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

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

Maybe You Should Tell Them (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 238)

The most beautiful creatures that I have found in this universe hold the world upside right and keep it from twisting upside down on a constant basis. Their efforts go underappreciated by most despite their endless contribution to all and their filling of everyone else’s bucket but their own. It seems natural for them as if they might be an angel of existence hellbent on spreading their light and love to any corner of the universe that is particularly in need at any given moment. So few truly, genuinely, and devoutly lift others up, even their own flesh and blood, but these angels do and they do it without question. They are rare. They are exquisite. They are beyond beautiful. They shine like a wayward comet streaking through a dark night to stir up all of the moon glow, fairy dust, and other precious particles of primordial light that normally swirl about our souls too silently in their radiance and energy for us to acknowledge and to accept; too silently for us to believe, to have complete and utter faith in. These gorgeous creatures awaken all of us from such silence, disbelief, and despair. They shine undeniable and unassailable light and love throughout all the realms of existence. That’s just what they do and if you happen to be fortunate enough to cross paths with one of these extraordinary angels, maybe you should tell them, break your own silence for them as they have done for you in their essence and existence. Maybe you should tell them that you see them, that you really do see them, for who and what they choose to be.

Cribb          2018

No Hell (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 218)

Mama said the stars are the universe’s eyes.
I can feel them watching over me most of the time.
We grew up believing we could learn how to fly.
We came from the earth, but we belong to the sky.
I saw your soul without the skin attached,
and you’ve got the guts of a coyote pack.
We’ve been kissed, we’ve been cut, but we do what needs the doing.
We’re just rainbows dreaming we are human.
Please excuse the lights shooting out of my head.
I keep them in a cage, but they come out when they see a friend (you must be a friend).
You’re never really gonna have control of it all,
so you best get cool with where your chips gonna fall.
We are the sun and mother’s milk and cuss words and poetry.

There’s no use in running, unless you run like heck.
The best things we’ve learned, we learned from the wreck.
Jesus coming back as a woman this time,
handing out hugs in the clinic line.
Someone tell the devil we don’t need no hell.
We’re all pretty good at beating up ourselves.

As kids we believed that the angels talked.
Everything is magic, til you think it’s not.
It’s easy to be thankful for the things you’ve got.
It takes guts to give thanks for the things you’ve lost
We grew up believing good wins over bad,
So you gave away your heart but the wolves attacked.
(But then a bigger heart grew back)
Please excuse the words coming out of my mouth,
I’m a happy man, but there are some things I need to get out…

There’s no use in running, unless you run like heck.
The best things we’ve learned, we learned from the wreck.
Jesus coming back as a woman this time,
handing out hugs in the clinic line.
Someone tell the devil we don’t need no hell.
We’re all pretty good at beating up ourselves.

Cloud Cult – Lyrics*

*You should check out the song if you are not familiar with it.

Stopping the Curse and Cycle of Mental Illness Before it is Cast (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 212)

My mother was a highly intelligent, hyper-aware individual. She was also unquestionably mentally ill. It is impossible for me know or assess how much of her mental illness was purely genetic/inherited and how much was environmentally nurtured. I am confident that both factors are involved in such a disease, but her ratio of risk from each factor will always remain a mystery to me. I have come to believe that the environmental factor, the taught and imprinted perception and behavioral interpretation, thrust upon a child from their parents (their earliest authority figures) is the primary governing consequence which determines the child’s ultimate susceptibility to the degree or extent of suffering from mental illness in the overwhelming majority of cases.

If my assessment is accurate, that means that the majority of mental illness is actually as much or more of a behavioral problem as it is a mental one. I can prove this in animals and the correlation to people is more than easy to illustrate to anyone who is willing to listen and consider the obvious evidence.

As a result of suffering from mental illness and lacking the help, support, recognition, comprehensive understanding, and nurturing stability required to treat such a condition, my mom fell into the predictable state of severe anti-social introversion, paranoia, chronic anxiety, and severe insecurity. In other words, the instability she had suffered, her failure to understand it, and her inability to put it in its proper perspective, left her mentally suffering, crippled with fear and believing her best option was isolation from almost everyone.

Yet still, a spark of desire for human connection remained in her, as it does even in those of us who are the most damaged. My father cared for her the best he could and I believe loved her to the fullest extent she would allow. Because of her overriding insecurity, she banked almost all of the love she thought she needed in the world into her children; into entities that she could control, and “protect”,  and “love”. But, protection and love are easily twisted by an insecure psyche, and most commonly, a parent suffering from such will over-nurture (spoil) their children in an effort to “buy or purchase” their child’s love and commitment. This is doomed to fail. It weakens and destabilizes the children, teaching them to be bullies who are paradoxically often dependent on those they bully. Those children also have often inherited the high awareness and high drive of the mentally ill parent which often confuses the matter exponentially more. These children, now high drive, highly aware, bullyish, but also codependent on those they bully, eventually grow into adults.

I dealt with such issues for a very long time and only through tenacious unrelenting introspection, and perhaps the luck of my external life, was I able to move beyond this curse or possession. In those who remain trapped and suffering, they often detect or feel an unrecognizable inescapable pathogen, but they can never quite come to the point of realizing that the psyche they have chosen to live by is the demon that torments them so hellishly.

The key to avoiding such suffering in any individual and in such an individual’s eventual children is to stop the cycle and the curse before it develops, not after it has snowballed into a juggernaut beelzebub reproducing abomination for years and years, or even half a lifetime. Children, most especially the highly aware and the highly intelligent, need the structure, insight, and guidance, of a truly stable and balanced pack leader in their early developmental stages to ward off all of the demons of mental anguish and instability which constantly swirl about to infect, and linger, and fester in our souls.

This is why behavior and genuine stability is so important. It is the only way to break the cycle. It is the only way to deliver our highly aware and highly intelligent children, and even our high drive pets, from the otherwise inevitable confusion, suffering, and mental illness created by being trapped in an unstable pack (support group).

Jeff Cribb DVM          2017

A Capacity for Irrelevant Dancing (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 198)

Blood beats in the ears. Beat, beat, beat. A slow drum in the darkness, beating in the ears of one who lies wakeful with fever, with the sickness of too much misery. It beats unceasingly, in the ears, in the mind itself. Body and mind are indivisible and in the spirit blood painfully throbs. Sad thoughts droop through the mind. A small pure light comes swaying down through the darkness, comes to rest, resigning itself to the obscurity of its misfortune. There is resignation, but blood still beats in the ears. Blood still painfully beats, though the mind has acquiesced. And then, suddenly, the mind exerts itself, throws off the fever of too much suffering and, laughing, commands the body to dance. The introduction to the last movement comes to its suspended, throbbing close. There is an instant of expectation and then, with a series of mounting trochees and a downward hurrying, step after tiny step, in triple time, the dance begins. Irrelevant, irreverent, out of key with all that has gone before. But man’s greatest strength lies in his capacity for irrelevance. In the midst of pestilences, he builds cathedrals; and a slave, he can think the irrelevant and unsuitable thoughts of a free man. The spirit is slave to fever and beating blood, at the mercy of an obscure and tyrannous misfortune. But irrelevantly, it elects to dance in triple measure—a mounting skip, a patter of descending feet.

Antic Hay

Aldous Huxley          1923