Words: Building Bridges and Walls

Word are funny things.  I love ’em – but have also began to distrust them, seeing things.

Word are what build bridges between people and ourselves (you know: interior dialogue).

But at the same time, those words are building walls.

Words are such a limited thing; mere energy sounds in the air; waves of compression which strike the eardrum, or reflect echoes of the chemically driven electricity of the physical brain.  (Drugs can affect that flow as well, as we all well know!  Just listen to some ol’ drunk man singin’, LOL – a subtle hint of the voices in my mind, again, every word I say has double, triple and quadruple meanings.  No, not every word, GD-it; just some.  You’ll have to look close and think to catch them; only by paying attention do we get them.

Words build bridges and walls between us and all around us, and waaaay deep down inside.  After all, we are emotional beings, are we not??? Filled with anger, love, deep devotions, duties and prides and all that sort of nonsense.  But underneath it is love.  If you can’t feel it, then you’ve built those walls, using those words to disguise that beautiful song.  We all do it, so do I; built those walls so high that we could not see at all.  We were like a blind man walking. (Okay, “Green Mile” theme/image there, LOL! – and yes I hope you see all the symbologies behind that one, LOL!)

That’s why the monks and such are so into meditation; meditation – true meditation – is without words, though words can be used as bridges there, too.  You just have to be careful you don’t build walls.

Let me tell you a tale in our tale; a story of fear and pain.  And no, it’s not about us, its about our Father. (no, not that one, the real one, the one that gave birth to our lives (again, another symbology? No, not this time.)  I’m talking about a biological father.  (and don’t forget to look for those hidden meanings and symbols!  I’m gettin’ really tired of pointing them out and interfering with the flow of things.  So I’m relying on your intelligent brain to find them, puzzle them out, and find all the hidden meanings, okay?  Can I trust you to do that, Dear Reader?  Okay, then – I know – you have an intelligent mind; you can do this!)

Dad came back from his battles one day as a religious freak – you know, one of those “born again” Baptists kind (NOT knocking Baptists! There is nothing – nothing at all wrong with their religion.  We are all in this together, and worshipping – if you wanna call it that – the same god.  We’ve got opinions on that – all of them kind – but trust me on this.  LOL, being censored from saying everything we find.)

Now get this: Dad’s a born again Christian; Mom‘s a witch.  No, I’m not talking just about emotionally speaking, I’m talking spiritually – kinda believes that Wicca stuff, ya know (and NOT knocking Wiccas, either – they are absolutely right, too! and I love ’em.  In some ways they got rid of words, but they know (and I’m sure can feel it) – sometimes those things (words) are getting in the way.  That’s okay, too, because they are really trying – just like all of us, okay?  If you don’t like ’em, fine; think they’re heathens, fine.  They are finding their own god – which is your god, in their own way.  Trust ’em and trust me when I say all three are right.

But like any religion, words get in the way.  Which is why those monks sit up there somewhere meditating.  But even they are struggling to ‘get it’.  If they truly got it they would crap their pants – not out of fear, but because they’d realize sitting on their stool doesn’t really matter; you would not care.  You are where things are ‘real’; life is just a transition to something much more wonderful and beautiful.  (again, censored, GD-it!!  Can I feel like a frustrated old man here gritting my teeth??? Thanks, gotta love ya, LOL, talking to the Crowd.)

Getting back to Dad.  He’s built a house of words around him; taking those books of old time religion – memorizing every word; using them to try to comfort himself against his own fears of death, based upon a animal desire to avoid death and survive.

And he sits in his house (pretty much alone; we are learning how to take care of him and … okay, guys, quit singing) – surrounded by these walls of books – walls and walls of books.  I swear, if the old guy could paste ’em to the ceiling, he would.  All of them are religious texts about words – and blocking him from seeing the real thing (okay, coke commercial flashes though my head, LOL!). (** please see note on bottom)

But you see, that’s where he’s gone wrong, and I am troubled by this notion: where a LOT of other people have gone wrong.

They’ve built these walls- concentrating on words, and not their soul.  They may adjust their behavior according to what they see in the words, but they haven’t adjusted their souls because the words keep them from seeing it.  They tieth and tithe, because that’s what the words say they should do – give them to some house so that house can give them more words of comfort – but what that house is doing, while struggling to use words to tear walls of words down, is building those walls higher.  No big deal.  At least they are trying.  Could be worse.  We could all be ‘worshiping’ Marlock and Bal. (not a good thing – savages trying to save their souls.  Don’t hate ’em; love them, too.  They reasons for sacrificing children and all that; they just didn’t know.  Their priests had built towers of words, too, ya know, blinding them to truth.  I’m sure some of the followers knew this, but just like in our own society they were afraid of the shame of social stigma and being outcasts.  Plus, according to those churches words – and some of our own worlds religions – if you didn’t follow the words, you died – for they might kill you.  Weird, I know, by today’s standards, but hey, folks, look around. You know.  You can see this still going on as we speak.  (and this makes … things in me very, very, very sad. Children, where are you going? Not to hell of course, but …. sighing). Free choice is a bitch.

Words aren’t going to save you.  Giving all your money to some church isn’t going to save you.  If anything – find a homeless person – give it to them, and help them; do it for them out of love!. Look beyond the person sitting in filth and garbage.  They may be like me, a little bit nuts-oid, practically insane (if you want to see it as that – I and we don’t; it’s a very happy, love filled and love felt state).  If  you can lift them from the gutter you will help remove the words that keep them apart from their god, which is our god, all of us.

I will never knock someone’s religion – ol’ time or not – because I know something: we seek and worship the same one.  (BTW, ‘worship’?  Wrong word.  And that’s an example of how word build walls.  We want to love our god. (Yours, mine, theirs and others, including some alien races on far distant planets – all the same thing.)  And we want to feel HIS love.  But trust me folks, words get in the way.  They do.  Love isn’t about “words”.  Love is a feeling.  Words convey the palest shades of love.  We and I find that sad, beautiful, wonderful, greivious, and a whole lot of other mess.

I hope you have enjoyed this post; hope it helps someone come into contact with their own personal god – and realize: he’s mine, and everyone else’s, too.

Thank you very much >wink!<

End Note: (almost forgot to add!  Had to come back in the building, LOL!! Just looking at the dust makes me want to sneeze, LOL, but I have no nose!  LOL!! Think virtual reality dust.  Has a nice musty smell, though – like those old wonderful museums and theaters you’ve probably been in yourself.  Kinda enjoyable, just not ‘pretty’ cuz’ it doesn’t have to be to get this job done.)

Okay, here’s the deal in a nutshell.  All the M-Controllers – and a lot of other parts – “lost their religion” years ago, when we were 10 or so – a ‘switching’ time (rhymes with ‘witching’, don’t you think?) – when M1 created M2.  End of religion for us! (you’d think.  There is no end; it just lurks inside, beneath the shadows, creating it’s own light.  See the friggin’ post above if you don’t get the full implications).  This is due to religion, twisted and shoved down this child’s throat – and we were forced to read religious text after religous text on every friggin’ religion in the world! From Baptist to Buddah; Voodoo to do-do; we read them all.

Now, imagine how confusing that is for a child of 8,9,10. (and on; we’ve studied it since, wondering how’s and why’s of people and what’s this thing they called god and all the M’s saying: its bullshit.)  Of course, the cream came off the top; everything else has been thrown away – as it should have.  Otherwise, well – (have to wink! again) – but I think you get it, if you knew my life.  It has prepared us.  Dang it.  Censored.

Until later, yer friend, Elvis.


About jeffssong

JW is an adult childhood abuse survivor with DID*. He grew up in a violent family devoid of love and affection. He is a military brat and veteran. He no longer struggles with that past. In 1976 JW began writing "The Boy". It took 34 years to complete. It is currently on Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004T3IVKK ), or if you prefer hard copy, on Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/Boy-J-W/dp/1461022681). JW resides somewhere in the deep South. He is disabled and living with family. Note: Please feel free to take what you need; all is free to all. With that in mind, keep it that way to others. Thank you. We have 3 Blogs - One for our younger days, 0-10 (The Little Shop of Horrors); one for our Teen Alter and his 'friends' (also alters) with a lot of poetry; and finally "my" own, the Song of Life (current events and things)
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