One
such an interesting quote...as i sit in reflection in the moment:
"Unbeknown to many the west brought death disguised as life to many a nation who embrace with open arms its tentacles., Even now the death of the west reigns upon the world." Wendell Grant.
written in the macro, this statement implies and makes relevant the micro and my personal situation and life. I think i have taken on so much death and deathly affectations disguised as life and survival that it locks me in. i also see others who scare me. women and men, the women scare me most because i am. the men would scare me the most but for the most part i can, have and am lucky, to stay safe distance. but the sociopsychopathology. the dysfunction. the twisted minds and behaviors, yet, they are all blind to themselves. women who are so internalized in trauma; who talk to themselves in perpetual mental torment and dialogue..who move lips, stare at walls, have hand movements...all visible when they are alone in their own space. i dont want to be like that. yet, it scares me that i am, maybe, or it is easy to be and become. we often dont see ourselves. i wonder what i have done with my trauma. if it is packed away or seeps like theirs do. we dont conceive/even when we think we do, we dont. i need therapy and intervention, and even wonder of and if the capacity, depth and competence exists where i live. i need an intervention.
that quote above is really quite brilliant as i read it over again. Seems like a passage picked from a very* excellent* international political economy text book of high acclaim. serious
when you get to a place. the place. to recognize the extent of your unrighteousness
Two
the winter of my reflections during summer rainy season
Three
"If a rich man walks up to you in the street and offers to share his wealth, you would know there is a ketch that gives him the long end of the stick wouldn't you?"
Four
dear hurt,
i am confused.
to sit here and be so internally embroiled over emotions and yet to read of Africans and Afghanistanis on HONY- Humans of New York -- who have had real, not imagined traumas, multiples in one life, one family...murders, genocides, village rampages, rapes as a tool of war, revolutions that are descents into mad existence, pillage, famine and other forms of war and depravity- like male bestiality running and growing rampant in south africa...
i am lost of all moorings.
Five
writing your stuff heals. if not just relieves.
if no therapist, perhaps just write
i just mused:
"this is why i am concerned about the kind of therapist available. One who is not locked into religious dogma, life myths indoctrinated as part of a system of domination, one who has a global consciousness of world dynamics, systems and prevalences and how that in total compound to impact individual lives, realities and existence. one who understands the realities of Being Black. what it means for Black womanhood ( i cant tell you the regular by which men will tell me that i am a real woman--happened last night of one celebrating his fortieth birthday--i am always bowled by that...is it that all other females are not. and that is what they imply...at least here in trinidad...that the femmes are mostly girls and some ill underformed creature of various makings)...Racism, Misogyny. And one who understands psychoses from a range and varied perspective and cultures - holistic humanity for lack of a better expanse of inclusion. a therapist of the mind and soul and emotions beyond the simplistic. This almost seems impossible for anywhere else. far less for trinidad"
i suspect i have a lot of writing to do
further muse earlier:
i thought of those residential places, homes and institutions for the mentally ill, the psychotic, the addict and other type of self and community offenders...and thought would it not be wonderful to have such a place for those of us traumatized, emotionally off, behaviorally affected, twisted. a place for therapy and deep reflection, full of practices of and for integration, mending, truth finding, self reaching and brash self seeing...doing all forms of arts and meditations from various cultures, practices, world views, traditions... and in such a place, I would write. writing would be a central aspect of processing. perhaps performance as well. perform your trauma to audience, present your unfolding, unpacking, deconstruction and hopefully, one's healing. that is what comedians do isnt it? turning the internal turmoil into public consumption..and perhaps in its consumption, it gets eaten up into nothing...i wish for a place like that.
i have a lot of work to do
it is almost like any work i feigned before was just that, pretense. only now am i at the threshhold to truly therein enter
and i write her and robin williams pic in profile is right beside this line...and i somehow in the back of my mind wonder of metanoia...is it not the extreme of the very disturbance i am addressing here? are those people who commit suicide in some form of living dysfunction with others? or is it all just internal, unseen and so different.
i am talking really about learning "how to live". functionally, with self and others. in community and to life. not death. violence, affectations, or twistedness...
if we all write would we all get better// and the world would be one? imagine
riddle. mystery. proposition
Six
"too smart and brilliant to be in this condition"
Seven
"Curanderismo"...the healing arts for self and collective reparation
wow.
i am always fascinated when i channel a vibration that is immediately instantaneously reinforced in the cosmos. synchronicity. does it mean i am on the right path? is that what is calling me? healing so i can be of value to others. on that journey/ and even if not all of that. just to be one less crazy. and if not that. just to live righteously. live internally righteous, aligned and corrected.
a post and the pic of the Healing Mother of Earth showed up in my stream as I was writing
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