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

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

The Relief of Selling Your Soul (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 240)

Pretext Note: This lesser known novel written by George Orwell deals with the constant struggle of the protagonist who is trying to avoid the insanity, destabilization, and bastardization of living in the money world as he also attempts to continue to comfortably interact with others who are of that world and maintain the survival of his own perceived self worth. This passage is essentially the culminating point of the novel. The tragic nature in the outcome of his “relief” of accepting that he must sell his soul if he is to integrate with the money world in any respect is fatalistically depressing, but astoundingly and hauntingly accurate in assessing the impossibility of meshing and melding the worlds of money and non-money prioritization.

He walked rapidly away. What had he done? Chucked up the sponge! Broken all his oaths! His long and lonely war had ended in ignominious defeat. Circumcise ye your foreskins, saith the Lord. He was coming back to the fold, repentant. He seemed to be walking faster than usual. There was a peculiar sensation, an actual physical sensation, in his heart, in his limbs, all over him. What was it? Shame, misery, despair? Rage at being back in the clutch of money? Boredom when he thought of the deadly future? He dragged the sensation forth, faced it, examined it. It was relief.

Yes, that was the truth of it. Now that the thing was done he felt nothing but relief; relief that now at last he had finished with dirt, cold, hunger and loneliness and could get back to decent, fully human life. His resolutions, now that he had broken them, seemed nothing but a frightful weight that he had cast off. Moreover, he was aware that he was only fulfilling his destiny. In some corner of his mind he had always known that this would happen. He thought of the day when he had given them notice at the New Albion; and Mr. Erskine’s kind, red, beefish face, gently counselling him not to chuck up a “good” job for nothing. How bitterly he had sworn, then, that he was done with “good” jobs for ever! Yet it was foredoomed that he should come back, and he had known it even then. And it was not merely because of Rosemary and the baby that he had done it. That was the obvious cause, the precipitating cause, but even without it the end would have been the same; if there had been no baby to think about, something else would have forced his hand. For it was what, in his secret heart, he had desired.

After all he did not lack vitality, and that moneyless existence to which he had condemned himself had thrust him ruthlessly out of the stream of life. He looked back over the last two frightful years. He had blasphemed against money, rebelled against money, tried to live like an anchorite outside the money-world; and it had brought him not only misery, but also a frightful emptiness, an inescapable sense of futility. To abjure money is to abjure life. Be not righteous over much; why shouldst thou die before thy time? Now he was back in the money-world, or soon would be. Tomorrow he would go back to New Albion, in his best suit and overcoat (he must remember to get his overcoat out of pawn at the same time as his suit), in homburg hat of the correct gutter-crawling pattern, neatly shaved and with his hair cut short. He would be as though born anew. The sluttish poet of today would be hardly recognisable in the natty young business man of tomorrow. They would take him back, right enough; he had the talent they needed. He would buckle to work, sell his soul and hold down his job.

Keep the Aspidistra Flying 

George Orwell          1936

Possessed Purple (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 233)

If you possessed purple, had found it or it had found you, and you loved purple, knew that you loved it as much as you could ever love anything in your life with every fiber of your awareness and being, could you be content and happy with that possession and such a finality to your supposed greatest desire?

That purple might need some polishing and refinement to achieve the greatest essence and expression of purple that it was meant to be for itself and the rest of the universe, but nonetheless, purple it was and purple it would always be.

Or would you throw that purple away, that purple and its finality, because you desired to strive and chase and pursue and dream of finding purple more than you actually ever wanted to hold it and love it?

Would you need to ignore or banish that purple from your life, so that you might instead take red and focus all of your will and desire on turning it, turning a completely different color, into purple?

Would you spend your irreplaceable and forever lost time choosing to futilly mix blue into red forevermore, claiming that one day, one day far off in the future, that you would obtain the purple you always dreamed of in a fairy tale ending?

And in the meantime, while pursuing this steadfast goal, would you explain away all of the inherent fear and anxiety you keep cradled in your heart by scapegoating red in anger and resentment for its inability to mix and morph catalytically with blue according to your well thought out plan?

Would red become your blame for unhappiness and suffering as a sacrificial lamb of perpetual dissatisfaction even as it is continuously implemented as the essential willful distraction to your denial of the bliss and love that is so easily available to you in the finality of possessed purple?

Cribb

2018

Conquer and Be Conquered (Love vs Sex 248)

Her clever red lips taught him much. Her delicate, supple hands taught him much. Still a boy when it came to love and, moreover, inclined to plunge into his pleasure blindly and insatiably as into a bottomless pit, he learned thoroughly from her that pleasure cannot be taken without giving pleasure in return, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every look, every inch of the body, has its secret, the awakening of which affords happiness to the knowing person. She taught him that lovers should not part after a love fest without admiring each other, without feeling they have been conquered as much as they themselves have conquered, so that neither one of them suffers from satiety, boredom, or the unpleasant sensation of having abused the other or having been abused.

Siddhartha

Hermann Hesse          1922

Stability or Less (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 228)

Yesterday, a long term employee of mine expressed her gratitude to me for educating her in and helping her to understand the principle of stability in regard to all behavior, but most specifically in regard to that of her child.

As I myself have said on many occasions, she began talking to me by reiterating that “It’s very difficult to be a parent who truly cares about your child and wants more than anything to do the right thing for them. There isn’t any type of instruction manual and unfortunately, most of the advice that everyone wants to stuff down your throat, including your parents and the rest of your family, doesn’t really work worth a shit. That advice more often than not, simply perpetuates ongoing behavior in yourself and your child that isn’t helpful or healthy in any long term manner. The same sins, madness, abuses, and confusion of the parents usually get passed on to their children. It happens in a familiar presentation of the societal norm, routine parental expectation, and supposed love, but in the end, there isn’t any real growth or learning or escape from the past for that child. Everyone involved, though, just keeps smiling and pretending like everything that could possibly be done is being done, that it is what it is, and that life is only supposed to play out that way. And meanwhile, if you are a person who actually observes and engages your child without that common delusional filter, you can see their suffering and struggle with all of life. You want to do something about it, but you don’t know where to turn or who to listen to. It doesn’t seem like anyone knows the answer.”

I replied “Well, you know that I understand all of that and that I agree with every word of it. I guess most people are just too broken or oblivious to want to look at all of that in the face and then be forced to do something about what they see. They are okay pretending to care, pretending to be a parent in the “normal” way, but not with acknowledging the actual degree of responsibility and obligation that they should have committed to themselves before biologically reproducing. It’s exactly the same way so many people approach their pets. You know that just as much as I do. We see it every day, over and over and over. People, parents, owners, whomever. . .they love to talk and editorialize about love and all that they do for those they love, but their actions are irrefutable proof that they are more focused on telling the fairy tale and selling it to everyone, than actually figuring out what it profoundly means to love and cherish another living creature. Love is stability, of that I have no doubt. Less than stability is instability or unstable or destabilizing, however you want to describe it, and that’s not love, that is passing on torment, suffering, and confusion to another living creature. That is anti-love and it is despicable.

I’m not sure how everyone is supposed to figure all of that out. Like you said, there isn’t an instruction manual and most people are raised to have no clue whatsoever about awareness, behavior, and empathy. Generation, after generation, after generation, repeats the same cycles without anyone intervening or breaking out of the delusional conformity of their family tree. It is impossible to even know where the blame starts, but in the end that doesn’t matter either, because one person after another just keeps passing on the demons to their children and then, their children’s children. Everyone’s caught in this acceptable repetitive loop of conforming excusable deniability instead of simply engaging in the reality of love; of either fostering and nurturing genuine stability or encouraging and enabling destabilization. I have had to connect the dots from a lot of diverse and complex shit to bring all of that into the focus that I now possess, but I know it’s true and I know it works. I wish I could share it with people on a much greater level than I do now, but most don’t listen. They have no desire to contemplate such complexity or embrace such a never ending burden.”

My employee had tears in her eyes when she spoke next. “I’ve seen such a difference in him. He was having a lot of problems before and acting out frequently and feeling like a failure. He told me once that he didn’t think anyone liked him, and I felt so sad, so sorry for him. I told him that that wasn’t true and I tried to help him, but it was hard to know what to do to really help him, how to offset or change the influences in his life that brought him to that point and made him continue to feel that way. Working here, I have learned an enormous amount about stability from you. I’ve seen it over and over with our patient’s and I’ve seen it over and over in employee interactions. I’m so glad that I have because it has made all the difference in the world in my child’s life. He has responded so well. The difference in him is so astounding. He won an award the other day in school for being the best at something. He didn’t get sent to detention or recieve a bad mark or get it trouble for failing a test. He didn’t get attention for being a failure or doing something wrong. He got attention for doing something right and being great at something. He was so proud of himself. He felt so good about his accomplishment and what he had achieved. You should have seen his smile and how happy he was. It made me cry.”

I smiled back with perhaps the faintest trickle of a tear in my own eye and said “That’s awesome. That’s so great to hear. That experience will stick with him from now on in his life. I think you know it, but that is a profound paradigm shift, and it is in such a great direction. I’m unbelievably happy for you and for him. That’s the difference between destabilization and stabilization, between “love” and tough love. You would think everyone who knows him would recognize that change, what brought it about, and want some for themselves, but the sad part is, most will erroneously chalk it up to something irrelevant or happenstance. I wish more would get it, but we know that they will not even when it is that black and white. Nonetheless, we will keep doing all that we may at the Castle* to keep spreading stability in our funky way as far and wide as we might, and being happy in whatever change, great or small, that we catalyze in the world for the better.”

*The Castle is a term I use to refer to the veterinary hospital that I own and operate.

Cribb          2018

Make Love, Not Waste (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 225)

We should all be making more love to one another.

Define it as you will.

We waste so much time

that is then

lost forever

on

being pitiful, broken, and invulnerable.

Why do such a thing?

Why squander such opportunity?

Why self destruct in isolation, when such love and beauty and union begs for our participation?

Cribb

2018