4-2-9 It's in the history of metal-working that evolved over millennium to where machi-nery-making came, and then the further societal evolutions as each new innovation came along. The effect of the spread of railroads, combined with the upset of the civil war, be-gan the larger processes-of-devolution from our ten-thousand year long agrarian exis-tence's accumulated body of good common sense wisdoms and evolved societal stabili-ties, that have now played such a major role in leading us to this space wherein none of those old-time smarts seem to 'work' anymore. ¶ Of necessity, agrarians had to behave with a toughness, a sternness that we of this century seem to no longer be able or willing to tolerate in the behaviors of others, let alone ourselves, anymore. Especially the men, due to having had to manage beasts-of-burden often outweighing them by six or more times. And who had to always be on the push to get fields plowed, fences kept reliable to keep the stock from demolishing crops vital to their survival; and get the harvests in on time before the weather turned. And who, by and large, were responsible for firearm maintenance and judicious use of in procuring meat for the table; with all the associated necessity of having to deal with all the blood & guts issues. The womenfolk of that era were also driven to a toughness & durability of the same necessity of helping to provide for the common weal in the age of no nearby stores & almost always next-to-no money, anyway. Keeping the gardening managed, foodstuffs stored, meals forthcoming, breads made, wild foods harvested when in season and prepared for storage; cow milked, butter made, cloth spun, woven, and made into clothing, and washed. Poultry kept safe. Lots of kids was a necessity, there was so much to cover and get done, day-to-day, year in and year out. Junior, who'd just been allowed his first firearm was then posted to oversee the garden and shoot any critters that might render the garden truck lost. & if he got bored, he could scrounge the nearby perimeters for any stray critter he could pop. Each less critter meant a fuller guarantee of garden security. And for the older boys, who'd already graduated to being allowed to manage their own horses, firearm use involved keeping the larger critters at bay from devouring the cattle or sheep; and had to ride horseback a lot in keeping herds in a general containment. By & large, girls helped mama in accom-plishing the multitude of tasks intimate with all the chores of wifery. Some of the more tomboy types took to firearm usage and horse/ cowboy work; most, however, stayed in a domestic capacity of what today's women would surely define as bondage.& to a degree, I can agree with this point-of-view, while in the same moment containing a clear mind's eye of the collective of a full grasp of the scope of the pressure to keep plugging away on the chores, or die trying, before use of electricity, autos & superhighways sprung all phases of the agrarian ethic out of whack & left us all groping and fumbling in the void for enough 'sense' in all that confronts us today--(although in my case it's attempts to confront, because attempt is all it is and ever will be for me.) Understandings I have, allow me to feel an imperviousness to all attempted manipulative thrusts-from-outside my own spirit; and it is that spirit's full blessing to be (or feel) able to see behind the facades' attempted obfuscations and hard sell ideology, to the very-flawed rationale behind the messages trying to propagate themselves into my brain? Goodness! No! My spirit, who guides my every instant, instinct, and intuition, 'sees' otherwise. Not the least bit interested in acting out all of those instinctual urges that still well up within me to shoot guns, kill, butcher, beat on large animals to make them get to work, and etcetera, left over from 10,000 years' worth of conditioning this human brain that lives within my head & feeds my heart & tells my body what to do every second—I try to avoid those darker aspects of that agrarian mindset that still try to function in me. The pure physi-cality of the labor-intensive necessities of agrarian life created in their stead, a toughness and durability and patience-to-endure factor that I see (at times) too often lacking in the bodies & minds of today's now 95% the other way, urban populations. Soft, whiter-than-white, afraid of the sun, ignorant of earth's truths and nature law; flabby bodies and, if anything, even flabbier brains to go along with their out-of-shape bodies and artificial environments. This I see and it bothers me because I know how it made me who I was, once; but whom I must assure you (I reiterate) is not who I am now. ¶ Okay: So they were tough, and . . ? Well: Had we, Francine & I, & then you and your sibling in turn, been conditioned to that level of durability and patience to persevere, would I or any of us have acted so errantly as I did as a much younger man? I think not. This is why I keep harping on the facts of everything I've ever done not really, in its essences, being any of my fault. Nor do I deserve any blame for being so retarded; and neither do you or your bro or mom's; and that the retardations of generations before me gave me this defect, now passed on to your life through me & your mom. The fact of this general retardation of our westernized human mental capacities, here, doesn't give you or anyone else cause or justification to describe me using such disparaging terms—nor me toward any of you, either. ¶ With the onset of the advent of the world of time and energy-saver appliances into every home, we all started to lose that toughness factor as all the chores got easier and easier over the earlier part of the 20th century. The disconnect from horses left a vast empty hole in the male psyche that automobiles will never fill, as did the disconnect from the garden as the main focus in men, women, & children's lives. More cars & more highways further bled the lifeblood of agrarianisms' soul out of our consciousnesses; not to mention its causing of the breakup of familial integrity and continuity-of-community so vital to our basic survival throughout all of recorded history, & I'd guess that this conditioning stems from the time of our very first steps upon earth. ¶ I will claim here that my behaviors, through up until about my early-to-mid-50s, were about as virtually involuntary as they could be, and therefore really do not deserve the types of wanton base language criticisms & overblown derogatory comments aimed at me. My own sense of an interior criticizer slams me around pretty severely on its own terms, which I assure you are more direct and cutting than you will ever come up with to try to put me down, when it is you who are, in this process, only putting yourself down. I hope that you can take this critical statement in the spirit it is intended and not get too defensive and shut down, just because I wrote something here that may, in some way, unsettle your basic spiritual divinity that tries so hard to keep you and your emotional being on an even and well-grounded keel. It is a lesser self who strikes out like you do, & beneath you. Beneath the Fourman sense of dignity, honor, & grace; the attempted or real prac-tice of which is uppermost of the three. For all my scruffy uncouth unruly gruff-seeming inappropriate outbursts, the Fourmans' prime directive was to assert positive & respect-able respectful attitudes in both speech and behavior. This was the example they set in the household in which I grew up into; and the example they kept harping away on when in discussion with this wayward son of theirs who just was not listening during those times; except that I absorbed everything to the the nth degree, anyway, about what they believed to be righteous and upper-middle class. That I was born with a mind that had been conditioned from 1,000 generations of agrarian conditioning into such a hoity-toity situation pretty much explains why I never fit, couldn't fit, & wouldn't fit, ever, no mat-ter how much or hard I tried. The stark truth of this evidence staring me in my face, in my mid-20s, began the turn-around processes toward settling me more into a life-style more well-suited to my truer nature. This has been the rest-of-my-life's struggle: To get closer to an environment that feeds my spirit and doesn't gobble it up—or try to, at least. This urge has over-balanced and outdistanced all other considerations about to do with who did what and to whom a third of a century ago. My own personal self-preservation instinct has no time for the pettinesses of fools, women who feel that they have been battered or otherwise disrespected, and all the overly-educated who, because of their over-education, think that they know it all about why I behave and how to fix it, and how I am supposed to behave and why I am supposed to behave this way or that, while they sit in their ivory towers & don't hardly do a stitch of real physical work for a living. Sure, what they do makes enough sort of a sense, I guess, to other overly-educated or overly-paid lower class types who will gladly pay some shrink literally tons-of-money-per-hour to lay this psychobabbling poppycock bunch of (my feeling) gobbledy gook on them seems rather outrageous to a guy like me, who has never had the kind of 'discretionary' funds to even contemplate enlisting the services of one of them brain-doctor types' overly-complex, overblown theories & so-called supposed services. You can believe this or not when I tell you that my own little brain in here is my very own best possible analyst. It serves me way better than any incoming attempts could possibly match. Much of the good and decent common-sense sense of sensibility, residuals from my agrarian era ancestors' ways of thinking and doing, remain to inform me of this and these things, thoughts, moods, and feelings I have about why I feel that it is okay for me to ignore all attempted laying of blame & angry insulting words of dysfunctionality-on-parade by anyone. I can ignore the petty peevishnesses that are obviously motivated from too many erroneous assumptions as to give them any credibility or waste large amounts of time on trying to rebut. You are not wrong & neither am I: It's the system & its enthusiastic sup-porters who have done this abomination upon our souls & spirits, & you must get past your misplaced target—me--& try to re-focus your anger, hostility, frustration, sadness, despair, depression, disappointment, all your sore emotions & all of those hostile urges toward the people who've endorsed & who endorse the mentality-of-greed that has done this dirt on you & me & the collective us for centuries upon centuries of in-humane wrongheadednesses in their misguided suppositions and population-control successes. Now THAT I can get angry about. Engaging in argument over what I or Fran or Jerit or you did to who & why & when?, & all the subsequent embellishments of seamy details of a life that no longer is or ever will be again, seems a fool's choice & I'm not that much of a fool; believe me. ¶ The mega-difficult job of attempting to portray what I feel to be stronger truths than seem to jell with any one else, has me sometimes thinking that I probably ought to just quit this and cease entirely evermore--again!-- to beat my head against this brick wall of stubborn neurosis infecting you guys, (J & J, not Francine) but I must insist for the umpteenth time: Not me. ¶ I am in a quadruple-whammy state-of absolute dumbfounded shock-like catatonic state of mental (but not emotional or spirit) reduction and disassembly/ re-assembly struggles to grasp, with the kind of clarity that seems demanded at this point. But the harder I lust after answers, the more confusion seems to reign, fogging up my lenses with the mist of indecision in arriving at any con-victions on deciding upon concise conclusions on how to respond; let alone: why, really. I don't think I'm going around in circles as much as I'm boinging back & forth across the circle, like in the dodgeball of the dodgeball game we all played for a short while in our early school years.
We, who feel less emotionally-insecure, really have to expand our thinkers beyond our normals to have any chance at making friendlier choices of what to suggest that might help, and how to decide the best way to attempt to suggest this or that helpful-intended idea or series of ideas to folks who're less emotionally-stable than ourselves.
Haven't we each the dire need to be free of such absurd turmoil of tumultuous emotionalism-run-amok? and trying its hardest to enlist our enabling support and elicit sympathy for such un-sympathetic pathos of anti-spiritual expression, posing itself as in an illusion of personal attack upon forces outside of him/ herself, who refuse to do his/ her bidding in stubborn refusal to acknowledge the validities in everyone's (independent right to have) points-of-view and behavior that may run counter or appear too outrageous to the other? ¶ I don't know whether our human ability to radiate toward sometimes such vastly disparate interests and point-of-view and behavior is a blessing or a curse. But I do know that: Everything is constantly challenged toward an equilibrium, more so than to disturb balances, except when in trying to regain it, or at least a sense that things are in enough of a sense-of-a balance that feels comfortable enough, and is acceptable. Stasis: think calm, stable, steady.
Each of us is right; none of us is wrong. No matter how powerfully-oppressed we may feel at times, none of us is wrong; except for the lack of certain information that causes blind spots in our reasoning processes. But before certain of that information can get through these blind spots, we need to have the healing information first. ¶ Sure: Jadene's accepting of the falsehoods causing her to see monsters in the dark, when it's the ones in broad daylight who're messing with her mind's ability to perceive this fact, the knowing of which would—or, at least: should—release her from a lifelong sense of a helpless enslavement to numbers on a page that do not represent the reality she believes in, but are purely some paper-pusher's idea of a cruel joke on us dumb sheeple who're just too dumbed-down, anymore, anyway, so: Why not sell 'em a bill-of-goods and make them believe that they owe us their firstborn, 2nd born, and hell:: We (they figure) might as well take it all! They're (we're) never gonna be smart enough to figure out what hit them, or whose fault it was; and will just keep on squabbling their miserable squabbling with one another because they just don't (or, in Jadene's case: won't?) have the patience anymore, for all the heavy thinking about who put two plus two together and walked away with fourteen, let alone how and why this scenario grew itself up to the point where THEY can do what they do that's so injurious to our attempts to have a pride & feel proud, like only freedom can deliver. But how does anyone succeed in delivering this freedom to another without first getting stabilizers of knowledge and understanding in place, like in a safety net? Then we can begin to unwind the total dissolution of their faith in false idols, and rewind on the road to nature and a more naturally-inclined existence, which you know by now is where I think everyone's salvation and release from all these self-inflicted terrors lies. If you ever wished that I could be rendered as anguished as I'm sure I must have driven you to feel by some of my over-dumping of both spoken & written words onto you, I'm close to being, feeling not quite anguished, nor exasperated or overly-frustrated, per sé, but am finding myself in a similar state of extra intensity swirling the currents of the rivers of both my emotional and my intellectual being. My thinker is boinging pretty big time BAD in reaction to (finally!) too much input all at once in the past couple weeks. I don't want to shine on the letter transposing responsibility that I have laid on myself; it's just that I feel that I have more complex, absorbing material literally floating in some rather rare free-associative type soup slopping & sloshing around inside my skull that WHITE MEN call “brain.” Too much to assimilate with any speed until the sense of overload diminishes in maybe another week or two, if I know me. ¶ As the areas & stages of mental retardation became expanded in the minds of we of the masses over the past 150 years, it becomes that much more difficult for our enlightenment to occur and cause liberation from the previous stresses that ignorance allows to propagate by perpetrators of questionable 'character.' ¶ Each of us has evolved our fundamentally-flawed retardations in proportion to the amounts of information we have crammed—and/ or have allowed to be crammed by crammers unanimous & company—into our memory banks' bodies-of-experience and remembered sensual sensations. Many, and possibly most folks just bury (try to, anyway) their retardations under avalanches of input & busy make-work mundanities of daily life and seem, to most casual outward appearances, to be getting along, going along, & doing all right enough to succeed in mostly consciously or sub consciously ignoring the retard aspects. But by now, I should think you should, would, or could agree with my sense of an understanding of this: That disturbances-of-retardation factors continue, unrestrained in one's, your, my, our sub-conscious mind. The challenge is to find acceptable, even politically-correct--when appropriate or 'called for'--activities that will BLEED THE RAT without offense; inoffensively. Performing, playing the chords and solos, while singing the words hard and extra-expressively, and loud, bled my rat in an acceptable sublimation/ substitution for inappropriate urges to un-think, momentarily, when I was an entertainer. The firewood detail bleeds alotta rat.... (start next at page 15) note to myself about where I am in the process of transposing pen scribbles to the computer/ printer. 15 done, 30 more to go......
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