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Schitzo – Manifestation Of A Nomad…Jack Kerouac, Lowell’s Son And Bastard Saint (Excerpts Part 2)…[Second Pass Edit]… Just so people know Part 1 has not been published yet, so we’ll start here. These are excerpts from an early version of a non-fiction memoir. Again this is a true story…the caveat being that what readers take from this may have dissenting opinions of it’s possibility to be true. For example, some might not agree or believe in the possibility of descriptions of phenomena described herein, and see them as delusional experiences (this is key and left for the reader to decide). Again that is the point, each reader will see these descriptions as they relate to their own personal beliefs. It is written with the highest regard to accuracy, and is in relation to the entire story, only a small piece of what the complete story has to offer readers. This is just a taste, and the final name of this memoir has not been completed as of the date of this being published. Finally, the text is subject to change with subsequent rewrites. Enjoy!
Excerpt #1: Pre-Amble –
So I want to be an author, but all I could think of is what right did I have to try and be anywhere near the caliber of a wordsmith as many of the world greats that had come before me. My writing is shit to be honest, but again it comes back to my belief that this is a long term learning process, always reaching for the sky to attain higher levels of this disciplined art. What I do have going for me is the many experiences that have been laid out before me to explore, going deeper when there was no shovel to dig. My fingernails are stained from the soil, my hands chaffed and cracked, dry to the bone from the rare earth and loam.
Each piece that I write is part of a specific set of exercises that I look to explore and hopefully master at some point in the future. The most exciting part of this experiment, that will unfold right before your eyes, is that each piece is published in relation to how I feel they belong in the overall story since the start of this process. Each piece calls to me when it is meant to be posted. What that fully means I do not know, but something prompts my conscious mind, and lets me know that this (whatever that means at that specific moment) is what is to be published next. Some might see it as just the human mind doing what it’s supposed to do, others may see it as a higher calling. Maybe it is a little of both, regardless to me at least, it is an interesting look into the creative process.
I had been brainstorming for weeks, months maybe, thinking so hard that my brain began to hurt. I was in transition from being a dreamer to a thinker and it was very very hard. I had always been a fierce dreamer, the problem being that it was taking all the brain power afforded to me. After many years, a lifetime really, the dreaming had literally taken over all of my mind. Even worse, is that through the years I did not even notice it. Then at some point dreaming became so dominant that I sometimes could not tell the difference between fantasy and reality. It was as if I lived in a cartoon or was in the throes of full fledged dissociative episode where I was often living vicariously through an outer body experience. It was not as some have described as looking down on their body’s in a situation where they were close to death, it was for me as if my body was going through the actions pertinant to the life situation and my detached soul taking the ghostly human form, sitting right next to me as my unconscious mind had completely taken over. My detached self was prompting my earthly self to react as if I was a character in a video game.
I was a sleeper and I loved to lucid dream where I would drift half my life away, just as I had in a previous life as an opium addict, frequenting opium dens where I would indulge and float around, never seeming to reach a complete state of sleep. There I would explore the universe without having to get off the hard bamboo mat, where my body would lie with my mind shelved on a small pillow. Now don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with an overactive imagination, obviously it is in part, absolutely vital to reaching our full potential. At the time, more of it the better I thought. It would help me to experience more of life with an open mind…and for the most part it did. Having an overactive imagination opened my mind to experience all that I could, and helped me to understand and accept many things that others seem to have a hard time reconciling about the human race and the breadth of differences in people. There was plenty of logic in there as well, which I now know I had confused to be a full fledged thought process, but logic is only a small part of a robust thinking mind.
I had come to the realization that I now had to rewire my neuronal pathways in my brain to be more of a thinker, and put the data stores in my mind to good use as there was no use for them in an overwhelmed dreaming mind. Too many thoughts and experiences coming into brain storage and not much of that coming back out with intelligent efficiency. Think of it like having hard disks or sets of file cabinets in your mind, and they are all overflowing with billions of separate thoughts coming and going into and out of consciousness. There is only so much space before they begin to overflow, losing and misfiling pieces of paper or data. At some point when these pieces of information are called forth by the conscious mind, the problem faced is that the data or files are now incomplete, corrupt, and damaged. You can imagine the problems this would begin to cause…wait, what were we talking about, I completely lost my train of thought.
Now all that might sound foreign to some as each person’s mind learns and is wired differently, but we’ve all heard the old addage as well as the song “Don’t fall in love with a dreamer”…as well as the part about the fool. It also happens that many people have a more healthy balance and division in their use of brainpower. For those who do not, like me, I’m apt to say that everything happens for a reason. If I had not developed the way I had just described, I definitely would not be writing all the things I am now. So what might be seen as weakness, I am now flipping on it’s head (No pun intended), and turning it into a form of strength. In the extremes, It is how many people with seemingly devastating and debilitating disabilities, forge on with heroic stamina and poise. With all that said, we cannot forget that societal stigma tends to deny that hidden wounds and internal mental scars can be just as devastating, if not worse.
In being a dominant dreamer, I can now see how so many are held back by it’s comforting yet deceptive charm. Also as in many cases we are not taught the difference between dreaming and thinking, that there is a huge psychological and cognitive difference. The phenomenon is often described that the affected person cannot see the forest for the trees. As I realize all of this, it’s like a light switch has turned on in my brain. Spending days, months, and recently years forcing myself to brainstorm, think, and write…I can actually now, as I put pen to page, feel the physical transition and transformation taking place in my head. The dendrites and neurons in my brain are rewiring as I speak. I now regularly go in and out of what are commonly referred to as peak experiences, and reaching the tipping point the words come to the page like an avalanche. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins with excitement, my body a neuro-chemical suit. As you can imagine it is not easy mentally making that transition, I can assure you that. There is so much to tell…I cannot get the words out fast enough…It’s going to take me a lifetime (which I do not have) to complete, but I will do my best.
The people began to feel lost in the coldest and darkest period in history. Freewill was their ball and chain and again they were frightened. The sage began to speak, “Flung into the darkness”, the man continued…”I was given the knowledge that is available to all men and women, all you have to do is stop and listen. My Father’s Father was a great man. My Father’s Father’s Brother was also a great man. They recognized and chose to focus on the hope and the possibility for good in all humanity and became proprietors for the people.” They knew that they could bring the people great joy and that it was good. The world had just emerged from one of the greatest threats to all humanity, the greatest war against evil, men and women had ever known. This was not about religion, or dogma, or God…far from it as a matter of fact. What is known is that in exchange for winning the most tumultuous war of all time, in defeating evil this time, that it had not under any circumstances been destroyed. There were many like my family, who had great faith in mankind as well as in the trees, sun, oceans, stones, and soil. In order for the great war to have been one, it was well known that with all good there had to great evil…thus the world was slung into the universe, and bones ground to dust.
The evil that all humans knew continued to roam the land, taking the weak to their knees as they worshipped instant gratification into a blinding obsession. The shortsighted were once again unaware and blinded by love, roaming the earth for souls to influence and nurture…but there was a catch. The catch being that the earth was now slightly more than fifty percent evil, and slightly less than fifty percent good, so evil forces would always have a stronger attraction than good. The difference seems slight but but paradoxically immense and infinite. Legend has it that Mother Nature was to watch over this split and further the wisest mind of all time. Whatever it was that was greater than the Mother was androgynous and absent of human form, and the life and energy and the future and the past and the intersection of all things, held the universe together in a balance (ebb and flow) beyond the conception of anyone on earth. The equation of this meticulous and benevolent balance (never quite reaching perfect equilibrium), proved order through chaos, encouraging expansive outward movement in the formation of the evolutionary space-time continuum. The constant tension of opposing forces is key to the development of both the universe and the species.
All that the people knew was that they were naked and flawed. They felt the urge to compete, and there were no laws. So the people had to create laws, and although unavoidably flawed, they had to be born out of protection for people who ought not be taken advantage of. There were many who wanted to be “Gods”, even though there was no proof that there was such a thing. Some of these self-proclaimed “Gods” were fare and charitable. On the other hand there were many self-proclaimed “Gods” who were miserable and yearned for more and more power. They did not care about the people, drunk on the blood and tears on those they held influence and sought to destroy. This was the cost of freewill. This was not beset upon the people, the people beset it upon themselves.
The earthly gravitational microcosm was the family, and the intention was good, although flawed. There was tension, but the intention was good, although flawed. There was learning, and the intention was good, although again flawed. Until one day when the son of the Father’s Father felt inferior for one reason or another, and that son took the burdens of all of his family that had come before him as personal. This son saw an opportunity to exploit a weakness, a metaphorical cancer, which he also had the choice to extinguish. Instead of stomping it out, he let it flourish because he felt slighted and inferior. At the time he did not distinguish it for a cancer that would grow and swell uncontrollably to magnanimous proportions, fed by the bitterness of his brothers scorn. There were many incidents along the way which inadvertently spurned and encouraged the disease. At some point it grew out of the control of the weaker son’s hands, the point at which he had the opportunity to stop the spread had come and gone, and he was blinded by hate. Some of it was rational but more of it was not. This brother sadly believed that if he waited for just the right time, when no one was looking he could destroy his brother, the people however would be the real victims. Because he was blind, he could not see beyond his brother. If he had to spend his entire life (till his dying day) trying to destroy his sibling, he would, even if it also meant the destruction of himself as well all he held dear.
One night as the scorned brother was sleeping, in his dreams he came upon a powerful force in the form of a spirit. It was very hard to see but he knew that it was there. He felt power and awe and riches, beyond the dreams of any man who had come before him. He felt compelled to kneel before the force to get a better look, as it was very very dark. Without a moments notice, as he tried to focus on the spiritual force, he realised he could see the massive enticing power before him if he kept his eyes closed. It was then then that the dark force seemed to reach out to the scorned brother, and the powerful said to him…
I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,
We have not met before, but you always knew I was there for you.
It was before my stay in the womb that you were conceived.
Taking the position of the blind, with one exception, the ability to feel.
Is it not so quiet with so many around.
People weakened from participating in humanity.
May I touch your face as I cannot see to well? As my fingers cross the breeze and I feel your scars…
They are smooth and rough as the result of many fine years.
With your eyes closed, is it not true that I let you see?
Does the grass not grow, as we watch, right beneath our feet?
Does the sun not feed, insatiable…Does the water not quench, parched?
It offers me a gentle and pure time, with the dearly beloved.
Wait not, come into me and I into you, let me show you the world!
And you me, know that your secrets are safe with me.
Let me do the walking as you rest, forgotten son.
As we join together in spirit, you keep what you have, and I give you the rest.
The future is yours for all eternity.
It is all about you now and forever will be. With all of us…
I found myself plastered to my bed with fear and agitation. My musculature was tightly shaking, anchored as if taught rubber bands were wound tight around my bones. I was in the throes of an uncontrollable full body spasm with no end in sight, grinding my teeth so tight and unable to swallow. Burying my face into my pillow, I tried to meditate to calm my nerves which were exploding with sharp pains as if I was lying on a plywood bed of nails. Parts of my extremities were falling asleep and waking with no warning, just as one feels when they get pins and needles in a foot or arm from pinched nerves. Sweat leaked from my pores, although there was no sign of fever, it was in a word brutal. I did not know how long i could keep this up as my mind was anxiously suggesting that I was going completely insane.
I was lying in a bed next to the nurses station and there was only one incandescent light in that area with a single nurse doing paperwork. The room was otherwise completely dark and as my eyes were adjusted to the darkness, I could see thirty other beds in the same room all full with patients, many writhing in different states of insanity. Some were vomiting and others were screaming out loud in all kinds of noisy agony, the nurse just sat there as if this was normal. The large room was only separated by the warm humid outside air by large screens and there was no breeze. I was hoping upon deception that a cool breeze would pass over my body, but it was not to be. Out in the yard, in plain sight, there was an extremely large industrial size bug zapper where hundreds of mosquitoes and moths were electrocuted with every passing moment. With the constant biological genocide before me, I found myself wishing to be in their place…just kill me and put me out of my misery. I thought to myself that if there was a hell, this would surely be it.
My mind began to wander aimlessly, I was not being kept there against my will…mulling over the idea that I could just walk out the main screen door not far from where I was interned at any time. Then the reality of the situation would hit…where would I go? It was quite feasable and a bit calming to think that I would probably feel better just getting this out of my system, running off into the black night screaming my head off until I fell to the ground in complete exhaustion. The problem was that I did not have the energy to make this happen, exhausted from my hopeless quivering corpse. There was a clock on the far wall that would unervingly tick tick tick, every deafening second heard through the cries of despair and agony…every single moment felt like hours.
It was then that I realized, with nothing left in the tank, that before I had come to this godawful place that my father had given me a set of brand new rosary beads in a small leather pouch. They were in a drawer right near were my head was situated, but I was convinced at what help would they give…none, I’m sure. As I began to choke on the frothing saliva from my mouth and nose, I suddenly felt compelled to go for the beads. I removed the beads from the pouch and grasped them tight enough to rip them apart. After wrapping them a few times around each hand, the crucifix fell into the palm of my hands surreptitiously, as if that was the place it was supposed to be. Also inside the pouch was a small piece of folded glossy paper with prayers and a step by step method on how to use the beads. The instructions indicated what sections of the beads corresponded to each of the individual stations of the cross. I was not the praying type and did not even know if I believed in any God. Having no place to go and seeing no harm in attempting to just say the words and go through the motions, even if it only meant helping me to pass the time, anything to ride out this physically emotional and psychological trauma.
The one light in the background of the nurses station helped me to just make out the words on the paper now unfolded and laid out before me. I first said an opening prayer as instructed, and then began to go through the stations of the cross one by one…it was unintelligible, choppy, and manic, but I soldiered on. I would forget where I was and lose my spot as I mechanically moved the beads through my wiry shaking fingers. I found myself tentatively re-reading passages and sentences over and over as I made my way through the process. Sweat dripping from my hands and forehead, acidic fluid that upon contact with the print on the glossy instructions, rendered the words illegible. As I was doing all of this, I simultaneously was pleading with the universe to please let this pass, please-please-please let this pass.
At some point a few minutes later the shaking began to wane somewhat. I was ecstatic that just faking it and going through the motions was working. Suddenly stunned into a kind of stasis, In the air above the other patients right before my eyes, appeared what looked to be a hologram but it was more real than that. There in an almost indescribable full range of color and motion, appeared a perfectly symmetrical apparition several feet wide. At first there were several wrapped layers of green interwoven prickled thorn strands, wrapped around a beating heart that had flames shooting out the aortic canal at the crest. About two feet on each side of the wreath of rotating thorns, the ether seemed to produce a moving universe where time and space were flowing towards but not fully reaching me. My eyes no longer welded closed, then witnessed a woman appear above the heart in full color, while all the imagery that I just described was in constant motion all around her. I had to be hallucinating this I thought, but I’ve never hallucinated without drugs before. Anyway I continued to experience this phenomena as it was quite amazing and in turn began to calm my wretched frame. The woman looked only to what I could recognize as Mary the Mother of Jesus, seated and draped in a blue and white separated headdress and full body shawl, while the flames from the aortic valve flashed in her lap. She had a slight ethereal white halo rotating around her head.
All around her were what I recognized too be visions of men and women saints (if you believe in that sort of thing) and androgynous angels coming and going, propping her up in the air as I just lay there plussed. At some point her lips began to move but there was no auditory projection, nonetheless I somehow knew what she was indicating…that ‘I had to make a choice’. As soon as I realized this, I could see what I can only describe as the ‘forces of light’ situated to her right side. For some reason I equated this ‘welcoming force’ with the presence of ‘Jesus’ although there was no sight of what I could impossibly perceive to be ‘his’ likeness. I actually felt a calm bliss with the ‘forces of light and ‘peace’. Simultaneously on her left side was also only what I can describe as the ‘forces of darkness’. Similarly there was no ‘demon or satan’ but the ‘impression was put upon me’ that they were there in the same way that ‘The Son Of God’ was there on the opposite side. From the ‘dark forces’, I felt ‘power and strength greater than I had ever known’, and it sent shivers up my spine and riddled goosebumps all over my skin. There were no more words, but the side with the ‘dark forces’ was the only side trying to ‘make its case to coax, convey, and convince me to come to their side’. It was ‘implied’ that the ‘world would be mine…power and riches beyond my dreams, no more room for pain, and eternal glory’. Focussing back on the side with the ‘good forces’, there was no hard sell and no promises, but ‘calm, peace, and eternal life’.
As I gripped the rosary tight, I thought to myself I have to make a leap, I had to make a choice (well really I did not have to, but I did anyway), even if it was going through the motions as I said before. I checked to make sure I was not dreaming…but I was wide awake. I always could tell when I was in a dreaming state and I was surely WIDE AWAKE! So I made my decision and ‘click’ everything went black and all the pain and shaking stopped. As I lay there for a moment, I felt a rush of adrenaline and power. I wanted to yell out what had just happened or tell the nurse but I was rendered small, minute, and humbled.
Next thing I know I was suddenly stunned and shocked awake in a pool of sweaty white sheets. The clock on the far wall revealed it was early afternoon the next day. Exactly twelve hours later from 2 a.m. when the visions occured…I was covered in itchy hives and the clock read 2 p.m.
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