CHESS for LIVING. Ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes homines (fire both proves gold & strong humans)

For me, chess has been a powerful tool and discipline for personal growth. Combined with alcoholic recovery principles, life makes much more sense than it used to. The YouTube video link at the bottom of this write will lead you to these tools and disciplines.

Odd as it may sound to some, my HP (Higher Power) God (as I understand God) has helped my surrendered heart, mind, and soul find Grace and Learned Beauty in every aspect of my past and NOW.

A willingness to go to any lengths is a beautiful thing. Loss in Life & on the Chess Board "IS" a Most Generous Benefactor.

Existence & then a Willingness to Believe Precedes our Capacity to Reflect Original Purity. Seriously, the most strenuous pushups in life are twofold: the first and the last. The middle pushups are generally the ones we forget, but the decision to do the first pushup is only memorable IF the last one kicked your' you-know-what.’ Right? :-)

Childbirth came to my mind as the ‘last’ PUSH! of sorts, but I’m a man, and sometimes our birthing is emotionally dreadful, but the spiritual/physical side of birthing a child I will never comprehend.

I created a video and took almost an hour to explain a few valuable lessons from the evolution of wisdom I’ve acquired both in and out of prison. The beautiful thing I discovered is that the doors of any prison I’ve been in were never locked, akin to the idea C.S. Lewis posited that the door to hell is opened only from the inside. To me, the most secure prison in the world is the one we construct for ourselves. I’ve met people in life who were in prison or going through circumstances that many of us would deem impossible to prevail over, but their attitudes were stellar, and their hearts stayed pure as their minds focused on the Glory of God.

To the pure of heart, all things are pure. In God’s Economy, nothing is wasted. “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” ― Carl R. Rogers, On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy.

And lastly a quote from a well-known author Victor Frankl: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

The Three-Second Rule: Use It so you don't 'Lose It' (over something stupid). We all say something we regret from time to time, but some people justify it by saying something ridiculous, like, "Well, it's the TRUTH! You can't handle the TRUTH!" Geez, talk about wallowing in condescension.

For me, this works better: Say what you mean, mean what you say, but don't say it mean. This takes discipline. Pick your battles. How important is it?

Truth without compassion is cruelty.

Never get into a pissin' contest with a skunk.

Meek is Greek for 'Power Under Control.' Before speaking, I usually utilize The Three Second Rule. It has saved me more times than I can count.If you can support my work, please consider so doing. I had a benefactor support my work some time back, and I am so grateful.

I am here to serve humanity as an Instrument in my HP’s Hand. I was hoping you could help me help others (and help me keep food on my table) by inviting me to speak (live or online via ZOOM), maybe ask me to write an article, or just donate a few bucks by clicking the link at the top of the page.

Here’s the Unlisted YouTube video link with afformentioned Life Messages:

https://youtu.be/k85QhGLbtqs

A Little of my Backstory as a Child, and Robert Frost.

Grandpa Gill used to call me Slowpoke, Turtle, and other denotators as to my stopping to notice everything. We would be walking in the park and as he was talking to me, I would stop and drop to watch a flower, a blade of grass flex as an ant brushed upon it, a droplet of dew reflected light, or a mysterious item would catch my eye, like a bright blob of chewing gum on the sidewalk (and I would pull it up and put it in my mouth and chew it). I guess I was a Noticer, but not a very clean one.


I noticed everything, felt everything, and sometimes it overwhelmed my senses so much, that I would shrink into myself to shut it all out. In time, a gentle touch would feel like a searing iron on my skin, but being hit would not bother me too much. Then I was diagnosed as Autistic, but the truth is more complicated than that diagnosis. A Sensitive was reacting to his abusive circumstances and keeping the secrets of the abusers out of some con-job sense of loyalty. Groomers are experts at such things.


Robert Frost and I share a birthday, and we share something else, and that's a love of the written word, including poetry. He was a healthy Sensitive. Here is one of his poems I resonate with, titled, Every Grain of Sand:


Every Grain of Sand


In the time of my confession

In the hour of my deepest need

When the pool of tears beneath my feet

Flood every newborn seed


There's a dying voice within me

Reaching out somewhere

Toiling in the danger

And in the morals of despair


Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake

Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break

In the fury of the moment, I can see the Master's Hand

In every leaf that trembles and in every grain of sand


Oh, the flowers of indulgence

And the weeds of yesteryear

Like criminals, they have choked the breath

Of conscience and good cheer


The sun beat down upon the steps of time

To light the way

To ease the pain of idleness

And the memory of decay


I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame

And every time I pass that way, I always hear my name

Then onward in my journey, I come to understand

That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand


I have gone from rags to riches

In the sorrow of the night

In the violence of a summer's dream

In the chill of a wintry light


In the bitter dance of loneliness

Fading into space

In the broken mirror of innocence

On each forgotten face


I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea

Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me

I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan

Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand


Good stuff, eh? Reminds me of a line from one of Michael Monroe's songs. A Safe Place to Land, Poems and Poets, Music, Sincere Hugs, and following The Holy Spirit. https://youtu.be/cvuptbkHjVI

Mirror Therapy, Self-Esteem & God-Esteem 

MARY JO R., MY SPIRITUAL ADVISER (AKA SPONSOR) ASKED ME TO LOOK IN THE MIRROR EVERY MORNING AND SAY, "TIMOTHY, I LOVE YOU".  WHY?

SHE KNEW I WAS STRUGGLING WITH SUICIDAL IDEATIONS AFTER PUBLICLY SPEAKING OF DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE AND KILLING A CHILD (8/15/1977). I FELT HORRIBLE GUILT. SOBRIETY MEANT NO SUBSTANCE TO ANESTHETIZE MY PAIN!. I HAD TO FEEL EVERYTHING…WITH NOWHERE TO HIDE.

I COULD NO LONGER ‘ANESTHETIZE’ MYSELF WITH ‘DRINK OR DRUG’ IS NOT WHAT PEOPLE THINK OF WHEN CONSIDERING RECOVERY; WHILE I WAS NOT DRINKING TO ‘ESCAPE’, (WHO ‘ESCAPES’ INTO HELL?) I DID GET TO AVOID FEELINGS OF REALITY AND DULLED MY CONSCIOUSNESS OF THE MEANING OF CONSEQUENCES. WHILE I THOUGHT THE IDEA OF ‘MIRROR THERAPY’ SOUNDED RIDICULOUS. IT REMINDED ME OF SOME POP-PSYCHOLOGY DRIVEL BS (sorry, just what crossed my mind at the time), I DEEPLY RESPECTED HER COURAGE AND WISDOM AND AGREED TO TRY IT THE FOLLOWING MORNING. 

The first time I spoke to the mirror, I immediately spewed expletives about how I felt about myself. I was shocked! I hated myself! I felt like I was damaged goods for having been abused as a child. I felt that killing a child made me worthless. So for 8 years, I looked in the mirror daily and told myself that I loved myself.  

One day (eight years later), I finally meant it! I loved myself! My spirit face was shining and the old Timothy was nowhere to be found. Loving others as I love myself was finally possible (part of God-Esteem)! I ran down to the Maplewood Alano Club to share my joy of not being able to see the "convicted felon" in the mirror anymore! 

I quickly approached about a dozen people who were smoking a cigarette outside the club before the meeting. I loudly announced my accomplishment & joy. In a very excited tone, I said, "Check out this shi_! You're gonna love this shi_! I looked in the mirror this morning and said, "Timothy, I LOVE you!" and I MEANT it!"  

HA! I probably sounded like Joel Olsteen or something. Everyone looked at me a little weirdly but said nothing. Then a female friend of mine took a hit off of her cigarette, blew smoke into the air, and then said sarcastically, "What! You gonna kiss yourself, too?!"  

Well, most likely she didn't know what Mirror Therapy was. I did not feel hurt by her response. I had paid some serious dues to heal and I was not about to let a flippant answer undo my hard-earned spiritual progress. I knew she simply did not know any better.  

It took me eight years, but it took her 2. Maybe my experience saved her some time in the process?

Guess what? A couple of years later, she came to me and apologized for her comment. She had come to a point in her life of grasping self-forgiveness. Truth is, she didn't owe me an apology, She MIGHT have owed herself one, though.  

Spiritual progress is an inside job. Go make friends with your mirror, then pay it forward. 

ROCKS & MIRACLES: Orphanage Life, Facing Adversity, A brief essay on Trusting God.

“The God of my rock; in him will I trust: he is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my saviour; thou savest me from violence.” 2 Samuel 22:3 KJV

 

I was 12 years old when the state of Minnesota removed me from foster care. Although I was not Catholic, I was placed in a Catholic orphanage for boys named St. James, located in Duluth, Minnesota. I lived in that orphanage for two and 1/2 years. Having watched too many movies, I feared that nuns would cruelly rap my knuckles with a ruler if I ever did anything wrong, but that never happened to me. Actually, I am indebted to the Catholics for affording me the only two years of true childhood I had known. After the orphanage was sold, the peace disappeared.

 

The orphanage had its own school within its confines. The educational staff believed it to be in my best interest to attend a public school, so they enrolled me in Woodland Junior High. They told me that they thought I could succeed there. I was excited to try it with the hopes of being a normal young person and not a throwaway orphan.

 

I am not sure why, but I had been grappling with and meditating upon the concepts of Agnosticism. The idea that maybe God might not exist intrigued me, but my heart and spirit objected to this. My faith in God ebbed and flowed through my younger years. When I started attending junior high school, I began to believe and have a committed faith and trust in God. I did not attend any church. Trusting and loving God (a “Relationship”) made me feel extremely loving and loved.

 

Although I believed in God, I did not ‘believe’ in attending my math class. Sure, I have an odd sense of humor as a Writer. So one fine morning, I persuaded a kid to skip math class with me. We went up to a place called “The Rock”, a place where somewhat rebellious kids would hang out sneak a cigarette, smoke pot, or simply skip class.

 

While we were talking and enjoying the morning sun, two other school kids came up to “The Rock”. When I saw them, I became frightened because one of them was a well-known bully. The bully said something mean to me, but I decided to practice my new God-centeredness and not respond. I remembered how Jesus did not take offense when someone treated him poorly. My lack of response made him angry, so he said something even crueler to me. I again chose to hold my peace. He then asked me a spiteful question, to which I remained silent.

 

The bully leaned over and picked up a softball-sized rock, and said that if I did not answer his question, he was going to "smash in" my face. Out of the blue, I responded, “Go ahead. It won't hit me.” I was shocked at the words that just came out of my mouth. It was as if the words were not coming from me but through me. I did indeed believe that God would protect me, yet I must admit that I still had fear. The bully looked taken aback at my response, and then demanded, “Why not?” To which I answered, “Because God won't let it”.

 

Fear crept into the bully's face; he glanced at his visibly frightened friend, and then looked back at me. I saw a hardness creep back into his face that reflected an unwillingness to bear humiliation and fear in front of his friend. With his right hand, the bully raised the stone up, and leaning back much like a baseball pitcher, launched the stone straight at my face. The bully was perhaps 15 feet away from me when he threw the rock.

 

As the rock flew straight toward my face, I almost flinched. My instinct was to move my head and avoid the oncoming rock. Instead, I chose to trust God, which led to a solid calm within me. As the rock came at me, it seemed to be moving in slow motion. I watched the rock’s trajectory change in a graceful curve away from my face, gliding past my right cheekbone by a narrow margin. Had I flinched per my instinct, I would have moved into the path of that rock.

The bully gawked at me with obvious astonishment. I locked my grateful and confident eyes on his. His little friend looked both fearful and amazed at what he had witnessed. He also looked relieved. As for the bully, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away with his friend in tow.

 

I rejoiced in my heart for the protection that God offered me that day. I will never forget it. I am happy at this opportunity to witness to you, the reader, that trust in God produces results. The beautiful and sometimes invisible shield of safety that God gives to those who believe has astounded people for centuries.

I wonder what, if any, difference it made in the lives of the three young people who witnessed what happened that day. I am curious if it became part of the bully and his friend’s testimony or not? I guess I will never know for sure, but I do know it has become part of my testimony.

 

Scripture says God's power (word) will not go out and come back void. God’s works and words expand, as do the works and words of God’s witnesses.

 

My experience is that God is a loving God whose power aids those who want it. I hope and pray this testimony will gracefully turn aside any ‘rock’ thrown your way; may God’s love grace your heart and life with a testimony of trust in the midst of adversity. Amen.

 

Here’s to Living in the Soul-ution!

 

Psalms 40:3 “And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.” KJV

 

© Timothy G Cameron, December 16, 2008

Principles Before Personalities & An Odd Question About American Politics

I heard a comment about our wondering if the Democrats and Republicans are extinct, but don’t know it yet. I suppose any idea is good, depending on its use.

A meaningful life is not governed by a democratic process. The idea or ‘fact’ that others do or do not approve of what you say or do, may or may not mean that you did the right or wrong thing.

 

Be the best person you can be and leave the outcome up to God. Live a principal-based life. The best way to peacefully rest your head upon your pillow at night is to rest upon the dictates of your conscience. Living by principles before personalities mean not being deterred or overly concerned by the immediate judgments of those around you.

"Boredom Comes From a Boring Mind" Hatfield

I hope it doesn't become tedious, and I bore people by repeating that 'strength through vulnerability' requires more strength than any bully could ever imagine. That the earth will be inherited by the meek doesn't mean by the weak. Meek is Greek for 'Power Under Control.' Turning one's will over to God is not 'weak.' Looking for the good in every human being is not a mental disease or defect.

I remember a story from Melody Beattie about so-called strong people riping the blanket off of someone because 'they don't need it' ('it' being a crutch). She said they have the blanket for a reason, and even if it's a crutch, they might freeze to death without it. It takes some people time to heal, and it's not our place to decide what that timeline is. Sure, ripping off the bandaid is a good idea so as not to prolong the ordeal of removal, and 'Cold Turkey' has its place, but not every person knows the internal struggle someone is going through. Plate said to be kind because no one knows what someone else is going through. Also, in a book that I like, I read that we should be hard on ourselves and gentle with others. A gentle word turns aside anger.

Some people call Faith a crutch. Think what you will, but loving people after being hurt by people requires great strength. Forgiveness based on Faith is a crutch. But I'll walk on water with my crutch if need be.

Here's a poem about fragility that, in part, made me love this poet:

"somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands"

― E.E. Cummings, Selected Poems

Who are the Creatives that Encourage You to Create?

What author doesn't make a writer want to write? LOL! OK, joking aside, any author that went through a lot to rise above difficulties makes me want to write.

Jesus never wrote that we know of. He lived what he Spoke. Some poets lived their poems, so we might not know of some of them, but some had the wherewithal to live AND write their poems.



ee cummings is one of my favs, and WH Auden, too.

I read Myths, Models, and Paradigms by Ian Barbour in the '80s, and I'm still writing about what I learned (truth expands, just like God's Word).

Greg Boyd's book, Repenting of Religion, still has me thinking/writing, as did his Letters from a Skeptic.

I believe the Holy Spirit moves in my Heart, Soul, and Mind to write and speak (and when to be silent, so the DROPPED ROCKS themselves can be heard to cry HALLELUEIA).

God Said, Let There be Paint

Just a few words I had on God’s Portraits. www.youtube.com/shorts/P7ECuq4sN-g

Hundreds of breakthroughs, mostly unnoticeable, littered my path to distract me toward lessons deeper than life itself. Dozens of breakthroughs, all unique and seemingly independent, left me to wonder if this was/is The One (Breakthrough of Breakthroughs)!! But several years trudged on in the life of happy choices AKA destiny.

Then more and more and deeper and darker the lights become useless, and the rays of darkness with immense, mysterious beauty engulfed my entire comprehension. Every brand of the holy-water tear was tasted and tested, recognized, and labeled like Adam's un-naming animals and plants. Only trust and choice remained as I floated in the dark river of death. Now darkness is as day and daylight can longer require of its captives mud and straw, for the sacred rains dissolved all meaninglessness of this illusory world. The hibernation lasted until the oceans dried up, but the living waters served up spiritual oxygen.

Some years ago, I was traveling the Dark Night of the Soul. Had you ever made this journey yourself, the above-stated 'Musings" would be second-nature and ironically indescribable with logical vocabulary, a sacred space where poetry alone eclipses the sun of reason, giving birth to the Rumi and Hafiz beyond life & death.

What started my journey was twofold: the first divorce, and the second, a relationship with a practicing alcoholic herself ultimately being found dead by her daughter, cause of death, drinking. A book had been recommended by a public speaker (and friend) from Hazelden presenting at “The Recovery Church” in St. Paul. After the presentation, I drove to The Mecca of All Bookstores (Barnes & Noble) looking for the recommended book, titled, "Addiction & Grace," written by Gerald May.

I found it on a bottom shelf, but next to it stood another book that enchanted my soul with moonlit trees barely discernable on its’ cover, titled, "The Dark Night of the Soul, penned by the same author. The "Spirit in my Chest" verified I was to have this book, so I carried it and the other book to the clerk and made my purchase. One might easily read the book, “The Dark Night of the Soul” in a day, but it took me two & one-half years to read it because I was living every word. One more year elapsed before I had reason to believe I had come through to the other side of marginally normal living, back in the world but no longer of the world.

Making the mystical journey is not strongly suggested for the strong, for the strong will collapse and perhaps fail at the Herculean Vulnerability required to pass this test.

Thank you for feeling these words.

I couldn't look at this write for long...back then. Make your wounds your wisdom. I remember who I AM every day. Those days are gone.

It’s all beautiful, every crevasse of wonderment. Trust is the ultimate freedom.

HIGHER COINCIDENCES: Out of the Mouths of Two or Three Witnesses, All Things Shall Be Established

HIGHER COINCIDENCES: Out of the Mouths of Two or Three Witnesses, All Things Shall Be Established

Speaking of that, two mornings ago, I hugged my girlfriend and felt/saw a rainbow of light flowing from her body as a large crystal. I know it sounds strange, but that's what I experienced. Then this morning, I was reading in the Christos about two types of people, one of which luminesces light (as a crystal-bearing its (own) light from within).

Is Misery a Choice?

We have a while before Easter is upon us, but here is my preamble for it this go around. It’s an odd mixture of serious and humorous, ironic and dry. More will be revealed. Lots of quotes and references will be only partly attributed.

Earliest attribution I found to this ‘misery’ quote.

IN RE the Bob Marley Quote, "The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.": Everyone is worth feeling pain over, but suffering/misery is optional. Pain & suffering are just words; interchangeable words, as are the words ‘guilt’ & ‘shame’. People bicker about silly things. If you do or don’t like anything I say, credit or blame God. God is the only reason I’ve survived this long.

The gravity of our addiction to judgment can clutch us, almost like a Black Hole, where even light itself finds itself captured. If we go through the Black Hole willingly, we get squeezed, birthed, and plop out a new person on the other side, slathered with primordial ooze and blood. It ain’t easy, but it’s worth it. Simple, not easy. Let Go Let God.

If that seems too daunting for rebirth, I get it. Try the softer, easier way. Be angry, fine, but don't let anger’s aligning plots swallow your spirit. Say NO! Anger can fuel wrongdoing; becoming the person you are mad at (or worse) may result in hating the hater. Deal with anger before it becomes rage, and it deals with you. Problems caught while they are still small are usually quite manageable. Let that stuff go, lest at night you lay your head upon your pillow with an unquiet mind. Anger is the dubious luxury of normal people, but for some among our ranks, it is fatal. Restlessness, irritability, and discontentedness foreshadow relative proximity to that Black Hole. But I’ve found in life that if you run from it, and avoid your Dark Night of the Soul, it will come around again. You’re orbiting the thing in ever concentric oblong circles. Most of our problems share the same center or axis point: Death…and New Life. If you have not learned to see the beauty in pain, life will refund your misery (and multiply it, too). It’s all up to you, though.

If you’ve read the Big Book, you’ll get the following, maybe.

Twists and Turns of Human Nature.

"Being convinced that self, manifested in various ways, was what had defeated us, we considered its common manifestations." (Big Book pg 64).

The Big Book also reads at least twice that "...our troubles are of our own making...".

We begin veering off course when we get this backward by saying "our troubles are of others' making."

As I heard Mark L. describe Alcoholics, Addicts, and Codependents in a Hazelden Alumni event:

An Alcoholic is someone that crashes their car into an oak tree and afterward says, "I gotta quit...driving.

An Addict crashes into an oak tree, and gets out of the car laughing, saying, HA! It wasn't MY car!

A Codependent crashes into this same tree, and a few hours later is back with a chainsaw cutting the tree down, saying, "It's YOUR fault!"

Anger, oh, anger, for where art thou, anger? IF anger erupts from our hearts, whether aloud or a silent explosion, THEN we risk a self-imposed abyss swallowing us whole, body, mind & soul. I wonder if Jonah and the Whale came into your mind as it did mine? Hmmm…

We built pedestals in hell. We blamed someone else for the fire that we ourselves stoked. We lived close to that fire, sweat pouring from our brows in the furnace of our self-undoing, like an eternal run-on sentence.

Resentments and anger can fester and generate pollution that perpetually creates freight trains of misfortune in its logical course. We generate fear in and around us, fashioning our existence through free will. Do you remember that the door to hell is opened only from the inside?

"The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for." Bob Marley

There is a way out of this bubble. Who will have time to trip on pain, suffering, guilt, and shame if we are busy loving God and others as we love ourselves? Let's quit playing the self-sabotage and blame the other guy for the victim-mentality thing.

In Aikido, one guiding principle is to work on seeing things from the other person's point of view. 'The customer is always right' addresses this paradigm. This choice, an attitude, helps one avoid merging with the seeming problems of life and at least allow breathing room to not exacerbate the glitches in the matrix.

Bob Marley still affects us today, as do many other excellent role models that we fondly quote. These role models had shortcomings. Who among us is perfect to cast the first stone? But we become ‘Quoters’ of those who have risen above severe life challenges, even to the point of resurrection. Check out the following Slide Show (I hope you laugh a little):

Focus on solutions, but don’t force solutions; don’t quit before the miracle happens. Keep plugging away until 'accepting life on life's terms' becomes your mantra. Having a profound alteration in our reaction to life is a bold way of living. When a problem arises in life, have a long series of automated responses (response-ability) to select from and utilize. This habit is acquired, sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly, but repetition as the Mother of All Learning eventually morphs the entirety of our spiritual experiences into One spiritual awareness. There is One who has all power. That One is God. May you find God now.

Written by Gerald May

The Universe sings One Song and is as patient as Eternity. The Universe is conspiring to give us the best life possible at all times and in all places. Happiness is a choice, and peace defies reason.

“ “If you care enough, you’ll find a way.””
— Quote Source ~ P. K. Ireland

Few people place a candle in its holder, light the candle, then carry it outside, in broad daylight, then set it down, and walk away. The will to win is not as important as the will to prepare to win. “To light a candle is to cast a shadow...” is an assumption that candles are only lit when it is dark. That's part of our real issue in society today.

Someone recently asked a question on a chess page while showing a chessboard position, saying that it was a foregone conclusion that black would lose the queen, and I answered that they were mistaken. I was taken to task for two days over my answer. I proved that black didn't have to lose the Queen. No matter what moves were illustrated against my contention, it stood true. Black would lose the game in two moves if black did what I suggested, but black lost the game...WITHOUT losing the Queen. People change the question or try to, and then gaslight those who are not fallible in their reasoning along the lines of the question at hand. Go Focus Yourself.

 
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Harold Simmons Jr., AKA "BUBBA" Ex-Con Poem

Spirits seem to always be within distance

they hear when I weep and can sense the danger

around the corner when I am blind to it

what are their names?

I want to know so much about them.

Time after time, they rescue me from the steel jaws of death

even when his teeth are in the very mirror of my existence

why me?

Who am I to deserve such guardians after creating so much chaos

and living in so much deceit?

I have lived with that question

hanging from the cobwebs of my mind for so long

hardly even giving thank

I'm in so much fear of it because I never could grasp

an understanding of it

but today, I had no choice but to know they exist

and are at work carrying me through life

and loving me even when I'm hating myself.

Today I can no longer take it with a grain of salt.

today I want to know those spirits

so I can talk to them

embrace them

sing to them and give them thanks

so much thanks

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I send several Newsletter per month (3 max at this point). I talk about recovery and philosophy or odd topics, like someone I interviewed for my Podcast.

My Podcast is about hearing, in big part, marginalized opinions/voices, whatever they may be.

Peace Out~