Where Am I Being Judgmental?
This week’s prompt in my group of life coach writers was to ask ourselves where we notice judgement and what happens if we get curious about it? We had 12 minutes on the clock to write about it and this is what I wrote: I notice judgement in my own life when people are being dumb. Hey, I know that sounds judgmental but that’s the prompt so clam down. Because sometimes people are so dumb. But I’m not talking about IQ dumb, or grades dumb, I’m talking about critical thinking dumb, believing the government propaganda dumb. If everyone you know wants the world to get better, and they do, then why is the world falling apart? The official narrative is that it’s human incompetence and accidental intermittent corruption, as if corruption were the same as being clumsy. “oops, sorry, I spilled all that garbage into the ocean, let me just get a napkin.” Or “pardon me, I didn’t mean to drop that many bombs on that many innocent people, my mistake.” Well, no. And frankly to believe societies are crumbling because of incompetence is, in my view, the height of stupidity. There is a design. A corrupt and well planned design, in motion for decades and working itself out now in our towns, our governments and our news media, but under the thinly disguised costume of compounding random events. Whoops, we have a misogynist in office. Whoops, now we have a dementia patient. Well, golly, how did that happen? By design you dumb fuck. By carefully planned, nasty, dark, evil design. And I get it, you don’t want to look at it like that because, scary. I understand, but if all you do is doubt the obvious and thrust your head in the sand Then you become useless and can’t lend a hand Or help us return to the land You are just a spectator adding to the bland and the quicksand. We need to wake up. We need to admit there are nefarious plotters who want us all dead and are planning world events to make it so. We need to just get our heads around that. If we don’t admit this to ourselves their plans succeed. If we do get our heads around it their plans backfire Because we awaken a holy fire and start to inspire and aspire and a new design can transpire. But if we believe this is all happening by chance, just happenstance then we are going to be made to dance, like an exhausted silly bear, getting so much wear and tear that we say jokingly “let’s just leave and go to France.” But it’s no better there. This corrupt design is global And the only thing left that’s noble Is deciding to see it. To understand that human nature is bent toward wholeness so if society is crumbling it is not incompetence or individual choices, it is corruption, designed and planned, with all kinds of truth being banned. There is a hope in this awful darkness of deliberately designed destruction Because it is all a pageant, a production And if we can start to learn how to discern we can make a U-turn And the fires of transformation can burn instead of forests and children and middle eastern cities. So I judge dummies who think individual choices are to blame for the designs of an elite few as they culminate and isolate and humiliate and alienate. But again, it’s not too late. We can smarten up, get hip, and right this intentionally sinking ship. The trick is to use this masterminded suffering to wake us up, to change us, to make us smart so we can listen with our heart The news is lies. The government is lies The body is truth, so become a sleuth, Even if your new, dangerous, extreme opinion is called uncouth Because by banding together we can change the weather, and not like the elite globalist wack-jobs do with technology, but with the energy of our gleaming hearts, wise souls and sound, right critical thought. So I judge dumb, and I feel numb, because despite what I’ve just written I also still, very much don’t know shit about shit at all.
How Is The Emergence of Spring Like Your Deepest Desires?
The emergence of spring is about blossoming and my deepest desire is to come into full bloom. To flourish and then to nourish The emergence of spring is about warmth and growth and expansion and my deepest desire is to be held warmly, to grow continuously and to expand infinitely Expand into what exactly? Well, that I’m still working on. But I know it includes the external trappings like being a published author and getting my own talk show and having more money in the bank than I can count or spend in ten lifetimes. Those are the pretty and colorful flower pedals that show the world I’m blossoming and beautiful. But it also includes the internal things like peace and stillness and confidence. I want to know tranquility instead of numbing with the cultural tranquilizers of Netflix and marijuana and endless scrolls into the lives of mere strangers This focus outward comes with dangers I want to know serenity instead of making scenes I want to know divinity instead of creating divisions I want to know integrity instead of insisting on ideologies Because each one comes with its own pathologies And then I end up separate from my inner sense of truth and end up needing to give apologies before regret messes with my biologies The emergence of spring bring with it singing and soaring And that’s like my deepest desires to be in harmony with natures roaring And make melodies out of the mundane instead of calling it all so boring Who says we should leave all that to the birdsI’d like my own inner songs to be heard. The emergence of spring is like my deepest desires because its perennial, it never fails to come back around and my core dreams never seem to leave me even when they cycle away for undefined mental winters time and again. The mental winters can feel like soul splinters but when the thaw takes hold and the sun breaks the cold I feel an energy inside me saying its time to break the mold and go back to my dreams And maybe just maybe get that mother-fucking manuscript sold.
If My Favorite Mood Were A Type of Food What Would Be The Recipe to Make The Perfect Batch Every Time?
I suppose the main ingredient, like the base, the flour would be a belief in my inner power. Without that I can’t make anything at all. Have you tried making bread without flour, the enterprise is dour, and the mood becomes sour. So once I’ve measured out my six cups of inner power I’d need to add some water….the ingredient that can transform inner power into something bankable like dough. So the water is my imagination, that makes my power kneadable, and malleable. When imagination and inner power are mixed together you can beat it down and it retains its shape. You can break it apart it but it just transforms into the raw ingredients for biscuits instead of loafs. You can’t make imagination and power useless. Even without anything else involved it came become flat bread. So once I have the perfect combination of imagination and inner power, my water and my flour its time to get clear on what I’m making, so that my imagined desire can start baking. Perhaps I need yeast if I’m trying to rise to the occasion Perhaps I need salt if I’m trying to enhance a situation Perhaps I need herbs if I’m looking to spice things up Or some cheese sauce to fill my cup. Or some strawberry jam if I’m trying to create more sweetness Or just a warm, secure oven to bring my vision to completeness The recipes I could make are infinite in number I could make a salad of emotions, or use only cucumber The trick is to find pleasure in the various combinations To be a world class chef learning to bake with skill So that when life brings its inevitable tribulations We are eating what we choose, and are bellies always full.
Creating An Ideal Future
The idea of an ideal future appeals to me greatly. Ideal in the sense that is the best one possible. Who doesn’t want the best thing possible. Its probable to say perhaps everyone wants the best of all possibilities But what happens when possibilities seems to be drowned out by inevidibilities Like government control Or heart disease Or a heavy far too humid breeze Or a mandated hiring freeze Is disaster inevitable or is the way to circumvent it possible, but ineffable? Ideal futures are ideally the new present moments. In creating a future a paradox emerges because the only time we have available to create this future with is the present. The now moment. But the now moment, at first glance, seems anything but ideal. I deal with back pain You deal with mourning and loss The globe deals with war and weather and our intractable failure to finally come together 100 years ago we had a new deal Now they want to give us a green new deal So I don’t know what we do from here, I don’t know how to deal, how to feel, how to break the seal on my fear and Start creating that ideal future that I say I hold so dear How do we ideally open to new ideas when there is Such weight to our human disaster And suffering always comes after And seems to be coming faster and faster Our problems won’t be solved with a back room deal or getting an unconstitutional act repealed Its going to have something more to do with figuring out how to get healed, and then when you are strong picking up your shield So you can walk, protected onto the battle field And with nerves steeled and the truth revealed You show others how to put down their weapons How to break free from their deceptions And then, taking a deep breath, you we invite ourselves to a banquet, a feast, a new kind of grand reception. I’d rather have a party than a war. Ideally, that could be our future, because that would be a really good deal.
If My Worst Fears Came True It Would Mean…?
From a writing prompt: If my worst fears came true it would mean I’m 67, alone, dying, impoverished, publicly humiliated, and universally scorned. And it would be pervasive. You’d be risking your reputation just to come visit me. There would be wholly unflattering dick picks of me online that somehow make me look smaller than is humanly possible. That’s my story anyway, and I’m sticking to it. I’d be ridiculed for my fetishes, which would of course all have been made public decades ago, but unlike the changing news cycle these stories stick around like the gum under elementary school desks, still hanging there decades later, covered in spit and barely decaying. Hardened. Stale. Forgotten. But at the same time nobody has forgotten. Someone somewhere has been keeping a meticulous list of my failures and timids, my betrayals and regrets and cataloging them by category. And reminding everyone. So even though I am forgotten, not one single one of my mistakes ever is. They are immortalized, judged as the worst of the worst, until my bubble burst and I had that public meltdown. You know the one where I ran naked on antipsychotic meds through the town square. That’s where the unflattering dick pics came from. I’d have a shred of hope that some experimental cure was going to help me live past the end of my 67th year only to find out my ungrateful adoptive children who don’t even exist yet were playing a prank on me. For fun. Because they are a failure too and I raised monsters. There is no cure. Never was. I have a week to live. Maybe days or hours. The kids don’t know or care. The nurses are mean. The help is unhelpful and cruelest joke of all is that I…I…
If I Started Aging Backwards My New Goals Would Be…
If I started aging backwards my new goals would be hard to pin down. Would I be the subject of a media frenzy because I’m the first real life Benjamin Button? Or is this a world where aging backwards is a thing sometimes, so there’s no media outcry, but just an existential dilemma about my trajectory. If I am aging backwards would I suddenly start to become less skilled with practice?Or would I be more skilled still, but younger. When I got young enough would I start to lose my hand/eye coordination? Would I start to shrink? Would I need to be changed and taken care of again. And possibly have someone crush up my food as my teeth recede. Come to think of it, I’m not sure getting younger before you die is any different than getting older. From age 10 down to zero you need a babysitter again, just like some folks in their last decades of life. I’d get a re-do of my twenties, and be sober more. And I’d most definitely have way way way more sex. Sue me, but it’s true. I’m gay so I can’t accidentally make any humans so I’d stick it in more places. I just would. I’d take being a horny teenager seriously this time, and get laid, like alot. I’d waste no time in the closet. I’d be out and proud all the way until I was back in diapers. I’d second guess a lot less and give second chances a lot more. I want to say I’d enjoy the shit out of those 80’s movies again, but now I think I’m confusing aging backwards with going backward in time. I’d spend more time having fun as my body became more youthful and vibrant …
Baby Steps To Adult Growth
*From a writing prompt in my monthly writer’s group. I am in my infancy still when it comes to adult growth. Can an infant even take baby steps, or would those still be way too large for me? Ego growth, denial growth, willful ignorance growth, now those I excel at. In that sense I’ve really grown. But adult growth….as in making good choices and feeling empowered and invigorated…I don’t remember that from the reading. Is adult growth going to be on the test? Because if so, is there some kind of worksheet or something? How do I know when I’m growing adultly? Instead of growing in my confusion, or error or waist line. How can you tell growth from the motion of careening, unknowingly, unceasingly toward certain mental disaster, total annihilation, or unfathomable catastrophe? No, I’m really asking. This is not rhetorical. How can you tell? How can you tell expansion and awakening apart from a psychotic break? I don’t know because it seems the symptoms might be very similar: You lose interest in normal conversation You don’t understand how everyone can’t see the rigged game You overcome some addictions and justify others Your mind no longer constrained by logic, leaps curiously, almost crazily, from shiny object to shinier one. You are eerily calm when culture says its freak out time. And you let go of the need to control others Seeming too permissive So the rigid can become so dismissive And write the supervisor a strongly worded missive Old fears begin to stop haunting And old dreams start to seem less daunting And your achievements need less flaunting So you wander through life more solo A solitary fool looking for a tribe to belong to The only thing separating you from the truly crazy might be a sandwich board and the ability to string thoughts together, well mostly. In a world of insanity being sane is revolutionary, almost crazy making, because you see the backwards, inverted nature of the society we’ve built collectively, and you are the only one with any questions about why it doesn’t seem to work quite right.
Imagine One Day You Woke Up & Could No Longer Feel the Emotion of Inadequacy…
What would be different? What has changed? If I woke up tomorrow morning and could no longer feel inadequateI’d worry less about etiquette And whether the participle comes before or after the predicate I’d worry less in general, about opinions that I now let diminish me And it seems like they all but finish me But instead I suppose I’d feel adequate, And say ‘enough is enough’ to not enough. I’d take a massive hit of the good life, yeah, that’s the stuff. And then I’d channel my enough-ness into my work, my fun, my play, my life, I’d likely feel an ending to so much internal strife That controlled me prior to my self-defeating emotions flying away like carefree birds on a wire And so little would be so dire I might even just take a load off, laugh a little more with a caramel apple sider and cozy up with blankets, and security, and my family and my hope intact, All snuggly by the fire. I’d feel less like a pauper and more like a sire. A king would rise up every day where a gentile use to sleep And that would be adequate enough for sure To take many a faithful leap.
What Are You Saying A Resounding “Yes” To?
Geez, I don’t know. First thing that comes to mind is that I’m saying yes to being broken. I have a broken tail bone and I’m embracing this down time. I’m going with the flow, learning and growing, right? Or am I simply escaping into television and cannabis? Am I crawling out my life and into someone else’s? Am I crawling out my mind and letting the plant float me up away from my problems? Or am I being too hard on myself? How do you “face your demons” when everyone knows demons are too scary to look at? Um, that’s why we have television, dummy. So we can look at that instead. Higher Self: Yeah, but sometimes the TV has demons on it? That’s different, those demons are fake, and mostly always loose, so it’s good. HS: And some would say the TV itself is demonic? Okay, well I think things have the meaning we give them. HS: Yeah, but I mean, the emf waves that come off your TV. The CIA released declassified docs saying that the waves from old TUBE tvs can be used to effect the nervous system of humans. Really? HS: Yep. So what am I supposed to do, say “no” to TV now too? HS: Yep. I’m supposed to be thinking of something to say “yes” to, though, remember. HS: Say “yes” to your health. Ooof, I felt that one. And I just realized, saying “yes” to my health might mean saying “no” to other things, but the YES is larger and more long term and more important than all the “NO’s” that get me there. HS: Yes! *Brian blushes at his higher self. So wait, tho, are you saying I have to stop watching all TV? HS: No, I’m saying that when you saying “no” to some things you love, realize that it is because you are saying yes to something else far more intangible, but often far more important to you. You’re in a physical body so the immediate is always more palpable to you. But the long term, the small changes over time that lead to massive changes in who you are and how you live, those are where joy is deep and everlasting. You kinda lost me. HS: I’m saying believe in yourself. Be gentle with your self. Make piles of small changes. And when you find yourself lamenting too many “no’s”, try and remember the larger aspect of your new life that you are really saying yes to in that moment. Um, examples please: HS: When you say no to sugar you say yes to fitness. When you say no to grudges you say yes to tranquility. When you say no to certainty you say yes to exploration and discovery. When you say no to a night out you say yes to rested body. When you say no to an old habit you say yes to a new one. Okay, that’s pretty clear. HS: I thought so, yes! So what am I saying a resounding yes to right now? HS: From my perspective you are saying yes to expansion, yes to trusting the divine, to having faith in the design and to no longer being bashful about how brightly you know how to shine. But what does that look like practically? HS: I think you know. I want you to say it. HS: It means you own your struggles, and your journey, and you share it, and know that any rejection is really our protection against whatever isn’t meant for you. That’s very scary. HS: Do you think you can say a resounding yes to it. Nope. Not yet. I can say yes, but whether it ends up being resounding or not, I’ll surrender that to you. HS: Perfect, now you’re gettin’ it.
I Wish I Had Paid More Attention When…
How can I answer this, it is impossible to know, because I wasn’t paying enough attention to this on going show I wish I had paid more attention when I was feeling content. What was I doing? What was I feeling? Believing?How was I behaving? Hell, what was I eating? How was I sleeping and who was I sleeping with? I want to know, remember and recreate every single detail of past contentments, past joys, past triumphs, if only I’d paid more attention. I wish I had paid more attention when I was vital and young Where did that time go? What had I planned to create? What did I aspire to and who did I admire? I see now how minutes stack like bricks one on top of the other to create structures out of habits and patterns and, and decades and cement bars Maybe I’d recognize something useful in this time cage, if only I’d paid more attention I wish I’d paid more attention when I was living out what inspired me Instead of concentrating on all the things that tired me And required me to perspire and pull energy from anywhere like a reluctant vampire Inspiration is what freedom tastes like. It’s what makes liberation liberating and it makes the contents of moments matter even though they are formed out of the formlessness of atoms and thoughts. I’d love to be able to recreate it on demand, to live in it, bathe in it, drink from it, and I’d live there, soaking in it, minute by minute, if only I could remember exactly how I got there. How did I find inspiration or did it come hunting for me once? And now I’m just a trophy on a wall without even knowing I’ve been shot, drained, stuffed, groomed and now live all eternity decorating some hunter’s fire place, a deer head, forever caught in the headlights of my own failure. I’d love to find inspiration again, if only I’d paid more attention.
