It's Sunday evening.
I'm listening music.
Thank you for the music.
sunnuntai 1. heinäkuuta 2012
On reasoning
Some grave for revenge. Some grave for redemption. Some count on multitudes. Some count on Only God. And I was about to say: I hear the people cry. Still, my words for them have been few.
The Muslims are a multitude. The Hindus are a multitude. The Christian are the most wanted of them all, the true flames of fire. Suitable for every and each good deed. Thus their powers are so envied and hated, that the Catholic world, a multitude, have taken the perplexion of the Christians, and yes, we all know what is the result.
But what has been written, have been written in process of thousand years. If the empire is built upon suffering and feast, beauty and the beast, only reasoning is the way to follow. The beast cannot be tamed with the powers of revenge. And neither can be the blessings given to a Christian who only pursuits revenge.
If I reason: I let go off revenge, I choose reason, the blessings are granted. If I say thank you for example this and right now given one full blog, full of making sense, and I do follow the wit, knowing thoroughly what is right now needed to know,, I am thankful for the moment of release, restitute.
The most powerful of us are to strengthen those who are weaker. And still, in the prayer we all are alone in the presence of the Almighty. And there is no greater power than to find the message, feel the touch, reach the melody, get access to the stars.
I hope you forget the night, for now is day.
I hope you pray and strengthen.
I hope you scream. Or whisper. Or what ever it takes to ride the Doom.
The Muslims are a multitude. The Hindus are a multitude. The Christian are the most wanted of them all, the true flames of fire. Suitable for every and each good deed. Thus their powers are so envied and hated, that the Catholic world, a multitude, have taken the perplexion of the Christians, and yes, we all know what is the result.
But what has been written, have been written in process of thousand years. If the empire is built upon suffering and feast, beauty and the beast, only reasoning is the way to follow. The beast cannot be tamed with the powers of revenge. And neither can be the blessings given to a Christian who only pursuits revenge.
If I reason: I let go off revenge, I choose reason, the blessings are granted. If I say thank you for example this and right now given one full blog, full of making sense, and I do follow the wit, knowing thoroughly what is right now needed to know,, I am thankful for the moment of release, restitute.
The most powerful of us are to strengthen those who are weaker. And still, in the prayer we all are alone in the presence of the Almighty. And there is no greater power than to find the message, feel the touch, reach the melody, get access to the stars.
I hope you forget the night, for now is day.
I hope you pray and strengthen.
I hope you scream. Or whisper. Or what ever it takes to ride the Doom.
sunnuntai 22. huhtikuuta 2012
The redemption day
There is no greater victory than to trust in God, Almighty. In His hand there is victory for each and every soul. From His throne once was said: There is no condemnation. And in this Idol we trust.
So, you little shepherd, trust in the Almighty for you want to have fun. Have fun for the flames of devil were for your fun created and in the flames you will reach your full potential.Trust in the infernal flames and follow your Almighty, Lord of Lords.
For once was spoken: "I will give you west and east, and all the creatures of the earth will be given to you." You can say then "Lord, Almighty, I humbly give all of them back to you, for my burden is a doom for me."
I love Thee Almighty. For Thee I need not to lie, or swear in the name of condemnation. I can clearly speak out the burdens of my heart. You stand fast and your eyes are clear. I once swore and I swear again: "You are my Lord, and in Thee I find rest."
Do not look scarcely upon me, for I have sinned. Please forgive me my trespasses for you are merciful, you not cast me away.
Child, unless you tame the Doom you should not ride upon it. Unless you are skilled to tame the beast do not waste your powers trying to catch it (for God will fight for your sake.) For the Lord Almighty have given it its' powers. For the Doom to stand fast and burn the deviant in the flames of hell.
If you, child, do not understand to mind the Doom, prepare yourself to stand in the day of redemption.
Long live the Almighty for ever and ever!
So, you little shepherd, trust in the Almighty for you want to have fun. Have fun for the flames of devil were for your fun created and in the flames you will reach your full potential.Trust in the infernal flames and follow your Almighty, Lord of Lords.
For once was spoken: "I will give you west and east, and all the creatures of the earth will be given to you." You can say then "Lord, Almighty, I humbly give all of them back to you, for my burden is a doom for me."
I love Thee Almighty. For Thee I need not to lie, or swear in the name of condemnation. I can clearly speak out the burdens of my heart. You stand fast and your eyes are clear. I once swore and I swear again: "You are my Lord, and in Thee I find rest."
Do not look scarcely upon me, for I have sinned. Please forgive me my trespasses for you are merciful, you not cast me away.
Child, unless you tame the Doom you should not ride upon it. Unless you are skilled to tame the beast do not waste your powers trying to catch it (for God will fight for your sake.) For the Lord Almighty have given it its' powers. For the Doom to stand fast and burn the deviant in the flames of hell.
If you, child, do not understand to mind the Doom, prepare yourself to stand in the day of redemption.
Long live the Almighty for ever and ever!
perjantai 9. maaliskuuta 2012
Let there be peace
The kindest of words I've ever heard have been said to me by my beloved. He makes me feel I'm his precious, a treasure, a beautiful pearl or a jewel. No one has ever made me feel that way. The love connecting us together is something everyone graves for but only few find.
My days are made of two parts: in the days he is at work and I'm home with my dog building a puzzle, making a story, pursuing understanding over my past. In the evening he comes home and I start smiling, laughing and giggling. First time in my life I am in the sphere of influence I do not have to be afraid or feel shame of whom I am.
I fear for his life, and it's devastating to me. I fear the underworld, the organized crime. Those vicious hunters who played their terrorgame with me in the past. I fear they attempt to kill my beloved, as they tried to kill my ex-man. They focused all the kicks to his head, and he survived only because a passerby was the saving angel who called the police.
There was a boy who wanted to be my boyfriend 2006. I rejected him and he began to send textmessages to me, numerous a day, for months, insulting me and scaring me. This boy, now a man, is my friend in facebook. He posted a scary text on his wall yesterday. It said:
"For the sake of womens' day we must remember those women who don't deserve roses today. Thanks to rebekahbrookes there is men who hate women. Men who see rebekahbrookes everywhere. Rebekah, shame is one of the strongest illusions people believe in. You with your actions have caused shame and suffering to people who have not deserved it. May your shame be eternally ascending into spheres, you damn cow."
Paranoid, suspicious mind like mine reads hate-messages so that even when the message is addressed to someone else, there is still the suspicion what if it is addressed to me. I will never get so well that the idea of underworld disappeared. In my reality, there where is vicious evil, there is the underworld. This I said to my beloved yesterday after he came from work explaining him why I fear for his life.
The idea of organized crime was born during and just before the psychosis. When the meds alleviated the psychosis, the world view remained altered and the awareness there is evil out there stayed with me. Looking back the years of psychosis, and this only few believe, I can for certain say what was delusion and what actually happened. Things disappeared from my home, and it's no fantasy.
There is no use telling the police about the ideas of organized crime. I knew it then 2006 and I know it now. Unless one experiences it oneself, no one can believe it. Realistic goal for me is to wish all my attention won't get stuck in speculation of the severeness of the current threat. There is so much to think about, so many mysteries to dedicate and I don't want to get stuck in fear.
Yes, they are out there, but there is nothing I can do about it. Yes, they use internet to scare me, but no crime has happened. This is the life I was given. This is the reality I must deal with. This mind of mine is shattered and broken, still with it I must pursue peace and harmony.
Tears wash away pain and fear. Acceptance is the path into peace. Beauty is the experience as I hit the core of honesty to myself. Healing is the act of beauty and relaxation the result of it.
My days are made of two parts: in the days he is at work and I'm home with my dog building a puzzle, making a story, pursuing understanding over my past. In the evening he comes home and I start smiling, laughing and giggling. First time in my life I am in the sphere of influence I do not have to be afraid or feel shame of whom I am.
I fear for his life, and it's devastating to me. I fear the underworld, the organized crime. Those vicious hunters who played their terrorgame with me in the past. I fear they attempt to kill my beloved, as they tried to kill my ex-man. They focused all the kicks to his head, and he survived only because a passerby was the saving angel who called the police.
There was a boy who wanted to be my boyfriend 2006. I rejected him and he began to send textmessages to me, numerous a day, for months, insulting me and scaring me. This boy, now a man, is my friend in facebook. He posted a scary text on his wall yesterday. It said:
"For the sake of womens' day we must remember those women who don't deserve roses today. Thanks to rebekahbrookes there is men who hate women. Men who see rebekahbrookes everywhere. Rebekah, shame is one of the strongest illusions people believe in. You with your actions have caused shame and suffering to people who have not deserved it. May your shame be eternally ascending into spheres, you damn cow."
Paranoid, suspicious mind like mine reads hate-messages so that even when the message is addressed to someone else, there is still the suspicion what if it is addressed to me. I will never get so well that the idea of underworld disappeared. In my reality, there where is vicious evil, there is the underworld. This I said to my beloved yesterday after he came from work explaining him why I fear for his life.
The idea of organized crime was born during and just before the psychosis. When the meds alleviated the psychosis, the world view remained altered and the awareness there is evil out there stayed with me. Looking back the years of psychosis, and this only few believe, I can for certain say what was delusion and what actually happened. Things disappeared from my home, and it's no fantasy.
There is no use telling the police about the ideas of organized crime. I knew it then 2006 and I know it now. Unless one experiences it oneself, no one can believe it. Realistic goal for me is to wish all my attention won't get stuck in speculation of the severeness of the current threat. There is so much to think about, so many mysteries to dedicate and I don't want to get stuck in fear.
Yes, they are out there, but there is nothing I can do about it. Yes, they use internet to scare me, but no crime has happened. This is the life I was given. This is the reality I must deal with. This mind of mine is shattered and broken, still with it I must pursue peace and harmony.
Tears wash away pain and fear. Acceptance is the path into peace. Beauty is the experience as I hit the core of honesty to myself. Healing is the act of beauty and relaxation the result of it.
keskiviikko 7. maaliskuuta 2012
Burn motherfucker, burn
Is the "Eve" same Eve who used to work with my sister?
What would be the consequences of my sister reading my block?
What does it mean that there comes signs of the teasers in my e-mail?
Is it pathetic or healthy to drink cider 3 pm?
Sun is shining on my face through dirty windows. I washed them just few days ago, but I am a lousy washer, and the windows remained dirty. I am listening a collected list of memories from my years in psychosis. I dropped a couple of tears for the sake of grieving, or because the memories are painful. The process is on.
What happens to a person when there is nobody to turn to, and she perpetually finds her home "raped?" When going to police is void due to the stigma of mental disorder. And still objects keep disappearing from home.
Here I sit in my home I once found an insecure place, where neither I or my things were safe. The sadists disappeared from my life in 2007, the same year the locks were changed. Few occasions have brought those I want to forget, in to my mind. One was when my ex-man was kicked and beaten in front of a bar 2010.
Today no items disappear, nor there is no threats are posed in net. But today there came an e-mail: "The forgotten password - you ordered a new one." No one even knows I have registered in the best-buy-net.
For me who lived through the years of terror due to those penetrations, no sudden change or unusualness pass by unnoticed. Somewhere there, the people once terrorizing my home, are still, with their motivation to spread fear and torture people 'till death or surrendering. Somewhere there they are, the haunters, with their deathly games.
There is nothing I can do about that domain, so I keep on living despite the knowledge of their existence. I take pride to myself I lasted all those years. It would have been easy to commit a suicide. And I tried a few times. But I would have never given in to them.
"So heavy on my heart"
What would be the consequences of my sister reading my block?
What does it mean that there comes signs of the teasers in my e-mail?
Is it pathetic or healthy to drink cider 3 pm?
Sun is shining on my face through dirty windows. I washed them just few days ago, but I am a lousy washer, and the windows remained dirty. I am listening a collected list of memories from my years in psychosis. I dropped a couple of tears for the sake of grieving, or because the memories are painful. The process is on.
What happens to a person when there is nobody to turn to, and she perpetually finds her home "raped?" When going to police is void due to the stigma of mental disorder. And still objects keep disappearing from home.
Here I sit in my home I once found an insecure place, where neither I or my things were safe. The sadists disappeared from my life in 2007, the same year the locks were changed. Few occasions have brought those I want to forget, in to my mind. One was when my ex-man was kicked and beaten in front of a bar 2010.
Today no items disappear, nor there is no threats are posed in net. But today there came an e-mail: "The forgotten password - you ordered a new one." No one even knows I have registered in the best-buy-net.
For me who lived through the years of terror due to those penetrations, no sudden change or unusualness pass by unnoticed. Somewhere there, the people once terrorizing my home, are still, with their motivation to spread fear and torture people 'till death or surrendering. Somewhere there they are, the haunters, with their deathly games.
There is nothing I can do about that domain, so I keep on living despite the knowledge of their existence. I take pride to myself I lasted all those years. It would have been easy to commit a suicide. And I tried a few times. But I would have never given in to them.
"So heavy on my heart"
I am lovely
Marketing oneself through a blog serves the narcissistic needs of experiencing one is seen, heard and registered by others. In becoming visible to others one is actually exposing her true self into criticism. Someone may say: "Shame on you. You are totally wrong." What the writer may experience: "My true self is something wrong and unacceptable." Despite the dangers I keep exposing myself, as I need to become visible to my own eyes, feel my voice is clear and said aloud to someone.
Through the years I have learned the power of hysteria. Deep in my soul the driving force has been hysterical self-denial. The self need to fit in the society. It must serve the wider entity. And if it doesn't the whole existence is in threat. The concept of self that is built denying the true self as despicable is narcissistic of nature. Because it is based on lies who I am rigidly conforming the expectations of others, it demands external support into staying in form.
The more hysterically I try to conform to the given identity what is acceptable, the more the bystanders suffer in my sphere of influence. Conforming into my lies is revolting to them. The more I experience rejection the more hysterically I pursue trying to fit into accepted. Or then I stop and think, what I have been forced to do. Identity based on a set of false concepts is a fraud. A fraud is far from beauty. So is there alternative for me? Can I find the permission to my true self to come visible?
I never was anything they could appreciate. That forced me to act alike what was expected from me. Thus becoming a genuine person, with own unique personality is a process of grieving. All that I am was once despised and denied, and man, it is hard to find the strength to appreciate something others ridiculed and looked down upon. It hurts like hell.
Is there salvation out of the flames of hell? Of course there is. That is the only vision that keeps me going. There is a state sometime I can say: "I am finally home." Then I can be at ease with myself. And then no longer I constantly feel all that I am is wrong and disgusting. Maybe I am already there. This blog may be the first sign of me appreciating myself. This is my own voice acclaiming: "My life is beautiful." It is beautiful to me, as it is something that is true. I am no longer a puppet or a doll. I am a wreck. I am a veteran of war. And I will heal and be built ones more.
Once I know I am lovely, I no longer am driven by the need of being approved by "them" and the need of hearing them say "this doll serves." Still, shame is something that will keep striking against me. It comes unwaited, attacks all of a sudden, and then the flames of hell are there to torture me again. But in the middle of the strikes I have my own voice, be it weak, but it is my own. It's the voice of tears and sobbing, but it is mine. And they won't ridicule me for it, and the sadism of them won't tear my soul apart. I am learning to say: "I am lovely", with a little smile.
Through the years I have learned the power of hysteria. Deep in my soul the driving force has been hysterical self-denial. The self need to fit in the society. It must serve the wider entity. And if it doesn't the whole existence is in threat. The concept of self that is built denying the true self as despicable is narcissistic of nature. Because it is based on lies who I am rigidly conforming the expectations of others, it demands external support into staying in form.
The more hysterically I try to conform to the given identity what is acceptable, the more the bystanders suffer in my sphere of influence. Conforming into my lies is revolting to them. The more I experience rejection the more hysterically I pursue trying to fit into accepted. Or then I stop and think, what I have been forced to do. Identity based on a set of false concepts is a fraud. A fraud is far from beauty. So is there alternative for me? Can I find the permission to my true self to come visible?
I never was anything they could appreciate. That forced me to act alike what was expected from me. Thus becoming a genuine person, with own unique personality is a process of grieving. All that I am was once despised and denied, and man, it is hard to find the strength to appreciate something others ridiculed and looked down upon. It hurts like hell.
Is there salvation out of the flames of hell? Of course there is. That is the only vision that keeps me going. There is a state sometime I can say: "I am finally home." Then I can be at ease with myself. And then no longer I constantly feel all that I am is wrong and disgusting. Maybe I am already there. This blog may be the first sign of me appreciating myself. This is my own voice acclaiming: "My life is beautiful." It is beautiful to me, as it is something that is true. I am no longer a puppet or a doll. I am a wreck. I am a veteran of war. And I will heal and be built ones more.
Once I know I am lovely, I no longer am driven by the need of being approved by "them" and the need of hearing them say "this doll serves." Still, shame is something that will keep striking against me. It comes unwaited, attacks all of a sudden, and then the flames of hell are there to torture me again. But in the middle of the strikes I have my own voice, be it weak, but it is my own. It's the voice of tears and sobbing, but it is mine. And they won't ridicule me for it, and the sadism of them won't tear my soul apart. I am learning to say: "I am lovely", with a little smile.
tiistai 6. maaliskuuta 2012
The least but not the last
The essential things are matters of heart and soul. One can write without mind, praise the elevated state of her soul, and in the end it is nothing but foolishness. Child can play with sand and built a castle, think she is a princess and develop into that form, but in the end of the day she is once more just a child fearing dark.
In the midst of a community, what it takes to survive? Playing mindgames is an option. I used to dream of beautiful, happy people and all the kind words that would address to me. I love to play mindgames. Fascinates me. Make me feel I can escape the reality, raise up high and reach freedom. I love to play with words.
Words drop into my consciousness like tears drop onto my bed. One tear does not make a cry, like one word does not make a story. But i've kept crying for a decade, and am ready to tell a story. It's a sad, sad story of a world deathly and cruel. And so it begins:
Once upon a time this accident called "The Least" happened. The Least was the one suitable to carry all the hatred and hostility of her environment. She was never like the others, entitled to push back, state her mind and call out an opinion. She was the one to confirm, agree, and admire the strong.
But the Least knew a path into the beauty. The beauty was her freedom. Every time she accessed the secret world she knew one day everything would be just all right. She let the angels sing and stars to shine, birds to fly and ants to built. Everywhere she registered the genius of the beauty, and she thought all of it was fascinating.
When the Least was finally old enough to leave the cruel environment she could not imagine those people would follow her where ever she would go. She traveled far but those people, their voices and the threat always followed her as those people would be the constructs of her mind, built-in within her. They kept laughing at her, calling her names, torturing her, day and night.
One day the whole construction of her mind collapsed. Then she started crying and she has kept crying ever since. The Least am I and I am about to blog about the things I love and the things I hate. I love to play with words like a child loves to play with legos. Telling you all this, it's time for me to take a nap, listen to music telling of beauty, cry a tear or two and fall asleep.
In the midst of a community, what it takes to survive? Playing mindgames is an option. I used to dream of beautiful, happy people and all the kind words that would address to me. I love to play mindgames. Fascinates me. Make me feel I can escape the reality, raise up high and reach freedom. I love to play with words.
Words drop into my consciousness like tears drop onto my bed. One tear does not make a cry, like one word does not make a story. But i've kept crying for a decade, and am ready to tell a story. It's a sad, sad story of a world deathly and cruel. And so it begins:
Once upon a time this accident called "The Least" happened. The Least was the one suitable to carry all the hatred and hostility of her environment. She was never like the others, entitled to push back, state her mind and call out an opinion. She was the one to confirm, agree, and admire the strong.
But the Least knew a path into the beauty. The beauty was her freedom. Every time she accessed the secret world she knew one day everything would be just all right. She let the angels sing and stars to shine, birds to fly and ants to built. Everywhere she registered the genius of the beauty, and she thought all of it was fascinating.
When the Least was finally old enough to leave the cruel environment she could not imagine those people would follow her where ever she would go. She traveled far but those people, their voices and the threat always followed her as those people would be the constructs of her mind, built-in within her. They kept laughing at her, calling her names, torturing her, day and night.
One day the whole construction of her mind collapsed. Then she started crying and she has kept crying ever since. The Least am I and I am about to blog about the things I love and the things I hate. I love to play with words like a child loves to play with legos. Telling you all this, it's time for me to take a nap, listen to music telling of beauty, cry a tear or two and fall asleep.
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