Soul Rehab

Gloves off, no more sugar.  My teeth rot from the sugar; body becomes sluggish, so tired of all the lies. 

There are ways to tell truth, without torturing the spirit.  Killing it to imobility.  And…

“Isolation is the oxygen you make your children breathe to survive.” - Marilyn Manson, like him, or not, go dude! 

Truth is always good; especially when we hate it, deny it, hide it, justify the refusal of it or try to kill it; just to fullfill our version of it.  Like an addiction or obsession, huh?  

The addiction makes your choices for you; doesn’t it?  Sure it does.  You aren’t in control.  Something other than you, controls you.  Sucks, huh?  You bet!  We don’t like being responsible for ourselves; especially, if we’re wrong.  What makes being wrong feel so terrible?  There are ways to tell truth, without torturing the spirit.

Was the Man Who was crucified carrying a weapon?  Ask a martial artist.  The Immortal Man, who’s flesh was crucified, was a weapon.  He commanded all of Nature’s elements.  Did He use it to free Himself?  From the pain of being beaten and nailed to wood?  Like Him, or not.  The fact that we still fight over Him, makes Him real.   Only…one man…owns politically assassinated by crucifixtion. 

There’s nothing new; everything has been said; but, no one ever puts it together.  It’s all here…living, visual, “virtual” reality.  Earth is the original classroom.  Human flesh was a downgrade.  Pretty damned impressive, I think.  You will never take credit from my Creators as long as I have a voice.  They learned it first.  They did it first!  They succeeded; along with two thirds of the original population.  Too much evidence, on Their side.   

Rehab is hell.  I don’t care what you’re healing from; it all feels like hell.  Hell was never a place; unless, you count the rehab facility. 

It is getting clean from our addictions that is the hell.  The looking in the mirror part.  The finding the twisted roads from the straight ones.  See, even writing here knowing the public sees; is sporatic, unplanned, and probably too hasty. 

The Immortals were never hocus pocus, They do nothing…this important…overnite express; we allow our entertainment to shroud reality.  It is about health, it always has been. 

There is a good reason why those who wish to be doctors need to master two basic subjects; actually, chef’s should, also…math and chemistry.  Both professions use both extensively.  Wonder why that is?  Well, Nature is chemistry;  and, if you measure the chemicals incorrectly…boom?  What makes a cake as opposed to a cookie?

We have Teachers; we just choose to ignore Them.  When it’s too late; we whine and point fingers or wail and gnash our teeth.  We seek bells and whistles; but, The Creators didn’t build this using those.  They used blood, sweat and tears.  Immortality is not hocus pocus.  They gave us an elementary curriculum; which we have failed to comprehend.  We are not old enough to get the wings reinstated.

Our first major lesson is first, do no harm.  Because if Nature grants life; it has the same right as you do.  We never fell out of grace.  We are within grace every moment we remain alive.  We are separated from our original famly, by contamination; but, we don’t fall out of grace until we are dead, without awareness.

This is turning into a log of what happens when people get caught in a dark, imobile hole.  Sometimes my writing pours.  Sometimes it trickles.  Sometimes you may not see me at all.  Not good for the ones who need me to get a rating.  I wish I could stop it; the world’s darkness feels like thick, black, tar that will drown me, I like my shell.   

Two folks, Neria, who’d have thought; and Jan shot a couple sparks of light into the shell.  Okay, I’m coming.  Five months later I read Jan writing exactly what I’m thinking.  Who am I to write this? 

My nerve to visit soul food hasn’t managed to emerge, yet.  I’m reading everything though.  Haven’t seen you for, the date said November.  The Kaliedosoul sounds interesting.  And, since reading it, Heather may not understand how much I wish I could have grabbed the back of the bike Darryl rode out.  He is the lucky one.  He’s free!  No pain.  Father and Mother will take good care of him.  The Lord may ride with him…cool!  

I’m trying to find my way back to the Abbey.  There is still much darkness in the cave, though.  I will reach her…soon.  There is warmth in the attic; and a window.    

Let me escape this darkness. It is suffocating, like drowning. The world sees the physical. It has no idea the depth of the cave.

How does a stranger hit the mark so well; or, are there simply a multitude to observe? How many fictional Elphaba’s are there,…exactly? In the end, she was saved from the fire by innocence.

For a moment, my Elphaba became Neria. Strong and able to fly. But, she made friends with the tortoise. This cave is portable; for when the civilized are hard to avoid. And, you are forced to ingest the hypocrisy.

Long ago, I was handed the hem of a robe. A tiny corner to keep in my hand. Only years later and, never all at once, would I learn what it meant.

The rain is pure when it leaves Father’s hand. But, by the time it reaches us,…Neria’s wings are bound by the thick, black tar we use for repairing leaks. Much later would I learn that it is Mother’s soft, silent tears that attempt to blanket the tar in white. While Their Baby tries to transfuse our pride with love. I feel my understanding came too late.

Mediangler » People’s Web 2.0
“The idea of community has proved attractive to American and European web audiences alike, community and participation.” (Links hate me, I had to paste this. My blog this didn’t bring me here.)

I have been asking if learning to converse peacefully, through the writing practice we get blogging, is possible. A few say no; but, the interest must be there.

Where have you gone?

You held my spark.

The truth came late;

I am the tortoise.

Neria has fled to a hiding place.

If I believe the acceptance;

Will it go away?

Will I be afraid to venture

Down the steps?

Afraid to uncover my face?