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  • sitting bull 12:28 on 2019-05-09 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: ancestors, choleric, failure, family and relatives, father, grandparents, mars, parents, resolution, sanquine   

    my first resolution and dilemma about my manhood 

    Like anybody, I also am a conglomerate of the different energies I did inherit from my ancestors.

    I was told that my great grandfather used to be a kind of jack of all trades who (way ahead of his times) 100 years ago drew up two organic foods for goats, made ballet shoes for the theatre Freiburg, and also had a shoe shop at the most beautiful part of town which in war (due to lack of water) he had to watch to burn down without being able to extinguish it.

    There must be some truth to the astrological saying that if someone’s ascendent (the direction one walks to) is a gemini (a person who has many interests), the then one of their parents also seem to be a gemini: My grandfather, father (who was a gemini) and myself also were were similar versatile, and my ascendent is also gemini.

    Even though he was totally poor, my grandfather was very intelligent, sensitive, and had many talents – in the second world war he had to get food for the army (he claimed to have done that to avoid to have to shoot humans), he was a great cook (it took him an entire day to cook his legendary Christmas duck), was very musical, taught himself to play a little bit piano, was very versatile in many crafts, could play chess very well (always was beating my father, who always was winning against me in chess), and was reading books from different cultures, few of his time did read – from the secret power of the Jesuits up to the Bhagavad Gita.

    ~~~

    I think in evolution there is a dynamic that energies swing from one side to another, because my grandfather, in opposition to my grandmother, was the sensitive one, my father then the fighter, and me again extremely emotional.

    My grandmother was a very simple woman – whilst my grandfather was a bear, she was tiny, thin, always frantically running around, but despite her frail appearance had a choleric trade, who hit my sister and me on occasion with our trouser suspenders. Because I had no understanding of anger as a child, when they were arguing, it often looked really funny to me, because my “Opa” reminded me of Obelix, and my “Oma” of Asterix.

    In reconstruction one can’t blame her, who was of the lowest class – a farm laborer, for her character trade, because she was raised by a classic “evil stepmother” who supposedly did purposely put hair in her soup.
    Somehow she even had very simple and naive rules which somehow are wisdoms I still do remember, such as “you can’t serve two lords”, meaning in her mind that one can’t serve the devil and god, and even though I don’t believe in Satan, I think in spiritual terms she did have a point, when juxtaposing low consciousness greed against a higher mind of serenity.

    As it is the case with unresolved issues, they are past on to the children, so she at times left her baby – my father who was raised as a single child – sitting at the toilet for up to four hours, so you can imagine him having had his issues also.

    ~ ~ ~

    In post WW2 Germany, everything was bombed, so my father, who was just 3 years old when the war started, was used to have to work really hard for everything in his life: He had to help to help everywhere, due to war-issues had to change schools 15 times (which did turn the small but strong guy into a lone fighter), studied very hard to become a sports- German- and history-teacher, later created a totally new kind of job which combined school with theatre, and had a passionate side which did inspire and amuse many.

    But he also inherited the choleric trade from my grandmother, which despite him having been a warm-hearted dad who was really good in teaching us kids things, at times turned him into a moody tyrant at home, so that our mother, after he came out of his daily naps, often warned us to hide somewhere in order to avoid slaps in the face.

    But even on his moody days, in society he played always the great and funny guy, so as soon as visitors came, he was the most hospital guy ever – only to instantly treat us harsh again, as soon as they left.
    This is why I got a sixth sense for the dominance of many revered stars and even spiritual teachers and see right through their veil of image cultivation (as you could see in my critical articles about Yogi Bhajan – the only person btw, I criticise by name, because he is dead, and I am not out to hurt living ones).

    I then made my first unspoken life-resolution:
    Never become as dominant as my father
    and give as much space to others as possible.

    This, however turned out to become a difficult endeavour, because (besides his emotive affection for dogs) I also did inherit his strong marsian fire of on one hand being able to make people laugh a lot and on the other hand having a potential for being really furious.

    So I was set up for the first dilemma of my life –
    wanting to suppress an inherited energy, which is a literally inherent part of me.
    On one hand, if I dismiss my propensity for aggression, I might become a tyrant,
    but on the other hand, if I succeed, I end up literally emasculated.

    To avoid this catch-22 situation, in school I usually turned into the class clown in order to compensate my frustration with the education system in humorous sarcasm without getting into fights.

    So whenever you see people who fail to fulfil societies requirements of contributing to the national gross income, are homeless, or make a fool out of themselves, remember that such childhood-imprints could be one of the reasons for it.

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  • sitting bull 1:01 on 2019-05-05 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , semites, teenager   

    religion #0: How I was raised to believe 

    Maybe a good way to start a spiritual autobiography is with god.

    The experience:

    Like most people I grew up being taught by my parents in what to believe, so I took on their faith which in my case was their catholic Christian god.

    Because my grandmother told us that children’s prayer would reach the clouds, I did my best to pray.

    My parents made me an altar-boy (who always forgot to ring the bells in time, who unknowingly did light his own hair with the own confirmation candle, who missed to visit his own house when walking through the celebration of the “three wise Kings” and who made kids involuntary cry when having to play Santa Claus’ helper “Knecht Ruprecht” – because the costume I got was too small for me; so in order to be able to wear the cap sawn on it, I had to walk like a hunchbag all the time.

    In church, I usually could relate best to the sentence at the end of each mess: “thanks to our lord god” ,
    and I also thanked him that this boring event was over.

    It also got on my nerves that the conservative priest did twist our ears when we hadn’t attended Sunday mess (not knowing that we were there on Saturdays), and I disliked that there always were people taller than me blocking my view, so I visualised god mowing them all down to my size.
    Decades later a tiny woman told me that she and her small family was actually always standing behind me and she had cursed me out multiple times for exact the same reason.

    But then again, there was nothing to see anyway, except for an authoritarian god-father figure painted on the wall which for decades did “put the fear of god into me” – a phrase I could not really relate to.

    Such is the fear of god, that one subconsciously feels afraid when not believing in “him”.

    I wondered anyway why god should be male. I think god should be called “it”, because if it is everything why the heck should it be limited to a gender role?
    Yay, hardcore-feminists out there, here is something for you to fight against: go after the Abrahamic version of a macho-god, instead of attacking me for having balls !

    To strengthen my fate, as a gift for my completed A-levels, my parents generously payed for a trip to see the biblical places of Israel, so I went with a religious group for an exchange with Arab Chrisians who lived near a Kibbuz, but that dudb’t go as my parents hoped for, because
    * at the original stations of the cross they sold crowns of thorns for tourists;
    * in Betlehem they told every visitor to crawl into some tiny space where Jesus was supposed to be born, to “kiss it, touch it, make a photo!“,
    * and in the midst of summer they sang “silent night, holy night” whilst the priest entered the church, holding up a plastic Jesus.
    So I pretty much was done with the church, but also
    * the Islamic golden temple was not better, when feeling a vertical hole in a rock in which Mohamed supposedly did put his foot in: I wondered: how could anyone put his foot in there sideways, and why did the imprint remind me more of that of a goat’s foot than a human one? #allFake&greed

    And seeing members of all 3 Abrahamic religions fight amongst each other made me loose faith in all of them alltogether.
    For me the terminology “anti-semitism” for example is already a distorted victim-consciousness, because not only Israelis are semites, but the entire part of north Africa -including exactly those who sarcastically are called “antisemitic“.

    So whenever I had teenager crises I did regret not having anyone to pray to, but at least I was authentic for not using god in an opportunistic way.

    I also found out that Jesus’ birth definitely was not around the year zero, because passages about Herod the (not so) great who supposedly was killing tons of kids in order to also kill Jesus, died 4 years BC (meaning before Christ was even born!).
    The only way you can explain Herod’s “premature killjoy-ejaculation” is by claiming that our calender was arbitrary constructed afterwards.
    But then again – so is the entire bible itself.

    Later I discovered that Christmas was put onto December to override the Germanic winter-solstice Yule-fest, for me this seemed less as a “merry Christmas” than a “maryChristAndMess”.

    Also eastern obviously used to be a spring-pagan festival – with symbols of fertility such as eggs and the rabbit (which – to make matters worse – the bible falsely declares to be a ruminant ^^).

    Ok, I thought, the reason Christians cling onto their Bible,
    is because in the new testament it is stated that no word should be added, nor taken away.
    All good …
    … except for the fact that in the old testament any alteration or addition to the book already was forbidden.
    So logic dictates that the entire new testament is a sin, because it is added when long time ago the Biblepart corresponding to the. Jewish Torah requested nothing to be changed.

    Overall it seemed to me that faith is like the conditioning of small elephant-babies, which are tied to a rope on a peg.

    When they later are grown to be huge they still don’t try to break free from their tiny rope, because they are conditioned that the rope would be unescapable.

    Adyashanti once said that orthodox religions were meant to serve as “welcome mats” to guide us into our own house of self-realisations, but unfortunately most people are stuck worshipping the welcome mat itself, instead of entering the house of their self.

     
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