"Cheerfully Suicidal"...what a concept

Not only have I just steeped a cup of my favorite Kava Tea, but I just pierced two capsules of a 'Kava Stress Formula' to wash down with it. Even though the capsules themselves are relatively fast-dissolving, I like to help the process along. I've been doing this now for years, and the money I've saved on my former, doctor-prescribed, remedies---such as Valium---must figure into the thousands of dollars. Drugs, both legal and otherwise, are so terribly expensive. Herbs, not so much. I'm glad, even Grateful, that I found something that works for me. Anxiety is a major bitch. So, yeah. Does this paragraph seem to be beating about the bush? Well, maybe. I just don't know where to start, but I feel I must get this down in type.

I was never linked to from Nobody's "Church of Nobody" blog, but I certainly had a link to it on this one. After I felt too much time had gone by, and all my attempts to contact my Aussie friend came up empty, I started to look in even the most unlikely places, including this blog. My last visit here, a day or so ago, came up with a dead link from my link to Nobby's Blog. The newest page link title had changed, though, from the one I'd been seeing for two years. No matter where I ran with that text---and there are certainly many blogs out there who have a link to his site---I found only a sentence of text. It was only today, that I found the complete page via Google Cache.

Last year, our email correspondence (having increased due to his exit from blogging) had gone from Hopeful, to not so Hopeful over the course of about nine months. He was bouncing around Australia, even spending a short stint in Tasmania, trying to sort things out. Toward the middle of November, our emails got very honest. I finally starting sharing my true identity and my true person, and Nobs shared his mind. Nothing new much there, though, since he rarely held back. It did seem that he was becoming depressed, although I can't say I am even slightly qualified to make such a diagnosis.

Finally, after I had gotten particularly confessional in an email, he cheered up significantly, and explained that he had had a so-called 'moment of clarity', and was now on a mission. He got my address, for the purpose of sending some curios he wanted me to have. He said he was doing this for a number of friends from "The Church", and was tired of storing things for a place he might never settle into. Something like that. Basically, he gave the impression that he was "downsizing" his Life. It made total sense to me. At the same time, and especially looking back now, I felt something else. Being an HSP (absolutely true, and part of the reason for my anxiety), my inner self knew exactly what was really happening. Nobs was planning on leaving us. And by 'us', I don't mean to infer that he would ever maliciously hurt his friends....I mean he was planning his exit from this whole, goddamned insane planet. This was confirmed, as I read his long, last tome in Google Cache. He had no reservations. He even included a photo of himself at the end of the post. Damn...he DID look a lot like that actor in a couple of his last posts from 2012! As I looked in his eyes, I saw a gentle yet courageous man; a deep thinker; a man of nearly flawless logic. A true friend, too. I said my goodbyes today. I've never had this many emotions at the same time. Perhaps you understand.

I'm hoping that Aang, Kikz, John, Su and others (some of whom I've attempted contact) might leave a message at this moderated blog. I'll get back to you, if you'd like. Maybe we still have things to share.

Dave Q

Time Marches On

Being in my seventh decade on this planet, I've seen quite a few folks---many of them relatives, loved ones and very close friends---swoop the scene (as Lord Buckley would put it) and exit the planet before me. The longer I live, the more this will happen. Well, until it's my turn to leave. Then, those that remain will be ruminating on my leaving....maybe.

A great line from one of George Carlin's books, found in a "top 100" list, was the thought that "there are people on this Earth who really don't like you." A hard pill for ego-driven people (who would that exclude?) to choke down, but one that I have found myself able to swallow. I happen to like me, and that's enough for me at this point. That might sound like I'm lonely, or alone, which I'm not. Truth be told, I have more than just a handful of loved ones and close friends; more than I can count using all my fingers. Maybe no toes are needed. I haven't sat down to really tally it all up, but off the top of my head that's what I come up with. I have to guess that more than a few will cogitate on my passing, when I leave them. It doesn't matter much.

Recently, I was out in the sun where I can see a lot better, even without my reading specs. I was sitting in a quiet setting, drinking some tea and just 'grooving', as we aged flower-children used to say. Anyhow, I had a very vivid flashback, of a time in my very early youth---perhaps single-digit age---where I was looking at my Grandma's hand and noticing that her skin was not like mine. It was more translucent, and waxy looking. The veins in her hand had also migrated to just under the skin, unlike my youthful flesh. The image was pretty vivid in my recollection, and when I sat the other day---looking at my own hands in the bright sunlight---I noticed that they now resemble those of 'Gramma'. What an odd awakening.

So, I guess it should come as no surprise that I just heard that a dear friend, who is only one year my junior, was just diagnosed with lymph cancer that has apparently traveled to his brain. The outlook is grim. Doctors, of course, will be more than happy to do all the ugly stuff that we all know they do in these cases, but they offer a slim chance of my friend surviving even a handful of years. If I'm still in shock, how must he feel?

"Nobody gets out alive" becomes more and more true for me, as the months pass. In just the last year, I have said goodbye to a number of close friends; most of them either musical co-conspirators, or confidantes. This ain't getting any easier.

Not exactly in a funk, but pretty reflective at the moment.

Moving On...

Well, I guess it's time for me to review all the great posts at The Church of Nobody, again. Due to a debacle which seems to be multifaceted, based on the content and comments sections of the last two posts, Nobody appears to have left the building. Say "hi" to Elvis for me, if you run into him, Nobby. Of course, last word was that The King had taken up residence in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and that's a long haul from Oz. Still, if you venture state-side, keep that in mind.

In putting together what I chanced to witness in said comments, some of which having been blitzed before I got to see them, it seems that a nerve was touched pretty solidly in the second to the last post. Comments like "witch hunt", followed by "I like your blog, but..." as well as the condescending and presumptuous "this isn't what you're about" all raise very bright red flags, in my opinion. If Les isn't an "asset", I would have to wonder why the woodwork produced commentators like the ones that appeared. The catch-phrases used give me a creepy feeling, in any case. Maybe they were just worshipers of Les; that kind of thing happens a lot. (on the Cult Education Forum, it's an epidemic). I was heartened by the show of solidarity, by the other usual suspects, but it apparently got thick enough for our friend to wrap up the show, and say goodnight.

So, good-night, sir. It was a glorious ride. I'll treasure the posts like a favorite book, that I'll re-read with the same fervor I used to dig into McGowan's site prior to my hundredth go-round. See you in the ether, maybe.

Alive and Still Kicking

I just became aware that I haven't posted anything since nearly a year ago. How odd, since in the non-cyber world I tend to be pretty vociferous, or so I've been told numerous times. I don't care too much about the name-calling, though. Things that used to rile me tend to roll off my back, at least more than in my younger days. Plus, after nearly five decades of on and off martial arts training, I tend to be a lot less reactionary. I don't need to prove anything to myself or anyone else, and I really haven't been bullied since just prior to my embarking on said training, back in my teens. I heard that bullies can 'smell' a victim, and equally avoid those they sense are not victims. Maybe that's true, I don't know. It smacks of New Age mumbo-jumbo, though, and I abhor that type of thinking, so I assume it's something less ethereal and more subliminal. Instinctive, is maybe the word I'm groping for. Whatever. I still end up avoiding confrontation, just like in my pre-teen, bullied days. Less fear seems to be the difference.

I had two brushes with death, in February and then again in June, when an organ decided to turn on me and put me in hospital. After some testing and such, the doctors finally figured out the problem, took out an organ that was behind the attacks, and I seem to be all better now. My first trip to hospital for myself, since I was a baby. Hopefully, the last one for the duration.

The long and short of what is causing me to return to blogging, is that I have been doing a tonne of reading and reflecting; probably precipitated by my being recently forced to face my mortality so starkly. That said, I will start adding links to the sidebar (when I figure that all out) to the sites or stories that have resonated with me, as of late. There are some interesting things going on, on this planet, and some bloggers are out there shining lights in some dark places. I want to lend a hand in offering this information to others. Maybe my little blog will allow someone to read something that helps them, if only in some small way. Plus, it just seems right to pass on the info, for the sake of the Truth, or at least those in search of it.

Anyway, have a wonderful week-end. I hope to come back soon.

bye-ciao,
David

It's a Madhouse!

Funny, but I can't help but visualize Charlton Heston's character, in the original Planet of the Apes, shouting that line, early in the movie. I find myself feeling an extreme empathy for his character, lately, as I walk on this "planet of the hairless apes" for my seventh decade. I guess I could as easily call this planet a zoo, and probably will use that metaphor in this post, as well.

These days, I'm becoming more and more an observer and less one who attempts to proselytize, as I did in my younger days. It seems that things are rolling along nicely (well, not really nicely, but certainly determinedly) without my intervention. But, here we jolly well are, aren't we?

It does seem a little dangerous to me, though. There are no bars, like in a true nuthouse or zoo, and some of the inmates/animals can be quite dangerous. I am not so intimidated by the thought of Death, so much as by the thought of Pain, which I normally avoid. I read somewhere that Survival is the first internal "cellular command" of the species, which I can agree with, but pain-avoidance is, in my considered opinion, probably the first autonomic action/reaction of humankind. So, as I walk by the non-cages, I most often do so with trepidation.

What got me to finally sit down and add to this blog, was my considering that friends and family are, one-by-one, going completely mad. Sadly, Religion (in the form of Evangelical Christianity) is at the root of the insanity. People can go quite literally mad, when you say something that might threaten to jerk the "security-blanket" or what-have-you from their grasp. And this I have been observing. I actually have been known to call myself a Deist to avoid the inevitable heated conversations that can ensue when one is undecided and leaning toward Atheism. Dawkins has said it takes great courage to say one is an Atheist. To that I say Amen! (irony intended)

I have found that for me, kid gloves and even out-an-out lying are not worth the trouble. Most of these crazies are looking for you to know the secret handshake. Knowing all the thousands of handshakes, and remembering which one goes with which crazy-person, is pretty much impossible. So, one is left to be honest and brace oneself against the inevitable, I suppose.

I have often wondered, "Will someone who claims to love me, end up being the one who kills me?" Hell, it's happened before, on this planet. I guess I'll find out sooner or later.

dq

One has to start somewhere

Every journey begins with a first step. Although my life's journey began long ago, my journey into writing a blog is beginning before your eyes. The blogging journey is simple, peaceful, reflective, reasonable and all things sane, for me. The physical journey that has preceded it for all these decades is fraught with discord, danger, pain, regret and more than a little mystery. I don't jump to the fast or easy answer anymore. There is too much superstition in the world to take the chance, and too many people who are more than happy to sell you the answers, for an all too steep price. Therefore, I live in mystery.

It isn't really that bad, the mystery. It is not like the darkness of superstition, filled with it's fear and apprehension. It is more like a fog, when it settles over a clearing in the forest. A temporary obscuring of what will soon be seen. So, my journey is a hopeful one. You are welcome to join me.

dq