True Love or True Hell (Love vs Sex 258)

There is nothing, absolutely nothing in my life and existence that I would not happily sacrifice or forfeit to engage in a relationship of true love; that’s true love and not the watered down, wimpy, lip service version of something much less marketed as something supremely and gracefully greater. And it wouldn’t be enough if it were just me in true love with whomever while they still piddled around in fear or egocentric delusion or some stagnant glitch of the soul. But if I could find a person to love me true as I loved them true, nothing would take precedence or priority over that love, that bond, that union. And I am utterly confounded to see most, if not almost all others, who willingly sacrifice the potential for love to damn near any and every thing; a job, a distance, a hobby, “friends”, money, and the supposed wellbeing of children. I cannot fathom how a relationship of true love would not be the most important behavior or lesson for a child to observe and learn from. What lesson, what dynamic, what principle, could be of greater relevance and impact upon a child? I cannot fathom how so much materialistic and superficial shit has become socially dubbed and prioritized by the herd as being the much greater signifier of personal growth and the key to individual peace and happiness, than obtaining the enlightenment of love and enacting a union of upper transcendence through that love. I don’t know if it’s fear, selfishness, baseness, or just confusingly conforming indoctrination, but I do know that for me the quality of my existence is intimately related to my focus upon my chosen path and priorities. Is there any priority other than genuine and profound love that could impact more positively upon a person’s and/or a family’s quality of life? The answer is an absolute and resounding no. And yet for most people, while they spew sweet sentiments about love and it’s path less travelled, their actions hop, skip, and jump with a delusional zippity-do-da down the more travelled path of actionable anti-love and distractive complacency. They want to be able to claim the Weight and the Light of the world in their words without actually having to commit to lifting anything or opening their eyes long enough to look into that Light until the truth cannot be unseen. This cognitive dissonance, this deadly sin, can never sow love, but it does reap a world that instead operates on apathy at its best and fear at its worst. That world sounds like Hell to me.

Cribb          2018

Enablers of The Fifth Element (Love vs Sex 257)

Rainbow Bright: Sometimes I wonder if I want too much from love. Or more specifically, too much from someone else. I’m in my forties; maybe I’m immature or naive in that way. Maybe it’s time to accept a caring partnership with someone who would recognize my existence on just a basic level – enough chemistry for attraction and enough of the right interests in common to keep things enjoyably enough anesthetized. I’ve heard it said that one of the main reasons we choose to partner is just so that our lives are simply noticed by another. Maybe, that’s all we need.

There is however, this ferocious part of me, albeit idealistic, that yells and screams at the top of my lungs “Hell No!” So much of life has to be lived between those damned lines, why must I compromise here, why??!!? I want to feel consumed by a man who is absolutely expanded by me. I want our own little metaphoric boat or island where it is all ours, us together, strengthening one another, standing in union against the rest of the madness. I’m not just talking about the lusts of a new relationship, the simple transitory thrills of a honeymoon phase. I want the peace of a deep emotional bond and connection, but I want it to glow red hot. Maybe that’s not love, maybe it’s something different.

Do you ever wonder if you just need to settle?

The Introverted Lion: Poetic, Inspiring, broadly perceptive, and just damn unbelievably beautiful.

Rainbow Bright: No. It’s pissed off. It’s self centered. It’s arrogant. Doesn’t anyone feel like this? How is settling for someone any less than someone settling for me? Screw that. Maybe that’s the issue, the angst, the fight that I feel I can’t let go of, that I can’t relinquish. Is it my age that seems to be pushing me more towards tolerance of the minimum, towards the least that will do for me to be able to hold my breath and just get by like everyone else does? But isn’t it supposed to be the other way around as we get older, as we grow and learn and supposedly mature in our own enlightenment? How is it I want more, while everyone else seems to prefer less? Do I just want to go out with a bang instead of a sigh? Sounds arrogant. I don’t think these are feelings of desperation. There are a few “nice enough” guys out there, but meh. What the actual hell??? Damnit, I should not have started talking to you.

Sometimes it is better to consume than question.

The Introverted Lion: I understand. Thought about all of that myself, once or twice. Sounds good, but it is an end to madness for you, me, and everyone else. Most suppress it better than we would, but it’s always fucking there, always. They just package it up in some other “description” or “disorder” or keep themselves sedated with some form of analgesic addiction or delusion. If you settled, we would never have crossed paths. We are in the same tribe. We are of the same energy and connecting with you has intensified my passion and love and hope for being with someone “like you” while experiencing the rest of existence. You have already increased the love in my heart. You have already bestowed upon me the titillating, yearning, and vibrant force of what you say might possibly only occur in dreams of unreal expectation. It is the condensed essence of life and union of what you speak. It is the undying flame of transcendence which continuously sparks our energy to connect, crackle, and create, all of the beauty and grace in the world that we are capable of.

You are an angel and you are an enabler of the Fifth Element.

The Introverted Lion and Rainbow Bright

2018

If You Can Just Answer the Question (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 251)

She was always the victim. It did not matter how much effort I willingly expended to be with her or how many uplifting and supportive direct compliments I gave her which she simply refused to hear or how much I stabilized her entire pack. She was always the victim unless she got to be the silent bully and do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, without complete consideration of the ultimate consequences to the entire pack, the pack that she said she loved. She was broken. I knew why and I had pity and empathy and resounding faith in her fractured spirit that it would choose to heal itself instead of slinking deeper into false excuses of fear and victimization; deeper into withdrawal from objective reality so that she might rule her own universe without question, without balance. . . without her having to expend the vulnerable effort and posture of maintaining respect for someone she could not control.

I said “I need you to do this for me. Name one time, anytime at all in his whole life, that your father hasn’t considered himself the victim. Just one time, anytime, that he wasn’t always running around doing whatever the hell he wanted to despite the wishes of and responsibilities to his wife and children. Even as he was over-dominating you and breaking your spirit as a little girl, he was always the victim, always, right? I’m not talking about blame right now. I’m just talking above his behavior and his perception. If you can just answer that question, you’ll break through, you’ll see it. So, tell me please, tell me one time in your father’s entire lifetime that he wasn’t the victim in his own mind while he bullied everyone else around him.”

She started crying, but she refused to answer the question and in doing so, in turning away from her fear of reality, she reset the cycle to continue in its revolutions of delusion, madness, and suffering.

Cribb          2018

A Gander in a Goose World (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 250)

Pretext Note: I am a DVM or Doctor of Veterinary Medicine and I currently live in my clinic. It was not my original plan and it happened as a result of multiple factors. The primary reason centers on the fact that the corporate plundering parasites I had to sign my soul over to to hang a shingle and a sign, suck me dry beyond belief on every level and, in turn, I refuse to pass through their insane fear mongering marketing and door to door salesman upselling antics to my clientele and patients.

Serious question: If someone asks why I live in my clinic, suggesting I have a serious character flaw in one way or the other, or appears to overvalue that fact compared to the values of myself which I believe to be much more profoundly important in my/our collective existence, is it fair for me to ask them why they overvalue a salary based on predatory destabilizing monetary exchanges of often inferior intellect, skill, and application, for their own selfish benefit and the acquisition of a trinket house or abode over true vocational independence and having a significant professional impact on the highest ideals of our supposed humanity?

Interestingly enough, most educators and others working in the healing professions, do not really ask me this question or if they do it radiates genuine curiosity and empathy with it when delivered.

Most hailing from any business clan or insulated in the collective interior of a juggernaut corporation, a well paid minion of the inner enabling machinery, do ask the question with a befuddlement of aghast amazement and astonishment.

Priorities, I suppose, but it’s funny how sometimes the ones who want to ask the most insinuating and provocative questions, have no interest whatsoever in having the questioner being turned into the questionee.

Well, I’ll be your gander.

Dr. Cribb          2018

These Real Women, These Real Angels (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 249)

Praise be to all of existence

for the sexy, intelligent, aware, passionate, and empathic women that I have been honored to meet lately.

Their beauty is outstanding and damn near breathtaking to me every moment I lay eyes upon them.

They are angels blazing in the glory of graceful creation

and the weak minded materialistic women of such little empathy,

and such off kilter priorities in the breath they breathe and share with all others,

are not worthy of even standing in the shadows of these real women,

these real angels.

Sometimes,

it’s so easy to forget that they are out there also trying to survive in all of the madness,

enveloped and hedged in unceasingly by the greater herd of zombie females,

and also hunted persistently, yet in some half-hearted lingering tortuous nightmare attempt by the “love” of the prevailing zombie horde of males,

but I have always dreamed of them,

always known they had to be real,

like the sun and the moon,

and the wind and the rain,

your own heartbeat beating through your chest,

your own tears streaming down your face,

your own breath caught and then released,

and your own uncontrollable laughter and joy that possesses all of you until you believe you might spontaneously combust into nothing but tickling flames to be spread across the rest of the universe forever and ever.

I love them.

I love them all beyond words.

I have always loved them and I always will.

And that is the way it is meant to be.

It is the undeniable beauty of natural order,

not broken or numbed or cut the fuck out of a once gorgeous soul.

These angels,

these exquisite women,

symbolize to me more than anything else that I might imagine,

the capability of attainment of astounding beauty and profound love

that exists in the choice of free will alongside

the similar capability of those others

who choose to squander, insult, and defile their free will,

and the very nature of all of existence itself.

Cribb          2018

The Unexpected “One” in the Midst of the Many (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 248)

I sat in the restaurant and looked from corner to corner, front to back, booth to booth and high bar to low bar, and what did I see? A room full of people not talking to one another, not being attentive to one another in any present degree, not enjoying or savoring one another’s company, not sitting affectionately close together or touching or even displaying silent nurturing and encouraging body language towards one another. Obesity rampant throughout the crowd, yet in no greater of a consuming percentage than that of the frowns, smirks, faces face planted in their respective phones, crossed arms, avoided eye contact, base redundant gestures and comments parroted back and forth without any type of meaningful acknowledgement or reflection of thoughtful intent. Many seemed eagerly poised and ready to argue or complain or display boiling impatience at the egregiousness of anything and anyone they approached or any sensical inconvenience that might disrupt the most minute microcosm of the environment from serving only their own self aggrandizing compulsions and gluttonous spontaneous gratifications.

A group of adolescent girls in the corner appearing to all try to mimic one another in every way possible without having the slightest clue as to why they are cookie cutting themselves into life, a man as widely spaced from his wife as possible in the seat adjacent to her and yet possessing his toddler daughter as only his trophy or blankie if you will, and the typical white wealthy pretentious cow-chewing-their-cud dazed and confused elderly couple of cold and solemn sterile silence amongst themselves, were all noticeable amidst the other earbudded, monosyllabic grunting, and rigidly withdrawn from even their own party, patrons.

But there was one table that suddenly stood out to me. An outlier or beacon of hope, in the middle of all that insanity, itself lost to all of the isolation, withdrawal, apathy, and loneliness, surrounding it. A large black man and a large white woman sat across from one another at that table. The black gentleman donned a pair of glasses and sprouted a semi-groomed beard along with a slight overabundance of untamed curls which trickled over the edge of his seemingly flat topped head. The woman was of pale complexion and possessed a straight flowing but full bodied mane of dyed jet black hair. The glint of her unilateral nose piercing could also be seen from time to time as a solitary sparkle when she moved her head a certain way under the overhead lights. Both were very casually dressed in cheap garments.

These two people leaned in to one another in that booth, not in an aggressive or intimidating proclamation of posture, but in the comfy and cozy manner one might gently snuggle up as close as possible to the warm flames of a much desired fire. Their facial expressions were persistently relaxed and softly glowed or radiated an obvious aura of appreciation and contentment for the unrushed and unhectic moments they were choosing to share. Neither ever picked up a phone while I watched or displayed any nervous energy or made any attempt to dominate the other. It was astoundingly beautiful and I found it hard not to stare.

I was sitting next to the register and when they eventually came up to check out, I was so touched by what I had seen between the two of them, that I came very close to telling them how much they had stood out to me in the nature and energy of their interactions with one another, but I finally decided against doing so. Why invade such emotional intimacy between two others? Why interject myself into the energy they were sharing at the moment? Why not let them hold on to the purity of those moments for as long as they might all by themselves?

It is amazing sometimes just how much one unexpected person or one unlikely couple can bolster your hope and faith in others and maybe even in yourself. This outlying couple certainly did such a thing for me today.

Cribb          2018

Love, Pseudo-Love, and Catalytic Epiphanies (Love vs Sex 254)

 

Once you learn to truly love, the hard part is not continuing forevermore down that path. The hard part is finding another who has achieved the same capability. I don’t think love ever gives up on anyone. I don’t think it can be extinguished under any circumstance. It can get a little frustrated and disappointed by denials, by being bastardized and scapegoated to supposedly be something that it isn’t, and even by simple fearful withdrawals away from its presence, but it can’t be killed or snuffed out or tainted once you accept its graceful presence. It doesn’t go away. It doesn’t leave with another. Your soul remains eternally graced, energized, and titillated by love if you ever truly found and embraced love in the first place. Overwhelmingly, it appears to me that most have never experienced love and I don’t say that to be critical, demeaning, or higher than thou. Such a deficit or waste is tragic and beyond sorrowful for the individual and for the rest of the world. What is counterly pervasive is for almost everyone to vehemently pretend that they do feel or that they have been in love even when the objective blaring black and white inconsistencies of not having such a force in their relationship(s) proves their easily proposed verbal bloviating naive at best. Love is not your bitch to bully or rewrite. You can’t hoodwink her ass and get her to give you a standing ovation for the exceptional playacting you practice and enact rigorously in some warped projective false hope of affirmation. Love doesn’t buy your slutty sales pitch. Love doesn’t buy at all, nor does it sell. You don’t run from love out of fear, because if you have ever been touched and possessed by love, as we all should be, you already know that love is the vanquisher, the only vanquisher, of fear. To run from, deny, or turn away “love” is not what it pretends to be. It is the fear of having to relinquish and surrender yourself to a higher power, beyond your control, that exists outside of a conforming world where all interaction is and has been based on fear. It is a running away from, a denying of, or a turning away from the possibility that fear can and should be escaped and released forevermore.

Pseudo-love provides the most common excuse for those who have never loved to pretend and portray their passionate agape, eros, philia, or storge. The key to recognizing this pseudo-love is that the person of exalted declaration or expression of supreme emotional empathy and concern will always be in control (or believe that they are in control) of the entity or entities that they supposedly love. The observed relationships which are most often associated with the expression of this pseudo-love include single parent to child, owner to dog, and bully mate to non-bully mate. In each of these instances, the overwhelming dynamic is of bully or over-dominating control. The pseudo-lover gets to write the universal law of the relationship all by themselves and control the matrix pseudo-reality in their own mind of the perceived feelings, intentions, and actions of the entity “they supposedly love and who also unconditionally loves them.” There is no respect, objectivity, or natural balance; no freedom, in this pseudo-love relationship. It is all contrived and proclaimed “undeniable and unquestionable choice by the pseudo-loved one,” that is unless a rebellion eventually takes place to erupt the reality which has been so suppressed by the pseudo-lover. Without the natural balance of mutual objective observation and the absence of bullying authority (over-nurturers and over-dominators), willful freedom and choice cannot exist, and thus pseudo-love is revealed to be the supreme bastard or bizzaro antichrist that it truly happens to be. Love is the farthest ideal, energy, and force, from such willfully blinding delusion and possession, that can possibly be fathomed.

Furthermore, it is an impossibility for an individual to genuinely love one entity and pseudo-love another. The forces of disrespectful destabilization, delusion, and control, or the forces of respectful stabilization, objective universal awareness, and nurtured freedom, rule the complete psyche and the soul of a person in the end. If a transition occurs, it may stumble slightly for a moment in no man’s land, but then it will either reverse course completely once again until it arrives back at its original state of non-love or evolve into a creature of predominant and unending love. Most, by far, fail to evolve. Sticks and stones and love may break my bones, but words and tall tales of pseudo-love seem like they will never hurt me.

Once, a person I had begun to date and expose myself to in the fulminant expressions of love, found herself in what I would call a supremely paradoxical dilemma. She on the other hand, seemed unfettered and much more indifferent than I could fathom when she once replied to me “You are everything that I have been looking for my entire life, absolutely everything, but I’m just not ready for that right now.” I should have listened better at that time and believed the words instead of listening to the hope within my own heart. A very similar scenario played out in my life at least once more to the same degree of paradoxical befuddlement on my behalf. It was beyond me at both times to resolve how these women could refuse, kill, or walk away from, not me specifically, but from the force of love itself which was unquestionably emanating from my soul.

It took me a long time to realize that most people don’t mean most of what they say. It took me a longer time to realize that you can only generate and perfect your own love and that no matter how precious and immaculate and graceful that love happens to be, it will still never be capable of forcing a unwilling soul against their will to submit to its blissful blessing and transcendence.

Is that sad and depressing or hopeful and encouraging? I’m not really sure, but I believe it might be both. Maybe if anything it means for those of us trying to spread the light and make a difference in this existence, we must focus on not trying to show or touch others with our love so much as trying to help them perceive, understand, and experience, the subtle, temptible, and counterintuitive differences, between pervasive enacted pseudo-love and the oh so much more rare and exquisite truth. The difference of evolution in every single one of us from being an unrecognized bully to becoming an entity of predominate unending love seems to me now to be the primary catalyst for the required epiphany. We must not trumpet and shine our end state of grace and true love about to attract others to the flame, but focus instead upon remembering, sharing, and relating to, where we ourselves once were; where we came from, where we all come from, and then, we might be better able to relate and encourage others to seek where we all might go together.

Cribb          2018