Losing Fear

I was going to say more about particular mind control r.a. survivor stuff, but I realized it would sound scary and I don’t want to make people feel powerless. I think I’ll stick to talking about ritual abuse in psychiatry, because some other r.a. stuff is pretty triggering. And fear’s a useless feeling. I’m sick of fear.

Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total oblivion.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past.
I will turn the inner eye to see it’s path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

Buddha has this great story about when he was becoming enlightened. He was confronted by an army, and they threatened to kill him. He put his hand on the ground and said “I deserve to be here” and the army shot flowers at him and got terrified and ran away. It’s such a lovely image, I like his story better than when Jesus faced demons. Jesus quoted scripture, but Buddha just said “I’m perfectly entitled to exist here, don’t tell me any different.” And I think you can apply some of that to the process of healing from trauma, because trauma can leave messages if you’re not careful with it. One trauma which left messages is this concept of sacrifice or self sacrifice, in any way, which is basically an idea of giving way more than you can bear, or accepting the sins of others, or in a gifted sense, allowing other people’s trauma to rest on your shoulders. That doesn’t mean you don’t fight in solidarity with them. For instance, after I left Sachsenhausen and went back to Vancouver, I got the feeling that some men from there had followed me home. You can call it spirits or you can just say I picked up their feelings there, I don’t know. But I was going to sleep and they started giving me this flashback to trying to sleep in the camps and I was just like “No way dudes, I know what happened but I don’t have to feel what happened. The two things are different.”

I think that’s why I like making movies, it’s more honest and upfront. It’s like “You can go through this experience for two hours if you choose to.” It’s a consensual experience, usually, unless you’re at an international festival and sitting through a funny shorts program and something really weird comes on for an unknown length of time. Man, I have watched some funny things in my life. I think Ken Anderlini’s water sports video to Mac Arthur Park was probably the best of the funny stuff. Anyway, yes, movies are consensual experiences. I don’t particularly care for horror films, unless they’re sort of intelligent horror. But I remember after I got out of the hospital my friend who I always watched movies with switched to us watching shit with like, possessed people wandering around psych wards and getting red glowy eyes or whatever. No, that wouldn’t be the patients, that would be the staff. Just kidding, no one got demonic glowing eyes and no one ran along the ceiling. Lights did go on and off and electrical things malfunctioned frequently though. An alarm went off on it’s own and I got blamed for it, which was ridiculous because I was having a nap when it did, which I pointed out to the worker and he got really angry. And I noticed I kept triggering Catholic rituals in them, they crossed themselves a lot, it was weird. They’re weirdos man, sad little people who don’t know what they’re doing because they’re following programs too.

I don’t know that people could deprogram themselves, except I think I am which is why I’m writing this, even if it meanders into odd territory.

I was asking my Grampa questions about the Rebellion, he had some interesting stories. It would be awesome for him to write a book about the Rebellion, because he knows what happened, particular things other people haven’t written down. That was a wild time man. It was a time of double agents here and there, very dramatic Indian Noir kind of stuff. And apparently my great great grandmother had some kind of breakdown and left for Alberta, back to the Blackfoot. And my Great Great grandfather spent five years in the pen. And my great grandfather escaped along with Dumont and others to a wild west show in Montana, where they stayed for some years. Now that’s an interesting story, what the heck did refugees from the Rebellion think of being part of a wild west show. I know Geronimo did the wild west show circuit too, and by selling his autograph he managed to purchase a top hat and was the first Indian to own a Model T.

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