INVASIVE ~ INSIGHTS

22/05/2018

H – R                                                            8.

 

 

We meet, we interact unaware we are but ‘Ships passing in the night on the Sea of Life’. Question is, what type of ships are we? There have been many film made involving ships, where many viewers can claim knowledge of them claiming some as favourites. Consider if you will, these films as just the trimmings on a broader patterned cloth, a Weaveworld* (Clive Barker). 

 

You have war films such as ‘Sink the Bismarck’, ‘PT109’, ‘Run Silent, Run Deep’ and a favourite of mine, ‘The Bedford Incident’. You also have, ‘Poseidon Adventure’, ‘Ship of Fools’, ‘Titanic’ before going into Sea that is Space. 

 

In each of these films there is a greater story that contains many stories viewers relate according to predilections, then decide if they like the movie or not. It’s not often you hear of all of these films being appreciated wholeheartedly, because of some flaw noted by fault-finders called ‘critics’. Influencing viewers by doing this causes a great loss in comprehension of the variables in the Human Spirit base. I will say, because I have fewer biases, there are those who have similar empathy, if not more so than those easily influenced by critics.

 

It is my belief, those who are easily influenced by critics, especially through mass-mediums, make up what has been called and forgotten or rebranded, ‘The Silent Majority’. Truth be told, they are neither silent or the majority, but they do hold sway in influencing policy due to under-involvement of the majority who refuse to participate in the process of making policy.

 

Humanity has taken many pathways along the road of evolution and appears to be embarking on a path of devolution, led by a minority claiming to have their best interest in mind. If they were to read between the lines, they would realize the ‘their’ best interest isn’t ‘their’ best interest but the interest of the minority. A matter of semantics that separates fact from fiction, truth from wishful-thinking (fantasy). A ‘dream’ we are told in admonishing tones for not having one by the quote, “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will do.” 

 

Although, if heard without the bias if emotions, is a quote offering possibilities and probabilities of opportunities, options galore similar to viewing those films with open-mindedness. How one hears makes the difference in what one does in Life all round. 

 

 

 

 

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S T R A N G E  ~  O C C U R R E N C E S       1.

 

 

Have you ever noticed the differing feelings between the times leading up to an appointment and the times after completing the appointed activities? Do you feel more excited going into the activities than coming out of them? Not to mention the emotions experienced during these engagements? Is there anxiety, panic, followed by feelings of deflation after these task oriented sensations, an uncertainty void that needs to be filled going forward? 

Just wondering …

 

 

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A G I N G ~ O U T ~ G R A C E F U L L Y    2.

 

Late at night as I prepared for bed, reflecting on my aging, a wealth of thoughts were brought to mind about form and function. I wonder if others living alone can empathize, while others with companions may sympathize not comprehending my sanity.

I assure you doubters, most below age 45, my sanity is functioning just fine; and, if/when that package accompanying age 65 arrives in you mindset, I trust you’ll all be willing and able to accept it, being not too busy in denial and with escape plans to evade the inevitability of it all.

 

 

 

Heat-Beaters

DETROIT   CITY       …      1968/69

 

Bringing up-to-speed my episodes after birth into family with police officers; averted joining after emigrating overseas; a lost-boy; escaped pathway; chance occurrences; and, now heading into adulthood to find changes and difficulties…

 

It wasn’t long after my return from New York City that another escapade unfolded. Not to say nothing of Life played me in the interim, but since this theme is PSI, I’ll not deviate. 

 

I was fortunate to achieve a probationary acceptance into university five years after an indelible advice from my grade nine Mathematics teacher. Sometimes, teachers do according to their vocation’s design hoping they will be heard by as many of their students as possible. I was just such a one who heard his caution to his class of immigrant students. One fortuitous day, Mr. Graham harped on the benefits of a university education, since we were streamed towards that end, and not the technical aspect of out multi-discipline programmed school. 

 

I was unaware of what that even meant, as I had no concept/construct of Future. I wasn’t even sure if anyone of us was clear on the meaning of what was said. All, I felt were the cautionary aspects in his words, because my support mechanism was unaware of higher education benefits, me being the first of my immigrant-lineage.

 

This was quite the year, so much so I am amazed I survived the process of that entire school year. The context is mind-bobbling on many levels, and words fail me in extrapolating their contents. I’ll simply mention this one that pertains to those charged with ‘serving and protecting’. Make note, I was no longer living in Toronto. I was away at the University of Windsor, in its early phase of elevation to a University from a College status. Detroit was across the river, acres through a tunnel or over a bridge, the university being closer to the bridge access.

 

One sunny afternoon I took it upon myself to venture into Detroit City, to the famed Cobo Arena of which I had heard many speak. Another note, the year was nineteen hundred and sixty-eight (1968), check your history journals for context. Needless to say, I didn’t get there alone, but I did venture away from my group, unaware of ‘safety-in-numbers’. One of our company, my first First Nations personage to encounter, had regaled us with his tale of returning to Windsor by stretcher after being stabbed in his lower back. My wandering heritage in childhood guided me elsewhere.

 

After a time wandering about, I felt it time to rendezvous with the lads where we had pre-arranged. As I approached the area, coming into focus was a lawman of stereotypical imagery. I speak not of ‘Rifleman’ stature, but of ‘In the Heat of the Night’ stature. This fellow was of the ‘Rod Steiger’ countenance! Approaching one another a tension was felt. He under his ten-gallon hat swagger, accented by his right-arm perched six-inches away from a holstered, and dangling pearl-handled Colt-45. This was ‘High Noon’, with the heat and the temperature in the sunlight, two male figures steadily approaching, intent in appearance displayed quite the Hollywood picture scene.

 

We came within six-to-ten feet of one another before the tension evaporated, with a nod as I watched his body sigh in passing and with me wondering if all cops were similarly armed. Canadian Police, from the Mounties to the locals, had their firearms in covered holsters. This was a first of many encounters of  differences to emerge over the coming years. We returned to the university with no one the wiser of what transpired that day. 

 

 

 

 

2b. Setling In c.'65

RECOMPENSE / HAPPY  MOTHER’S  DAY

 

 

It’s quite interesting how memories percolate up to the surface through one’s subconscious while engaged in conversation. Here is the attendant, inherent challenge of being accurate in remembering with/without idealization nor enhancement. Just the simple facts, albeit with emotional attachments. 

 

Here is one such memory, I experienced while engaging in conversation on a myriad of topics. 

 

I recall this being a chance, synchronistic endeavour contributing to paying off my student-loan. It began over a decade earlier when I couldn’t afford much by way of saving, and my mother recommended I put aside $30/month managed by a financier she had come to know. Without full-comprehension, of the scheme, I signed on the dotted line and began my savings plan, deducted from my meagre income. 

 

The full import of this plan was not realized until much later during the mid-phase of my vocation. Nor, was I to become aware even gradually, Time slipping bye, wending my way distracted by Life’s challenging opportunities. This saving began in the early ‘70s, withdrawn over 10yrs and completed after my university studies. My university studies had a false start, being unsuccessful on my first attempt, from layered inattentiveness affecting my probationary beginning. 

 

Until I received this Plan’s cheque, and its attendant documents, I did not realize I had signed only a ‘Savings’ plan, not an ‘investment’ plan. I accepted the $3600, from its 10yr programming, which served me well paying down the accumulated student loan I needed then. I carried on with living the live facing me.

 

Sometime later, during my happenstance vocation of teaching in a secondary school, I was privy to a scholarship offering by a philanthropist 15yrs along its path. An assembly was scheduled where the scholarship was presented to a needy and qualified students and to my surprise, when the philanthropist was revealed, a sensation of recognition circulated through my being. Another ‘circle’ was being completed of which I was unaware albeit out-of-focus as to its finer details. I re-introduced myself to him, his wife in attendance, and congratulated him on his philanthropy, which became an annual affair going forward for some time.

 

While rehashing the entire experience, the saving – the cheque – the student loan repayment – the teaching career – the chance/synchronistic reunion over coffee with a friend, I realized I unwittingly conspired with the philanthropist. 

 

The probability of not being the only ‘savings only’ client, the monies earned by another through that program/scheme was being paid-forward supporting future generations who may or may not benefit society going forward. I realized that I and others were duped on a grand scale. Still, a benefit of this scheme resulted in giving me the advantage in paying down my student-loan. Back then, I was able to ‘make lemonade from lemons’, by signing that ‘Savings’ program agreement.

 

That experience was not an isolated one in my life. I have had a few experiences where I often trusted I was being fully informed engaging with other individuals. I have learned in dealing with others, the ‘Doing unto others, as you would have done unto you’ is not a Universal practice albeit being mine at the time. A belief of our family, taught by our mother in spite of the disarray/damage/dysfunction through divorce and our duration-of-separation. 

 

In spite of all goings on, our mother taught human-kindness as being the right thing-to-do, regardless.

 

 

 

 

5a. Cropped FB-Post

A    CHILD’s    PRAYER

 

 

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my should to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” A childhood prayer, or mantra as some might say, similarly imprinted in many western psyche. 

 

I have repeated this along my lifetime, over decades, and not until recently has it taken on an unexpected meaning. Aside from my soul, as it flows, I considered the material leavings I am destined to leave behind. Some jokingly claim to have someone to erase whatever porn sites are embedded on their computer’s drive. I have other considerations from sketches to notations, books and other fineries of value to me like many others. Things of emotional strains that are heartfelt, and things I may part with to those who are appreciative.

 

Family and friends alike may benefit, possibly dismayed by implications of these leavings. Suffice to say, I am not that concerned whether or not a Last Will and Testament is written, as with the Living Will and/or Power of Attorney that I am advised to have available, to make things easy for the ones who survive my death-passage/passing/transmigration to some ascribed hereafter. It is my soul that is featured in spiritual/religious imprinting, all the rest is fodder made imperative and important to those surviving and awaiting possessions to add to their arsenal they believe will sustain them in the fight of their lives.

 

Frightfully speaking, beyond the veil, I couldn’t care less for the materials left behind.

 

 

 

 

On your Six 2010

GENDER ~ MYTHOS

07/05/2018

IMPRINTED   STEREOTYPES

 

Living conditions engendered an oversight in my upbringing by matriarchs in my environment causing them to be too busy to make me aware of all the disconnects ongoing between men and women. I say this because I never knew women were paid less than men for doing the same job until my mature years. Likewise, with the concepts of harassment and rape. These matriarchs appeared strong and in charge during my childhood into my adulthood. They nurtured my comings and goings, affording me a sense of freedom and self-determination without input for manly expectations.

 

Conditioned by a transient lifestyle from early recollections, and relocating often, between 2-months and 2years. On the odd occasion, there shorter stays. Women were the mainstay company, and memories of being with relatives were seldom. Of course, my mother was the main caregiver, among many others. All appeared to manage adeptly navigating society, and safety was the norm. There were men present of which my father numbered among them briefly, but few in memory. I went with the flow of the fluid comings and goings, and along the way arrived a female sibling.

 

Many relocations, all without preparation or debriefing, are remembered. There was too much ongoing, and being small, I was often overlooked and left alone to carry on in my own way as I grew. By this condition, there were many firsts in my memory, many I originated and nurtured and giving rise to this recollection. 

 

There is the memory of my first funerary proceedings; of viewing of a blacksmith making and shoeing a horse; of nearly falling from a roof with a last-second escape; of falling from the back of a moving truck, unexpectedly being tarred; of self-healing by making and applying a mud-salve to a deep leg-wound; and, of the indelible trauma of my beloved first dog’s death, to name a few. Unbeknownst to the females sleeping nearby, there were memorable late night movie viewings. These memories of earlier years were often triggered viewing B&W photographs.

 

Then, the time came to take advantage of the opportunity of a lifetime, thereby changing the direction our lives. An interim placement was necessary, of being in the care of a female friend, a teacher. Into another female-dominated household, somewhat indistinct from previous surroundings. Occasionally, there were the comings and goings of male residents who temporarily offset me being the only male inhabitant.

 

The males came and went, providing male references I added to my subconscious development, but without their gender biases taking hold to which I was not fully aware. I was privy to two males on different occasions, that were deemed ‘funny’. It was only in early-adulthood that I had occasion to identify ‘funny’ as homo-sexual. I grew intuitively agile, able to filter biased projections that exposed me to female-functioning dynamics, including the homo-phobia. These subsumed into unknown and unsuspecting mind-domains during day-to-day social interactions. 

 

I do not regret those early matriarchal dynamics. What saddens me is having to constantly struggle to regulate my matriarchal conditioning/lessons, while living amidst systemic misogyny assumed of me. 

 

Yes, I am male, but not of the masculine-versus-feminine dynamics stereotype as the dominating aspect of my growth from birth. No one cares, or are aware of the sparseness of male presence in my early life. I have survived being deemed ‘soft’, possibly homo-sexual yet to come out of the closet. I cannot imagine other similar presumptions from the aforementioned I came to know by chance!

 

There were a few who made the effort to assist bringing sexuality assumptions to the fore, while others actuated my preferred proclivities affording opportunities. Accepting the latter opportunities too easily, I unknowingly opened myself to more assumptions coining a reputation of which I was unaware. The philanderer, with other unknown attachments was lauded upon me by those envious/jealous.  

 

This reputation took me decades to recognize, comprehend and acknowledge. It was responsible for many by-product learning experiences. One experience saw me into a brief marriage, followed by a myriad of others I thoughtlessly fell into by easy invitations. I was  but a blind romantic whose behaviour accompanied a framed stereotype of unknown origins. 

 

I have lived long enough to acquire a clear-understanding/comprehension of my especial upbringing and reputation, and acknowledgement has given me pause to wonder about my life. Also, I wonder how many others like me are out there, and how are they faring? 

 

I offer this revelation for discourse, whether or not it is believed. Nonetheless, the preceding did occur, and I am immersed in its flow going forward…

 

 

 

Distillery Options 2010

my   SEX – EDUCATION       c.67

 

Recapping my goings on: I was born into a multi-national heritage family on the Service career paths- police force, railway and retail industry. The police service was made indelible at that early age finding engagements throughout my life. 

 

Continuing on. I was well into my pubescent years with the incumbent sexual-drive that had an urgency for discovery and making sense of this driving force. Upon turning eighteen, these sexual-energies sought expression whereupon adult entertainment was in the cards. The visual avenue awakened erotic sensations, and I was unaware of their verbal descriptions and acknowledgments. Unaware of their true import, and still in the unfamiliar zone, this became a quest.

 

I heard of a film, ‘I am Curious Yellow’, being flogged on the airwaves that caught my attention. It was unavailable where I resided, but it was in New York City. Synchronistically, relations living there had extended an invitation. Excited about this context, I felt I was being given the opportunity to satisfy family and sexual curiosity, albeit on foreign soil. 

 

I journeyed there by bus admiring changing landscapes along the way, a practice I developed in my childhood years. During my visit, unbeknownst to family, I was given directions into New York City to satisfied my sensual curiosity. Strolling the streets of NYC, I came upon a squad of police officers dividing their numbers as they passed streets along their way from their precinct. 

 

I approached a few of these officers, all of us unaware of our differing frames-of-references. I inquired where I may find the theatre where the film, ‘I am Curious Yellow’, was showing. I felt a sense of deflation, when they did not think it worth my while, and said not waste my time. Their recommendations were heard by my eighteen year old mindset hellbent on satisfying a personal itch. It was not about to waiver.

 

My determination paid off; though not as expected, and in spite of New York’s finest’s discouragement. I was not dissuaded from my desired and impassioned path. I viewed the foreign film, ‘I am Curious Yellow’, satisfying my adolescent curiosity; but, the real benefit was the ‘chance’ encounter with a crowd of people I followed into a “Masters and Johnson’s Documentary on Sexuality”, focussing on “Sexual Positions of Couples”. 

 

This was an unexpected benefit! M adolescent’s expedition which began with an advertisement promising visual satisfaction of a sensual curiosity, ended with an education beyond imagining. 

 

I returned in possession of an amazing memory-experience. A chance doctoral ‘sex-education’ exposure, weighing the exchange with New York City’s finest that aimed at omission. This impossible/improbable causality could/would not have been conceived by any stretch of the imagination if I tried. Moving on…

 

 

 

2b. Setling In c.'65

From   THE  BEGINNING

 

Humankind conceives, or tries to conceive a ‘beginning’ of the species; but, it is my belief we have had many beginnings. To my perception there is the birthing; afterwards, the ‘me’ emerges; and, sometime later for some, the emergence of the ‘I am’ from which the ‘We’ is comprehended. 

 

In my time, I began with the question many may be familiar asking, “What am I doing here?” Then, followed questions  of, ‘who am I?’, ‘How did I get here?’, and ‘What is my purpose?’ 

 

As I am ageing out, the questions have evolved, or devolved accordingly. There is a new question I am asking: “How is it I’m still here?” I have benefitted others by  my doings, most often excluding/overlooking material benefits to myself in the process. Occasionally, this question of my longevity arises biased in mortality, the Sciences surrounding my existence, as well. 

 

I regularly attempt to reduce, if not eliminate emotional attachments whenever possible. It is my belief Divine Providence supports me in my growth, given this Time-&-Space shared with others evolving/devolving. 

 

I am in a place where accepting, “all of this as nothing new”, is paramount to my peace-of-mind’. I am a work in progress, an evolving human being doing as I am able.

 

 

 

Gretzky's Sports Bar

MAKING   USE   of   DEPRESSION   

        

Before today’s kindly labelling of states such as anxiety, depression and their cousins originating in Fear, speaking for none but my-self, I learned to adapt while experiencing the aforementioned states. I remember when their emergence, in a late night during my grade twelve high-school year. It was then I began writing about these emerging feelings, to which awoke at 03:00hrs, daily for weeks.

 

In those days I had an English teacher from whom I requested insights. Synchronistically, the class that came in after mine was a printing class, I was a student of Central Technical School and was surrounded by an assortment of disciplines. This particular class has a printing project, and when my poems were revealed to them, by her consultation, they requested producing the selection in a Book! She conferred with me, asking if it was okay, to which I assented. Needless to say, I continued writing for as long as the sensation drove me while my first instalment was being put-to-print.

 

I was born into experiencing Asthma, which later had add-ons during puberty but that’s for another time. Both about the add-on and self-managing of Asthma. I came to an understanding of the Asthma as my environmental condition response, family dynamics which were out of my control. My body-mind simply responded the only way it knew, an unconscious plea that went unheard and unanswered due to overpowering Life conditions beyond adults’ comprehension.

 

I was in a time/space continuum that afforded me opportunities to self-manage feelings of isolation-neglect-abandonment, in today’s psychologists labelling. To me, it simply was my childhood experiences as many other have throughout their living. My advantage was being left alone, overlooked-forgotten in the melee of survival processes of family and caregivers/guardians. I used those opportunities while others around me were doing according to their support-mechanisms, unique to their households irrespective of our friendships and/or associations in-house, schools and neighbourhoods as I grew into my formative years in Time.

 

The benefits of being alone, choosing Nature as my venting space was a process unknown at the time, but served to assist in adulthood. Many have assumed my expressions as aloofness, whereby their approach to me was tailored. Without being aware I responded accordingly, and we were off to the races on human interaction in ignorance of with peculiar visors.

 

Ageing out, and being reflective, I am able to look back on where I am and how I came to be here. With the benefit of Divine Providence, I am where I am given the conditions of this world and how it-is-progressing!

 

If not for the Space allowed me from childhood into puberty amidst unfortunate conditions, those conditions would have nurtured a different kind of being unlike the one many have experienced. Of course, unkindnesses have befallen me, some of which I was able to sidestep, learn by and others marred my progress by accident and intent. The few kindnesses I received were able to keep me buoyant and insured the survival I am managing to experience to date. My mental health still has emotional/spiritual/physical challenges, but the tools from childhood are still operational.

 

At my lowest, I have been able to see and feel my way back to the surface without succumbing to despair, and not because of comparison to others’ dilemma; but, because I’ve given myself no other choice but survival. As Time goes bye, things have not gotten any easier, but increased with aging. I have given way to living in the moment instead of hoping for better/easier happenings biased by the various behaviours from various mindsets.

 

Ever engaging Nature’s environment from which to grow as I age out. Making lemonade from lemons… 

 

 

 

 

The Hug

Un-CERTAINTY   PRINCIPLE?

 

Let’s be clear here. This is not about you. Each night, awaiting sleep, I conjecture the notion that at any moment I could die, albeit not simply pass away; unless, I was one of the fortunate ones. Heck, I often wonder if I am really here and not imagining all this until acceptance is assured, then move on.

 

Crazy, isn’t it? 

 

Well, the number of times I could have died, I wonder if I hadn’t and I didn’t simply slip into another phase of being awaiting confirmation of what I hadn’t realized? Aside from being rescued from drowning at 12yrs young, or leaping onto a nearby tree as I slipped along a sloping rooftop at an earlier age, there are a number of incidents where I returned from a blank-experience to the world continuing.

 

I was knocked unconscious numerous times, in and out of water, and survived auto accidents, the most recent being the Summer of 2016. The most memorable was resuming consciousness, while being lifted onto the backseat of the auto of two Samaritans in 1970, and taken to Mount Sinai Hospital’s Emergency. I have stared down the barrel of a semi-automatic pistol and kicked unconscious in the back of the head by a competitor, who was subsequently disqualified. Damage already done there, nonetheless; also, being struck in the head by an unseen thrown softball, and resuming consciousness after a 3m-tower diving accident with nary a lifeguard being aware. I walked myself to the emergency where I was to spend eight days recovering from a hairline fracture and a perforated eardrum.

 

Those are recollections that dance through my consciousness upon sinking into the subnambxulistic, sleep/dream state. How is it am I still here, if I am still here? 

 

Granted, during these in-between incidents others have come and gone; family, friends, family of friends, friends of family and acquaintances becoming friends! I slide into this state called sleep wondering upon waking, am I continuing where I left off or have I slipped into another zone of reality not unlike, ‘The Quiet Earth’? 

 

Well, let’s get real here shall we, can we?

 

 

7. 'Returning Home' Nine Twenty-Four AM

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