Spiritfarmer...the other secrets

Hugh Sr. Mann

Description

Out of fear, convention has ingrained, or perhaps pioneered, a standard where by most interesting facts are presented as fiction.
As I had grown tired of fear, and tired of pretending,..and perhaps because I am somewhat of a bully,...I began to present interesting facts,...as interesting facts. And that, fellow players,...apparently is Friction.
Spiritfarming, as 'self-help', represents a basic opposite to traditional self help, in that you do NOT struggle, strive, self discipline, improve, sacrifice, fix the world, care about the world, socialize, or change. You simply accept, and DO,...'YOU'.

Sujets

• Santé et bien-être
• Développement personnel
• développement personnel
• Self-help
• Personal Growth

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456602697
• Langue: English

Extrait

Spiritfarmer...the other secrets
 
 
by
Hugh Mann
 
 
Copyright 2011 Hugh Mann,
All rights reserved.
 
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0269-7
 
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
 


 
 
 
Dedication
 
toward the astute delineation of the amazing Ms. Hay , that my thyroid condition was couched in the anxious vibration of "when is it going to be my turn." I would submit that the answer is, ... NOW
 
Forewarned
The following materials are of a highly threatening nature, apparently,
as a good portion of readers become quite
frightened. This fear is then,of course,
projected as socially acceptable "anger".
Should you become frightened
upon perusal of this information, it
is suggested that you discard this offering
and return to your diet of dogma.
 
Spirit Farmer
... the other secrets.
Throughout the existence of the species, (not as long as you might think!), "Homo Sapiens" has, at some arbitrary point in each lifetime, begun to question.
Question it's origin, it's nature, it's purpose, it's fate, etc, etc, etc.
The fact that it did not originally question, at say, the age of three, when it was simply exploring without opinion, ... seems to become forever a lost, unusable clue.
At three it merely accepted the magic of it's existence and environment, it did not need to consider it's origin, and clearly, had no concern with either agenda,nor destination.
At some random measure of "maturity", it is oddly inclined (assisted?) to engage a suspicion of magic and it's own nature.
Embarking on an odd, but popular crusade against the unseen, it lives through a homogenized, downward curve of anxiety, confusion, disempowerment,suspicion, and fear. Most often it struggles to the end of each lifetime, shriveled, limited, and joyless .
 
Quite odd, ...Welcome to the game of man!
 
Concurrent with this species-wide phenomenon, appear the hordes of philosophers, the peddlers of faith, and the tomes of substantiating data.
Now I will admit straightaway, that I fall squarely into the category of philosopher/decipherer,but I am also a lover of magic!
Apparently afflicted with some curse of delineation, it seemed likely to me that after thousands of years of "the human experience", most of the pertinent information would have been uncovered, if not comprehensibly assembled.
So what is the problem?
Why is virtually no-one apparently WHO, or WHAT they want to be?
Why is there a trainload of self-help books and new illuminating, transcendent philosophies and disciplines emerging weekly, yet none seem to "work" with any consistency or scope?
A scamp might suggest that no-one is asking the right questions, or wanting any real answers.
In the instance of this offering, the question is, ... can one slog through the mountains of philosophy, denial, religion, unreligion, fear, Zen, Tom, D i ck, Harry, bull-shit, horse-manure, chicken soup, and other agricultural and hysterical proclamation to nail down a hands-on recipe that actually works, here, in this lifetime?
Clearly an excellent question, and regardless of whether or not it CAN be answered, it affords a valid excuse for yet another (possible) self-help diatribe, ... and definitely for some friction!
Viola!... Enter Spirit Farmer!
The sharing of one man's journey, thus far, through the Game of Man, with all of it's magnificence and malnutrition, it's lakeside sunsets and construction zones.
Chapter One
NOTES ON ANOTHER SCANDAL
A tale, ...indeed, ongoing saga, ...of a vanilla sheep gone astray. A story of maddening decades i n the "grey zone" for an apparent wanna - be black sheep.
Confessions of the, ...uh..."sheepish" feeling one gets as one discovers the truth and sees just how far one has let the, ...er..."wool" be pulled over one's eyes.
An enthusiastic recounting of the gradual remembering of one's time before "color-coding", when one was clear and natural.
A graphic account of the stubborn journey through terror on the road to accepting the "nature of the beast", and the hilarious power of going black, ...and knowing why.
This re-telling is in honor of the magic, in honor of the game, ...and in honor of the socio - economic construct that allows one to legally profit from the sale of material such as this!
Some add i tional excellent questions might be, "Why do I make my sentences so lo n g and have no apparent regard for punctuat i on?"
While this query may also evade a tenable address, the news is that I don't care, and it is my book.
So if you are not in the process of incinerating this tome, catch your breath and off we go!
A troublemaker may suggest that I hold no credentials for such delineation or dissertation, to which I would beg their reference to a requirement of any credentials for anything these days, ...(ever hear of a imbecile nicknamed DUBYA?)
I will however, toward their concern, offer a condensed version of my own experience, insofar as at least being granted status as a bona-fide question-asker.
Furthermore, while the quantity of erroneous dogma and fear-based delusion is staggering, we ALL have the tools to ask real questions regardless. And we do, in fact, ask these questions on a daily basis with our intuition, our instinct, and our souls.
An additional reason for the disclosure of my own experience will become evident.
 
Chapter Two
WOMAN TROUBLES
The first, ... and most beautiful woman to cause trouble in my life, ...was my mother.
Ninety-nine parts angel, and one part reluctant martyr, she was, undoubtedly, the main proponent in the development of my unrealistic interpersonal expectations.
Together with her accomplice, ninety-nine parts saint and one part devil, ...my father, ...they conspired to project a steadfast environment of calm and non-drama.
I bathed in this stellar atmosphere throughout my childhood even as I and my siblings routinely made their lives a living hell. But then let's face it,.. that's what kids do for a living.
Now, as I have comically alluded, and convention would strongly suggest, this environment would have impacted significantly on my "formation".
Well, these days I'm not buying any of that crap, and convention,along with it's cronies, will be on trial throughout this offering.
Now while kids will be kids, especially at home, the peaceful demeanor of my adolescent environment extended to my neighboring friends. Relative social outcasts, we did not smoke or drink, and "drugs" apparently had not yet been invented. We operated on pure energy and curiosity, we didn't smash other people's stuff, hell, we even tried not to smash our own stuff!
Definitely nerds, we whined when we had to wear handed down pants with the crotch too low, ... they slowed us down...and it never occurred to us to wear our hats backwards in a cry for "identity"...whatever that was.
Many labels were lost to our comprehension ... such as wealth, power, and freedom, ... we did not understand that we, of course, lived the essence of those ideas.
T.V. was a tenuous infant that we devoured on sparse occasions at our Grandpa's house, and cyber­space had not even been dreamed of.
We were hard and fast, but definitely "hick" not "hip". And, on our introduction, the "real world" hit us like a freight train.
Many of us careened off into the pits of social dementia, never to fully recover.
 
Chapter Three
THE REAL WORLD
I could not believe the wholesale fashion with which magic had been forsaken in favor of a crowd of sterile gangsters with monikers such as "society", "convention", and "progress".
But the mythos doth become the logos, and I am ashamed of the extent of my concession to their dogma. But I was strong, and fast, voracious for worldly experience, so I forged on, ...even as my translucent line between fact and fiction, ...was darkening.
Assisted,(or cursed), by a condition known as "hyper-thyroid", I began my reckless pursuit of exciting new labels, such as fame, fortune, ... and love.
 
Chapter 4
IN THE FAST LANE
Hyper-thyroid is the biological equivalent of a supercharger, and this little gem provided me with energy, strength, and speed beyond that of a normal person.
As much of my work was mechanical and labor-intensive, it was handy for getting extra work accomplished by avoiding the necessity of time-consuming devices such as jacks, hoists, or helpers. I did, however, lose my appetite for arm-wrestling after snapping an opponents forearm in two.
Since earliest memory, I had been fascinated by mechanical devices, but also by distant horizons. I gravitated toward a business that involved heavy equipment and long distance transportation.
Married at 20, business owner at 21, and father at 28.
A decade, a million miles, a business, a family, ...and while convention was suggesting that I had "arrived", ...my soul, inexplicably,yet clearly, ...still yearned.
And when I was awakened one night to discover my daughter of three conversing with a being in her room that I could neither hear, or see, I knew I had forsaken the magic for too long .
An attempt at a few years of "conventional satisfaction" put further chinks in my armor, and of course would not quell the longing of my spirit. Minor drawbacks to my "supercharger" were starting to appear, ...little things, ...like my heart stopping accompanied by a loud ringing in my ears. Invariably it would restart, but the process was somewhat annoying.