and dreams are ideas that originate in feeling, then get directed by thought, and them manifested in blood, sweat, and tears. Dreams are wonderful, full, heart-mind-body experiences, and they represent who we are, who we were meant to be, who we trying to be. Dream fulfillment relates entirely to our emotional life, to our emotional health, and to our very core selves.  It is clear that people who are emotionally alive, emotionally healthy, and connected to their core selves are prodigious dream accomplishers.  It makes perfect sense.  It is clear that people that are emotionally cut off from life, people who are emotionally unhealthy, people who have lost their real selves and are cut off from their true meaning and ability, are crippled dream accomplishers.

The very best way to accomplish a dream starts with having the dream to begin with.  Most of us feel unable and unworthy of dreaming, especially those of us who have suffered so much as children, and who have had to make a career out of accepting disappointment and unhappiness. These people are severely, emotionally damaged. The next step is to move towards implementation, and most of us have more road blocks and hurdles and cants then we have juice to move forward.  These people are severely emotionally damaged.  The next step is action, and reaction, and double adapt and persevere reaction to the reaction, with the single mindedness of simply: “I can, and I will, because I want it, and because I can, and because I will”.  All of us hit a brick wall here, and few of us really can go around it or over it in a healthy way.  We are all emotionally damaged to one degree or another.

The most assured way to accomplish a dream is long term deep feeling therapy, where we grieve and heal our wounded and damaged, emotional selves. We don’t really need to plan and hem and haw and buy nails and hammers and run and even go through all our drama and histrionics for years on end.  If we spent that time purposefully crying and grieving for why we are so self conflicting and histrionic in the first place, in the last month of the process we would simply write our memoirs, win the Nobel prize, and use the money to hire a carpenter.

I dream of a world of healthy people that dream of a world of healthy people, that all have genies to grant them: 

livingsurroundedbylovehappinesshealthforaverylongtime.

And I dream that your genie, since mine is being obstinate, will still grant me the key to Barbie’s bedroom, and my bucket of money, and my new Ferrari.  I told you I was a dreamer.

See you tomorrow.

www.dear-roe-the-muse.com

yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com

Day 126 - Life Is A Fetish

Musings From The Heart

An Essay A Day For A Year

By Roe

Day 126 May 5, 2012

Life Is A Fetish

Have you ever had a tiny splinter-like spine, just in the right spot, where it actually felt perversely good to rub it?  You say: “Ouch!”  Then: “Do it again!”  Ouch!  Do it again!  Well . . . . Life is like that.  It is not an exaggeration to say that we are all in pain, and it is not an exaggeration to say that we all love to get off on and indulge our pain. Ouch!  Do it again!  All of our compulsions that give us perverse joy are joys that are perverse.  What an obvious statement right?  How many of us see all our compulsions as perverted? Everyone thinks that perverted related to sex, but in fact anything that is torqued and twisted and altered and changed, is perverted. When we are in pain, we obviously have a wound, and one might think that lovingly covering and treating and dressing the wound would make sense. Yet we love to put just a little salt into our wounds, just for that perverse little sting that just feels oh soooo good!.  How interesting we are.  But what could be so interesting about our fetish of perverse pain?

Have you ever met a person who drinks alcohol every day? (Oops, you and me). This perverse fetish, alcohol-ism, is the most popular of them all. Another drink or beer? Ouch!  Do it again!  How about all our drugs?  We have the drugs at the drug store, that we are supposed to take because the doctor said so, ouch!, And then the drugs that we are not supposed to take, because the government said we shouldn’t, oooooh!, do that again and again. We toss the dice onto the table with so much perverted hope, ouch!.  We tell everyone about all our illnesses in perverted detail, ouch!  We commit crimes, we lie, we cheat, we betray people, we quit and run away, we repeatedly fall in love with the wrong people, we compulsively begin things that never get finished, ouch, ouch, and more ouch, do it again and again!  We “get off” on our salted wound ouch delicacies every day, large and small. We harbor become our depression, we go off to war, we plan our own suicides, and countless others.  We all have our way of hurting just so little that it hurts just right, in being mean, in being nice, in being alone, and even in just being.  The perverse joy of hurting and feeling bad, and making others hurt or feel bad is perversion of the heart at its saddest, the art of being in pain and hurting, and passing it on to others, in compulsive repeat, for perverse joy.

We haven’t even spoken of what comes to mind when we say perversion, which is only a very small part of the definition of perversion, sex.  Any and all sex that is not elevating to oneself and our loving other is perversion, and we all indulge in our sexual perversions in feeling them, in living them out, in denying them, and in using and abusing ourselves and others sexually perversely. We also live out our sexual perversions by denying our sexual others our sexuality, and we are perverted in our ideas of sex and sexuality to not recognize all our non sexual perversions, since we transfer our perverted sexuality to other aspects of our lives in denial and repression of our natural sex. It and we get off on this redirection of our sexuality, and it is our clever perversion.

            When we eschew our pain by transferring it into belief systems and religion and behaviors other than our pain, were are perversely getting off on sidelining and sidetracking our ouchy joy from supposed immorality and counter culture into the servitude and obedience to “other”, a perversion of ourselves, and a joyous pain nonetheless.  Evangelism and activism and workaholic-ism, like every other ism, is an escape from pain into an act that give us pleasure, though defensively, and nonetheless a perversion of ourselves. Politics and economics, academics, and gastronomics, along with a myriad of other “ics”, when used as maintenance systems for our pain, give us perverse pleasure in hurting in a way that feels good. Our illnesses, slight to terminal, are the height of pain that we define ourselves with, declare and own, like a morbid trophy that defines our suffering and we deserve it, right up to death, the final perverse joy that we never admit to ourselves.

            Why are we humans so perverse, and why do we enjoy our perverted pain so much? The irony is that we are in so much pain, and so we play with little hand grenades to distract us from and scare us away from the 500 pounders deeper down.  The truth is that we are simply defending ourselves, we are self loathing and self martying so that we don’t ever find out what was done to us or what happened to us. Ironically, if we ever lock ourselves in a room alone for a month where we can’t indulge ourselves in our perverse, joyful pain antics of all kinds, we immediately break down into primal convulsive tears and hysterical panic when faced with the pain that all the little salt in the wound has been keeping at bay. If we don’t drink we cry, if we don’t run and deny and medicate and get sick, if we don’t get to hide from ourselves with our compulsions and addictions and coping mechanisms, we fall apart. So we ambulate around like cripples, and cripple others, for perverse joy, to not have to face the fact that we have been amputees and quadriplegics since long ago.

A fetish is something that we do that is pleasurable pain, and we like it despite the fact that we wish we didn’t, and we all know that we aren’t supposed to, but we can’t help it.  All pain and all perversions are healable by crying and grieving, but we have to surrender to the fact that our parents and caregivers and society perverted us, and we have to accept that the real pain is further down, and it makes little slivers and a bit of salt in the wound seem like Christmas.  And that is what we are all afraid of, that the nuclear bomb is going to go off from within, and that the boogey man and the skeletons in the closet are finally going to get us.  Drink!  Snort!  Kill!, Run!,  Do whatever is necessary to outrun the skeletons in the closet.  But you cannot run from the wolf, for the wolf runs within you.  So we have no choice but to say; Ouch!  Yeah!  Do it again!  forever, which is sick and sad fun and harmful to us and others, or we have to haul out those 500 pounders and nukes from within once and for all and try to heal.

            The truth is, the war is over, and whatever happened a long time ago already happened a long time ago. Mommy and Daddy and all those sick people cannot get us now, and we no longer have to fear that the pain of all we suffered will kill us like it would have if we had faced it then. Our hearts are crying out for help, with every shot of alcohol or shot from a gun.  Our inner children are calling out for help with every indulgence in pain, it is their way of saying “help, help”, and that is why perversions turn into perverse addictions, and why they escalate and escalate until we are hated or incarcerated or dead or crazy.  Help, help! 

So let us send help by realizing how much perverse joy we get in doing the wrong , perverse things that we know we should not do.  And let us try and feel the pain of the pain, and all the way back to what happened, instead of the pleasure of pain, just for our defensive jollies.  We may be loathe to give up our porn or cigarettes or teasing and torturing of innocents, but we should be far more loathe to go to prison or die, and it is sad and tragic how most people end up in prison or killing or being killed, rather than cry, and be in mourning and grief for what happened to them as children.  Let’s make healing and coming home to the pleasure of pleasure our favorite fetish, instead of the defensive pleasure of pain.

See you tomorrow.

www.dear-roe-the-muse.com

yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com