Sunday, February 21, 2016

7834. BELOW THE WATER LINE (pt. 170)

(pt. 170)
A lot of things along the way caught my
attention. I knew I wasn't like other kids,
at least in many of my ways and approaches,
and because of that I had to  -  in a way  -
overcompensate so as to come off as pretty
much OK. It was difficult, but  I worked at 
it. After the train wreck, a few things required 
attention. I used to get, every Friday, wicked
and debilitating migraines; no idea the why of
the schedule either, but Friday was the day. My 
mother used to keep a blue ice-mask in the 
freezer for me to wear  -  like The Lone 
Ranger, or Batman. It fit over my eyes, 
and strapped around the back. Freezing 
cold, and filled with what appeared to
just ice-blue water. It was cold, but it
covered over the pain, right above my 
eyes, forehead area, mostly on the right. 
Pounding. I'd leave school early if I felt it
coming on strong, or, usually by 2:30, it
was time to leave anyway. I'd lie down on
the couch with this mask on, and eventually 
pass out  - just maybe a deep, two-hour 
sleep, and I'd awake and it was gone. And
then, the other thing  -  and this still happens 
to this day, whether driving, reading, or doing
nothing at all  -  I'd get a rotating black sphere,
swirling, broken, jagged and circular lines,
across my vision, from usually the right side 
down and in a few minutes it would blot out 
my vision. Couldn't (and can't) see a thing 
while it slowly rolls, swirling and brightly 
blinking, across my field of vision (both eyes) 
towards the left, usually. No pain, just maybe 
15 minutes of blindness. You know, it was 
Warhol who said everyone would get their 
own 15 minutes of fame. I've got news for 
that guy  -  I've had my fifteen minutes of 
darkness for years. There's nothing for me
to do but step aside and sit it out. Over the 
years, people I've worked with and stuff 
have thought I was nuts. 'Doctor, doctor, 
doctor', was all they ever said. I'd chuckle
and just put down my stuff and wait it out.
To me that's called Faith. If you don't believe
Faith can change circumstances, then what it's
about anyway. I'm a snake handler for God.
Bring that snake over here.
My mother, because it was Friday, with 
these headaches, was always trying to stuff 
me with egg salad sandwiches, for late-lunch 
or tide-over headache snacks or something. 
No meat, all that Catholic crap. I don't eat meat 
anyway, but that's adult stuff. For years after 
this, I hated egg salad, wouldn't go near it at 
all. Now I like it again. And then, one day when 
I was about 11 maybe, these headache things 
just stopped. Entirely ceased. Like DNA 
encoded RNA changes  -  decoded. Done.
I always tried to take sustenance from 
belief systems of my own, credence from
personal faith  -  stuff gleaned from special
moments of enlightenment or even revelation.
Yeah, that's all true. Everything's already out 
there, done and prepared. All you need to do 
is find the clarity needed to recognize and then 
grab it. That takes an open channel to the Deity.
Like not eating meat  -  I don't not eat meat for any
special do-good motives. It's because of cruelty.
I feel for the slaughtered animals in the sense
that they get slaughtered by corporate situations, 
filled with chemicals, poisoned and bludgeoned
by idiot monster workers with blood on their
hands. The meat is already poisoned, for the
profit of the corporations, before it's even dead
and before we see it. It's horrid. If I knew I could
raise and slaughter (which I couldn't) by own
natural, unadulterated meat, I wouldn't think
twice. But meat for greed, poison for profit.
No thanks. Money is the Devil's, and the
Devil's is profit. Now I'm paraphrasing here, 
something I read, by someone whose name 
don't matter. It was about belief and the way
things wear down and pass away, and come 
back again, recirculated and reformulated : that's
an example of Paganism, maybe Buddhism too.
Accepting change through Nature and the way
of things. Not looking for a story to explain this
or a legend to believe in or a place to go where
I can learn about this. I am already here. The
horizon speaks to me in my time of need, sharing
the ultimate story of the moment of change, I
accept the horizon for what it is. This is my 
religion, and it doesn't include poisoning or 
bludgeoning animals for profit so that you 
can then poison people for even more profit. 
Just a personal feeling there....
I always have looked for moments of 
enlightenment. Even in Avenel; they existed. 
Holding a girl's hand, just for a moment, 
or smiling back at someone. Being nice. 
Helping. Nothing exceptional, just ordinary
moments of everyday grace. The one time 
I was really really bowled over was when 
I was about 16 and saw this thing in 
Central Park, NYC, right behind the 
Metropolitan Museum of Art. My girlfriend
and I, along with two other people, had
gone into the city, just to hang around, and
we got up to the park on the westside, 
decided to take the long transverse walk
 across the park to the eastside, over to the
east 80's where the museum was along Fifth
Avenue. We got towards the rear of the 
museum and there it was  -  Cleopatra's 
Needle. It ripped the heart and soul of 'Me'
right up through my throat. It actually spoke
to me, man, as if I'd just last touched it two 
weeks ago. It erased all time, all eras, but 
rang so true to me that I felt the instant
connection of time, of some weird and
reincarnated selfhood alive through all the
ages past. It lifted me right out of my body.
I was stunned. If time and self have a tuning
fork buried deep within the essence of each
of us  -  that cosmic oneness of all Creation  -
this rang it. Cleopatra's Needle is from 1450
B.C. It's an obelisk  - from the Greek word
meaning 'to skewer'.  The central idea of an
obelisk, classically, is that the 'elevation'
measures ten times the width of their base.
I do not know if this one actually conforms 
to that, nor do I care. It's tall. It's massive. 
It's strange, and its covered in (slowly 
eroding, fizzing away in the NY pollutants) 
hieroglyphic markings memorializing some 
litany of conquests. There's a large diagrammatic
translation of it, with a concise history of things
about it, at the base, in English. It's got beautiful
railings and finishings. Totally enchanting. It's one
of a pair commissioned in 1450 B.C., to originally
grace the city of Heliopolis, honoring the Sun God
Rah  -  probably a forerunner of all our later God-
versions of tribal and War gods. Like Jahweh too.
All the same. Caesar Augustus, in 10 B. C. ordered
it, and its second, mated, version (they were usually
always made in twos and erected at the adjoining
sides of temple entrances), floated down the Nile and
erected in Alexandria, at a temple built to honor his
adoptive father, Julius Caesar. In 1869, Ismail Pasha,
the beleaguered khedive of Egypt,  offered the 
monument to the United States as a symbol of 
friendship. It was a nightmare to transport here. 
Its obelisk mate went to London, and in 1877 
was erected next to the Thames. In Central 
Park, it took 12 years before the obelisk could 
be erected. 69 feet high, 220 tons. Whenever 
I feel the need for that fiery breeze of fervor 
to sweep through me once again, and to 
reinvigorate myself and re-create my own
Reality, I return there. Just something
about it. Having nothing or little
to do with Avenel.
That's always been just the way it goes with me.
I've managed to eke out a means of living outside of time
and, mostly, outside of the usual concerns and responsibilities
that normally just hang one up. You stay invisible, cloaked
 instead in a personalized raiment of right, and convinced of
only the rightness of what you are doing. Man, if you can't do
that, for yourself, if you can't even recognize the essential
motivator you 'you yourself and you' as it were, than you
should just leave town. There are already fifteen million
mixed up stooges in the line leaving. Might as well just
join them if you cannot make yourself right to yourself.
If Avenel was in the old-time wild west, I knew I'd have
been lynched a hundred times already : lack of respect,
insubordination, rudeness, and  -  most important to me  -
Truth-Telling. 'Yes, we hung that bastard because
all he kept doing was trying to tell the Truth.'

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