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This morning I became acutely aware that although we think we are doing a great job at hiding our fears from the world, as time passes (my dentist used this term instead of saying as we get older, and I loved it because it fits well in my new paradigm of life) our fears become easily discoverable to an astute inquisitive mind.                                We are all so much more similar than we taught to believe. Of course we have our own uniqueness  (enter that french word I can’t spell that means, that certain something that makes it different from everthing else).  However, we are flesh, bones and blood. We need touch as babies or we can’t learn to speak, or be social. We crave and need to be loved.          What would the world be like if we all loved more, without fear of rejection. Without fear of being called weird or some other mean word.         I soppose we would be mother Teresa’s, or we would need a whole lot of weed.        Peace word press fam.

If my heart can not mend, do I watch it die? I numb myself so I don’t see? As I do it grows weeker unable to withstand anymore pain. I want it to not feel, I have placed the walls the barbed wire and the impenetrable matrix of not allowing around it. I myself have unwittingly starved my own heart of love.                             Unknowning I harmed myself because this is all I knew.                               Now, do I push harder for it to die completely and opt out to no pain?  Ahh, the relief…no more pain. How blissful would it be to not have the nagging torture  of wanting something so badly but not being able to receive it.                       The paradox.                  How can you feel, receive, allow love when you have never known it?                       I suppose that’s what I came for…to learn…to continue…to grow…to know.  Thus, I press on through this so called life to make a change for myself in this time. I strive through the hurt, the set backs, the self hate and sabotage…to learn to love myself.   In a perfect life, a child is taught to value themselves by the adults around them. In a ideal life a child grows with lovely nueropath ways, deeply in trenched with confidence, love for self, others and the world. Alas, when the adults fail us for whatever reasons (probably due to their own upbringing) we are left to decide….do we opt out or do we hold fast like a warrior in battle for his/her life? I am a warrior. The war is against myself, or at least the beliefs of who I am and what I deserve.                        I don’t  remember agreeing to these beiefs or allowing them to stay…however now as I see them mirrored to me by the people in my life, I must rid myself of them, they do not serve me, nor do they serve the greater good because my mended scared heart will be so strong so big it will be able to give love fully and freely without fear of pain.                                 Blessed. One.                                   

I am by profession a geneticist, today I watched a lecture on epigenetics, the study of how gene expression can be turned on or off in various ways. It made me quite sad. It reminded me how difficult it is to be a child of low income home. The chips are stacked so high against you, it’s amazing if you can just stay alive.               When I was little  my mother and I were homeless sometimes. My mother would go without food, to feed me. I had one dress, one coat. My mother smoked when she was pregnant. My “father” beat my mother while as I grew in her. There’s more, but these things alone are enough to explain the things that have been quite difficult for me in life. I pray that we as a society can do better for the children. Children need help and guidance from adults. However, I think for many children yhis isn’t the case. Neglect and abuse are the horrible pitfalls of society. If we can turn porn hub and watch a homemade movie of a dad doing his daughter…there is something so wrong. So wrong.          Peace.                               This world needs healing, forgiveness and love. 

Most people do not think for themselves, they believe what they are told, they are good sheep. They live by the “rules” never asking why? I used to hate them, I thought they were so stupid, I wondered why they couldn’t see what was really there. Now I understand, they are asleep, they cannot see…there eyes are closed. That doesnt excuse them, it just helps me not hate them.                               However, to live in a place where many are un able to see or hear the pain of their fellow citizens is still so difficult. How can we help them see? how can we help them hear?                     We can’t, they must want to, and how will they want to when they do not question the status quo?                 The paradox.          

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