13,033. RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,137

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,137

(how much did you say you gave?)

No form of torture or abrasion

could ever have matched my

getting hit by that train; as 

accidental as it all may have 

been. Believe me, folks, I 

was too young for suicide, 

and it had never entered my 

lexicon at age 8. In any case,

by some fluke, I arose from

the dead. Is a reconsidered

death then called a cancelled

suicide? A head-doctor once

told me tht on a sliding-scale

of occurrence my Spirit-Soul

was reacting to future events

in pulling me back like that,

and re-configuring my range

of emotive formats to better

equip me for the work to be

done. A perfect load of rubbish,

to be sure, but - hey, who knows?

It started me on a long path to

awareness : how can anything,

whether spirit or soul, react to

'future events,' and what the

heck does that mean anyway?

It was all almost scary.

-

I never told anyone about those

old happenings; some people

knew, just from the prevalence

of others -  school, neighborhood,

home and family. But even then,

no one knew what to say about it

let alone what to say to ME about

it. As I look back on it now, I

see how strange it all must have

been. My mother had neighbor

wives and other mother friends,

and with someone or other

always coming over for afternoon

coffees,etc., with my mother, I

see now how obvious it was

that they to all had a curiosity

about the entire episode and

me too, and these visitations

were just as much a way of

seeing me, or watching my

'progress' or witnessing my

re-entry into functional life.

It was thought. I had all my

toes and fingers, which is

essentially what counted. As

it went, I ended up like most

any other kid in my group :

Stealing smokes, and small

change, from parents or other

kids' houses. We'd hit and run;

smoking a few Kents out by

the portables behind the school,

or, even, on Sundays, skipping

church to gather there instead;

and then keeping the measly

collection money. We always

kept it loose, never in one of

those collection envelopes the

church handed out  -  you

were identifiable by them,

and the dumb church, in

some stupid attempt a

shaming people into

giving, or giving more;

each Sunday, with the church

'bulletin' ('bulletin?') they'd

actually print the names

of parishioners and what

amount they'd given! The

higher values first, like 10

and 5 dollar people or families,

and then down to the lowest

25 cents and such, by kids,

and THE POOR! I really

thought that was the most

vicious thing a church could

do, and they ought to have

been ashamed at their actions.

I can only imagine what

perverted, sanctimonious,

prideful piece of crap Diocese

committee in Trenton had

thought that tactic up :

Instead of helping the poor,

and assisting their plight, in

following 'God's' dictate, they

were shamelessly belittling

them and holding them up

to the ridicule of their 'peers.'

They never got a dime out

of me.

-

I went through all that recovery

stuff, mending bones, straightening

up, getting used to crutches and

aches and all. After that 'coma'

period, that took about another

year  -  but after that point I

healed pretty swiftly and well,

No one could really tell what

I'd undergone; well, from just

'seeing' me anyway. I don't know

what people thought of me if

they started talking to me. I

guess I was pretty normal, but

don't know. I was walking

around in my own cloud.

-

Once I decided to enter that

whole 'seminary' thing, what

really irked me, as word got

out, was how so many silly

people immediately spouted

their weird idea that in doing

so I was giving thanks or

somehow 'repaying' the Lord

for saving my life, healing

me and bringing me back to

the normal world. Pity them,

I'd think. That stuff was the

farthest thing from my mind.

Actually, I was more or less

fleeing THEM! Certainly

not 'thanking' some mysterious

God for doing all that to me.

What in the Hell gets into

people's heads to make them

think like that? There are no

evidences for any of that in

the world around them  -  so

how in the world does such

'magical' thinking get started?

Is all that then just another

weakness in the chain-link

of Human weaknesses we

all have to deal with? It did

amaze me how things were

situated  - like some dumb

calendar scene of some

bucolic farmhouse or meadow

with some cute-eyed glowing

kid picking flowers with their

puppy alongside them,  You

know the scene... sort of the

opposite of any babe-photo

mechanic-shop calendar. The, 

scenario for these people went

right into turning me into some

recovering pious rat-face turning

back to God, Jesus, and Mary too,

in thanks for my own survival.

-

Leaving out the stolen kid smokes,

the purloined church-collection

money, and the rest. What kind

of thanks would any of that have

been anyway in the great celestial 

court of Heavenly review? Would

I fare any better than the church

people and the horrid 

collection lists? 
-
No sir, and I had a lot to do. The
days began rolling in, and fast.
The years of bring 8, 9, and 10
drew swift to their close. Once
I got used to what sort of psychic
vehicle I was driving I felt I could
start concentrating on rates of 
speed. The flag was down. I was 
off and running...