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Killing the Father and Petting the Cat

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#21 DonShadow



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Posted 19 September 2018 - 07:14 PM

So, escape from the pathology of being something, being something that is definable, is very difficult. 


A high form of grace is to heed that urge in us to not be any more than being.   It is the urge for the freedom which we deep down know we are.   "No, I am not that."  If we can say that about the things we have believed ourselves to be, we break free of the bonds of karma itself.   The only thing that ends in such a seeing is what never was.  


It sounds very attractive, the idea of not being anything. I've tried pretty damn hard at that one for most of my life, and I guess I've done a pretty good job since I've never committed to anything for more than a few years. I'm not so sure about breaking free of karma though, since, as you pointed out, there is still the problem of other people to deal with.



It's us and them, and they define us, and woe be to whoever does not conform.


Chaos may have mercy on my nothingness for a while if it survives the sterilization process, but there's always the risk of contamination by other personified chaos somethings.


"A poet is one who writes without being a writer." --- Jean Cocteau.


But what if one poets without being a poet, Jean?

#22 Alder Logs

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Posted 19 September 2018 - 11:19 PM

The grace for me was to see that all the somethings I ever thought and believed I was were nothing.  Not as substantial as thin air.   All stories of being this or that, in a conveyor belt of identity.   All the notions of being something are as frames in a movie.   So really, there is nothing to do, or not do.  Because there really is no doer.   The doer is a character in the play, and the play is also nothing of substance.  It's a different play as viewed from every seat in the house.   We can return tomorrow and sit in the same seat, at the same showing, and it's not the same play.   We may think we know the lines, and the plot, but yesterday's showing was not today's.   Someone truly different is viewing it.


We can start to observe our stories, and our roles in them, and see we know nothing really.    Having a body, or identifying as this body, are two completely different things.  One is true, and the other, an assumption.   Our thoughts will pass through our minds, but when they are joined with our assumptions of identity, they go in a completely other direction than when, in any moment, we know detachment.   About four or five grams of wood lovers and there sure as fuck will be an adjustment in the identity department.   We can be shown that way, little clues about how we go through life all caught up in our, and other's, stories.  


Eventually, if one insists on truth, the false starts to show up for what it is, and isn't.    We are not these bodies, minds, stories...   Definition means nothing.  It's all lie.   It's one thing one day, and something else later.   Truth doesn't work like that.  Truth is what sees the changing in the eternal awareness of itself.   The stories don't go away with being aware of them.  They do lose their power, when the roles are seen for what they are, because the characters are all made up. 

Edited by Alder Logs, 19 September 2018 - 11:22 PM.

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#23 darci


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Posted 05 October 2018 - 08:15 PM

... all those naughty things they were sure to disapprove of (which sometimes felt like almost everything). In the family household, drugs and sex in particular were strictly taboo, sinful in fact


With a head full of Camus, Kierkegaard and cannabis,


this Jesus garbage just didn't make sense anymore.


I grew up in this house.  Overprotective, hyperattentive, helicopter parenting, super-religious warnings and fire and brimstone until I was about 8 or 9, then bam, total absence of everything.  Just a kid caught in the gears like an oil rag, fucking things up.  Mostly I think my parents were trying to do right by sending me to sunday school, but whatever this was Texas some odd number of decades ago.  My dad wanted a boy, my mom wanted a doll, et cetera blah blah we're all fucked up.


"Since drugs were much easier for a timid bookworm to acquire than sex, I dove headlong into a rocky relationship with alcohol, cannabis and tobacco that lasted through most of my teens and twenties"   Yeah, I discovered drugs, like we all do?  Except I'm retarded and didn't find them until well into my 20s.  Point is, if you're doing too much you already know you're doing too much.  Me too.


"So I tiptoed around their ostentatious home at night" - I know this music.


"scraping together enough money to buy a van"  - Don't.  Say.  Van.  Unless it's that van Luke Perry gets into in the movie Buffy.  Or maybe Matthew McConaughey but still that's a little bit *ich* =P.  Sorry, I'm being aesthetically preachy right now.  But seriously, mad props to indp  inde I N Dupend independence.  Yes.  Fuck me I can't spell right now.


"With a head full of... Kierkegaard and cannabis" -  LOVE THESE WORDS.  Fuck yeah.


"this Jesus garbage just didn't make sense"  - Take from that what you will.  All the good Christians do, anyway!


"I spent two summers as a construction laborer" - I love you?


"keep up appearances for my parents, to whom "success" is measured out in dollar signs" - The world, and the parts of it we use, can be measured and counted.  It's important in certain respects, to ... RESPECT the thing which surrounds you and made your existence possible.  Keep it clean.  Tread lightly.  But measuring people against one stick is what we do when we don't envision something broader, truer, more encompassing.  That's ok.  It's a stage, humanity is moving through it more or less right now.


God!  You've given me so much to read. I don't know how it ends, even though you've spelled it out right before me.   I can't process any more right now, I'll have to leave it for later.  


For now, take it easy, be safe... until next time!





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#24 TVCasualty


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Posted 29 October 2018 - 09:31 PM

You didn't grow up in Orange County by any chance, did you? Sounds like it, since I spent some time growing up there and I recognized much in your very eloquent account.


When the movie Orange County came out I almost wanted to sue the writer for plagiarism except I hadn't written any of it down yet (but that movie nailed my childhood pretty damned close to perfectly). I had a similar reaction to reading your post; it's like we were neighbors back then, or something. I suppose every mansion on the hill had some bewildered kid wandering around lost in it; guess I wasn't alone after all, lol. I do consider myself lucky that my parents were not religious, but I can attest to the fact that secular mindfucks can mess children's heads up quite effectively, too.


Anyway, thanks for sharing that. And like others have said, keep writing!

Edited by TVCasualty, 29 October 2018 - 09:31 PM.

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