BREAK the FUSS


What’s fer brexfus?
Have you had yer brexfus?
Ready fer brexfus?
Let’s have a brexfus to las’ all day!
Okay?

THE FALSE EXISTENCE

I lived it. The false existence. Are you aware? The false existence is the only existence acceptable to society because SOCIETY is false?

I suppose that the need to create false God arose when the first people created a self image separate from the rest of it all. Me. I am. I want. I like. I believe. All aspects of a false existence. The sense of aloneness and the need for a friend bring fear at the deepest level of our false existence. Are you aware a person can choose a false existence? Are you also aware of how vulnerable is a person who lives as a part of a larger SOCIETY? Are you aware that such a practice is false? Can you sense how such a person is constantly manipulated by fear?

It is simple. All who believe are false. Only a false person can join a false group and live as that. Is it not obvious to you?

Does it interest anyone… to be real?

Are you aware that a person can choose to be real? Did you realize that anybody can choose freedom and live it on Earth now by a simple heartfelt decision?

Why heartfelt, you ask?

Love makes the transformation possible.

Consider this:

Take a person who lives a false existence and put that person in a situation where all the rules are aligned against love and there is no time. Picture a firefighter and a stranger in a burning building in a moment of crisis. The firefighter does not know the other person at all, has a wife and children at home expecting him for dinner, and yet risks his own life without hesitation to save the other. When interviewed the firefighter says, “I could not have done otherwise. Anybody else would have done the same as I did.” False modesty?
Or, the truth?

Christ, who are we?

CRIME OF THE TIMES



Everybody got consciousness. What are you conscious of?


All my life spent searchin’ for the one I love.


Was we born to love only that which is unlovable? Tell me.


Saw her first in sweet Julia, saw her again yesterday in a porno flick.


Her…who is she…
to me?


Him…who is he…
to you?


Self-consciously, man is double-crossed.
How much hope is there for a man who likes to double-cross himself? Any?


Does anybody know you are here?
Have you been seen?
How long have you been waiting?

Cry out!


Read about a man spent his whole life onstage under bright lights of fame who wondered why nobody saw he was here at all.


People die here without knowing whether they were ever really born.

THOUGHTS ABOUT MONEY

A man needs about as much money as he thinks he needs.

Money, itself, being nothing useful to him.


Money is a medium of exchange inside a game invented by a madman. Only to the extent the game matters to him will the man want it.


Certainly money is not certain. Money is, in fact, insecure. It facilitates theft, you see.



People have imagined that money brings good health and a sturdy house and reliable transportation. Actually, money does nothing. All of these things and more are delivered by Mother Earth and the rays of the Sun.


Here is something funnier. People believe from time to time that lack of money holds them back from realizing their dreams. That is ridiculous. Fear holds people down. Fear inside a person, alone, deprives that person . Remove fear, discard it, and you will see. Accumulation of money actually brings fear that one will lose it. This very fear holds people back from loving their neighbors.


Consider the happiest times of your life. Money played a minor role for sure. One had a dream and one was undaunted by the impossibility of that dream. That dream was an undertaking without a guarantee. Uncertainty is where it’s at. It is the ooomph of life!


Finally, see how that money which you seek for your security is by its nature insecure and how that which you dare to dream fearlessly is the only security you will ever know while alive as human.

Face it. The institution of government is topsy-turvy. Everywhere it is creating more trouble than it is resolving, and, at an ever-increasing rate of speed, so everywhere people make jokes about the government is a pack of fools. Who is the fool?

People see that the neighboring government is a menace. They say to themselves, “Let us organize a stronger government to save us.” They ask the fox to guard the hen house. When will they ever learn?

People say, “But we need somebody to guard us from our evil neighbors.” I ask you, who, or what, is capable of guarding you from evil? Does government guard you or does it come with its forms after you have been robbed or beaten or raped to ask questions? If government sends an army to fight, who will be its soldiers? Does government give birth to soldiers or does it take them from the very families who ask for the protection of government ? Who bleeds? Who dies? Who weeps? Government? Who is safe? You will never guess the answer to the last question.

The facts are these: We are all stranded together on a round ball circling the Sun. Sun provides all the energy we have or will have. We all experience a feeling sooner or later that this Earth was “made for us”. There is air to breathe and water to drink and food to eat. The taste of water is perfect! Some of the food is delicious! I choose to eat the delicious food first. Why? All our needs have been carefully provided somehow, but how? Did somebody anticipate our arrival here? Are we alone or is there another presence? Is there a host? Who? Even there is breath-taking beauty here and we seem to be naturally attracted to it and even to require it to thrive and be happy. The round ball we live on actually is spinning so the side of it that is away from the Sun is in darkness to provide us a night for sleeping. And, on awakening, there is a new day under sunlight and we can face it rested and refreshed. To behold a sunrise, always different, or a sunset, or gaze up at the heavens at night and gradually become acquainted with the constellations as friends that can be counted on to be there makes an imprint on the human heart. Watching cloud formations come and go across the sky can suddenly charm one of us without warning. Nature can be explored with the five senses we have and maybe for a reason or reasons. Is the host contacting us in such ways as these? Recall watching a flock of swans or geese flying high in the air in formation going…where? How? By what manner are they guided?

I feel the host here now. I behold it- as I behold the Sun or feel the rain or hear the thunder. It is with us now. It guides me to say that all people are an indivisible one and when any part fails it is the failure of all and when any part triumphs the glory is to the all. End blame and end fame. Put it away. Now. Love one another as yourself. Look to me within you to provide all you need. I am with you always.

MISBEHAVING AND PUNISHING


“What did you tell me this morning, Abigail, when I asked who had opened the door?”

“I opened it, Daddy.”

“Yes. But what did you tell me first?”

“Mumble.”

“Yes. But the wind didn’t open the door, did it?”

“Mumble.”

“Did you get a whipping for that?”

“Mumble.”

“Because that’s lying!”

There you have it. Another grownup accuses his daughter of three of being a liar. How long shall it continue? Apparently he has beaten her earlier in the day and now is humiliating her further to make a point. Now he is pouring salt in a wound. What is the effect on a child to hear from her Daddy’s lips that she is bad and that he is authorized to hit her? Who is the liar here, really? That parent would be wiser to ask the child how he made her too afraid to feel safe enough to tell him the truth. Parents teach children to contend with stronger bullies in life…to cope. Too risky to teach love? Is your child a beast of burden to be whipped into service? Is she tough enough?

People of all ages tell the truth when they feel safe. Let it be repeated that: People of all ages tell the truth when they feel safe. Abigail’s Daddy only tells the truth when he feels safe. A whipping only confirms the fear that led her to decide to lie rather than risk his wrath. Of course, she is too young to articulate this to the adults. She will cope. Like her Daddy before her. She will cope. Later, she will accuse her kids and whip them. Let he who is without sin beat up the children. By the way, I am not certain my friend Abigail lied about the wind opening that door. And, what if she imagined it that way? Apparently, there is a rule in their house that forbids leaving a door open…if you open a door you must shut it. On top of that there is a severe rule against lying to your Daddy. How is a three year old going to grow up in such a household without suffering pain and humiliation often? Is she supposed to learn to feel guilty for being forgetful? Isn’t Dad teaching her to become a better, more clever liar? Will that help? Of course not. I tell you the parents are punishing their children for the sins of the parents.

Suppose the Creator Of All had made the World so that every time anyone told a lie a mighty hand appeared and knocked us to the ground and a booming voice announced to all our GUILT and told the others to shun the liar for seven years. Why not? Wouldn’t that put a stop to lying? Why does the Sun shine on the liar as well as the honest man? Is it the work of some fool? What is being shown? Perhaps, there is something far more important than merely putting an end to what is ugly to us. Do you think? Perhaps something that knows the beauty placed inside each one of us sees with different eyes and perceives the insanity of punishing that which carries such beauty. Can we see?

I heard Abigail’s Mama say, “I am trying to teach fairness…” Teach fairness? Why not be fair? It is too difficult, that’s why… for a parent. Yet that same parent who has no time to be fair will spank a small one who is seen to be unfair. Is that fair?

A simple act of kindness works a wonder. Drawing forth beauty may be more important than contending with evil. Who said that? Showing love feels good. Abigail is beautiful. Maybe God is aware of this. Put yourself in Abigail’s spot. If you find yourself a prisoner of some Big People, larger and more powerful than you, who make it known to you that you will be yelled at and whipped and thrown into solitaire without food or water if you spill your milk, and you spill it…

NO OTHER WAY

We bumped into each other, suddenly. Without thinking, I offered her my arm and escorted her to a place upstairs. I do not recall her words but whatever she said assured me that she felt she knew me already and we had a shared past. I pretended it was so because I wanted her to remain. And, as we walked, she became familiar to me and I began to realize slowly that I had known her in the past, but could not recall when exactly or where or in what way under what circumstances. “She is so beautiful” ( I am realizing). With the next steps I glance below to see her legs and I watch them walk gracefully and see they are of a truly magnificent shape under sheer stockings. Looking back in her face the memory of her grows stronger, yet it is quite vague still, and she is growing even more lovely. Who is she? Golden hair piled high on her head. Black dress. Only a fleeting smile from her and I believe I have slept with her. I have a notion she is a composite flower of the heart. What does that mean? As she tightens her grip on my arm she moves closer and her weight shifts onto me allowing me to carry her now. I am honored. She is with me, a part of me somehow, and I wonder how she has accomplished this effect. And yet, I am enjoying it too much to care.

I do not intend it to happen, but these words spill out:

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I am not sure what to say.”

She replies:

“That was such a painful time for me and I never understood why you did it.”

Now, my sense is that whatever I do or say, I am sunk. It will spark a memory too painful for her to swallow and she will abruptly depart and I will never see her again. It is an awful feeling. I hesitate. Fumble for ideas. Anything. I, as the director of the film of my yet-to-be life, at the speed of light, test each idea in my head in full-blown dress rehearsals and then watch as each brilliant screen test only offends her and breaks her heart in some new way. I am tangled up in my mind in every possible future I have imagined. I am convinced, now, she never will understand me. I cannot explain myself. Before I know it, she has broken away and has melted into the huge crowd. I wake up.

Now it is my turn to break away. I shall break a way. I am good at it for I have broken already in so many ways. Then I realize something new. There simply is no other way.