Suicide

imagine

Reading a lot about suicide lately I began to wonder, instead of Anthony Bourdain, what it would take for me to do the deed, because at one time in my youth I could have. When I was younger (in the late 60’s) I went through a time when I thought it would be a good idea to off myself, but then I ran away from my problem and got stoned for a couple of years instead.

When I got older I realized that the suicidal thoughts began because I had expected too much from this decidedly fractured society. I was too good for this place and I was drowning in a huge portion of self pity and self righteousness.

I had the strong belief in America and the people who ran it . . . false deduction #1.

I had a strong belief that my marriage was ordained by God and my ex and I were solidly behind one another . . . false deduction #2.

I believed that I was a tough guy who could handle anything . . . false deduction #3.

I wanted to kill myself and make a statement to everybody for taking me for granted. This act would teach them all a good lesson. . . false deduction #4

I wanted to kill myself because I thought I had reached the end of my rope and had nowhere else to turn .  . . wrong deduction #5

One day after a strong psychedelic experience, after a ‘coming to Jesus’ experience, after dropping all that religious stuff and having a ‘coming to Jim’ experience . . . I began to see our lives here on this dimension had never been created for our ease or our prosperity . . . we were here to learn and to experience as much as possible during our short stay upon these shores.

I learned that karma rules the affairs of men and as I give I will receive. No longer looking for love, I began to see how necessary it was to share to the best of my ability the love that I have within myself with others.

I learned that I was responsible for my actions and if I found myself behind the eightball, chances were I had placed myself there. I quit being a victim and worked towards being a warrior . . . not as I did earlier in my life, but in a spiritual sense. Not in over the top religion, but by quietly following the pathway called kindness. Not by making a spectacle of myself in any direction, but by being there for anyone who crossed my path. (regardless of race, color or creed).

Today as an old man I see nothing but chaos surrounding me in every direction and I seldom leave the confines of my front porch . . . but if anybody comes by I will sit and talk with them, give them a beer or a cup coffee and listen to their complaints without judgement or preachy direction. . . and that old lady who just smacked me in the ass with her grocery cart? I will spin around and give her a smile (though a bit disingenuous)

Today life is great and suicide is far from my mind because I know this life has never been meant to be a rose garden, . . . it’s a battlefield brother, not a recreation room. It’s a fight and not a game. When I fall down, I’m gonna get up because I didn’t start out to play . . . I think we need to learn that.

 

A Dog Story (repost)

Copy of raventhedog

Everybody loves a dog story . . . right? Well here’s my latest one. It happened yesterday.


I arose from my reading and looked out the front window. The sun was beginning to brighten the hilltop across the narrow country lane and Raven, who was watching my every move, knew it was walk time. I knew she was about to go into her, ‘super dance for a walk,’ routine so I calmed her with a nose bump (pitbulls like that) and got things together for the walk outside to Max’s pen.

Every morning without fail, as soon as they see each other, both dogs break the silence by yelping and barking at one another when Raven attempts to play ‘attack’ with Max. It’s no big deal though, because there are no closeby neighbors. Anyways, once lined up and moving in a straight line things get quiet again and we are on our way down the middle of the lane for our daily trip to the head of the valley and back.

I generally spend my time daydreaming and looking for herbs alongside the road while the dogs try and see how many of those herbs they can pee on before I get to them. The lane itself winds gently through heavy woods and is always scattered with various animal scents, so along with herb hunting I spend my time cajoling, pleading, and pulling at the the dog’s leashes, one in each hand like a guy driving a mule team trying to keep the whole thing going in a straight line. One more big, strong dog and I will be skating on the soles of my boots.

All is fine until I get about a half mile from the cabin when I begin to see a blood trail on the road. ‘Wow, someone must have hit a deer’, I thought at first. Then I glanced over at Max and saw that he was the guy bleeding . . . not just beeding . . .  HE WAS GUSHING BLOOD! . . . Bright red blood that was squirting from his front pad in a long thin stream.

I quickly went to my knees in the middle of the road and grabbed the foot in order to apply enough pressure to stop the bleed. As I did, Raven, probably thinking it was play time dove on Max and would not stop no matter how hard I tried or how hard I yelled. . . she went totally nuts when she smelled the blood that by this time was pooling around us. I had to stop her!  I HAD TO STOP THE BLEED! . . . I only had minutes until my beloved old Max would be dead. It was imperative that I react quickly and take charge of the situation, but how? I had absolutely nothing to work with. No phone (it’s on the table back home). No med kit ( in my room back home) No help (as there are few folks in this valley and only about ten cars a day go up this roadway).

First things first . . . I jerked Raven free, pulled her across the road and tied her leash to a tree. Went back to where Max by now was laying quietly in the road and grabbed his foot and applied pressure with one hand while taking off my boot with the other . . . I ripped out the string, tore off my sock and made up a tourniquet by wrapping the sock around the leg at the point where I thought the artery was and tied it tight with the shoe string. The arterial bleeding slowed to a trickle. In my favor, (and his) Max was very good during all this.

Back across the street, I went for Raven who was by now totally wrapped around the tree and choking on her special choke collar. Seeing the uselessness of trying to get the leash free I pulled my knife and cut it leaving just enough for me to grab hold of. Once free I began running back to the cabin with Raven in tow. My goal was to run the half mile back get Raven in the pen, get the pickup and drive back to Max and get him to the vet.

Now I’m 75 years old, and believe it or not that is a huge liability when it comes to doing stuff like this. Regardless, heart attack be damned . . . I’M SAVING THIS DOG’S LIFE! So off I go trotting up the road when I heard a vehicle slam on it’s brakes and slide in the gravel behind me. . . SHIT!! . . . Someone just hit my dog!

Looking back, I saw the red pickup of my neighbor who lives up the street coming towards me. Mike stopped, “What the hell’s going on? You need help?”

Yes! . . .Go back and get Max! . . . I need to get this damn dog (Raven ) into a pen and Max to the vet . . . she’s bleeding out if I don’t!

“OK . . . . take it easy man, your gonna have a heart attack, slow down! I’ll get Max and be right back.

Zoom . . . off he goes . . . Zoom . . . off I go. Just as I got to the house Mike pulled in with Max sitting in the bed of his truck. I gave him a hero’s welcome and a thousand thank you’s as I dove into the house, awaken my wife to call the vet, grabbed my med kit, fixed Max up proper by exchanging the sock for a pressure bandage, got him into my truck blood and all, (something good can be said about old pickups) and headed to the vet’s office.

The vet got squirted in the face and arm, but found and stitched the cut artery in time to save Max. Now he has a custom pen on my front porch where I feed him and doctor him until he gets better.

Moral of the story . . . you never know when a disaster will hit. Carry a med kit! I have enough first aid stuff for a whole platoon and yet when I needed it, it was tucked away in my bedroom and I had to rely on a dirty sock and a shoelace. You don’t need a large cumbersome pack, either. I’d suggest making your own and putting stuff in it that actually come in handy, a lot of junk you’ll never use is sold off in the pre-packaged kits. Maybe later on I will post a good small kit for a day hike or a chain sawing accident, etc. . . . . . . JW

 

perception

I posted an essay on 911 I’d written about Scott Beamer. I believed the story about what went down was true, and that, like a John Wayne movie, the good guys jumped the bad guys and inadvertently caused the plane to crash. Since I am a bit of a romantic when it comes to these things, it was easy for me to perceive all that happening.

Others, a bit more skeptical when it comes to govt. under dealings informed me that the plane was shot down, and the wife made off with a couple million bucks of donated fund money . . . hugely different endings to the same story. . . . which one is true? Who the hell knows? We can argue till the cows come home and in the end, it’s all perception.

So, I’m wondering if there is anything such as ‘truth’ in this whole damn world . . . and wondering that, I’m also wondering why everybody is so adamant (and willing to kill) about shit that is usually unknowable to begin with.

Why would I even take offense as to the nonacceptance of my version? I could be wrong. Besides, I appreciate all opinions, because they are what a person thinks. On the flip side, people who argue using quotes from their favorite leaders all the time irritate me. I am not interested in someone else’s opinion, only theirs. To me, it’s like they feel weak and need a backup or something.

There are no photo’s of my favorite guru on my meditation alter, either

There is a small crystal ball, an acorn, and a bible . . .

In the ball I see my own image . . . in the acorn I see God’s image. . . and in the bible I see perception.

Our Awakening

Jesus said “You must be born again.” What does it mean to be born again? Does it mean to worship Jesus as savior of the world, get baptized, follow church doctrine, and do what the elders and self professed prophets tell you?

 Jesus may have been your teacher . . . or the Buddha . . . or Mohammad . . . or Moses . . . or the Hindu Veda . . . but isn’t the goal of any good teacher to teach? Doesn’t their greatest joy come from watching you activate what they taught you?

So what good does it do you to play the pawn in the game of religion, when you were born to be the King?

Awakened, is that moment when a person begins to realize, and to understand that this entire planet is a teaching tool for them, that they are NOT a person who has a soul . . . but they ARE a soul possessing a person. Their goal in life is to learn through experience, and to grow spiritually. . . and the only boundaries they have in this endeavor are the ones they have placed upon themselves.

So what is enlightenment? Is it something that comes upon a person suddenly and they morph into something wise and wonderful? No, I don’t think so. Enlightenment . . . born again . . . awakened . . . all mean pretty much the same thing.

Once awakened, a person begins to realize the potential and the power they possess. The trappings of the world begin to lose their flavor as they are replaced by the desire to learn, and to experience, and to grow in a spiritual way. They also realize this born again awakening is merely the beginning of a very long journey . . . that they are now excited to begin.

They realize that “salvation” is for children as it does not reveal the answer to any of life’s questions. Being saved (from what . . . for what?) is merely a self righteous “feel good” for the child. . . just the same as “going to hell” is a fear inspired “feel bad” for the child.

The pathway to enlightenment has no magic, nor any short cuts. It’s a tough and grueling climb, but the view from the top of the mountain will have been worth it once a person realizes the truth that they have only been an individual in the flesh. That in the spiritual reality, not only are they their brothers keeper, but they are Spirit one and the same.

 

 

 

The Beauty of Not Knowing

I used to think that I needed to know everything concerning spiritual matters. I had to know all about death. I had to know all about God. Who, What, Where, When, and Why? . . . am I?

 The reasons for this or that was pretty important to me and I spent a whole lot of years studying everything I could in order to KNOW. I knew the bible practically verbatim, I understood New Age, Spiritualism, Eastern, Western religions. In various degrees I either believed or disregarded all the input and ultimately came about creating my own Way of understanding.

 Great! I now had my own doctrine and could begin to teach my ultimate “truth” to the rest of the world. (or at least the people around me)

 Yeah, right. Just what everybody needed, another half-baked prophet entering the mix. As if it wasn’t already loaded with enough bullshit to sink an aircraft carrier.

 Then one day I began to wonder why I needed to know all this stuff anyways. I knew for certain that Cause and Effect . . . Karma . . . Law of Sowing and Reaping or whatever else you wanted to call it worked cause it proves itself daily in our lives.

 Karl Jung’s synchronisity certainly made sense. Who hasn’t experienced the double witness affect in their life or heard a still small voice just at the right time?

 The other stuff? I don’t know. Do I really NEED to know anyways? I began to wonder and decided, no. What is, is. What will be will be, regardless whether I believe in it or not.

 Does anybody really believe that just because a person does not profess to a certain magical equation or take part in ritual that he is certain to go to the reported Hell after he dies? I mean just because I didn’t particularly like my father did that make him NOT my father? Wouldn’t a loving father love his son regardless?

 Maybe this is why we fear so much while the rest of the animal kingdom lives their lives day to day in happy ignorance. As a human, it’s not all instinctual like it seems to be in the rest of the animal kingdom. Sure we move many times according to instinct, but we also have the ability to choose. This can be a huge advantage to us . . . or it can be a huge liability depending on how we use the gift.

 I have learned that choosing kindness creates a karmic reciprocity that is quite enjoyable in the long run, so I would be a fool to fall for short term gain when, with a little patience, I shall inherit the entire kingdom. I don’t really need to KNOW. I need to REMEMBER to be kind, and everything else will take take care of itself.