Go shawty...
https://youtu.be/5qm8PH4xAss
Wow, just got off the phone, thirteen minutes blabbering non stop on the crisis phone line.... Have been doing a lot of this lately.....
You know the maxim, hear no evil, see no evil....
It seemed talking on the phone to these American volunteer counsellors, and the Australian ones, and the psychology student I pay discount rate to (that I set up), and Kati Morton, an online therapist YouTuber, it seems I need to journal certain things.
Before I journal anything else, about the title line, the evil from the past, I'll mention an incident from approximately age ten. In my mind, as most of the incident is blacked out, like a redacted CIA file, I now realise there are no neurons in my brain that can connect the event to a particular year. No memory that can say this was 4th grade or 5th grade.
No memory either of anything bad happening apart from being extremely upset, crying, feeling very upset (but not actual pain). Perhaps nothing bad happened apart from getting spooked.
Basically one of my good for nothing white trash neighbours two houses over, Shane Milson, around age 16 at the time, and some kind of scary looking Aboriginal guy, Bentley, aged around 19 and very big looking.... I went for a long walk with these guys to the edge of suburbia. I was often fond of these walks as a kid, alone or with my brother Stalin (a nickname, not his real name) or one time with two buddies from school. Often I would reach the end of suburbia then proceed for miles alone. I enjoyed walking and being away from suburbia. Many times I did these walks. If I went with my brother we'd often go to a dammed up little reservoir and just swim. The one time I went with two school buddies my age, I went as far as I'd normally go. Later as a sixteen year old or so I would drive a car, an automatic, with my father for the first time. There was only one solitary road here and I'll include a link. It would actually be good if the local authorities could open this road up to connect two areas that have been blocked for years.
Anyway this Bentley turned out to be related to my mother's best buddy, an elderly aboriginal woman, according to her account a year or so ago, after my mother had passed away.
We reached the edge of suburbia, I don't recall that walk much, I was only around ten years old. We crossed over to the undeveloped kind of farmland or government scrubland whatever it was. I remember the grass and weeds were like a foot high or longer maybe. Perhaps I was just scared at this point and said I'd be leaving.
I don't remember. Next thing I'm like a few hundred yards away crying my eyes out and super spooked at a nearby house. This was extremely uncharacteristic for me to cry at this age as I was already extremely hardened to shock and mistreatment and I very rarely cried at this age, especially in a very affected way as was the case here. Normally I'd sob a little and have like internalized crying if my brother punched my face or something like that.
Anyway that's what it was. If I feel like I should get regressive hypnosis therapy to learn more, I'll keep you posted maybe.
With regards to blogging the evil from the past, while I have often preferred a gloss over everything hear no evil or pretend to see no evil, I realise I'll have to adjust this...
I'll just document a few evils despite no particular order.
Evil, while living in Spain at 16, some total trashbag scumbags from my age group, are smoking way too much marijuana with my brother, Joseph Stalin (not his real name although first four letters the same). This contributes to the breakdown of his mind leading to being drugged up on crazy pills a few years later.
Hours later, anyway today's mother's day in Australia. In different countries it would be at different dates, not sure. Here it's always around a week before my birthday. We went to my favourite place Avalon. I wanted to see the jetty at Taylor's wharf as it's closer than Salt Pan wharf to the Red Herring. There was a beautiful yacht temporarily moored there with an equally beautiful looking couple, like something from a movie. They were intending to go to Fiji on their yacht in a week or two, first starting by sailing north up the coast I suppose. As I'm intent on achieving that kind of mastery, in terms of sailing, including very possibly updating the Red Herring to a yacht like theirs, much more superior, in ten years maybe, or less, I was full of questions and curiosity.
Also to an elderly couple at the grassy area there, vis sailing. I'm learning. Anyway we returned to Avalon RSL club for ice scream dessert. I'm still with the kind of Ramadan diet, only coffee before 5pm, intermittent fasting. Only eating between 5pm or so (sometimes almost 6pm) and bedtime (like one or two meals in that 5-6 hour window every day. I've lost like thirty pounds like this and if I don't stick with it, they'll come back so there's no point going back to fatty land, much more comfortable like this.
Anyway there was this miserable, bored, sad looking couple at the Avalon RSL. Their demeanor immediately caught my attention: mother's day, sad, bored, nothing to say to each other. I decided to befriend them and their faces lit up from like hell to heaven in a heartbeat. God knows how they can get to feeling that way but I totally understood. Anyway I got to blabbering quickly and as it was mother's day I quickly ascertained the man's mother was deceased and the woman, who must have been his wife, had a 95+ years old mother in Brisbane. I proceeded to tell them about the day my mother passed away. The truck for her body, the cops, my mom's best friend. I forgot completely about the doctor, who was my mother's doctor from down the street. And I'd forgotten about my mother's best friend's daughter, Karen Lord, who was there (also an aboriginal Australian), and her on again off again no good husband. Karen and her husband were really a Godsend on this day and without going into details about aboriginality, nor Karen and the husband, I was able to recount the details ofy mother's passing. I didn't want to entertain these folks too long, although honestly I would have been perfectly happy to befriend them as I'm always on the lookout for friends (like Shane and Bentley, I suppose), but I had to entertain my wife and kids, and the 'twins' (two years apart in age), were eighty yards away at the playground in sight. Perhaps I'll run into them again at the same place and we'll talk more. Certainly if I catch them so mopey and blank looking as today, I'll intervene.
We'll uncharacteristically on the drive home from Avalon, the kids' uncle called from Bulgaria to speak with his sister. Unlike his Russian mother, he is neither a freeloader nor a stickybeak, know it all know nothing blabbermouth. Au contraire. Now the story I was telling to the mopey couple, as I told them, was around July 30, 2020. As I mentioned to this couple, I tried to get the police to delay the morgue truck as my stated understanding is that the soul needs a few hours to comfortably leave the body without the body being tampered with. My wife's niece was born around four months or so after this 'transition' (my mom's 'death'). Theoretically I understand the soul personality begins it's association with the parents' souls in the third trimester. This means my mother's soul may have had a month in the immaterial plane then contact with my wife's niece, born in late November 2020, as the very same soul. This is theoretical and to say that theoretically it's possible my mother passed away then four months later was reborn as my wife's niece. It's next to impossible to prove or disprove this theory. I believe it's theoretically possible however it's unclear, mayhap, that this is, in actuality, the fact.
Regardless, a mere four months in the immaterial plane might as well be a hundred years as you can dream more in a thirty minutes nap than an eleven hour sleep, perhaps.
So two good things I remembered about my parents today, my father came along to a school excursion in kindergarten and carried most all of my classmates bags for them. My mother brought half a packet of biscuits to the school office one time for me like in fourth grade. One of my childhood friends reminded me on Facebook today that my mother often went on walks to buy me candy and the like (she was an avid walker all the way to her death).
My legs were extremely straight and unbowed as a ten and even eleven year old, before they went monstrous. I was an extremely proficient roller skater, my brother Joseph Stalin (not his actual name) and I once rode our skates on the back of an ice cream van doing sixty kilometres ++ per hour. Sick.
Skater profiles:
https://youtu.be/jZXZSlgFUQI
As for man, his days are as grass: As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; And the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, And his righteousness unto children's children; To such as keep his covenant, And to those that remember his commandments to do them.
No comments:
Post a Comment