JUNE 03, 2014 TUESDAY MORNING
Hi, Chris. I love you. Good morning.
I hear your Sweet voice in the Shabd Sound Current as I write this. It was stronger than normal when I arose from sleep this morning but now it is a roaring blessing, a Niagara of crashing torrents of penetrating sound washing the dirt from my soul. Thank you, my Sweet Wife, my pure life.
I love you.
I wish very much to leave this neighborhood. But I am stuck here for now. My income is too low to handle the higher rates being demanded elsewhere. And it is not yet time to release the spirit from the body.
Perhaps there is a more mystical explanation for my extended residence here.
But I don't want to dwell on those negative emotions mainly because I don't want to worry you and also I don't want to feed the bad situations energy by thinking about them too much or too negatively. Too negatively is the key phrase here, I think. A clinical view of such situations might be necessary at times.
Such a time is now, Honey Bun.
I just finished walking a few laps around the drive through the cool morning air and thought about things. Succinctly, I realized I must keep improving my online presence -- which so far includes eBooks, one blog, and a Facebook presence -- where I can refer people in person to my online voice if they sincerely want to know what I think about anything.
This is because one of the things I hate most about this place and many of the people in it is that they don't talk to you for the purpose of learning and understanding things that you have to offer but only to fish out key words from your answers to their questions that they can seize onto and use control you through trickery a kind of psychological ambush to get you to agree to something that will benefit them in their own selfish way, a way they are concealing from you the whole time they are talking to you.
In short, people around here don’t talk to communicate; they talk to manipulate. You can see right through them.
Of course life is always more complicated than this simple explanation. Motivations are multifarious and abundant. But like an artist's creative brush stroke, my example here suffices to illuminate and highlight the general subject of which I speak now.
In other words, oral communication is impossible with most people mainly because they really don't want to communicate and learn anything of substance from you but simply to argue with you, dominate the argument, and then subject your will to theirs so that they can manipulate you into obligating yourself to give them something they want but don’t need.
Therefore, I have happily decided that from now on I will simply direct them and their inquiries to my written words online when they ask for what I think about anything. If it is not worth their time to read through any of my work online for my thoughts, then it certainly is not worth my time to work at producing any on-the-spot verbal answers to their intrusive, manipulative vocal questions.
This is a large feeling of freedom for me from the persecution of so many mean spirited, ignorant people around here. And for those who are not mean spirited, it still leaves several doors of communication open between us. Really, all anyone needs to do to catch the drift of my thoughts and values is to read a relatively small sampling of my written work. This is the case for all authors. You don’t need to read every word, but just a small sampling to understand most of his or her mind and heart.
But many of the people around me prefer popping the tops from beer cans to cracking the covers of books. Books of substance are poison to them, threats to their intoxicated happiness and their will to drown their guilt not illuminate it in order to eliminate them.
My simple innocent honesty is another point of contention between us. They do not know the right words to describe the understanding they see in my eyes, my understanding of their self hate and need to throw blame onto innocent people who can or won’t defend themselves against such slander and gossip. The souls of these self hating neighbors scream from deep inside their hearts alerting them that I perceive their inner deficiencies and wretched states of mind when they look into my eyes. So they hate me and yet need me for their self serving purposes. Hence, the crippled verbal communications and attempts to manipulate me through them, when they dare venture out of their protective gossip circles to speak to me one on one.
I should not mix with people. The last of my peer group left this material world when you transcended it, Honey Bun. You, my beloved angel. What is left of my group in this material world is spread out over many millennia in the persons of Socrates and thinkers before him, and Plato and thinkers after him, George Berkeley, Hume, Immanuel Kant, Jiddu Krishnamurti, and other piercing minds who looked piercingly at and wrote about the real world around us all, and avoided the masses who thought about nothing but their animal appetites and self serving, self gratifying interests of the moment.
Most people reading this will not understand any of it though. But I don't care. Our kind of people, Honey Bun, as you know, speak across centuries to each other through books and art and music, not across intoxicated dribbles of minutes being wasted on petty temporary self interests.
I love you, Honey Bun. Oooooh! Gotta pee! See you after awhile.
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