the tao of jaklumen

the path of the sage must become the path of the hero


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The son becomes the father… (Yoke of Generations)

Marlon Brando as Jor-El, with Kal-El played by...

Marlon Brando as Jor-El, with Kal-El played by Lee Quigley. Superman: The Movie Magazine (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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As soon as we could get our wits about us, we rushed off to the ER, to Boy a medical examination.  He’d just had a seizure- not a grand mal, but still a seizure.  It wasn’t like the tonic spasms my father and I have from time to time, of course.  We’d find later, after he slept and slept, that he had no memory of the episode.

As Cimmy always does, she asked me to religiously administer to him, to give him a Priesthood blessing.  As I meditated and focused on clearing my mind, to let spiritual inspiration flow freely, a glimpse of a memory flashed through my brain.

My son was part of this, too.  He had agreed to take on a part of the burdens of my mortality, which I in turn had taken a part from my father.

JOR-EL: You did this of your own free will, in spite of all I could say to dissuade you…

Cimmorene desperately had wanted to share the load, but I could not acquiesce.  But my son would not be denied.  He understood the pattern.  And our Eternal Father- I feel that he smiled, as if to acknowledge something great had been accomplished.

JOR-EL: ..the circle is now complete..

I could see both sides, now.

JOR-EL: Now, you have returned to me, for one last chance to redeem yourself– this, too, finally, I have anticipated, my son.

JOR-EL: The Kryptonian prophecy will be at last fulfilled.

[recalling Jor-El’s blessing] JOR-EL: You will make my strength your own– see my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine.

JOR-EL: The son becomes the father – the father becomes the son.

HeroesjourneyAtonement


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I Am So Tired Right Now

If it isn’t already bleedingly obvious right now, I’m on a blogging hiatus.

I am so tired.

 

A quick note- there will be a little salt in the following words.  If coarse language offends you, I won’t be offended in turn if you gloss over the next parts, or even stop reading.  I will be grateful if you continue, however.

Hit the road, Jill

I trounced Boy’s ABA therapist.  As in I told her to get out.  Then, I could only take so much of her boss blowing smoke up my ass.  It’s a semi-long story that I just don’t have time or energy to elaborate on right now.

I am very excited to have a new artist- Saphyre Rain- to write press for We Heart Music.  (What’s We Heart Music?  For those who haven’t been here over the long, long slog, leave me a comment, and I’ll explain.  For now: a music blog I wrote for back in the day.)  It’s comprised of a husband and wife duo singing about hope for suicide and self-harm issues, which are very personal and important to me.  I’ve been corresponding with Amanda, the singer/guitarist of the group, and she’s been very congenial… I’m grateful she specifically asked me to take my time.

Errrrrgggh, this is so frustrating.  I’m really frustrated!

I’m so frustrated, in a certain way.  cough No, won’t elaborate.  It doesn’t help that Cimmorene has a new memory about being molested by a caregiver when she was 3.  Why thank you, fate.  Yes, I will have another bitch slap, please.

More work on this post than I was expecting.  I’m still tired.

It takes effort to distill thoughts to 120 characters, but Twitter is less exhausting… as was discussed in the previous post.


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Descending further down the Abyss (Transitions)

I now have a collapsing disc just above the fused vertebrae, and awful swelling around the bone graft of the fusion.

Just how far can the pain go?

Thinking on my experiences with domestic violence— yes, sadly, that is a thing I’ve witnessed, and experienced.  Lindsay Fischer (then as Sarafina Bianco) and Amy Thompson welcomed me into #domesticviolencechat, another Twitter chat that intersected with the #sexabusechat community.  I wasn’t sure I fit in, at first… much like the other Twitter communities I mentioned.  But I was nevertheless accepted.

We’re all wondering where Timothy (@GerhardTimothy) is and that he’s okay.  I especially value the conversations we had, because then it was easier to feel okay as a man in the chat discussions.

I’ve told Amy a little bit about my experience, but haven’t told anyone else much in full.  That will change, soon.  I think Lindsay and Amy encourage my perspective (they’ve said this to me numerous times in various ways) because it adds more scope to the issue.  It’s not just a woman’s issue, and it’s not just an issue between couples.  In my experience, it involves generations of families- although such matters are usually discussed in abuse contexts (child abuse, adult abuse, etc.)

I think it’s also time to bring out the Redemption of the Four Kingdoms material.  It’s long overdue, actually– if many of you remember my teasings and many cryptic references to it, I’ll be amazed.

But so much of this writing is difficult to do when I am drowning in wave after wave of agonizing pain.  I’ll have to do it in bits and pieces.  I’ll probably write posts that I feel are lacking in quality, although I want to cut down on the perfectionistic traps and toxic habits mingled in such thinking.

I will try to sleep now, dear readers… it’s 02:39 as of this writing where I am.  I hope the pain will ebb, and the terrifying nightmares stop.  Only about a week ago, I dreamt I was molested and raped.  Again.  In a different way.  It felt so real, but I’d never experienced it in real life.  How?


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The ER doc said I was full of shit

So I went to the ER yesterday to resolve what I was talking about in Back to the Depths:

Waves upon waves of nausea, off and on constantly for the past week or so.

The nurses gave me some fluids via IV, I had a X-ray of my abdominal area, and I submitted a urine sample.  The ER doc came in and basically told me I was full of shit.

Consider this a plug for someecards. Or consider it a butt plug. I don’t care. Consider giving them some business even if I’m too broke and cheapskate to do so myself.

No, it meant it, literally.  To the best of my memory, what he said was: “After looking at the abdominal X-ray, we found you have a lot of poop backed up in your intestines, and if you’ve got back problems, as you said, with your surgery, that may be causing you pain.”

As seen on Dump a Day. Seriously, though, med techs are the best. They stop to laugh at my jokes, if they aren’t already laughing at each other (which is what the techs at the ER were totally doing).

My father’s thoughts on the experience? (He did ask me to call, after all, and let him know what was happening.)

To be fair, what he actually said was “No sh.., Doc”, and then apologized for almost swearing. Ah, dear ol’ Dad. He’d completely censor himself except he knows it doesn’t bother me.

Are you full of shit?  Or bologna?  Have you been to the ER lately?  How about the doctor?  Are you tired of the poop jokes yet?  What’s the matter with jak?  Why is he uncharacteristically asking comment prompt questions?  (Maybe he wants some comments?  Hmmm…!)