How Bout You Read This One Daddy ‘D’

March 4, 2012; 0000

Hey Gang!

Welcome to my life…

Where anything is possible and nothing is as it seems. I’m Freedom and I’ll be your host, coming at you from within…

The Depths of Geistopiaaaaaaaaaa

Velcum to my Life ees a prochect, un experiment een Life unt ART, A liwing storyboard, if you vill. Eet’s premise ees zat you can, and do, experience za life you choose. Eet ees based on za Veel of Life unt za ARTs for za New Millennium as life building tools. Ya. Eet’s true.

Welcome to my Life is an ITV Studios/Geist…House production. JustUs Productions, the parent company, would like to give a ‘Shout-Out’ to the following for their ongoing, and oft times unknowing, inspiration and support:

Princess Cuddlebug

Princess Sunshine

Craze & Co.

The Shaman

The Pillar

The Entire Putt-Putt-Putter Clan

FaeriePrincess

G-Man

Berton

The Baker of the Cornbread

The VanMan (may he R.I.P.)

The Messengers of the Galactic Federation

Osteen, the Son

The Sitter

The WhiteRose

The Fallen Angel

Punky Brewster

Sir Thomas

Jojo Dancer

Mr. NiceGuy

Senior Swankypants

Da Boyz from da Hood

The Witch Dr.

The ‘Original’ Mr. Baggins

The Socialite

B-Lo

The WhiteGurl

Sweet Felicity

Reds

LisaLisa Monet

The Ziatonic Antagonist

Otto

Prof. Siggy Chong

Pasturizer

The Piz-Nifer

Dancing Queen

Downtown Donny Brown

Mama Rabbit

And, of course, a very generous sponsor who pretends to want to be anonymous.

(*Semi-Legal mumbo-jumbo jargon fine print – my thoughts, my words. Bug off if you think you theivin’ them.*)

It is Sunday, March 4, 2012. Time…Strengthening.

This post is dedicated to a very special man in ‘My Life’– Daddy ‘D’.

(And, for those of you who don’t know, this is the man who likes to pretend he is the father of my children.)

Rev….

Thank you, Freedom.

Hey gang. I decided to approach this week’s post a little differently. I’m not exactly sure why though. Each week I try to do at least a little writing as I go along to make it easier on Sunday. But this week I feel inspired to try to actually capture each day as it goes by. I can only imagine there will be something interesting in it for all of us.

Monday -

I awoke this morning feeling very different than I have for the past several weeks. What could be the reason though? A decent night’s rest, perhaps? The excitement of lunch with Princess Cuddlebug maybe? Knowing my week is focused and organized?

Nay! Tis none of these.

Or, perhaps it is all of them. Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, it started out a very powerful day. And, I give credit to…her.

I know no one wants to hear that. But, I feel it’s true.

Last week’s post delved into my “pain.” I must say, I was quite surprised, and grateful, for the reactions elicited by not only last week’s post but by the events of the week as a whole. It wasn’t until one particular conversation that I realized just how OK I was. That conversation came just before bed on Sunday.

A new friend was concerned by my random and rather “depressed” Facebook status updates throughout the week. He messaged me with such comforting and reassuring words and thoughts. As he did so, I realized I didn’t need them.

The pain had come, yes. But, now it had gone as well. All in all it was what it was. It was what I had said it would be all along. But, it was a path I needed to follow. I didn’t know why when I started out but I got it in the end.

Everything happens for a reason and so very often we can find ourselves asking, “Why?” And, just as often, the answer tends to be right in front of us. It’s, generally, not so much a matter of seeing it as it is accepting it.

As I said, I received a few comments from last week’s post and I am very elated by this. However, I fear, perhaps, some readers have missed the point to the story. It wasn’t a love story. It couldn’t possibly have been. That ending is not mine, and it never was. She helped snap me out of that. Like any good addiction, she quenched the burning, unknowable desire within. Of course, like any real addiction, she took her toll along the way. But, that’s not her fault. That is always on the addict.

In many ways she has set me free. First, she has saved me from delusion. It’s not often a drug does that. LOL. She has spared me from having to look down that avenue anymore. That’s not my life. And, that’s ok.

And, THAT’s what else she did for me. Perhaps, the most important. She helped me realize why that’s ok.

First, how can I be sad when I have loved so deeply, and so often? Reviewing ‘The True Loves’ was a very…fulfilling experience for me. I was able to look back on each of those ‘Loves’ and remember how wonderful those days were. Even with any torment that may have come with them, they were wonderful times. Each and every one of them. Through these women I have known love like some may never even conceive. How could I possibly have remorse or regret? I would live every single one of them over again exactly as it happened. That includes Felicity…especially Felicity.

She also forced me to look at this whole ‘loneliness’ thing. It’s true. Short of the brief time spent with my daughters there is no real bonded relation in my life. I have friends. I have such very good friends. But, their lives are theirs and mine is what it is and so we see each other when we do. But there is not that constant, the absolute.

I don’t really have family, short of the Princesses. I have a very large number of folks to whom I am related. And, I would do for them just as I would anyone. But…we’re not really family.

This is ok.

How could I be alone?

I realized this when I went to have lunch with Makayla. Everywhere I go there is someone. Someone I know. Someone I chat with. Someone I help…and even someone who helps me. I see it most in children. They just are drawn to me and I really noticed it at lunch. I had children talking to me about anything and everything. Playing silly childish (or should I say ‘impish’) games. Connecting in a way I don’t believe adults are capable of.

Adults always have a reason, a purpose, an excuse, a desire, a motivation. There’s always something more going on than what is actually happening. Children just…live.

He who sees life through the eyes of this child and all of that.

And, these “children” brought me to epiphany. How can I be alone? I may not have a true family. I may not have the strong and frequent friendships that others do. I may very well sleep solo every night. But, I am not alone. The World is my friend…my companion.

Everywhere I go there is a connection. Even if it is only momentary. Every day, in some way, The World opens up to me, embraces me.

How can I be alone?

And finally, through the pain and my determination to beat it and not be broken myself, I remembered “me.” I have a purpose, a path. The ‘Pil-Man’ have made this quite evident over the years, as has The Universe as a whole. From Downtown Allentown to Waterville, ME, Flagstaff, AZ, The big White Cross and so many places in between the reality of it all has been made very clear.

Once, while driving to see Downtown Donnie Brown in Charleston, SC I caught myself listening to Bible Radio. Hard to avoid in The Bible Belt. Normally, I try to turn this sort of stuff off but I was interested…touched.

From what I could gather the Pastor was talking about what it means to be a good Christian and, sometimes, the sacrifices that go along with that. He ran down a list, stories included, of Great Christians whom he believed could have been better…if they had only remained alone. yet, as he pointed out, each had given himself a commitment, an attachment, that anchored him in one place and restricted movement and ability – kept that person from doing ‘more.’

That was many years ago and I have never forgotten that radio program…because I understood it. Sometimes, to serve properly, one must stay alone and free. It is the sacrifice. Isn’t that the point to monasteries and abbeys?

So be assured my friends, I am ok.

But, I do want to touch on the comments received so far.

Feedback

Feedback has always been my favorite part of WTML, and also, the one I get to play with the least. I have long said that this is actually the most vital part of the project and have strongly encouraged folks to leave comments.

First, its just nice to know what is going on out there – how you are, who you are, what touched you in the post. But, it also moves the story along. It is a catalyst. It offers new perspective and insight – both yours and mine. I am always, as it has been recently stated, very ‘cryptic and confusing.’ As true as this is it is also very true that in each post I do indeed put everything you need to know. Though, you may have to uncover some things more than others. It’s all there – woven within the words, represented in riddle & rhyme. If you wish to know/understand more than you must give me a reason to say more. As with all things in life, what you put into your experience of this project is what you will get out of it.

If you feed it…it will feed you back. ;-)

So, to our appetites then?

The first comment to come in was from Senor SwankyPants. I always love when Sir Swanky opens his mouth. He does so very rarely, but when he does it always strikes a chord with me. Today, he compared me to Harvey Pekar.

I’ll be honest. I had to look up Harvey Pekar. But, after I did so, I took this comment as a compliment. If you do not know who he was I suggest you look him up as well and then you will understand.

The Niffer, of Piz-Niffer fame, sent me a text. She was probably the funnest of all. Apparently, she hadn’t even finished reading the post before texting me. Why? Because she found herself yelling at her computer screen as she read and felt it was time to express these things to me.

She said it was “like reading a bad soap opera.”

ROFLMAO.

God, I hope so. LOL.

And then there was one more. I saved this one for last on purpose. It is the most curious of them all. It comes from a friend whom I love, adore and admire. But, we very rarely see eye to eye on things. Why would we? She is a Taurus and I am a Leo. We live completely different lives.

Though her comments tend to confuse me and sometimes fire me up I always appreciate them. Though I never end up agreeing with her I always enjoy taking the time to review things from where she speaks.

She feels I must adjust myself. I should chase older, more settled women. One that has a career, and is stable and can provide stability for my daughters.

Sounds practical enough.

But there are so many holes in that theory.

First, how do you “choose” who fires your soul? It happens when it happens. The soul does not look at age or position or finances or even physical appearance. It sparks when it sparks. You can not dictate to it. The soul, much like the strings of an instrument, will resonate with something it is in tune with. It happens of its own accord. I don’t think it’s possible to decide someone is ok to be attracted to because they “fit the bill” and then insist your soul follow suit.

Second, it is assumed that I do not or have not pursued relations with “older” women. I just do not write about them. There is good reason for this. They don’t go anywhere. They never become truly relevant experiences in my life. The spark just doesn’t happen. And this is not a physical thing. In fact, there are currently two women in my life who are both older (35-45), both have very good careers and financial security. And, both are very attractive. I have found myself on many occasion imagining myself doing very very nasty things to them both. (Perhaps even at the same time.)

But, that is where it stops because then they open their mouths.

Quite simply – we are not ‘in tune.’ I find that women such as you described tend to be very self-absorbed. And why shouldn’t they be? They are scorned and scarred and so desperately trying to prove to someone that yes, in fact, they are strong and independent women.

Furthermore, women such as you describe – financially secure, stable career, etc. – do not want a man like me. They can not handle a man like me. Because I will never stay in one place for long. It is not who I am. Even when I am sitting still, I am roaming the world for possibilities and potential. And, I’m not talking about ‘other women.’ I just…

I’m the wanderer.

It’s who I am. It’s what I do. It’s what I was made to do. Truthfully speaking, the more stability there is in my life the more I tend to roam. Because I can…and I must. I live my life ‘On Call.’ Quite literally. That’s what DancingQueen always called it.

“You could wake up any day and get The Call and you’d go…”

Yes.

Because I must. It was my commitment, my devotion.

That is a very difficult thing for people to live with.

Finally, it seems by the way you stressed it that you are under the impression that my attraction to Felicity was mostly, if not strictly, a physical one. For anyone under this impression, I strongly urge you to go back and read what you can once more. Unfortunately, the post that would make it all abundantly clear, is no more.

But, physical attraction was probably the most minute part of this experience. It was only once, the first time I met her, that I had those lecherous lust-filled thoughts. Every other moment was something else. She went deep. She went very deep. She moved me. I don’t understand it myself. it makes no sense.

But she did. And, she did because she had to. And, she had to because I made her.

I wished.

I wished to not feel loneliness anymore. It was, after all, a newer sensation and I wasn’t liking it. I got my wish. I am very content suddenly. I feel embraced. It took her to put me there.

As I said the Jinn are tricky creatures. Much like myself, they tell you only what they must and merely allude to the rest. There is a catch to every wish granted by the Jinn, because – as The ‘Stiltskin pointed out – every act of magick comes with a price.

Felicity was mine.

Perhaps, Dear Readers, you take that as Lesson of the Week, because every act is an act of magick.

Besides, this story is not ended, but merely just beginning.

In other news from the day, my nose has been draining something fierce. It’s been like non-stop all day long. Sneezing and running and everything else in between. A proper cleansing, I suppose.

Also, whispers on the wind say that, perchance, Matt may come out of retirement and actually audition later this year. Only time will tell. And, speaking of time, I believe it is time for Tuesday…

Tuesday -

Today’s entry is going to be much like the day itself – short, sweet and to the point.

There really wasn’t much to today. Which I enjoyed but am concerned by as well. I had things I really wanted to get done today and though I made progress I did not complete. I just kind of muddled through the day.

I was up at 4:30 with the intention of getting ready and hitting the road to do some work by 6:30. I knew by 5:00 I wasn’t going. I never was supposed to go today. I was going to try to change things up so I could hang with Prof. Chong and King Putter tomorrow. But it just was not to be.

I did end up seeing the ‘Pil-Man’ today, but that is a story for another time.

In fact, all of today may be stories for another time – there was a grand meditation/healing with some Citrine earlier and of course no week is complete without a lil Baby Mama Drama.

I have a reading I should do tonight but I think I will save it for the morning. (Something strange is suddenly brewing…)

For now I think it is time to Crash out. I need the rest and the Peace. If I go now I could actually take up to 10 hours of both. I certainly hope not to, but if it happens it happens.

And now on to that most dreaded of weekdays – Wednesday.

Wednesday -

Before we begin Wednesday, perhaps it would be best to end Tuesday…

As I said earlier, I had this incredible session with a nice piece of Citrine on Tuesday. I was still having my “drainage” issue. Like, everything was still just letting loose. And I could feel the pressure all through my upper Chakras. Normally in this situation I would lay down with some amethyst but the piece I had didn’t seem to be right. Then I spotted the Citrine….

HOLY…..WOW!

I felt awesome when I came out of that one. Awesome, but a little dazed. The only thing I can remember about Citrine is that it is the only stone that does not retain negativity. In fact, you can put Citrine in a box with other stones and it will cleanse them. But that’s about all I remember. And, I’ve always kind of been bad about that anyway. Trying this stone. Testing that one. Never really knowing what they are or what they do.

If stones & crystals were narcotics…I’d probably be dead.

Or seriously fuckin’ high, man….

Language….Language…

Hey, if Bono can pull it off why can’t I?

But anyway, that was my morning. Then, as I muddled through my afternoon all dazed and confused, came The Baby Mama Drama.

I’m not even sure it is worth getting into the specifics of it all. It’s pretty much the same rhetoric as usual – just a different topic. The long and the short of it is – something came up. We disagreed on how to handle it. We argued. Then we argued about arguing. Then it all ended with Mama deciding how it would go and that would be the last it would be spoken…errrr…ummm…texted.

However, today, word came in that, yes, indeed we will be meeting with the pastor tomorrow night. It will be Mama, Daddy ‘D’ and myself. This ought to be fairly interesting. I am seriously contemplating the possibilities of recording it in some way because it is just going to be way too funny.

I am stranded at home tomorrow. The van is getting inspected. Also, no one else will be here which means I can soar free. That should put me in just the state of mind to deal with this tomorrow night.

I decided not to engage in the wonted Wednesday whimsy. I’m sure I could have made money and there’s no denying that I could use it. However, other things were to come tonight.

Besides – and I’ll admit it – I was afraid to run into…her…

Isn’t it funny that just a week ago I waited for Wednesdays, my heart racing in anticipation and now it sits stuck in my throat as I dread the possibility of having to face/deal with the mess that was last week. Although, I am fairly certain that I will never see, nor hear from, these ladies again.

Today, itself, was filled with the usual chicanery. I ask about the girl and I get, “California.” I ask about California and I get, “A show.” I ask about the show and I’m told, “Not quite yet.”

I started the day scraping money together for a tank of gas. And at the end of the day - after that gas, 2 cups of coffee, an apple pie and a pack of smokes - I still have $2.74.

Plus I repaid $.36 from yesterday.

I smell change on the air. Big change. The visions of today have the summer being very different/changing things. I can really only describe it best by working backwards.

I see September beginning a whole lot of newness and a possible new (old) direction.

I see strong energies over the summer. Very relaxed but very potent. Almost a celebration. But its all very unclear.

Then there is the present which as far as I can tell is what it is and will run it’s time and then be done.

On to tomorrow…

Thursday -

Hold on to your hats, folks….

Today was a very, very interesting day. With the van at the garage I had very little to do but mill around and meditate. And, with the family away for the day, I could do so properly…and in peace.

Many things came from that time. Most of it was focused on this evening’s event. I really wanted to go into this meeting in love. I figured we were all going for the same purpose – The Princesses. I have no need to fight with these people. Just…’Don’t Tread On Me.’ That’s all I’m sayin.

Now, it’s important to point out that ‘The Meeting’ had me so fired up that I had to stop writing for almost three days in order to compose myself and write it proper. In fact, when I came back to write, I started with Sunday and worked back to Thursday. and, even then, I had to come back to it several times to finish.

Well, anyway, I muddled through the day as usual. And, as usual it was nothing that I had expected it to be but it was all that it needed to be. Many things shifted and came into light.

For instance, I have a better – still vague, but better – idea about California. I know one stop that I must try to make. I was also given ‘the spot’ that should answer it all. In San Diego I must head for the beach and there I must sit.

I also came to understand the time frame a bit better. From the best that I can discern it should be happening between May and June. If it does not happen then, then it will happen after Halloween.

It was a little after 11, and I had only been alone for a few minutes when the craving set in. I wanted “a fix.” I couldn’t get my mind off of it. Within just a few short minutes it had begun to severely cloud my mind. I reached….almost…then withdrew. Then I went back once more. I looked and I wondered. My arm stretched out once more.

I wanted my Sweet Felicity.

At the same time, I was struggling with not having cigarettes on me. Now cravings are strong. I paced and paced. I leaned on the counter and stared at the phone. Finally, I scraped together some change and managed to make my way to the convenience store down the street.

That is the problem with addiction. You must feed it – if not one drug, then another. So, I numbed my mind with the power of nicotine to keep from injecting her into my system once more.

Things at the garage did not go so well. It was quite a bit more work than I had anticipated and the results have set me back a bit. In fact, I find myself in a precarious position. Solutions were found but they are only temporary and the clock she ticketh. Only time, and God’s generosity, will tell how, and when, it all works out once more. I even had to walk to the garage to get the van. 3.5 miles in 61 minutes. About average. I’ll take it.

And, it was a good walk too. I really didn’t mind it. Perhaps because I have walked so much in my life. I have walked much further for far less. At the garage almost every single person told me that next time I should call them for a ride. I would have never thought of this and I told them that. They are a garage, not a taxi service. It’s not their job to be sure I get there to pick up my vehicle. It’s mine. But, now I know they will help me.

So, the day crawls on, and finally, the moment of truth arrives. (So much pun intended.)

Folks, this one is so good, that it deserves it’s own title. Drum roll please….

(Imagine ‘Drum Roll’, please.)

Baby Mama Drama – The ‘Truth’ of the Moment

7' o’ clock…

(For whom the bell tolls…)

For me, that’s whom.

Folks, I wrote it earlier in this post…I sooooo should have recorded this meeting. I realize, in retrospect, even the suggestion of it would have made them all crazy, but it really should have been recorded. There is absolutely no way that the words I write could truly do justice to the experience. If there ever was a time that ‘My Life’ should be a reality show this was it. The ratings would have gone through the roof.

It was, without a doubt, the funniest thing I have had to endure in a very long time. Frustrating, perhaps even infuriating. Completely appalling. But, fuckin’ funny as Hell…

(Pun, once again, intended.)

Before I get into telling how this all went down, I will first share with you the results of the meeting:

I have conceded and the girls will be withdrawn from Rainbow Girls. My word is my word. I agreed that if we sat and couldn’t agree, or at least see eye to eye, that I would rescind my protest.

We most definitely did not come to any kind of understanding. The problem itself is still there because the problem itself was never addressed. We were distracted and sidetracked by their ulterior motive.

I find myself intrigued by the pastor. I cannot apply feelings or thoughts to him quite yet. I believe he is a good man who tries hard and is passionate about what he does.

That was my attempt at an adult summary. Allow me now to share with you a much truer reaction…

AHHHHHHHHH!

AHHHHHHHH!

AHHHHHHH!

I scream because my head hurts. My head hurts because I dealt with such a high level of stupidity tonight…that I actually have started to feel stupid.

This is a very low-level response. I am ashamed. I do not think it could be any baser, more ego-based, or more human. But…really….

I have to allow my daughters to be raised and influenced by these morons???

(Ok…mayhaps that was a bit baser…oopie shit!)

Let’s start at the very beginning…

(“A very good place to start.”)

I need to put a disclaimer right here in the beginning of the story – You may not like what you read. You may not like what I have to say or my end response to some of what transpired. You may be offended, appalled, disgusted. You may even find yourself aghast. So, please, I implore you – tread lightly for the next journey is not for the faint of heart nor the weak of spirit.

As always, you are very welcome – and encouraged – to share your thoughts. However, in this particular arena…I may not care.

The challenge in telling this story, and still trying to do it justice, is that there are so many voices. There were all the voices at the table…and those in my head that I had silenced.

So, here, I will try to portray each voice.

I, of course, will play myself.

Freedom, will resume his post as host, or narrator. And, introducing as

Mama Rabbit

Daddy ‘D’

The Good Pastor

And, as the voice in my head…

(Why, the voice in my head, of course.)

So, the time had come. I had arrived at the church before the dynamic duo. I waited in my van until they arrived. I prayed. I tried to stay centered and focused. I did not want to go in attacking, nor did I want to start on the defensive. It was meant to be just a conversation amongst adults. I did not want to fight with these people. I wanted to work things through, to reach understanding.

So, in they went, with me trailing slightly behind. As I walked through the parking lot I prayed. I prayed for the ability to stay focused, to not get too distracted by emotion. I’m not so sure how that went. I would have prayed for a good outcome but I suspected The Good Pastor would be taking care of that.

We met in The Good Pastor’s office and all sat around a table. The Dynamic Duo together on one side and me on the other. The Good Pastor sort of sat on a corner of the table. Not at the head, not with them, not really with me. It was interesting.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then it began.

So, [Mama], why are we here?

The Rainbow Girls! (holding up a stack of print-outs.)

Now, first, the written text can never help you hear the total tone of disgust and contempt in her voice.

Also, keep in mind that The Rainbow Girls is only a portion of what we really needed to discuss. Yes, we needed to discuss Rainbow Girls, why Mama wanted them taken out and why I thought it was wrong to do so. We needed to discuss the difference in our religious views in an attempt to just resolve some of the tension and misunderstanding – to put things at ease a little bit. We needed to discuss how we plan on moving through these situations in the future because the way we handled this one was horrendous.

We discussed none of this.

Never was I even able to say why I think its wrong to take the girls out of Rainbow. We never got that far. We got hung up on one thing and one thing only. The only thing, really, that they had come to discuss – including The Good Pastor.

See, Mama doesn’t like Rainbow Girls because Rainbow Girls is sponsored by The Masons…and I was to learn this night, The Masons are apparently a Satanic Cult, and they had ‘oodles of proof.’

Not really…but, whatever.

What they had was a stack of internet print-outs from people saying, “The Masons are a devil worshipping organization…you don’t learn this until the higher rankings…” In fact that’s really all I heard. She had a stack of at least 10 pages, and those were the only two lines she ever read from them. What I didn’t hear is what exactly goes on to make this person claim that. What did they see? What did they hear? What sort of gruesome ritual were they subjected to?

These are the things I need to know. I realize people aren’t as familiar with ritual as they should be and they can easily misunderstand something, but I know this stuff. So, tell me what’s going on and I’ll tell you if there’s something awry.

And, you know, in all the times that I have come across this sort of anti-masonic mumbo-jumbo I have never actually read what it is they do that makes these people say that.

Never.

Not once.

I find that fascinating. I have studied the masons for a good number of years. They’re just a group, like any other group. I will never understand why they catch the conspiracy attention that they do.

But anyway…

Are you a Mason?

(with a smile and chuckle.) No.

The conversation continued for a moment or two, but only that long, when I heard The Good Pastor ask…

Well, what Degree are you?

I just got done telling you…I…am…not…a…Mason.

The Masons would come up several times throughout the conversation. I would try to argue the validity of The Rainbow Girls as a Masonic Affiliated association. If they were masonic then I would have to be a Mason or the girls couldn’t join.

They have to be sponsored by someone.

Who sponsored them?

Nooooo…..ooooonnnnneeee.

I felt as though I had to speak slowly for these people so that perhaps they might understand the words that were coming out of my mouth. But they couldn’t even hear the words. They were so certain that all of the information they had gathered was accurate and truthful and therefore all things out of my mouth were obvious lies – as you will take notice in this next exchange.

The next time the masons came up I would be informed of their “oh so secret” rule that if you speak of the masonic Rituals – if you take the Lodge outside of the Lodge – the Masons will kill you. I have heard this so many times before. I have heard of many Masons saying that this was the rule. But you know what’s interesting? I’ve never known one to say that they actually know of it happening. There is good reason for this. I tried to argue the reality of this fallacy, but as usual they were convinced. So, I drove it a little closer to home.

Does [your stepdad] still have a pulse?

Yes. But he didn’t talk about it.

But he did. He spoke of it to me.

And what did you do?

I went and told a Mason.

Which I had. But not to be a tattle tale. What the stepdad had told me intrigued me. I went and did some research on my own to see what was really going on. I was more intrigued. So, I went to the Mason to see if I could get a little more insight. Though he would confirm the existence of the ritual he would tell me no more. Which I fully respect and expected. But that is not the point to the story. The simple fact of the matter is that The Stepdad did in fact break the vow of silence. The Masons do know about it….and yet….he lives….

Well, that’s obviously a lie.

I look at The Good Pastor and he is saying this to the Dynamic Duo with a smug smile and a chuckle under his words, “That’s obviously a lie.”

A lie? Really? You’re telling me I just lied to you? Why? Because what I said totally blows a whole in your theory and you can’t admit you might be wrong?

Let’s look at this a little deeper folks. No. I have never known a Mason who has talked of this sacred secret and actually talked about having lived it in some way. As I said, there is good reason for this.

First, are we so certain that those words are as literal as we are taking them? There are many ways to die without life ceasing.

“You’re DEAD in this house!!!”

Shunning is a type of death. Shunning is actually the worse type of death. Is it not possible that this is what they mean by this?

Or, perhaps it has its roots deep in the initiation ritual of the Masons which is based on the alleged murder of Hiram Abiff and is riddled with secrets and death.

They even tried to point out that I had obviously gone out of my way to introduce the girls to Rainbow Girls. This is entirely a Mama thing. Because what I believe and live is different than what she does I am obviously sharing it with the children in order to spite and oppose her.

(Because she is so at the root of all my thoughts and decision making.)

I didn’t take the girls looking for the Rainbows, the Rainbows came to the girls.

Well, you must have…you took them to the lodge for breakfast.

I had been taking them to the lodge for breakfast for months before they met the Rainbows. Its like $6 for all of us to eat.

You couldn’t find someplace less demonic to take them?

(Are you fucking kidding me?)

This was the core of the whole conversation. THIS is what we were here for. You see, Mama’s a Christian, in case you couldn’t tell. She’s one of them there Born-Agains.

(These are the worst Christians ever!)

Now, when The Good Pastor had asked me the Sunday prior if I was “a Christian” I answered the way I usually answer this question, “I just kind of am.” It’s not really meant to be enigmatic or cryptic. It’s meant to be simple. But, as they were to make painfully clear this night if I don’t believe as they do then I am evil and condemned to Hell.

Now we were getting into my territory. Go ahead, Pastor, bring it on.

My thing is this, if you are going to argue with me that I must believe what you do, that only you have the truth, then you better be able to back it up. Now we didn’t get into the really fun debate on the Divinity of Jesus, but we did get into my favorite – Lucifer.

(The Lord of Lies)

Now, The Good Pastor was trying his damnedest…

(Tee-Hee)

…to convince me that there is The Blood of Christ and everything else is…evil. The work of the Devil.

Ok.

Prove it. Show me.

Where in the Bible does The Devil appear as the character you describe? Where is The Fall? The creation of Hell?

Now I have to be perfectly fair. I do not know if this next part happened right at this particular moment but I do know that it happened and that the circumstances are similar enough that it works here.

The Good Pasto did not answer my question, at first. Instead he looked to my walking stick.

Well…what is the story with this?

(Oh no you don’t.)

And it actually came out of my mouth. With just as much indignation as you might imagine.

Oh no you don’t! You don’t change the subject without answering the question. Where?

He turns to a passage in Acts all about the Blood of Christ cleansing the world which has been under the grip of the devil. Ok. Fair enough. It says devil. I can give you that. But it’s not what I asked.

Where does he appear performing these great deeds of evil? Where does the Bible describe the fall?

There are several places he can turn at this point. I am just waiting to see which one he chooses. We had already eliminated Revelations, though we disagreed on that. I will not count Revelations as a valid book of reference because it was a vision, a dream, and it was intended for the visionary. I find it very egocentric of man to think that we could possibly understand it at all. So this leaves three places – only because I don’t think he could have thought of the fourth on his own.

Of the three places he could turn, he chooses the easiest. he chooses the one that takes absolutely no debate or discussion whatsoever. He chooses – The Garden.

There is nothing I need to say here. It’s right there in black and white. All one must do is read it.

“And, the serpent, being the most cunning of God’s creatures….”

In fact, my Bible isn’t even that crude towards the serpent. My Bible reads, “Now the serpent was more subtle than any other creature that the Lord God had made.”

Subtle. Imagine that. The serpent is described as subtle. But you know what he’s not described as? Lucifer or The Devil. Nowhere does it state that Lucifer transformed himself into the serpent. It’s not there. Not even later in the Bible do I find a reference to such.

how can one be so convinced that it is there and true that they can read it for themselves and not see what is right before their eyes?

I also informed them that the story had been told long before Moses in Sumer. Only, in that version, the serpent is the hero of the story.

Now I could go on and on at the ridiculousness I was faced with. For instance when Mama asked me if I thought the court would be ok with me “teaching” the girls 10 different things as opposed to her giving them a good solid base in Christianity.

Ummm…yeah.

You think they’d be ok with that?

Well, I certainly don’t think they’d have a problem with it.

Why would they? Everything I practice is from legally recognized religions. I don’t teach the girls to be bad people or put them in danger. And, furthermore, they are getting cultured. They are learning about the world, which allows them to connect to it. To respect it.

My daughters can acknowledge a Hindu in what might be the holiest of ways to them. They know the word and they love to use it. And, when they acknowledge a Hindu like this they light up – both the girls and the Hindu. They touch the person deeply and lift their spirit.

And, isn’t that the true purpose of Christianity – to light the world and lift the spirits?

And so the night would go on, round and round over the accepting of Jesus as Lord and Savior and The great Liar Lucifer.

When I pointed out the whole serpent thing The Good Pastor merely responded…

Lucifer is the Lord of Lies…

(That’s fuckin’ great…but I’m talking about what the book says.)

In fact, that was his response to so many things, “Well, Lucifer is the Lord of Lies.”

I felt like I should have had a button…

*Click*

Lucifer is the Lord of Lies…

*Click*

Lucifer is the Lord of Lies…

*Click*

Lucifer is the Lord of Lies…

Or maybe he’s like one of those pull-string dolls like Woody.

*zzzzzziiiiiiiipppppp*

“Thar’s a sssssnake in my boots…”

(His name is Lucifer…and he is the Lord of Lies.)

Like, seriously, is this what they teach in Seminary?

“If all else fails blame it on Lucifer. He’s The Lord of Lies. These poor shlubs’ll eat that shit right up.”

So much “evil.” So much condemnation. So much hate.

So many words being loosely thrown around. Words like demon(ic). Does anyone stop to consider that the word demon did not always mean “Evil Spirit”? And as far as I am concerned it still doesn’t. I mean these folks are so “Devil Obsessed” they see it in everything and it is their excuse and rationale for everything.

Well there are many Demonic places even the courts won’t let children go…

I actually heard this at one point.

Well there are many Demonic places even the courts won’t let children go…

(Ohhhhh r-r-r-reee-aaa-lll-yyy)

And it came out of my mouth pretty much like that.

Like where?

Of course, this was met with The Good Pastor’s favored evasive tactic for the night…

Let’s move on from here.

(Yeah. Let’s.)

And on and on the ridiculousness went. At one point he tried to convince me that somehow Jesus is the Creator. That he was there at the beginning. Now, if you wanna believe in Jesus as the Son of God go for it. It makes total sense. It should make sense. It’s the oldest story known to man, I think – The birth, death, rebirth of The Son of God; The rising, falling and resurrection of The Sun “God.”

If you want to believe in the Trinity and how Jesus and God and The Holy Spirit are separate and yet one, please do. Again, it is the story of most Divinities. The Hindus have theirs. The Taoists have theirs. Of course, the Wiccans have theirs. Even the Native Americans.

But even within the trinity, each has its place and purpose. Jesus is the Redeemer. God is the Creator. I take it very offensively when we confuse the two. So, I objected. He, of course, was going to show me how the Bible tells us Jesus was there in the beginning. He opened it up and began to read. And he read. And he read. And he read. And, soon his words were trailing off. Now his eyes were drifting back and forth across the page but his lips were no longer moving and there was no longer sound coming from his mouth.

He closed the book.

Well?

I’m not going to read that far into it.

(Let’s move on from here…)

Uh-huh. Aaaaand why are we “moving on from here”? Oh yeah. That’s right.

CAUSE ITS NOT IN THERE.

No where in the beginning does it tell us that Jesus was there. It doesn’t even say that the Christ was there, which I would have accepted from The Good Pastor more readily because later, in the New Testament, they do tell us that The Light was there from the beginning.

And I am supposed to trust that this man is capable of ministering to my children?

I don’t think so.

Here was my particular favorite “Good Christian” moment.

On the Sunday prior I had attended church service. Which, incidentally, was topic as well…

Well how come when you came to church that day people told me they saw evil on you…

…….

…….

…….

……

(Ummm…because you’re all crack heads?)

But, anyway, I attended church service. Now, when I go to church I go for the spiritual experience. And I mean that. Literally. I go to connect with spirit. It is my one chance to engage in spiritual energy without having to guide it or control it. I can just immerse myself in it and enjoy it.

And, enjoy it I do.

This particular Sunday I was struck with a message. It was for The Good Pastor. I approached him after the service.

Little did he know that I had had to wrestle myself into my seat during the service because God seemed to think it was a good idea to walk right up to him in the middle of the music worship, place my hand on his head and deliver the message.

It took a little convincing, but I finally got God to accept that, mayhaps, that would be a tad inappropriate.

(God’s really not so good with conventional boundaries.)

So, I delivered the message after the service. I don’t think it’s important to say here what it was. It was for him. The simple fact of the matter is I was told to tell him something and I told him.

At this meeting I reminded him of that.

Now, this past Sunday, I delivered you a message…

Do you know what that man did? He scoffed at me. Like, literally scoffed. You know a scoff when you hear one…because you hear them so rarely.

Heh! you’re no messenger from God.

(Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow.)

Round and round and round.

Finally, Daddy ‘D’ speaks. Ahhh…the voice of wisdom.

Yeah.

Right.

Daddy ‘D’ spoke but he didn’t actually say anything relevant to the discussion – neither the one we were having, nor the one I thought we were to be having. Instead he spoke…only to insult me. For about the next twenty minutes I listened to this “man” – who has never spoken to me, but once to get in my face – tell me all that is wrong with me. He cut my life up and down and from left to right.

There was no territory left uncovered,

First, he needed to point out to me that I talk too much.

(Gee, ya think?)

This isn’t a surprise. It’s not even really the insult he intended it as. I am very well aware of this. In fact, just two weeks ago Cuddlebug told me the exact same thing. LMAO.

(And, I, in turn, gave her the secret code to shut daddy’s mouth.)

He told me that I was just running my mouth and not giving them a chance to speak.

I gave them the chance to speak. They didn’t actually say anything.

Then he got more personal. he brought my family into it.

And why do you walk around the house giggling at your family?

(How do you know I walk around the house giggling at…unless…wait…they must have told you…)

And that is why I giggle at them.

Because they are FUNNY!

They can not speak to me, but they have absolutely no problem talking about me. They cannot look me in my eyes, but so very often watch me out of the corner of theirs. They watch and hawk over everything I do or do not. They watch for things to have problems with, they look for all that is wrong with me…and then they say that I am the problem.

This strikes me as funny. Sometimes, it strikes me as so funny that I must let out an audible giggle. It just happens. Sometimes it happens when they are around. But it’s not like I walk around all day every day laughing at them.

Sorry.

But its not like it hurts anyone. It’s just me…laughing in the face of ignorance.

Why do they live in fear in their own house?

(Well, now, that’s a damn fine question…why don’t you ask them?)

Really? They live in fear? Of what?

The guy who sits at his desk and doesn’t say anything to anyone? The guy who avoids whatever room they may be in or even come into?

I know we’ve had our scuffles. I know they have gotten out of control But, that is everyone getting out of control. That’s not just me. In fact, they usually get out of control first. But on a daily, general basis, I don’t bother anyone.

(Well, except for the occasional giggle.)

You’ll notice, in this telling, that most of my “’responses” to Daddy ‘D’ are typed in ‘Freedom’ script or come from “The Voice in My Head” This is because I had so little to say to all of this. How do you respond to this level of ignorance? I mean, not only is he not talking about anything we’re there to discuss but he is making it all very personal. He’s attacking me with things that don’t even involve him.

Just his need to feel better about himself, I suppose. His way of hiding his flaws (and infidelities). Just his way of feeling ‘on top.’ Because it only gets worse from here…

Why do you walk around the house videoing things?

(Ummm…because that’s what I do…)

Oh…and we’re supposed to thank you for Christmas Eve?

Well, if not me, then God. Yes.

I’m not thanking you because you had a fight with your parents over toys…

That’s not why I did it.

There wasn’t a fight with your parents over toys?

I so wish I had recorded this meeting. I so wish you could hear the tones in their voices as they spoke down to me.

There was. But that is not why I did it. God thought it was a nice idea.

It was. And, I’m glad they were there…but I’m not thanking you because you had a fight with your parents over toys…

Now, if you enjoyed it and you appreciated it, how hard is it to form a “Thank you” no matter what you feel my motivation may have been?

(Stupid Ass!)

You know they only let you stay there so you have a place to see the girls.

(Well, whatever their reason, they’re doing the Lord’s work so I guess we should bless them for it.)

Again, round and round the venom spewed. They hated the fact that I would use God so often. I mean it is my response to a lot. “It’s where God needs me”; “It’s what God asked me to do”; “It is God’s will.”

They didn’t like this at all. In fact, I was basically told it was unrealistic to give that much credit to God for my life.

(Really?)

Nobody really likes it when I play the God card. It makes them very uncomfortable. But we are not going to get into my thoughts on this here. That is a ‘sermon’ all it’s own…and one I think it’s about time the world heard. Perhaps next week.

At one point I would be told…

One day your daughters will grow up and see you for the person you really are…and then it’ll be done.

I’m fairly certain my daughters already know me for the person that I am. But then perhaps that is because I treat them like people instead of a couple of incompetents; I discuss instead of dictate; I encourage them to express themselves instead of force them to repress themselves.

Just a thought.

But he’s right. One day it will be done.

(I do so love a surprise ending…don’t you?)

At another point as we were discussing the legal realities – that the custody order gives me the right to have a say in the girls’ religious upbringing – The Good Pastor comes out with…

Legal documents can be changed. Things can change…

I turned, leaning towards him on ‘The Maple’…

And just what…are you suggesting, Pastor?

Let’s move on from here.

(Yeah…that’s what I thought.)

At one point Daddy ‘D’ would bring up this very blog and things written in it. In particular he focused on my night of debauchery a couple of weeks back.

Now, how do you know about that?

Well, if you’re going to put things on the internet…

He said with a cocky smile. Oh, but you misunderstand, my brother. I don’t care that you read it. It’s put there to be read. I am just surprised that you would…

(In fact, I’m even more surprised to learn that you could…you stupid ape!)

I said, “If there were excess…”

How can there be excess when you have nothing.

Now, I didn’t even get to finish my sentence.

(You rude bastard.)

But, it’s true. I had already fessed up to the excess of it all. I had already questioned the purpose of it all. I had already stepped up to that plate. And, I did it in the very same writing that I talked about the night in the first place.

(So, apparently, you can read…you just can’t do it well.)

It certainly wasn’t received well when I simply stated I was right where God had asked me to be. I’m not saying I was asked to spend the money that I did, but he had to know it would happen. I gots alotta Irish in me. I will drink with anyone to anything…

(Polka Music Fades In.Group sings.)

It’s somebody’s birthday

I’ll drink to that

Eet’s my anniwersary

I’ll drink to that

My wife had a baby

I’ll drink to that…I hope that it looks like me

I’ll drink to that/I’ll drink to that/I’ll drink to that

And it will always be my pleasure to buy a round. So how could God send me there and not expect that I would spend a decent amount? And, God, most certainly sent me there. But again, perhaps next week.

Daddy ‘D’ explained to me how I am given so many opportunities that I just piss away.

Oh? Really? And, just what do you know of anything that comes my way and what I do with it. I receive opportunities every day and I pursue each and every one of them. But, not all opportunities have immediate results.

All good things take time, brother.

Then it became more specifically about money. Mostly, my lack of it and therefore my inability to give them money. This is not to say I don’t try. It just doesn’t always work out so well. But, there is more to this discussion and I think it, too, will wait until next week. But Daddy ‘D’ changed everything and it all starts with the statement..

I never expected you to pay anything…

Again with that cocky smile. Perhaps the same one he gives his girlfriends.

(It must be nice to only be engaged and not actually have a ring you need to take off.)

The whole of this experience has brought me to this week’s observation…

You Can’t Argue With Ignorance

You can’t. You just can’t. The problem with ignorance is it doesn’t want to grow. It doesn’t want to know. Ignorance is content right where it is, because Ignorance is bliss. There is no responsibility in ignorance.

Needles to say, I have taken to attending church services on Sunday mornings. I feel I need to monitor the situation a little closer. Because as long as I have a breath in my body my daughters will never be allowed to think that this level of intolerance, this level of ignorance – this level of complete inconsideration towards another human and their beliefs – is acceptable.

Never.

Not for any reason.

And certainly not in the name of Christianity.

Friday -

I should have gone out on the road and tried to do some work on Friday. Instead, I decided to stay at home and do some work. I started clipping together a video project that has been waiting for the final element. I had it now, so might as well get it done. Then maybe I can get paid.

The work I put off on Friday can be done this following week. It will be late. People won’t be happy. But it will be done and I will get paid for it. I figure I didn’t lose anything. I just shifted when I would get it.

I also started to paint my new Dragon Staff. I had been given a Dragon walking stick. It was made specifically for me. And, I must say that this is the first one that has been made just for me. The others had been made and served their purposes and I salvaged them from the Burning Fires.

However, it did not come to me complete. The Master had carved it all out for me. My job is to paint it. Here’s how it’s going so far…

I also was still reeling from the previous night’s fiasco. So…I set in to sending Mama texts – sort of filling in the gaps that their insistence on not actually hearing me had caused. I didn’t get to have the conversation that I thought we were there to have. So…I would have it anyway.

Now, there were a few texts that overstepped the boundaries of acceptable. They weren’t mean or insulting or anything. They were actually what I thought had been factual statements. I learned differently.

(See what happens when you push too far over the line?)

I believe in pushing the limits. But, know when to stop.

One of my more favorite ones was when I told Mama to tell Daddy ‘D’ that I “absolutely adore him.” It’s true. He’s just soooo cute when he’s bein’ all “manly.” make me just wanna reach out and pinch his cheeks.

I did, too, ask her once again what exactly she has a problem with. She’s always telling me she doesn’t like the “bullshit”, the “nonsense”, that I “poison” their minds with.

Great.

What exactly are you talking about? We cannot reach an understanding until we both know exactly what we’re talking about. So, I asked her to tell me so I could understand where she’s coming from and then perhaps I could help her understand where I am coming from.

“You have to help me help you, [Mama.]”

I’m sure zat vent ower like a lead balloon.

Oh, most definitely. Because Mama doesn’t want to come to an understanding. Mama wants to dictate and control. Mama wants to have her way no matter what it means to or how it effects someone else. No consideration, or compassion, or courtesy to another person and who they are and how they might feel.

You know…the good Christian attitude.

I had even sent another on Saturday morning after dance class asking again. I told her I was sincere in wanting an answer because I was sincere in wanting to work through this properly – for our daughters.

Saturday -

There wasn’t really much to this day. It was like every other Saturday. I woke myself up with plenty of time to chill and get ready to go to the princesses’ dance classes.

Dance class was probably the most ‘active’ part of my day. I had gotten some meditation in and I worked off and on all day at a video project for a client. Other than that I didn’t really do much.

But dance class was fairly interesting.

First, there was the tension between me and Mama which always amuses me to no end.

Second, we told the girls about Rainbow Girls – Nyssa cried. Makayla seemed to handle it well.

(Seemed to.)

Third, I took the Dragon to show the girls since they had helped me put the base coat of white on. Needless to say, this less than thrilled Mama.

Fourth, I was inspired by a friend as I watched him become inspired as well.

And finally, there is…The Other Mama.

This is one of those fine women I had mentioned earlier. Single mom. Daughter in Cuddlebug’s class. Cute. Blonde. Sexy eyes. Great ass.

She had seen me before I had seen her and was already making her way to me.

(Of course, she was only after a nicotine fix, but that’s another story.)

I knew this was what she wanted, but I decided to play anyway. I mustered up that Peter Pan glimmer in my eye. My lips curling playfully as I cocked my head. My walk taking on a slight swagger. My voice curving to that sing-songy sultry tone.

“Haaaaaaay girl. Wat sup?”

And off we went, all smiles, to feed the nicotine demon. We talked through the entire class I believe. It wasn’t just us, there was another father there as well. I will admit that there is a smidgeon of sexual tension between us. Enough that it may be worth investigating deeper.

(If you know what I mean.)

But that is where it stops. the dialogue is so basic and elementary. I would never survive.

Sunday -

The off-ish sleep pattern continued with me waking at 11:00 last night. I stayed awake then until 3:30-4:00 and was awake again by 7:30. I muddled through my morning as usual – trying to get a feel for the day and set the pace.

I worked on a video project, which is now very near completion. But, mostly, I chilled and meditated, praying for strength for the morning to come.

Since, I do not have the girls, I decided to visit them at church.

(Besides, I thought it might be fun to visit my new friend, The Good Pastor.)

I can’t deny that I had expended way too much energy and wasted just as much time anticipating just how I might be received this morning. I mean, let’s face it, I didn’t exactly leave behind a fan club the other night.

(Which was made apparent when The Good Pastor asked Mama and Daddy ‘D’ to stay behind and “speak privately.”)

It certainly wasn’t as bad as I had expected…

But it was definitely funny as hell!

(No ‘Tongue in Cheek’ intended….or was there….???)

Now I have to be honest with you…

And, it is a ‘sin’ of mine.

I do take a certain amount of pleasure in the discomfort people will thrust upon themselves over simple and silly things. I did find humor in my choice of attire for the day. Though, truth be known, black is actually the appropriate color to wear when engaged in High Divine Works.

(And the color beneath reveals the secret anyway.)

But the clothing wasn’t enough. It was too…subtle for my taste. I needed something more. Something that people wouldn’t be able to hide their reaction to at all. Then I thought on The Good Pastor’s reaction to my walking stick, my rod if you will.

Anyone that has known me for any length of time knows my rod…

You might wanna watch the way you say that, man.

Will…you…please….

Just sayin’…

He’s right you know. Eet zounds like…

I know what it sounds like!

I got to hold his rod once…It’s a good hard wood…

Enough!

…got a big knob on top…

(all laugh.)

Listen here, Three Musketeers…I created you…(all together) I can un-create you…

Do not get smart with me in my own head! Now where was I?

Playing with your knobby rod… (snickers)

Juveniles. I’ve got a bunch of juveniles running around my head.

Anyway, I am what you might call a…’Walking Stick Aficionado.’ I love them. I have a collection, and it is still growing. And, more and more every day I find it is rare that a stick does not go with me.

I will not deny, as a spiritual worker, there are times that each stick in my collection will serve a spiritual…metaphysical…mystical purpose but, all-in-all, they’re pretty much just an accessory. They’re fun.

So, I thought about how The Good Pastor had tried to divert attention to my rod…

(He likes when people pay attention to his rod…)

Don’t you start!

(It was inevitable.)

(groans.) Anyway…I thought to myself, “Well…if he was uncomfortable with something as simple as my Maple…”

‘The Maple’ is the oldest stick in my collection. It is the first…well, for current intents and purposes anyway. It has gone almost everywhere with me. Often people comment that ‘The Maple’ seems nothing more than a mere extension of my body. We know each other well…intimately. And, she does, without question, draw attention wherever she goes. Even Mama’s son finds fascination in her…

(Mama is so unprepared…for he will be the most powerful of the three…’The Strega’…deep in him, she runs...)

So, if something as simple as "’The Maple’ – a shaved, sanded, stained, piece of limb – could unnerve him so, how ever would he react to something…saaaaaayyyyy…..like this….

Ha! I’m laughing to myself right now just writing about it.

Ha!

HA, I SAY!

HA!

I’m sorry. I am. I know it’s wrong of me. I truly am a devil…an imp, if you will. I am very fun to play with, but you do not want to get me all riled up…

Imps are a funny little lot…They’ll show you yourself…like it or not…”Devils,” they say, “the tricks that they play”…They are infants & neophytes…The only dangers from them…Are the things that we say…

Imps are Child-Spirits and, hence, should be handled like children.

(So sayeth The Great Imp of the North…)

Imps are az figgle az children as vell. Vun nehwer knowz vhen, or how, vun vill upzet an imp…

Nonetheless, the one stick is known as Burkie. Of course, Burkie is not his real name, only the one he will allow me to call him. For, being a leprechaun he does not want to reveal his true name. In his true name is his secret, his pot o’ gold.

Legend tells that if you capture a leprechaun he must show you his pot of gold. This is only partially true my friends. The true secret lies in his name. And so, after the capture, ensues a silly little game – hints and guesses and failures at his name…

And the whole time evading his wily attempts to trick you into freeing him.

(Some say ‘The Stiltskin’ was an imp. It is more likely he was a disgruntled leprechaun.)

So, Burkie would go. I was actually fortunate enough to get double the pleasure this weekend…

From his rod…

Knock it off! You guys are incorrigible.

We are as you made us, man. Don’t bust our balls.

I hate you.

You love us.

I still hate you.

So, anyway…I had taken Burkie to dance class on Saturday as well. I can’t help it. It’s funny. People that normally talk to me did not even know how to engage me. I cannot be held responsible for the discomfort others inflict on themselves…but I sure as shit can find it humorous.

And let’s just say…Church was no disappointment either. It is not my fault that people are so easy and predictable. Some of the more interesting members of the congregation made it their focus. This included the visiting missionary, whom I actually suspect of seeking me out for I was very isolated and alone when he found me.

It was actually kind of creepy.

Of course, The Good Pastor found it very difficult to be in my presence. He fumbled. He stuttered. For a moment, he had even tried to ignore me completely until the woman he was chatting with acknowledged me. I had only stopped on my way out to say good morning, let him know I enjoyed the service and to give him my minister business card since I had forgotten on Thursday night.

(Feed the inner imp!)

Please understand. It is not that I dislike The Good Pastor in any way. I think he is a very good man.

I’m just not very fond of his attitude.

Needless to say, Mama was less than thrilled to see me at worship this morning. She’s another one that is so funny. She will not look at me. She goes out of her way in situations like that to avoid being in my presence. The negativity just pours off her. And yet…I am the one that “has the problem.”

The service itself was as most services are for me. I drifted off into my own personal Nirvana, allowing the energy and light to just pour through me. Again, despite any personal feelings I may have, I must say that for whatever reason T.O.T.S. flows strongly during their worship services. It’s like nothing I have experienced before. Overwhelming really. In fact, today it almost knocked me on my ass – literally. If I had not had Burkie I would have been picking myself up off the ground.

But, then it happened.

The visiting missionary was saying a prayer. It was nice. The words were peaceful, light, full of love. His voice was soft. The tone was soothing, almost musical. Then abruptly, without any warning or segue, he spit out words of hate as he cursed the devil and condemned the souls of the lost. He became louder. His tone more fierce. HIs energy shot out in a rage.

He had completely derailed the spiritual “high” I was on. Talk about a buzz kill. My body jerked as my spirit plummeted back within. I felt my face scrunch up and my head twitch. I must have looked as if someone had put my nuts in a vice-grip.

It’s not even that I don’t agree with the whole notion. It’s more than that. When he changed from prayers of blessings to woes of the wicked he began to wreak of the same evil he was denouncing. He became venomous…hurtful…dangerous. He stopped drawing in The Light and activated The Darkness.

And, these things have no place in a Holy Temple.

Quite honestly, the experience had inspired me. Driven me, even. There were two things I needed to do when I arrived home.

First, I needed to look – one more time – just to be certain….

Using the concordance as a reference there is absolutely no mention of the Fall of Lucifer nor the creation of Hell and all Evil in the Bible.

None.

If you do not believe me, please, look for yourself. There are a few vague and obscure passing references. There is a mention of “The hell of fire” but this is a very different statement than simply “Hell.”

There are many references to The Devil, but each of these is also a very general statement in which “The Devil” could be applied to almost anyone – very loosely. For instance, the passage that The Good Pastor referenced on Thursday night wherein, “The Light (blood) of The Christ will cleanse the world which has been under the rule of the devil.”

Language is a very tricky devil itself. It can be very difficult to navigate through. The use of the term devil here is much akin to the use of the word ‘enemy’ throughout the New Testament. Though I can understand and appreciate how easy it is to take these statements very literally – especially if you need to believe in The Devil. However, the terms, when read in context of the scripture always strike me as more pointed. The Enemy was not the Enemy of God, but the Enemy of the people. The oppressors. Which, at the time, was The Roman Empire and the corrupt Hebrew leaders.

There is even a passing reference to watching “Lucifer fall from the sky in a shot of lightning.”

But there is no actual passage telling of The great Rebellion and the emergence of all that is evil. I have searched for it. I have sought it out. I have challenged many to find it for me. Some have accepted the challenge. None have returned successful.

The other thing I needed to do was look into a piece of history that has recently come my own way. In 1820 Thomas Jefferson assembled and published The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth. Today it is referred to as The Jefferson Bible.

Thomas Jefferson had literally cut apart bibles and pasted them back together to better suit his thoughts on it all. The first thing he did was to eliminate any reference to the Divinity of Jesus.

Why?

Because he felt that the focus on the Divinity of Jesus was a distraction to the true teachings of Christianity. I agree whole-heartedly. The contemporary Christian obsession with their “Son of God” has created a Jesus that does not bring us closer to God but separates us from him. The righteousness of ‘The Belief’ has blinded us to the righteousness of ‘The Message.’

He also removed most, if not all, of what the Apostles taught after the crucifixion. He believed that the Apostles were not capable of understanding Jesus’ teachings when he was here and that, in his absence, they merely filled in the blanks the best they could.

I have always said they were idiots. They had absolutely no clue. Jesus left a very heavy responsibility on their shoulders…and they were not ready for it. You must be very careful at how you take their words.

Of course, feeling completely satisfied, I was compelled to share my newly confirmed findings with Mama. I figure these were the things I would have brought up during our meeting had we actually been there to discuss and understand each other. And, since I had not been given the opportunity to speak these things then, I would take the time now. Then it is said. What she does with it is up to her, but I no longer need to carry it. It is out there and it is in writing.

I have also been asked to share The Jefferson bible with The Good Pastor next Sunday.

Also, before I left church I slipped Mama $5. Cuddlebug lost a tooth the night before but she wasn’t at home so the tooth fairy hadn’t come yet. So I gave Mama $5. I’m certain this will be something for them to grip onto and tear their vicious teeth into.

“Well he can’t do this or this or that…but he can give $5 for the tooth fairy.”

Well, honestly, it’s $5. I can blow $5 as quickly as I sneeze. I might as well blow it on my child. Also, the $5 idea came to me some time ago when Cuddlebug had lost a tooth here. A friend had told me he used to give his kids $5 each time.

I thought on this…for a very long time. It seemed so excessive. $5 for a tooth? Really? Then I thought on it some more. I thought about what $5 could do for a child. Not just the joy and excitement at having $5 but something more….deeper. It can help instill a strong abundance consciousness at a young age. This is something my daughters need. They face poverty consciousness every day. Their mother is always telling them they can’t because there’s no money or it’s too expensive. And, of course, daddy is always struggling with money. So, why not counterbalance it with a lil Faery Magick? ;-)

From here in Geistopia, for now and for always, I am your beloved Rev. wishing you…

Love

Light

Peace

and Freakishness.