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

To Choose Fear or Love for All, That is the Question (Love vs Sex 255)

If you have to look down to a more dependent or submissive entity to believe in love, what is it that you can’t see, appreciate, or find, when you look up?

And if you can’t believe in love by perceiving and acknowledging the worth and grace of a more independent stable dominant entity, how in the hell can you believe that you can genuinely love something of less existential vivacity and grace?

You may choose to love or not to love. That is your choice, your willful choice, but you may not, you may not bastardize love into a force or energy that you personally control and apply to creatures who are only dependent on or submissive to you. That isn’t love. So, don’t get that energy or force that you are conveniently attempting to rewrite and market as “love” confused with genuine love.

An energy which is only applied unilaterally to lesser or submissive creatures, no matter how much you want to advertise it as the exact polar opposite, is nothing more than fear.

To choose fear or love for all, that is the question.

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

A Promethean Act of Free Will (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 247)

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William James widely considered the father of American psychology and a co-father to the philosophy of pragmatism, received a MD from Harvard Medical School in 1869. James had always been exceptionally bright and was well educated since his earliest youth. He suffered from severe depression and insecurity (self-loathing) which apparently hit a high point in his life after his graduation from Harvard and as a result he checked himself into an asylum for treatment.

James left the asylum in an improved state and perspective, but not as a result of the therapy he had received at the institution. He experienced a self revelation of awareness and understanding after reading an essay on free will by Charles Renouvier, a French philosopher. His epiphany has been referred to as “A Promethean Act of Free Will” and in essence lead to his profound belief that mental illness could only be accurately addressed and/or cured via the free will of personal choice.

Though James continued to struggle with his mental illness in some form for the rest of his life, his approach to his depression improved his quality of life significantly and kept it from crippling him severely anymore in the future. He went on to teach physiology and psychology at Harvard, published significant data and theory on human emotion (now referred to as the James-Lange theory), and eventually settled on the in depth contemplation and study of philosophy and spiritual energy in the later period of his life. He published numerous books of ongoing significant relevance including The Principles of Psychology (1890), The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902), and a groundbreaking work on education, Talks to Teachers on Psychology and to Students on Some of Life’s Ideals (1899).

The sketch is a self portrait James produced around the age of 24 and the year 1866.

Information borrowed and paraphrased from:

1) Subliminal – How Your Unconscious Mind Rules Your Behavior, Leonard Mlodinow 2012

2) Introduction Notes for The Varieties of Religious Experience, Wayne Proudfoot 2004

Cribb          2018

Nothing. Everything. (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 246)

“They don’t like me,” she said. “And I don’t like them.”

That did make him chuckle, especially the brazen, arms-folded way she said it, like she’d decided they were her eternal enemy.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he said. “No, I’m not. You’re a curious person. You ask questions. That’s why they don’t like you. That’s all.”

“What’s wrong with asking questions?”

“Nothing.” Everything. Once questions snuck in, whatever had been certain became uncertain. Questions opened the way for doubt.

“But you’re curious, too,” she said.

‘Why do you say that?”

“You guard the light. And light sees everything.”

Acceptance

Jeff Vandermeer          2014