AB0001 – Bonsai’d Baby

Doodle - Sirmonpapa0219 - 2018.0714.0147a0101

The framers of the Constitution were concerned about a “democracy”. The problem with a functional democracy is that reason needs trump unreasonable passion. At work today, we’re in training and have a lot of downtime. I was talking to Mike. He always votes no on taxes. “What about the pothole tax?” No! I was expecting that, but disappointed. I said, “I’ve already lost two tires thanks to potholes. How do you expect the roads to get fixed?” They need to fix them. “Who are they? And where do they get the money from?” He looked at me like I’m crazy. Magic. Personally, I think the universe is magical, but the rules apply to all equally. Magic is shoveling dirt into a pothole.

“Perhaps,” I thought, “I have more to offer than I thought at first glance. I know why addicts like me use and can’t stop. Maybe that has something to do with the confusion we experience as a society right now.” I think of me as “we”. Whereas many minds, perhaps yours, are cohesive and unified, mine is diversified. How many times I’ve laughed as I’ve watched my hands go off in their own direction and do their own thing. I’m typing as fast as I can right now, a slow speak, but I am not “typing” anything. The words that come magically out of my mouth type just as magically. I don’t think M then A then G and so on to type magic. Magic types magically. I easily get trapped by competing committees in my head, one mob arguing for this and the other for that. Becoming the chief executive and deciding the right course is what is needed.

Our constitutional framers imagined a democratic government of the people, but with the congress as the only mob, specifically the house, and then elected from the local mobs were to be our esteemed senators. The gentrified elite. But after 100 years, mob rule deadlocked so many vacant senate seats, that direct election of the senate happened. Amendment 17 destined to eventually destroy democracy. The president was meant to be almost king-like in the sense they were far removed from the daily demands of the people. They would not have a tweeting pulpit, nor would the journalistic literati have mob information rage back and forth so quickly that our fledgling democracy would fail for the same reason the Greek’s democracies did. As soon as passion dictates thoughts, mob rules and users use. Our society is an addict of sorts. Addicted to virulent polemics, paralyzed by opposing factions, polarized by elites moving to the richer and the proletariat to the poorer. There is a solution. I know it. Can I share it in time? Can I live it in my life? Can I be it?

A coworker gave notice today and was walked off the job. I could get angry or realize as long as I behave like a slave, I will be a slave. I’ve been a slave to my addiction for most my life. Now freed, my wobbly legs barely function, my eyes adjusted to the delusional shadows on Plato’s cave wall, I do not know reality. As Seth says:

These blueprints for reality are relatively invisible because you have allowed yourselves to forget their existence.

To pursue certain goals, you pretended that they did not exist. Now, however, your global situation as a race requires the new acquisition of some “ancient arts.” These can help you become aware again of those inner idealizations that form your private reality and your mass world.

I mentioned coincidences yesterday. First, I knew I would be blogging, and as mentioned, Z0219 was the first focus (I haven’t got there yet). To that end, I was remembering how I once stood in front of the old lavender house where so many horrific things happened in my last few months of using, and remembering how, as I stared at the house number 219, a voice said “219 is where you’ll begin.” I thought it meant the date 2/19, which happened to be my Cousin Mary’s birthday and about the day I contemplated that message.

Our big project at work ended, a new one is beginning, and we had all day Monday to do nothing. I searched for local news. The headline? A picture of that old house. The murder that happened outside our hallway door days before I was to be fired was headline news. The neighbor-friend’s charges of 2nd degree murder dropped due to the “Make My Day” law. I was thinking of that as I left work to come home. I carried my bike down the short weedy grass hill to the corner, mounted and passed a bicyclist going the opposite direction. My old roommate from 219 No. Murder Way. A roommate I have seen three times now in 16 months, always on a bike.

And just minutes ago floating through my head his old dog, raging in a bark at me and me wanting to whack the daylights out of her. I had just gotten home, come up the steep steps to our 3rd floor attic apartment and there she was face level barking in terror and lunging anger. I wanted to lunge back. But I had noticed something weird. Already we had two lawsuits involving her uncanny ability to bring out other doggy’s worst rages. Dogs across the street would go crazy with anger in her presence. One dog threw himself through the window of a downstairs flat. Lawsuit #1. Another through a car window. Lawsuit #2. And I felt it, too. A maddeningly desire to enrage and act in violence; a bully punch times ten. And in a moment’s flash, knowing that she was an abused puppy, dropped off in a plastic bag at the pet store, terrified and beaten, I was freed of this rageful anger. She had been so stunted by a violent puppydom that she was bonsai’d into some fear-based attack mode that we mammals know very, very deeply. Suddenly she wasn’t she, she was me and we were we. I realized that I too was that bonsai’d puppy, grown up now as dysfunctional adult.

At that time, I was clean, in my first rehab by my choice, determined to stay clean. I didn’t. The final insanity realized in those final days at the lavender murder palace remind me today of the danger I personally face and we face as a single people. Yes, I guess I should add another bullet point:

  • We are already no longer individuals, but a still-being-integrated entity we can call gaia, but is akin to a new life form of which we are the neuronal core of the brain, and the internet and communication systems, the axonal and dendridic components.

And another, but this is an idea that I need to work on. I was contemplating the quantum nature of reality and realized that internal to our consciousness was an inverse inner-universe equivalent to the external quantized universe. Could it be that the “outside” world is our other half? That everything “outside ourself” is but ourself reflected in a universal physical mirror of some sort?

Well, yes, I would like to go into that interesting failure #1. How my Dad, then my Piano Teacher, then the Book of Mormon, then the Bible failed me. Then, how over many years I synthesized a new view, cherishing and learning from the words and visions of my many ancestors. And, in keeping with the spirit, knowing the backstory, the bonsai’ing failures, the humus of humility, may never come, for I feel it is time to move on and to share my gifts. From Moroni 10 verse 8:

And by again, I exhort you, my brethren, that ye deny not the gifts of God, for they are many; and they come from the same God. And there are different ways that these gifts are administered; but it is the same God who worketh all in all; and they are given by the manifestations of the Spirit of God unto men, to profit them.

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