Security, safety and approval. The three drugs we’re first dealt when we step into this godforsaken realm and most are thoroughly addicted. My, that sounded a bit melodramatic but it really isn’t, if you think. How much of your life and decisions therein are ruled by desiring security, safety and approval? Quite a lot, yes?
How much of that have you gained by actually being honest and direct and how much has came from presenting aspects and facets of yourself in ways that you hope ingratiate with those who can provide the resources you wish? Quite a lot, yes? Are you starting to see what I meant about addiction and it all stems back from the days when you were an infant because, nine times out of ten, you were born to a damaged woman who then propagated her imprint upon your nascent awareness. Lets examine:
A baby is entirely at the mercy of the elements. If left to fend for themselves after they set foot in this realm you can certainly be assured they’d be dead as they are so helpless. The relationship to the mother is vital and this begins when the child is still a concept who receives affection from the parent which is carrying the developing fetus. What a lot of mothers don’t click is that the child to be also absorbs a heck of a lot more emotion ranging from the latest celebrity whore gossip and your reaction to it as you binge watch reality television whilst eating biscuits as well as the pangs of regret which kick when you wonder if you made the right decision and how the timing of this baby might affect your long term prospects in the career you built.
Like a fish the baby swims in a sea of emotions and they are in constant flux as so many women are not in control of themselves. To keep it a hundred not many women actually, truly like themselves and this can generate a sense of emotional starvation for the child once formed and developing because they may thirst for a large, warm glass of affection and the mother can only provide it in sips via the thimble with which she’s equipped. Where did she get this? You guessed it, from her maternal lineage. See, all it takes is one kink in the hose and the flow can be blocked for generations when Knowledge of Self and introspection are thin on the ground and this process is what I called the wounded womb which hurts the seeds it births. Even if it didn’t mean it.
Security, safety and approval. These three are granted to the baby primarily by the one who bought it into this realm. If they are missing or inadequate in any sense then the child is set up to fail before they’ve even taken their first steps. Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean they won’t be a success. On the contrary as this type of neglect can spin off to the dizzying heights of conquest. Steve Jobs is a perfect example of this as his birth mother was scared to hug him in case he was taken away and we see the echoes of this distance with his own first born which illustrates my point quite well.
For many people in this realm they simply cannot imagine being anything else than what they are and that is a thing of great sadness. The other axis of spin away from the one Jobs picked is that of a drug addict. Heroin, apparently, feels akin to a mothers affection as its golden glow envelopes you from within with such a secure, serene sense of acceptance. In my experience the various things to which one can become addicted always have a resonance with what is missing and that is why we crave them. Cocaine, for example, generates that present moment recklessness and focus that is often otherwise hidden behind excessive rumination and fearful thinking which stems from, you guessed it, childhood privation. The best and most successful scratch to itch is that of financial dominance as people have been programmed to think this is the end all, be all that will fix everything.
Not so much, in my imperience, as I’ve conversed at depth with people who came from less than nothing and now sit on top of a mountain made of gold with more than they could wish. The subtle, underpinning current seemed to be “If I can get just get … Then it will be enough. That will be it. I’ll have found what I’m seeking“.
Like a squirrel on a quest for a nut without a clue of what it looks like they run that way and this. Often they accumulate a heck of a lot and gain prestige and respect as the world values these kind of things but internally they’re often that same scared kid that is deeply insecure about its existence and right to live.
Security, safety and approval. When withheld can be fatal as they can deal a death blow to the connection between the embodiment and Spirit so the person feels like they’re lost, insignificant, up the creek without a paddle and thus set adrift in a realm where no one and nothing cares about them. The level of nihilism this brings can manifest as people who are dead in their teens or, on the opposite, rack up a prolific number of kills as they place as little value on anothers life as they do their own existence.
“In many ways I was just looking for someone to kill me for me” he said. “Know what I mean? Like, I’ll take the hit and chop em well so everyone knew I did it in the hopes that someone would have the balls to come and get revenge then bring my misery to an end because I’m as scared to die as I am live”.
Ghettos around the world are filled with people like this and the criminals see them coming and rope them in to their click as a good hammer is a hard to find so they train him how to nail those who dare trespass against them. You often find the same temperament in soldiers as well who sign up young in order to find a socially sanctioned vent for what they feel within:
“The regiment became my family and my sergeant the surrogate father I wished I had back when” said the highly decorated vet with a list of confirmed kills and was known for taking risky missions which he always managed to escape unscathed and bring back all he came with. “Out there, in the field, its kill or be killed and its such an immense thrill because the one with the least fear wins in each encounter. Its got nothing to with skills or anything else they sell to civilians because in the heat of the moment when your arse is going and the adrenaline is pumping its kill or be killed and all I could think was how it would feel to hear the cheers as we celebrate in the mess and he says “You did a good job” as he grins”.
In this example you can tell he had the security and safety as he was a mamas boy since the jump and his father detested this about him as he himself got none of this and thus his formative years were filled with disapproval for being a soft sissy who felt he needed to prove himself in order to be worthy of the affection and validation his father was withholding. “Thats what made me think about the forces and once I got in I realized I didn’t need him or care a little bit because…” he trailed off finding the truth hard to express. “You’d found a surrogate that allowed you to pretend to retroactively tick the boxes you wish he’d did” I finished. “Yeah, sort of, something like that. You really don’t know unless you’ve been in. Its not really about the killing because those lot aren’t even human. Straight up savages and they deserve what they get for trying to go against our kingdom but its more than that. Its the sense of kinship, the purpose, those stretches of boredom within when you’re itching to kill and the celebration as well when you make it back in one piece. It makes you feel alive. It makes it all worth it. I think everyone should kill someone at least once. Just for the experience”.
“Do you think about the life and family of the chicken we’re eating?” said the ghetto solider, on the flip. “Or is it just a delicious means to an end which keeps you living?”. “Actually, I have pondered this before and it really makes me wonder as we consume death to exist and that metamorphosis generates huge questions about the intent of this realm and my position in it“. “So what did you do? Stop eating or something?”. “Almost” I replied. “For a while I couldn’t stomach it at all and shifted to fruits and veg then vegan but there is nothing in this world that wants to be ate. The Shmoo doesn’t exist in this realm and its a work of fiction to think that something would willingly lay dead for your survival”. “What happened next?” he said noticing the pile of food we’d been demolishing over a few drinks. “Well, something shifted within as I realized I was becoming super emaciated and couldn’t find anything else. One major change is I cleanse and appreciate the food before eating”. “Ah, so thats the reason for all that arm waving and mumbling? Gotcha, whatever makes you feel better about doing what you did, correct?“.
I pondered about this because there still is something about the entire apex predator thing that gives me pause, every now and then. The gent in question was a denizen of the pavement where the unspoken rules state there are the strong and the weak and when the former are hungry, the latter they eat. This he did but primarily as a means for survival as his past was horrific and he’d been fending for himself since he was a kid. The whole latch key neglect experience so obviously he’d flourish when the local hoods took him under their wing and provided that which he was craving.
Security, safety and approval.
First it started off with “Kid, hop on your bike, take this package to those men and tell us what he said about the next drop. Go on, quick” and he’d pedal off to peddle off the latest consignment. Next it was scouting, trailing, being the lookout on occasion when things were going down or they were moving against someone else as no one ever paid any attention to a ghetto kid cycling. “It made me feel protected. Like I was part of something bigger than myself” he said. You can see the boxes getting ticked as approval comes next and his rep starts to swell as ten people shanked while his peers are still taking exams at school is the thing of legends.
All good things do end but he was smart enough to comprehend he was a pawn in all of this so he parlayed his rep into something more profitable instead of handling the dregs via a remarkably clever and astute use of leverage which I won’t mention. Besides, he’d already spied his replacement from the estate where he lived and that born to another derelict drug addict who couldn’t care less about him so no one complained when he flipped the script and chose to keep a working distance before things got thick. The cycle repeats itself and on the macro or micro scale the Game is what it is because a hit is a hit and the boardroom uses the same ment as that gang that chills in the local takeaway back office from which they coordinate operations.
This is why I’ve said we’re in a fractal, my friend. There are roles and positions that are based on resonance plus the use of the options that present. Granted, for many the above sketch is beyond their ken as something to truly live but I share it to illustrate the variables. The Warrior comprehends the deets, transcends and raises his chi to a whole nother level of consciousness and asks the questions that truly outline the sketch and what kicks because if one must truly be detached to skip being slammed back in the flesh again you can guess the rest as life is conspiring to make me win. You as well, my friend.
Know the Ledge.
Till we meet again
