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Yet Another Addiction and a note about H&F March 3, 2009

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.
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First, about “Honesty and Fear”.  I thought I posted this on Friday, but I saw it in my drafts folder.  Hm.  Happens, I guess.

Because I live in stooopid’MerKKKa, I was musing about the defect of righteousness, and how addictive it is.  Ironically, I get all righteous about other people needing to keep the focus on themselves.  By focusing on their anti-self-focus, I am in the place of not keeping the focus on my own actions and behaviors.  It’s like I’m “meta-fingerpointing.”

I have complexes on which to work kala.  I have much that keeps me from alignment, and I see that this trigger of watching the CPAC-loons go at it and the pundits blathering on about me and others like me and the people who love me is all distraction. 

I do know that I’m loved.  I know everything is right where it needs to be, everyone is doing what they need to be doing.  I’m posting about my own addiction to pointing out fingerpointing.  And musing about the possibility of Yet Another Twelve-Step Fellowship.

Yes, I was musing about “Righteous Hate Anonymous.”  I can’t tell how many times I sit here at this computer and read someone’s gaseous bile, the rank breath of toxic vehemence they would like to heap upon a group of “other” who they have deemed to be the Biggest Threat to Civilization (TM), and imitate their spraaaawwwwkin’ vEmpirical cuntishness.  I’m frequently saying, for example, “I is Bill O’Reilly and I Iz da DUHHHHMMMMMMM…”

It’s not a secret.  There are hate addicts out there.  Like a significant number of drunks and junkies, they know it.  They continue to get their fixes.  It’s what they do.  They’re in thrall of something much larger.  And I know this because I have certain senstivities too.  I didn’t used to be 300 pounds because I was born that way.  I had a predisposition to liking finely granulated grains and plant-materials that were versaitile in the kitchen and made tasty treats.  Neither my parents nor I knew that the Evil White Powders were addictive and toxic.  That they would slowly choke a spiritual existence from me and serve up unsatisfying substitutes instead.  That they abetted bad behaviors for which I still must atone for, as I wake up to the mean and nasty things I did when I was younger.  And the thing is the addiction urge, the urge to not be present, especially in this Dilbert cubicle Matrix illusion is hugely tempting, and yes, I succumb.

I forget the still, quiet voice, that is until I remember it.  I’ve added a few new links today, and these people help me.  Check ’em out if you care to.  And I get tempted to read some of the various blogs that document the lengths people go to get their fixes.  There really is a righteous-hate porn out there.  And purveyors such as Fred Phelps, Utah State Government, various love/kill teh gayz but don’t you dare call it hate sites… AND MORE…

I’m powerless over my desire to not be here sometimes.  Oh, it is the greatest challenge to want what I have… chuckle chuckle.  I got outside this gorgeous, sunny and c-c-cold day.  Maybe it’s 15 degress out, but it is sunny.  It felt good to be out in the sun.  I would much rather be somewhere else, and it’s difficult to feel my feet and realize and recognize I’m just where I’m supposed to be.  As stifling and enchained as that feels.

The day is coming when this will pass away.  And I might, just might wish for it to return.  Who can say?  All bets are off right now.  I don’t think we’re about to go Mad Max, but I don’t think the Pleiadians are going to start beaming us up either.  Something in between.

So.  Where the metafingerpointing R.H.A. is concerned, I can’t.  God Herself can.  I think I’ll let God Herself.

“I am God and God is Me and God’s a person like myself.”  Victor Anderson.

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