Blog entry

God Girl

Song Of The Day: Autumn Leaves / Benny Golson
Word Of The Day: Ultrafidian / Going beyond faith.

Couldn't sleep last night. Could NOT sleep. Funny how it goes. My daughter started crying around 3am, and just kept rolling on that jam. I had gone to bed about 2am, so after a good 45 minutes of konk, she started the ululating that can only be produced with the throat of a child. We let her stay in her crib till about 5am.

My wife was up all night taking her social services emergency crisis calls, this one beat his kid, that one left her kids alone in the basement for three days while on a meth binge. Having a spouse who works for Child Protection services has taught me a lot of things, right at the top is that Meth is the worst thing to happen to society in a long time, especially if you happen to be a kid. 90% of all the crisis calls my wife takes are cases of Meth-addicted parents who abuse or abandon their kids. I have a lot of rage around this issue. I really, sincerely, deeply want to execute anyone who takes drugs and then abuses kids. You simply would fucking vomit your soul if you were privy to the heinous cases my wife deals with every week, where perfectly innoncent, beautiful kids are completely, irreversably fucked up for life by parents who do Meth. Here's my feeling, the cops, upon arriving at a Meth home and extracting the kids, should take care to check and re-check who the parents are, and then summarily execute them in the fucking head with repeated blows to the stomach until internal bleeding does the job from within. At the point you have left your kid to starve and stew in their own feces, at the point you have toxified their home, community, and relationships beyond repair, at the point you've psychologically contorted and physically assaulted your children, when you've beaten, raped, and tortured your kids (I'm not making ANY of this up), it's time to delete you. Your life is done, and the inward and outward resources necessary to rehabilitate your mucoid soul back to any level of value far outreach any possible gains in that fucking collastomy bag you call a soul. You really should be executed, or if possible tortured right out of your body.

Have you ever seen a kid who's been raped, beaten, or abandoned? A lot of you probably have. Some of you probably have been your selves. It's something that simply should not tolerated in any measure. I have a special variety of rage for these Meth heads, and the drunk drivers who murder people and get a couple years of nothing for it. My wife takes all these calls on Meth heads, then goes out to their house to take their kids out of the home, who are literally toxified and poisoned physically just from being in the house where the shit is cooked, and time and time again these kids are sweet, innocent souls who've been irreperably fucked up for life through no fault of their own. Sorry, you just happen to be born unto a mom and dad that not only couldn't take care of themselves (oh, doesn't even that sound appealing by comparison, if they were only, merely THAT fucked up) they also couldn't see to it to keep you out of harms way, and oh hell, in the end couldn't even resist pointlessly persecuting you. I know, I know, it will never, ever make sense to your distorted, fractured mind, but from here on out you are condemned to spend your life embroiled in twisted, punishing dramas in a futile attempt to re-script the fetid assembly of magnets pulling you into countless sad scenarios. You can't un-inherit your childhood and its engineers.

Or can you?

What do you do if you're a kid in one of those situations. This is one of those situations where really, there's no denying that without an integral approach we're really fucked. You can't just tell someone to meditate who's been run through the Meth machine, although meditation will help as a compliment to other things. Treating such situations, it's simply going to take years of carefully organized diet, excercise, possible medication (oh sorry Tom Cruise, did I offend you? Hey buddy, get back to making more little Scientologists with unsuspecting victims of your psycho-cide), lots of therapy, an incredibly resilient and focused new healthy family, friends, and social structure, it's literally dozens of components stewerded by dozens of people over many years.

And of course we should do all that every time a kid gets caught in the fray. AND we should shoot those fucking parents right in the stomach with a cross bow.

Anyway, as I was saying initially, my daughter was crying all night last night, and my wife was up all night taking phone calls on Meth heads ruining lives, and I laid in bed listening to my duaghter's angry petition to get out of her crib. Our rule with that is if it's before 5:30am or so, we don't take her out of the crib, that's just the fast track to no sleep for anyone. We go in, tell her everything's ok, hold her hand for a minute or two, but stay focused on her being able to sleep in her crib through the night, which she almost always does, it's just once in a while she has a period where she has a few nights of tumult. So last night I laid in bed, fantasizing about sleep, but listening to the cries. And then my heart was like "That's the cry of the Buddha." And I GOT IT. Of course cognitively, intellectually, it's easy to have a head-space recognition that all things are God, that even the sounds, sights, and experiences that vex us are holy, but then once in a while, sometimes it drops below the neck, and somewhere in the soul the Big Heart takes control of all the senses and faculties, and the entire being -mind, body, and spirit- becomes sensory perception, and there's a whole absorption of what IS, without trying to change it or interpret it. Last night my daughter was crying, and for a few minutes I totally got it, I heard all its levels, I heard my daughter, the most precious jewel in my life crying, and I also heard the impersonal noise of some kid on Earth crying, I heard the archetypal crying that has been repeated and echoed by billions and billions of babies, apes, animals -life forms too numerous to imagine- that have cried out for protection and comfort ever since there was a voice box inside a creature, I also heard the Oversoul within it, that had somehow managed to invent and crawl into all these different species, different epochs, different identities in the quixotic masquerade, God hiding from God over and over again, crying out to itself, and even though it was my daughter the God in there hit me at the same time, and each was the other, and i was both, and then the fucking Triangulation between me, my daughter, God, and the God in me and my daughter, and my daughter and I enveloped in God, all within this wailling -it was perfect. The veil came up for a few minutes. then dropped back down, I thought about sex, or money, or some shit, and drifted into the foggy cracks between worlds.

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