The Bungled and the Botched...

I spent some time yesterday thinking about all the great minds and creative thinkers and I began to count the number of them that had tormented and dark lives (a good number of which are consider to be "mad" near the end of their lives). I thought of Van Gogh and Nietzsche, Freud and Beethoven and many others. Why are all of these people who did so much for us (whether you think they were right or wrong they did change our perception of the world) suffer so much? Did they change the world inspite of their conditions or were they made by them? Was it some kind of cosmic balance that gave them brilliant minds and made them see things differently but inturn took from them what was owed for these gifts? Was God punishing them for trying to figure out a world without God? Is it just the fate of all humans to suffer and struggle through this world? Is there a limit to what the human mind can do and if you try to push that limit does it end in madness? I once tried to "question everything" and took it very literally and for my efforts I had a complete breakdown that I still don't believe I have recovered from. I don't know what I was thinking... if someone with the calibre of mind as Nietzsche was driven to madness by questioning too much what could I accomplish but a trip to the madhouse. Now I mush admit I was mad to begin with but it took me somewhere I hadn't been before and don't want to go again. I WON'T question everything again. Somethings are just too big. I did learn something about myself though and perhaps about everyone. Before I thought that I was a normal person (yeah I know) who just had some mental health issuses and if I didn't have them I would be able to do the things that everyone else seems to do with ease. Mail a letter, pay a bill, get gas ect. Now I realize that I am not a normal person with some problems, I am bungled and botched, I AM my mental illnesses. Without the bungled and the botched there is nothing. We struggle against our problems and imperfections but I have learned I have to try and work with my problems and accept them to have any kind of harmony. For me a certain amount of planning mixed with a little medication/therapy and a large dash of perspective help me to be me. It is an on going recipe that I can never perfect but if I work at it I can learn to be happy again. I will leave you with a few quotes:

“The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius.”
— Oscar Wilde

Nietzsche once said, “A man of genius is unbearable, unless he possesses at least two things besides: gratitude and purity.”

Einstein told Rabbi Herbert S. Goldstein "I believe in Spinoza's God, who reveals Himself in the lawful harmony of the world, not in a God Who concerns Himself with the fate and the doings of mankind."

"Perspective may be the only thing that can save a man of genius from himself"

Keep On Trucking...

It seems to me that those who tried the hardest to do what is good for others...to do the right thing, end up getting the short end of the stick. In a world where idoits and the greedy get promoted at an astownding pace the rest of us end up having to take sick or disability leave. Maybe we just bang our heads up against the wall trying to even get the simpliest things done. Things that seem like they should be simply are extremely difficult and things that seem moderate are impossible. Was it always this way? I guess it depends on what you are trying to accomplish. I know of someone who is on stress leave (whether it was his and his doctors idea or his work's idea I don't know). This is a person who is just trying to do what is best for the most of the people in his work life and because it is next to impossible to get things changed the stress just got to be too much. I know of another person who's worry about the family and job caused them to take time off work. Yet another person tried for years to do a job that they found to be torturous and in the end their mental health suffered permanent damage. These are all good people who just care too much and end up getting the shaft. No one but those who have been in this situation seem to understand and I don't know if I want them to...well I want them to but sometimes in order to understand you have to suffer like those people and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I have to admit I am biased. Too many people in my life suffer from mental health isssues (some of which are biological and some are induced but negative situations). I myself have suffered from mental health issues for... well almost as long as I can remember. Some days even getting out of beed and showering can be a problem. I have been taking medication off and on since I was in...elementary school I believe. I have been on medication from 2003 straight until now and recently have been put on another. Sometimes I feel so sedated...I have trouble staying awake (I use to sleep for 12 hours or more somedays), my concintration is shot and I have trouble with drooling to name a few. I don't like feeling this way and I still have trouble doing some everyday things but I consider the alturnative. Manic depressive, schiztypal, psychotic, anxiety, stress, many different phobias, paraniod, obssesive compulsive to name a few. I scare me. I need the drugs to help me live with myself. I need the therapy to help me deal with what happens to me. I recently had a break down and had an emergency meeting with my doctor and he said I should take time off work and go on disability. Seems simple enough. I went to work and told them, seems simple enough (actually it was very difficult). I have to use up my sick leave before I can go on disability. Ok. I still have yet to rreceive and money for that and I can't call or go into work to talk to them because it is so difficult. I have to get others to help me and fight my battles... sometimes being either way is difficult. Lately I have often thought about cuting myself and sometimes I think about ending it all. But that is the easy way right? So I go through torture everyday and hope for some kind off change or relief. My brother stopped me from killing myself before and that had to be for some reason, right? I go one for the people I love...living for others is easier than living for myself because hey I am not worth it. Wow this turned into something I didnt mean it to... and since I try to do this without editing I will leave it in and leave you until next time by saying "lean on me if youre not strong" because lord knows you let me lean on you.

Rant of the New Year...

I have just finished reading an article in today's Leader Post about "Anti-gang plans need(ing) work". It talked about "strategies to reduce the abundance of gang activity" for at-risk youth like "substance abuse programs, education programs and alternative sentencing measures for criminal offences". It also addressed problems with "agencies that sometimes they have trouble co-ordinating and communicating openly with other agencies because of privacy concerns" and this causes "a duplication of services, making such programs less efficient than they could be". It was suggested that a "governmentally regulated information sharing policy" could help solve this problem. It goes on to talk about how "organized sports could help keep children out of gangs" and blah blah blah. There is always going to be "gangs" as long as kids are kids. You can't force them into programs to make them act "good". Being a kid is about growing up and part of that process (for most of us) includes rebelling. You might be able to "trick" a child into doing what you would like to see them doing BUT they can be smart and will soon figure it out. That can lead them into hating everything you were trying to direct them into and rebelling more. How kids act is only part of the problem, we need to look at how we act and treat them a bit more like how people should act. No deception or lying, no patronizing. Don't tell them what to do, offer advice if they need it and be there for them if they need you. Treat them how everyone should be treated!

A Cry For Reformation...

As time passes I hear a cry for reformation growing louder. Some of the people don't know what they are calling for but they are tired of living indebted to banks/credit card companies and big businesses. But those are the ones who are "lucky" enough to get approved for credit. Many people in our city/province/country/world are far worse off and something needs to be done. Maybe like with the Protestant Reformation we need someone to stand up and say something and give a direction we need to move to. Unfortunately I am not that person (partially because I want too many drastic changes that would be too "harmful" to things like the "economy" and big business) so with your help (please post suggestions) maybe I can come up with some theses say...ninety five or so and maybe post them on the doors of the provincial legislative building. I don't think it will really do any good even if someone manages to read them before they are ripped down but maybe just maybe someone will read it or hear about it. And if it causes people to think about or question what's going on in this end of the world maybe, just maybe, we can make a difference. I would like to have a positive influence in this world for once and I guess it begins at home, Saskatchewan...

To Struggle Against Great Odds, To Meet Enimies Undaunted...

The biggest struggle man can face and perhaps the most important, is the fight against the evil within. It is a life long battle (or atleast it has been for me so far) that can determain the fate of our soul. It is not nessarily the out come of the war but the way in which it is conducted. And inbtween the skimishes take time to enjoy the simple things. Go for a walk, hold someone's hand,cook a meal,listen to music or, maybe, read a poem...

A Song of Joys

O to make the most jubilant song!
Full of music--full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments--full of grain and trees.

O for the voices of animals--O for the swiftness and balance of fishes!
O for the dropping of raindrops in a song!
O for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song!

O the joy of my spirit--it is uncaged--it darts like lightning!
It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,
I will have thousands of globes and all time.

O the engineer's joys! to go with a locomotive!
To hear the hiss of steam, the merry shriek, the steam-whistle, the laughing locomotive!
To push with resistless way and speed off in the distance.

O the gleesome saunter over fields and hillsides!
The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds, the moist freshstillness of the woods,
The exquisite smell of the earth at daybreak, and all through the forenoon.

O the horseman's and horsewoman's joys!
The saddle, the gallop, the pressure upon the seat, the coolgurgling by the ears and hair.

O the fireman's joys!
I hear the alarm at dead of night,
I hear bells, shouts! I pass the crowd, I run!
The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure.

O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena inperfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.

O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human soul iscapable of generating and emitting in steady and limitless floods.

O the mother's joys!The watching, the endurance, the precious love, the anguish, thepatiently yielded life.

O the of increase, growth, recuperation,The joy of soothing and pacifying, the joy of concord and harmony.

O to go back to the place where I was born,To hear the birds sing once more,To ramble about the house and barn and over the fields once more,And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.

O to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks, or along the coast,To continue and be employ'd there all my life,
The briny and damp smell, the shore, the salt weeds exposed at low water,
The work of fishermen, the work of the eel-fisher and clam-fisher;
I come with my clam-rake and spade, I come with my eel-spear,
Is the tide out? I Join the group of clam-diggers on the flats,
I laugh and work with them, I joke at my work like a mettlesome young man;
In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel out on foot
on the ice--I have a small axe to cut holes in the ice,Behold me well-clothed going gayly or returning in the afternoon,my brood of tough boys accompanying me,
My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love to be with noone else so well as they love to be with me,
By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with me.

Another time in warm weather out in a boat, to lift the lobster-potswhere they are sunk with heavy stones, (I know the buoys,)
O the sweetness of the Fifth-month morning upon the water as I rowjust before sunrise toward the buoys,
I pull the wicker pots up slantingly, the dark green lobsters aredesperate with their claws as I take them out, I insertwooden pegs in the 'oints of their pincers,

I go to all the places one after another, and then row back to the shore,There in a huge kettle of boiling water the lobsters shall be boil'dtill their color becomes scarlet.

Another time mackerel-taking,
Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they seem to fill thewater for miles;
Another time fishing for rock-fish in Chesapeake bay,
I one of thebrown-faced crew;Another time trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok, I stand with braced body,
My left foot is on the gunwale, my right arm throws far out thecoils of slender rope,In sight around me the quick veering and darting of fifty skiffs, mycompanions.

O boating on the rivers,The voyage down the St. Lawrence, the superb scenery, the steamers,
The ships sailing, the Thousand Islands, the occasional timber-raftand the raftsmen with long-reaching sweep-oars,
The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they cooksupper at evening.

(O something pernicious and dread!Something far away from a puny and pious life!Something unproved! something in a trance!Something escaped from the anchorage and driving free.)

O to work in mines, or forging iron,Foundry casting, the foundry itself, the rude high roof, the ampleand shadow'd space,The furnace, the hot liquid pour'd out and running.

O to resume the joys of the soldier!To feel the presence of a brave commanding officer--to feel his sympathy!
To behold his calmness--to be warm'd in the rays of his smile!
To go to battle--to hear the bugles play and the drums beat!To hear the crash of artillery--to see the glittering of the bayonetsand musket-barrels in the sun!

To see men fall and die and not complain!To taste the savage taste of blood--to be so devilish!To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy.

O the whaleman's joys!
O I cruise my old cruise again!
I feel the ship's motion under me, I feel the Atlantic breezes fanning me,
I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head,
There--she blows!Again I spring up the rigging to look with the rest--we descend,wild with excitement,I leap in the lower'd boat, we row toward our prey where he lies,
We approach stealthy and silent, I see the mountainous mass,lethargic, basking,I see the harpooneer standing up, I see the weapon dart from hisvigorous arm;
O swift again far out in the ocean the wounded whale, settling,running to windward, tows me,
Again I see him rise to breathe, we row close again,I see a lance driven through his side, press'd deep, turn'd in the wound,
Again we back off, I see him settle again, the life is leaving him fast,As he rises he spouts blood, I see him swim in circles narrower andnarrower, swiftly cutting the water--I see him die,
He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the circle, and thenfalls flat and still in the bloody foam.

O the old manhood of me, my noblest joy of all!My children and grand-children, my white hair and beard,My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long stretch of my life.

O ripen'd joy of womanhood! O happiness at last!I am more than eighty years of age, I am the most venerable mother,
How clear is my mind--how all people draw nigh to me!What attractions are these beyond any before? what bloom morethan the bloom of youth?
What beauty is this that descends upon me and rises out of me?

O the orator's joys!To inflate the chest, to roll the thunder of the voice out from theribs and throat,
To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with yourself,
To lead America--to quell America with a great tongue.

O the joy of my soul leaning pois'd on itself, receiving identity throughmaterials and loving them, observing characters and absorbing them,
My soul vibrated back to me from them, from sight, hearing, touch,reason, articulation, comparison, memory, and the like,
The real life of my senses and flesh transcending my senses and flesh,
My body done with materials, my sight done with my material eyes,
Proved to me this day beyond cavil that it is not my material eyeswhich finally see,
Nor my material body which finally loves, walks, laughs, shouts,embraces, procreates.

O the farmer's joys!
Ohioan's, Illinoisian's, Wisconsinese', Kanadian's, Iowan's,Kansian's, Missourian's, Oregonese' joys!
To rise at peep of day and pass forth nimbly to work,
To plough land in the fall for winter-sown crops,
To plough land in the spring for maize,
To train orchards, to graft the trees, to gather apples in the fall.

O to bathe in the swimming-bath, or in a good place along shore,To splash the water! to walk ankle-deep, or race naked along the shore.

O to realize space!The plenteousness of all, that there are no bounds,To emerge and be of the sky, of the sun and moon and flyingclouds, as one with them.

O the joy a manly self-hood!
To be servile to none, to defer to none, not to any tyrant known or unknown,
To walk with erect carriage, a step springy and elastic,
To look with calm gaze or with a flashing eye,
To speak with a full and sonorous voice out of a broad chest,
To confront with your personality all the other personalities of the earth.

Knowist thou the excellent joys of youth?
Joys of the dear companions and of the merry word and laughing face?
Joy of the glad light-beaming day, joy of the wide-breath'd games?
Joy of sweet music, joy of the lighted ball-room and the dancers?
Joy of the plenteous dinner, strong carouse and drinking?

Yet O my soul supreme!
Knowist thou the joys of pensive thought?
Joys of the free and lonesome heart, the tender, gloomy heart?
Joys of the solitary walk, the spirit bow'd yet proud, the sufferingand the struggle?
The agonistic throes, the ecstasies, joys of the solemn musings dayor night?
Joys of the thought of Death, the great spheres Time and Space?
Prophetic joys of better, loftier love's ideals, the divine wife,the sweet, eternal, perfect comrade?Joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee O soul.

O while I live to be the ruler of life, not a slave,
To meet life as a powerful conqueror,
No fumes, no ennui, no more complaints or scornful criticisms,
To these proud laws of the air, the water and the ground, provingmy interior soul impregnable,
And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me.

For not life's joys alone I sing, repeating--the joy of death!
The beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumbing a few moments,for reasons,
Myself discharging my excrementitious body to be burn'd, or render'dto powder, or buried,
My real body doubtless left to me for other spheres,
My voided body nothing more to me, returning to the purifications,further offices, eternal uses of the earth.

O to attract by more than attraction!
How it is I know not--yet behold! the something which obeys noneof the rest,
It is offensive, never defensive--yet how magnetic it draws.
O to struggle against great odds, to meet enemies undaunted!
To be entirely alone with them, to find how much one can stand!
To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, face to face!
To mount the scaffold, to advance to the muzzles of guns withperfect nonchalance!
To be indeed a God!

O to sail to sea in a ship!
To leave this steady unendurable land,
To leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks and thehouses,
To leave you O you solid motionless land, and entering a ship,
To sail and sail and sail!

O to have life henceforth a poem of new joys!
To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, float on!
To be a sailor of the world bound for all ports,
A ship itself, (see indeed these sails I spread to the sun and air,)
A swift and swelling ship full of rich words, full of joys.

Walt Whitman(1819-1892)

Christmas Charity...

It comes to me that most of the "charities" are run by or some how connected to religious organizations (Christianity being the big one). Are Christians that much more selfless then the rest of us? I think not. I think they do it for several reasons the least of which is a truly selfless act. Whether it's being guilted into giving,bribed into giving (with the "kingdom of heaven" or the like, there are many reasons for what they do but the worst of all is holding their "charity" back from those who aren't (or won't convert to being) Christian. If you want to share what you have with other people (for what ever the reason) that's fine, but DON'T force your beliefs on other people. It's a time of year when people want to share with others the most and giving freely can truely be something special, so give a hand, a loaf, an ear, or a smile to someone who could use it and leave the bribery to the secular world. It looks bad for God to have people who claim to be representivies of Him to act in such ways. Judgement shall come down on you in The End (if you believe in that) and if you believe in a God at all like mine you will be judged most harshly. Be beacons for your religion (whatever it is) by your actions.

A Christmas poem

The day is done, the sun has set
Now drag your weary bones to bed.
Your woman beside you, all tasks fulfilled
This feeling of emptiness lingers still.
When you die, all of you is gone
Life crushes you and nothing lives on.
Death frees you and gives you hope
That all of the oppressors, will be at the end of a rope.
You wanted to change the world, but were too much afraid
With only intentions, no positive changes were made.
Even at this time, the suffering grows
But we are just consumers, that's all that we know.
God damn me and my selfishness, maybe it's me I can't stand
Why am I so weak? Why am I only a man?
Impotent and pathetic, cruel and mean
Someone save us from this brutal machine.
A brilliant fire, a shining star
Come lead us from this filth we created.
Undo the damage, right what is a miss
OR END US