This monkeys gone to heaven

Or that monkey.

We know today many many monkeys went to heaven… well ceased to exist. Along with all their dreams thoughts and secrets…. Interesting thing to contemplate the idea that one day everything you are thinking now, all the nightmares you had last night, those emotions that feel as though they are about to rip your throat right out of your chest will simply be gone and as such cease to matter , begging the question how much do they matter now?… Or maybe you don’t find it interesting, maybe you find it frightening  and would think me morbid for casually tossing thoughts of death around my brain. But where I am in my mind its not morbid at all, raised a Buddhist may have helped. death simply is. its a end point on a journey we will all take to fear death is to fear living because it is the inevitable conclusion of the later. Thats not to say the death of someone in my sphere doesn’t impact me, of course in my past blogs I think it quite evident I was greatly impacted by the death of my mother. And after all these 6 years with out her there still exists a hole, perviously filled with comfort love and familiarity, that lies empty, and probably always will. the raw sadness fades but the hollow will always remain.

 

Which is what brings me to my thought train of the new year. On the 29th of dec one of my dearest friends lost her father and it brought about a reflection (in an effort to try and express some comfort in the face of the ultimate discomfort) I being much further along in my process of grieving…. not sure if I like that term the grieving process, adds a mechanical element to it that I don’t believe in anyway comes close to describing it. it is not mechanical or logical and not really a defined process at all, more like a struggle against the very basic emotional being, a battle of wills between the amygdala and the prefrontal cortex. its a mess and no mechanism employed by our rational selves makes it a methodical “process”….

 

The comfort and advise I offered her was edited down from what I was actually thinking, but I do understand that there are the basic elements described in all those pamphlets you get about grieving that are true of all of us. We do seem to all experience roughly the same range of emotions when dealing with this loss. Currently she is in the anger stage… yes we all go there…the shock… the denial… the anger….etc…..

 

I have always viewed grieving as a slightly narcissistic emotional indulgence, yes my own grieving I view this way as well. it is very much about self. If you are to look at it from a purely analytical view point what are we truly grieving, where and why is there that hollow space (of course not believing in god or an afterlife I am not looking at the idea that our loved ones are still feeling or thinking anything) The person is gone , their suffering their happiness are now immaterial. our sense of loss is our empty chairs at the table, the  missing number on speed dial. one less ear to bend one less voice to make us laugh, all our personal experiences now have on less element enriching them, we are in fact grieving for ourselves and all those now missing things in our lives. this has actually helped me a good deal in the last couple of years not because it stops me from feeling any of these things but because I have a perspective on it. my mother had a long death of suffering and though she did not want to die there must have been some acknowledgement of the fact the pain was going away for good during those last breaths. She was ready to die at the end and I think simply because she did not want to continue to live as she was. but that is probably why we all are ready for death at the end, those of us that have the long downward spiral, perhaps not those sudden death victims, then there really isn’t any time to prepare.  thats it the though, dead don’t care. our grief is immaterial to their non existence and we can’t fool ourselves that the tears we cry in anyway are of benefit or solace to them, they are for us and about us, those left behind to find our new path without them….. of course even if it is mostly narcissism it doesn’t make any difference to the fact that we feel it.

That leads me to the next train i hoped… loss of trust in reality….Interestingly enough  i have never read in any of these pamphlets about the loss of trust and sense of betrayal …. maybe these are at the root of a lot of the grieving we do….

 

My father believed in magic, I mean not just card tricks and dragons, but really believed that human beings had some special energy they could use to direct the course of reality astral projection,  ESP, telekinesis, he believed all these things were real. He believed he had had out of body experiences, he claimed all through my childhood that his mother “knew” things and could communicate with the spirit world…. as a young child I believed these things as well, but my questioning of the world lead me to abandon these ideas through lack of credible evidence and large doses of reality… reality… My father continued to believe right through to my mother death… I think he thought, no believed, that part of my mothers first remission was due to all the meditating and energy he directed towards healing her (not the reality that her immune system fought off the first round). Of course when she was diagnosed with a return of the cancer he worked himself into an otherworldly froth. you could tell that he was straining his inner being in an effort to bring some magical healing, that along with investigating every alternative medical option, which I decried bullshit loud enough I managed to stop a complete financial ruin from being visited upon them. The point… through all my fathers expenditure of energy and effort my mothers disease progressed in textbook fashion to its inevitable and unhappy conclusion. and as sad and traumatised as I was, I was no where near as ruined as my father. reality had betrayed him, everything he believed to be true was now brought into question, and it continued to be shattered in the months following my mothers death. because try as he may to reach out to her through meditation to receive some evidence that she had continued on a journey somewhere, nothing presented itself. there was no feeling of being loved, or being watched over no messages no comfort just the harsh reality that the woman he loved died a slow painful death and that nothing he did or could do was going to change that….  he no longer trusted reality to deliver the routine or the love he expected….

 

that is only one way in which we can experience the loss of trust in our world, I think it is one of many ways those who believe in anything can feel betrayed, but it goes far beyond that, even for those  of us that attempt to keep ourselves grounded in the rational….

 

We wake up each morning with expectations of how our reality is going to present itself. For me currently now unemployed I would expect I will start my day with a thick cup of coffee to keep me awake while I’m lighting the wood-stove. at some point closer to lunch time my daughter will crawl out of bed and proceed to bitch at me about the mess I’ve left in the kitchen…etc… of course everyday is different but your mind knows what is likely going to happen in a predictable order, you have tasks goals you know what the world looks like on the way to work, what the menu is at your favourite lunch spot….. or do you? what if all the houses disappeared on your morning drive? what if the sun didn’t rise, or the colour of sky was purple instead of blue. Loss of someone close is like waking up in an alternate reality, one where you can not trust that anything you know will actually be there.  an integral part of ever routine you had and everything you knew is no longer there. they say that your brain fills in gaps in your vision with information from previous experience to make a complete field of vision. well when someone dies its like those gaps in vision are no longer filled in. everything is full of holes and you don’t know where to walk… all of a sudden (or maybe not so suddenly) you can’t trust whether you or anyone else around you will wake up tomorrow, and well someone didn’t…… you not only question your own mortality and the mortality of all those around you but whether anything will remain the same because anyone of any of those you interact with may indeed die leaving yet more of the world not filled in… and there is a deep maybe unnoticed feeling of reality having actually betrayed you, not only can you no longer trust anything to be as it “should be” but it seems as though perhaps there was a malevolent intent from reality itself to undermine your happiness and security. If you can’t trust the world you wake up in everyday then wtf can you rely on?

 

Ultimately I don’t have any advice or any answers for anyone, just opinions and experience not any more valid than any other monkey. I do know I resent shopping for my own pjs because my mother always bought them for me for xmas,  having to go pyjama shopping means facing the fact that my reality no longer includes her and that I still have holes in my vision that will always be there.

 

I tell my daughter to appreciate the fact that I always buy her socks and pjs for xmas because one day she is going to have to buy her own and it will be allot more difficult than she thinks.

 

For those who lost the children and not the socks, I imagine those holes are sometimes so vast that you can’t see where your going and perhaps reality has ceased to exist entirely…

moment by moment

one foot in front of the other

until we fall off the edge we can no longer see….

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to the person sitting in the darkness

Reading anti war essays today. a damn fine way to observe a day of glorifying war. I wear my white poppy with pride… in the name of reason and the measure of intellect that a few brave souls have displayed throughout history, in resistance to war and the ideas of imperialism and conquest…… many brilliant words have been written by literary icons  speaking out against the tyranny and idiocy that propels humanity into bloody conflict, and causes us to glorify the atrocities we commit against our own species, and the entire planet. Mark Twain, Earnest Hemingway, Ambrose Bierce… the list goes on. check this collection of anti war essays for some good counter to the endless stream of propaganda we endure in this season of celebrating death.  http://rickrozoff.wordpress.com/2012/03/21/250-anti-war-essays-poems-short-stories-and-literary-excerpts/

Listening to cakes cover of war pigs……

How many of us question the decisions made on our behalf? and of those that question how many take that inner dialog to vocalization? perhaps my  tainted view of mankind gets in the way of honest perception of our numbers, but I do know for certain it is not enough. To few of us dare to speak out against what we know is barbarism and the falsities used to justify it. Are the lies perpetuated by our leaders so effective that the majority of us are persuaded by them?  or are we in majority a species of cowards who would rather believe and behave as we are told than dare the intellectual dissidence against that which we know is wrong? do monkeys know it is wrong? is our instinct to war and combat so strong that we prefer a society founded on perpetual violence, exploitation and conquest, to that of mutual cooperation and peace?

willful ignorance, cognitive dissonance, itchy trigger finger, smoking gun, all are prisoners, wars are never won……

the language virus infects our actions, causes us to behave in erratic emotive ways. how angry someone can get over a concept they don’t even understand, its all in the words that are served in place of true understanding. the media is such a powerful tool for manipulation the minds and actions of (as mark twain put it) the dull masses. So clever are the visual salads they serve up with the repetitive entree of of carefully cooked language. although it is a tv dinner rather than a lobster bisque. concocted for those used to the blue collar menu of stale carnival corn dogs and deep fried mars bars.

the tool is always fear, the fear appeal, a shock doctrine. So many years of study and research put into population control, and does anyone question that they have had enormous success? why else would we be standing by while they take every illusion of freedom from us and allow them to take our money to create body piles  thousands of miles away. ISIL….. last year our heroes committing atrocities in Syria not only with our nations blessing, but with our weapons. now an enemy we will re-level iraq to destroy. same game, same bullshit, same complicity from the populations of the nations that are responsible for the whole mess in the first place…

(the Harper government is mulling over legislation that would make what I have said here today a crime because I am criticizing a warring system and showing antisocial anti government behavior that may make me prone to extremism…. WTF wake up Canada)

amazing that the canadians only needed the death of 2 soldiers to get its population beating the war drums. complete loss of context and perspective we now have the salt of our nation attacking mosques and berating Muslims at every opportunity… I see it every day working with the public. those dulled sullied masses whose idea of morality comes from the pages of a book of lies even more ridiculous than the ones they are being spoon fed by the government controlled media. a movable morality so weak and transparent that even the basic rules, like thou shalt not kill, only applies to beloved family members, as long as it is of benefit to maintain.

before I get myself into to much trouble from my ranting I will sign off as I could go on for days most likely, but to what avail?… (waves at csis with a friendly smile, asks “hows the blog? you likey?”)

Lest we forget that america funded and supported the Taliban, Al-Qaeda and ISIL.

Lest we forget all the unnecessary wars for profit… that all wars are unnecessary

Lest we forget that ideology and fear have been a weapon wielded by our leaders against us, leading to the slaughter of 100’s of millions of you and me’s

Lest we forget soldiers are not heroes they are tools of war and suppression

Lest we forget we are violent monkeys and still behave like it

patriotism the principle that will justify the training of wholesale murderers

-Leo Tolstoy

An introduction

As it were……
 I’m not the great writer, or even a modestly good one, most of my grades were high in school, but not in English. my spelling is atrocious (thank the great flying spaghetti monster for spell check), my grammar skills are probably still at elementary school level. But I am also a determined arrogant twat, that thinks  that I still have a spark of insight that is worth sharing, as feeble as the delivery  may be.
 
why  did I start this? a question to myself, not that anyone is asking. Because I am now traversing a difficult time in my life, well really they are all difficult, our species being as insane as it is finds ways to attach emotional drama to almost every stage and journey though life… but I know I will get to that subject later…..  Anyway….. the difficult stuff…. I think the true self examination and change started 4 years ago when my mother died, death is probably one of the single most consuming events in a monkeys life. we fear it sometimes we relish it, but mostly for entirely selfish reasons we abhor it. when it takes our loved ones the changes that are wrought upon our daily lives are tremendous, and usually very unpleasant. It was no exception  for my families feelings of loss. My mother had been my best friend, I am extremely anti social by nature (perhaps my experience with other monkeys is to blame… later for that…)  I had ended up isolated in a small Canadian town with my small insular family unit, my daughter my S.O. and myself, and my mother was the only contact outside that family unit, my connection to the world. But in many ways she always had been. that secure feeling of always being loved and never judged, probably the only person we experience in our lifetime that will love us no matter our transgressions or abuses. well for us lucky enough to have that kind of mother. I did….
 
small cell lung cancer…. 6 months almost to the day, but I lost her a few months before that as she regressed to the unhappy child i never knew she was. It still makes me cry, it always will, because us monkeys have a very hard time controlling our  emotions. she was the only person I could go to when I cried, the only one I didn’t feel foolish with. now i cry alone… I don’t know anyone who might be reading this, so today I cry with you and I don’t feel foolish (maybe that is why I started this blog… no, fuck crying, it changes nothing and never feels better)…
 
It changed my life, of course it would, it always does, for every one….. It left me so alone… there was no one left to let my guard down with, no one to catch me if…. when… I fall.
 
I spent every day with her after the diagnosis, I had talked to her everyday before but now I was with her. I quit my job against any better judgement because I was the sole income for my own family unit. I went to all the appointments, chemo, radiation, grocery store visits. her and my father moved to this small town despite any better judgement any of us could have, but my mother repeated daily we just needed to stay together, because we were all we had. how I wish she was wrong. As her mind went and her body crumbled beneath us, I was there for almost every moment of memory and of sickness. the whole thing was entirely horrible, not just because of the disease but because of the apprehension and the fear, because of the unwillingness to die. life can be beautiful and no one (well mostly no one wants to die) but when the inevitable truly marches us towards the end the fight against death can make death so much more awful than it should be, than it could be. she cried almost constantly while her mind was still sharp. there were no beautiful sunsets seen, or fragrances inhaled. every moment was a painful battle against death and there was no hope though her and my father broke their arms grasping at it. It got so there was nothing to say, almost everything there was to talk about seem insignificant (I am not one to pretend or ignore. I can’t.) everyone was searching for a cure….. except me… there was no cure, is none, and doubtful that there ever will be. most of us seem to forget life is terminal, and something will kill us all…. eventually……  
 
I wanted to enjoy those last months with her more than anything, they were the last chance I had to listen to her voice to feel her comforting arms, to share a laugh, a smile, even a tear….. but there was very little of that… there was madness, there was desperation, and there was sadness so oppressive that we all found it hard to breath. My father was frantic and insane with grief, and made everything, every doctors visit, every trip to town a panicked frenzy. i know he loved her more than life itself, but I resent him even now for how painful his grief made those last few months for all of us.
 
October 23rd 2010: after being in a coma like state for nearly a week , 1 day after i finally convinced my father that she should die in a hospital, not in her bed (where she writhed in pain for weeks,the 2 of us were barely able to change her diapers and administer her pain medication) my mother finally passed on. I was on my way home, the 1 hr drive through the mountains to get a change of clothes so I could return to her bedside. I came around a corner and there were nearly a dozen deer standing in both lanes of the road.  dusk and a fresh coating of rain on the road, my choices are a cliff side or over the side of a bridge into a freshly swollen lake. did I close my eyes? did I go into a trance? or did automation take over and i operate under some unknown mechanical programming to do what needed to be done? I come aware of where I am facing in the opposite direction perfectly within the boundaries of the opposite lane, deer on every side of my vehicle, standing staring, my horn is blaring. no one is even grazed. the deer and I exchange unspoken looks of horror , they dart off into the bush… I find a place to get off the road and inhale the shortest cigarette i have ever smoked.. when i get home my father phones and tells me mother is dead. If I had gone the way the deer pointed me I may have been at her side when she took her final breath. she was alone, my father had gone to his hotel room to rest. I hope she wanted to be alone. I hope she didn’t know I wasn’t there. I think my father and i probably still carry that quiet guilt, especially now that we are both so alone.
 
There wasn’t one thing about my mothers death that changed anything. nothing I can point to and say “ah that was an epiphany”. maybe it wasn’t even her death, or suffering, maybe it was the entirely selfish experience of no longer having someone i could lean as hard on as I had her. I don’t know, and to psychoanalyze myself is idiotic, I just end up thinking  in circles and self assured dead ends. What I do know is I view each day of existence as important, kind of a common conclusion for those who have seen the face of death. no longer is the future sprawled out in front of me like a empty page. each moment is a closing sentence, an entity unto itself. the importance of the last 5 seconds is nothing in the universal scope of things, but everything in the existence of one monkey that hardly anyone or anything knows about. I don’t give a shit about legacies anymore on an individual basis. upon my death any recognition of my ego is entirely irrelevant to the only person it ever really mattered to …. myself…. yet I still want to do and say things even though i have this overwhelming sense of meaninglessness to everything. nothing matters yet everything i do matters more than it ever did. interesting dichotomy….or maybe entirely uninteresting… but it has brought some importance to even the simple act of breathing, life isn’t about anything in particular it is about being, being alive, moving from one breath to the next and enjoying as many of those inhalations as you can. even pain is something, as opposed to nothing, we will all find nothing soon enough……
 
This fucking monkey is an atheist, she believe wholeheartedly in nothing. and relishes in it. because the alternative would bring an absurdity to the universe I can not except intellectually. there is no logical basis for a belief in something. if there is a god or an energy force, than there are unicorns fairies and santa clause, because the human imagination then has control of reality without any basis in measurable reality. not to mention what a fucking prick a God would have to be to create a mess such as this. I haven’t met a human warped enough to create the suffering and horror that is the workings of the planet and the universe (mostly the world of man). a sadist of unimaginable scope such as that, is to awful to consider…  nothing is paradise.
This monkey is an anarchist…. not a mask wearing  anti-authoritarian so angry that I need to smash shit. But someone who believe in the individual and the ability of us to rule our own actions (should we dare to take on the intellectual responsibility to control our monkey nature). as far as smashing the system, well I leave that up to those who actually created and support the system, why would I invest my energy in smashing something everyone else seems to be content with? no I will just sit on my sofa with a bowl of popcorn and watch us eat the world…… until there is a mass awakening…. for that i’m not holding my breath, breathing is far to important..
 
This monkey is an environmentalist… who believes that life as a whole, and  itself, is far more important than the existence of one species. our arrogance infuriates me daily,  only until I inhale, then I try to go back to not giving a shit because my anger is meaningless.  
This monkey is a misanthrope. that dirty dirty word than makes me a traitor to my very species. a far greater crime than genocide or matricide, I don’t like my own.  I see other monkeys and what I see inspires hatred, unimaginable to most. but I’m a hypocritical misanthrope; I love my child and other members of my family. I celebrate and champion the individual.  I lump us all into one and then separate us into the parts. I hate myself but love my toes the quirky little lumps of flesh they are…..
 
This monkey is a pacifist who was raised a Buddhist and had no interest in finding enlightenment, still doesn’t . this monkey doesn’t believe in enlightenment,  life is already full of enough delusions who needs another even if you find happiness and peace, its still an illusion….
 
what a long abstract meander as to how I got here, and why I’m bothering, I know I could go on, and I will…. I hope some one visits here,  at the same time I will tell no one I started this blog. this is a secret place for all my thoughts to go. I hope I return as I need this, and have so much more to say even if it doesn’t matter… my aching head says stop now, so I listen