***** Utterly astounding. Only one person in my entire 62 years, just one, has had a desperate, desperate, desperate, desire to spend time with me, to get to know me.
Do you know about whom I'm speaking? Do you know about who I am not speaking? I don't mean I'm Holding anyone off the list, rather that no one has been left off the potential list, persons who otherwise might be obvious choices.
I'm not speaking of any of my coworkers, not at any point in my career. I'm not speaking of any of my bosses, not at any point in my career. I'm not speaking of my biological children. Not speaking of my biological mother. I'm not speaking of my biological sisters. I'm not speaking of my brothers and sisters in law. I'm not speaking of the non biological family that literally have adjusted their own lives in major ways so that my life, my actual existence, would continue. I'm certainly not speaking of anyone in the so called church. I'm not speaking of anyone in the activist movement, including the few that I consider to be activists, and that may even consider me to be one.
Well, I just thought of one exception. My dog Ralf, truly,, and at some level that's probably very significant. But I'll not spend more time on it here. A college, early marriage companion. An extraordinary force of nature.
I'm not speaking of the one person that I know has loved me, and shaped me, more than any other life or the creator itself. My dad. I'm speaking of my dad. And though I will not explore it here, every aspect and more, including the implications, probably apply to him almost completely, and to no one else that he or I have ever known.
Me. I'm talking about me. The person that has desperately wanted to spend time with me, as much time as possible in each day,, to get to know me intimately, is me; no one else, at any time,.
Now, several things by way of reference.
I don't know how unusual it would be for a 62 year old man to have these perceptions, or woman, for that matter. My suspicion is that it is extremely rare that anyone in this society wants to spend much time with themselves at all, let alone massive amounts of time so that they know every relevant detail.
Some readers may be burning with the term narcissism at this point. But that is not what it is. Only in the last decade or so do I have any awareness at all of liking me. Any awareness before that I have is one of great dislike, great dissatisfaction, agony at my infinite shortfalls.
What has changed in the last 15 years? Not that these shortfalls had been healed! What I understand is that I am immensely of interest, beautiful, fascinating, of near infinite potential, of deadly shortfall; a project of infinite importance, of infinite potential to become what the world needs of me, of near total shortfall, and a project so absolutely in fixing himself that any other possible pursuit on earth tends to pale in its presence, for lack of interest complex in the detail challenge importance….
Now, this "me," that so doggedly has wanted to spend time with me, time at the expense of time I could spend getting to know others? No! No! No! No! But to me I was largely and uniquely available. And no one else wanted me to get to know them. Pretty much, ever.
The degree to which I've devoted massive decades to coming to know me, was that a preference over knowing others? No! No!.... But A. No one else cared to have me know them, and 2. As my own available Guinea pig, any time that I didn't have to get to know others, if I used that time effectively, I gained in my ability to use rare time with others more effectively.
Was my interest in knowing me, more especially, to know what was different and special about me? Absolutely not!!! Then, now, and forever, I perceive, I've learned, I understand, I've seen confirmed, that in everything from our DNA to our learned aspects of our nervous system, we are all 99.999% the same in our attributes. And that all important changes, differences, which tend to be the source of joy and suffering, are due to our ignorant, inept, clumsy handling of common features to make us mistakenly feel like alien beings from one another.
As I said at the onset, I've never had these thoughts before except an isolated fragment here or an isolated fragment there, but this is profoundly new for me within the last hour, and I'm immensely glad to have it. If there are a few that have known me for many many years, the few might find it interesting to know.
Will I be writing more on this subject? Will I be exploring this in some depth? Will this be my last writing in this domain. I have no idea.
Note: LOL. What I do know is that by Monday, 10 days of recovery from a massive, massive, massive operation will be behind me. That my veins are coursing with morphine: that more pain signals are being sent into me than I am paying attention to. Make no mistake, I have zero time, now more than ever, for idle chatter. I'm writing this because I am certain it is worth sharing. But that does not mean I am correct. And I owe it to anyone that has read this far to be reminded of what physically is going on with me.
it's gotten us. What if we tried doing the right thing? What if we took the consequences of doing the right thing, and then doing it again, and then doing it again, even if we knew we were going to fail? This is exactly what all the great souls in the history of the world have done, pleaded with us to do, died for us to do.
