God–One Tricky ‘Devil’ (Order Out of Chaos, III)

 

July 17, 2011

Hey Gang! Welcome to my life – where anything is possible and nothing is as it seems. I’m the Rev. Matt and I’ll be your host. Coming at you from within the depths of Geistopia.

It is Sunday, July 17, 2011. Time… ‘calming.’ (or is it ‘demanding’?)

 

UPDATE:  Mission: Kennebunkport has become Operation: Mystic. It’s interesting how things happen, the little twists and turns God will throw at us in his desire to divert and distract us back on track.

So, as I had written previously, there was a new bump in the road in Mission: Kennebunkport. I had just come to terms with the transportation debacle when Siggy told me there was now a complication with the church and the insurance. He was going to look into it all and get back to me with the resolution. In between, the fight happened.

It was the morning after (The fight) and, if you recall, I had been informed that the police had been called, the papers were being in filed and in 30 days the police will arrive to escort me off the property.

So, I was getting ready for my day – stretching, releasing, questioning and seeking. I sat silent and still for a moment, thinking about what may be around the corner for me and I put it out to the Universe:

“You show me where to go and I’ll go…”

{Now, I was referring to where to go to live, but that may not have been the important answer.}

I no sooner put the question out there and, I swear to you, it was as if a mist had filled the bathroom. {Yes, I often do a lot of my morning work in the bathroom so I can hit the shower immediately after and wash it all away.) I’ll be the first one to say that the mist was most likely coming from the warming shower. But, the vision? There’s no denying the image amidst the mist. It was as clear as if I had actually been there.

It was Mystic, CT.

I had to laugh to myself. I had gotten a call to Mystic once before, only I never actually got there because prison happened first. I remember that call, too. It was not so much the call itself, but how it had manifested.

I forget exactly what had been going on in my life at the time. I know it was one of those voidish times. For instance, I had bits of money floating in here or there but didn’t have a job. {It may have even been back as far as before Jessi left.} But, I am sure there were questions in my mind. There are always questions. It is a perfectly typical day and I have found myself in the presence of the Shaman. We are doing what it is we do and I have pen and paper in hand. (Also very typical.)

The next thing I know I am sketching. And, believe me, I use this term very loosely. I am not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. On a good day I have difficulty drawing a stick figure. However, every once in a while I am able to block everything else out, to put doubt and restriction in a corner, and let my hand just move. It moves and it actually makes a discernable picture. That day, it made a ship. A big, old sailing ship.

I looked at the ship for a moment and I remember putting it out to the Universe…

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean? What kind of an answer is that?”

Then I heard it, like the whisper of a summer breeze, “Mystic.” I went home that night and looked up the Seaport online. I started perusing the webpage – hours, history, events, pictures –and there it was. The ship.

I never made it to Mystic. It was on “the list.”  You know “The List.” We all know “The List”, because we all have one. The dreaded and deceitful “List of Things” we’ll do “one day.” In my case, and in this instance, it was, “One day when I have the time/money.”

As I said, I never got there.

In fact, I had forgotten all about it until the other morning.

So, I get to Siggy’s and he informs me that the controversy has gotten deeper with the church and that, essentially, he’s not going anymore. I knew immediately that I now had to go to Mystic. Especially when I mentioned Mystic to Siggy and he in turn references the seaport (and the very same ship.)

There is more to the importance of Mystic in this story – much more. The important thing to know at this point, I suppose, is that Mystic is where it all begins. Mystic was where I got my first true taste of Divinity. And, now, I must return there.

It is still undecided exactly how this quest goes down – when we leave, who, how long, where, etc. There is nothing known about the journey, only that it is happening and that it is important. I think I am going to document as much of it as I can, the best way that I can.

(It should be an excellent adventure.)

But what of the controversy on the home front?

Well, things are as normal as can be expected. There’s not too much dialogue between parties (none really – barring anything “children” related.) And, I am still struggling with my place in it all.

There is no doubt that I was over the line. I was over the line very early in it this time…and that has me concerned. Perhaps that is why I am trying so hard to be introspective about it. I even had Siggy tell me at one point in the complete telling state that I had crossed the line. His face even gave that lil scrunch of disapproval. He suggested that I apologize, stating that I had way crossed the line and offer to talk, in an attempt to make peace. He added in there that the talk should be after I get back from this little journey.

I whole heartedly agree with that.

I hesitate though. I have apologized before. I have offered to talk in an attempt to make peace. On occasion, we have talked. Still, when there is a fight it is the same regimen – from everyone. We’re not getting past it.

I can’t speak for them. I can barely speak for myself on the matter. It’s all been very odd. Odder still is the true amount of retrospection, reflection, discovery and direction I have gathered from this one moment.

{Too little too late?}

Perhaps. But what of All Things in Their Time?

I mean there is absolutely no denying that I get out of control. I get irate in these moments. And it has been progressively worse lately. I think I mention it so frequently because, for the first time, I am actually appalled at myself. The whole experience has become so ingrained in me that I just automatically and almost subconsciously move into that mode and that program the moment confrontation appears.

This is not…I….ummm….

I ain’t down with that.

That’s not who I am.

It’s not who I choose to be.

I think I just wish there were some way to really dispel it all. Clear it out. Get to the root of it all.

{sigh.}

There has been deep remorse. I have felt sadness on more than one occasion over the past several days. I have been in a torrent of thought and emotion. I truly wish to understand – to change and grow. I want to heal it and seal it…and move on. Alas, I am at a loss. A true loss.

 

 

Lesson of the Week:

Don’t Push It

Whatever it may be.

Don’t push it. Don’t force it. Don’t try to make it be.

Let it come. Let it manifest on its on. Let it be as it is.

Don’t push it.

Earlier this year, after having gotten a lil taste of some money, I pushed it. I pushed myself to the limits for two weeks. I took on so much work in an attempt to make more money. I didn’t stop to consider just how much I was making or that it was really all I needed and had asked for at the time. I just wanted more. I got “greedy” as the Shaman put it. In a way he was right. I had gotten greedy. I forgot the whole point of it all.

Have faith. (Faith is, after all, the Lesson of the Journey.)

Put it out there and know that it will come back. Let it come back. Let it trickle in or let it run – whoever it chooses to come. Let it come.

Don’t push it.

Don’t push your luck. Don’t keep pressing the limits or pushing the buttons or taking the chances. In many ways, this was something that came out of this past week’s fiasco. (Too little too late?)

Something else came out of that occurrence.

Don’t push it.

Don’t push your feelings or your desires or your needs. I know that sounds odd. But listen.

All I can say about things is that yes I do get a bit out of control (Understatement)…or have the potential too anyway. But where does it come from?

In the case of my family it comes from a desire (a need? a hope?) to be accepted, to be heard, to be understood. To be given credit where credit, I believe, is due. This will probably never happen. They are set in their views and opinions on things. They’re not willing, or interested – so they say – in finding a way of bridging the gap. In a lot of instances it will forever be “he said/she said,” but there is a lot out there that can be resolved and smoothed over if given the chance – little gaps in communication that just need clarification.

They may never understand the whole of what I think or how I function. They may never truly accept it. But, at the very least, it would be nice if they just let it be. And, I think that is where I am at, I think it is part of the frustration and anger. They openly admit that they do not want to partake in my life – to be involved or get to know anything about it – yet they are perfectly willing to stand on the side lines, where they are the most detached from and misinformed about the goings-on in my life, and tear at it, dismiss it, attack it.

Like seriously – Actually get involved in a healthy manner, choose to be informed and move from there or let it be.

There is so much that they throw at me during these moments and I am a fool for letting myself always get sucked into it all. As I have learned this week (too little, too late) is that I should have just been walking away, because there is nothing I can say or do to make it change – to make them change.

It is pointless to try to explain or debate or argue my life – where I stand on it, what I am doing, how it is going – because they “have it all figured out.”

So….

Don’t push it.

Don’t push it on them. Don’t push it at them.

Just live it and be it and let it come to them.

{A-MEN}

 

Theme of the Week:

Too Little, Too Late

I would have thought that by now this may have been obvious. Sometimes it just happens that way, try as you might. Sometimes it sets it, gets across, breaks through, releases, realizes, reverses…too little, too late.

Or…is it?

Is it ever really “too late?” I mean, if you actually gain something from the experience, if change inevitably occurs…was it even too late to begin with?

All Things In Their Time

And I suppose…Only Time Will Tell.

 

Observation of the Week:

Cycles, Rhythms & Patterns

We all have them. We all experience them. Some are naturally occurring. Some we learn or develop. Some are thrust upon us by jobs, families, responsibilities.

They are seen in the seasons and in the year.

They are seen in our days at work and our nights at home.

They are charted medically and scientifically.

The stars in the skies have patterns.

Even the planets have cycles and rhythms.

But we find them, most importantly, in our experiences. Our associations and relationships to life outside ourselves – whether it be family, friends, jobs, relationships, money, bad luck, good luck, neighbors, self-esteem, self-confidence, self-realization.

(I added those at the end on purpose.)

{Tricky Devil.}

In the case of my family and this sort of happening, we have several patterns and cycles. The same things come up. Any fight can become a fight about anything. People will get out of control. Bad things will happen. And, nothing will really be resolved.

Who’s fault?

Who knows.

Is it really the important question?

I’m more fascinated by why. I want to know what it is within each of us that manifests such a carnival of fools.

More curious to me is the fact that even the occurrences themselves follow a very distinct pattern or cycle. It’s when they happen that intrigues me.

They always happen just as I am starting to feel as though things are coming together and work out. Every time.

Just this past week.

Last May.

Prison.

So many times.

And again, we find a pattern. Not only does each occurrence revolve around the same post of contempt, but each one, ultimately, has some variation – some hue – of them trying to “force” their view (their way, their belief) on me.

Once I got sent to prison.

Once, they laid out this list of rules by which I needed to live if I was going to continue living here. There were all sorts of rules and silliness. Some things made very good sense – they were practical and important. {I think I should get those rules out. I think I still have them…and I believe the important stuff came in the middle. }

[Shakes head]

Second Observation of the week:

Life is made up of the creamy, gooey center of it all…whether you like it or not.

Nonetheless, the very first stipulation was get a job. Get a job by such and such a date. Or, be able to prove that you were trying. (And I did this. I documented every single application or resume.)

No more of this.

No more of that.

No more smoking in the house.

It went on and on. I was allowed the opportunity to “speak” (in this case, write) back. I did this. It was not received well. For instance, I pointed out the ridiculousness of what they were asking me to do.

The application process today is truly monstrous. You can spend an hour or better on one online application. (And almost all applications are online these days.) If you do 40 applications in a week, that’s 40 hours. (And this was all happening during the initial and damaging spike in unemployment.) That’s all good and well, but I also need to make money. I need to seek it out. I need to find jobs to get me through – I.C. work, randomness, Craig’s List, friends…something.

So, they were not happy with my retort. However, the due date came and went and ne’er a word was spoken of it. (Even after I had done as they asked.)

Last May – The fight erupts over whatever it was over. Who even frickin knows….oh….I do. Videos. That’s right…again with the videos.

But that one turned into how I needed to get a job…I needed to do this…I needed to do that.

Bear in mind, that at any point of this process, I am making money. Not a lot. Not steady. But there was money happening. In fact, I had managed to replace what I had lost when Wendy’s ended. (In only in a month.) I just didn’t have a “job.”

But, again, I took their word for it and, despite my inner “knowing”, I went and “got a job.” the only job that would take me. At what they would take me for. I worked that and a lot of other things along the way – all to make just a bit of money. In the end, it didn’t work out and I have often wondered how things would have went if I would have listened to myself.

But, it’s a pattern. One I do not fully understand my own role in. How do I feed it? Why do I feed it? What is feeding it? What is really at the core of all this?

What are we reliving?

Is it 14?

Is it something deeper and darker?

Is it perhaps the old woman?

Or the demon child who had run rampant years ago?

What of the beast released during the depossession who barely had time to be dispelled before finding new prey?

I do not know what it is, but it is out of control.

I do not understand my part in it all. What of the timing? Are they mirroring my own fears and doubts? Are they heralding my struggles with self-confidence, self-worth, self-realization.

I do not have any answers. Mostly because, right this moment, I am unsure of the questions.

Perhaps this is what Mystic will bring.

I still do not fully understand the trip. It has been unfolding, slowly, before me. I know the route I must follow. I know the three/four things I must do while there. I know I have up to three days to make the round-trip.

I know nothing else.

I do not know who all will go or how we will travel – together or separate. I do not know if we will follow each other or meet up in town. I do not know if we will camp, get a room, or if I will be sleeping in my van. Or perhaps even some other currently unknown location. I do not know in what order my adventures will happen, how long they will take or what, exactly, I am doing or looking for.

I am excited for this quest.

There is still much to do in preparation and many days full of distractions in between.

I look forward to taking you along with me. Watch for various posts in varying places.

In the meantime, I think there are still other stories to tell. Such as, The Casualties of War. And perhaps even an Update – Operation: Mystic.

For now and for always, from here in Geistopia, I am your beloved Rev – wishing you Peace, Love, Light & Freakishness.