Whoa!

 I have recovered from the terrible ordeal that beset me.  

I know I will never be able to abandon trying to explain until the day I die or the day that I see that some have seen their way through.  I will just have to live with it.   It's like my near-death experience cleared a lot up in a hurry.  It doesn't make the burden any lighter but it does make it easier to carry.

Also, the pressure is off.  If I were to fall over dead today, I couldn't not feel bad about it.  I wouldn't stress over not having conveyed the most important information;  why, and how we can become human, fulfill our sentient destiny, in an extremely short span of time.

So, I can finally take my time.  A luxury I haven't felt for going on fifteen years.

I have had to create a place for myself in this existence in order to carry on.  It wasn't easy.  It is not satisfactory but it will have to do.  Kinda like the rest of my life.  As I said somewhere of late, "Pangloss, my ass.   I knew what I was getting into."  

It's not like I had much choice in the matter.  Not only will I no longer settle, I won't even bend.  

I can't say I put that much effort in cleaning up the following posts, though I have the advantage of putting all of them so far out in time that I have the luxury of looking them over from time to time before they post.  In other words, it's going to be on a case by case basis, depending on my interest in clarifying a particular subject.  This will be even more true, once it has posted.

It is a very weird state I have entered.  I'm going to stay alive against my best intentions and graceful efforts.  At least, until something breaks entirely. 

 I will continue to attempt to clarify.  I'm actually feeling better about it but, like so much of this effort, it is hard to describe.  It's like I have surmounted the hill and become able to begin to perceive our mess dispassionately and connectedly.  The rage that has driven me has subsided to some extent.  It will never go away until the male gender starts being full-fledged humans.  There is only one thing I can think of that would fire that rage beyond bounds, once again.

Well, there's a longer explanation of how I must move forward that I think is best described in Puzzles.  I need to change my context.  I still believe my chances for success would improve dramatically with a sympathetic ear, but that's not up to me.

It is like I have come out the other side of a vast complex maze, in which I would not leave until I understood every avenue, alley, mountaintop, and valley.  I'd poke my head out for a moment to publish a book and, then, right back into it.  That I have emerged from the maze does not mean I know how to communicate its complexity for any to comprehend.  That is my next task.

It sort of reminds me of pictures.  I have never been one to appreciate taking pictures (I appreciate photos from others).  My memory has alway been so good that I could revisit any remarkable place I have visited without them and pictures cannot compare to memories.  I'm not exactly sure how that relates to what I have been saying.  It just feels similar.

I think, sooner or later, I'm going to have to describe my quirkiness.  It is certain you have never met anyone quirkier.  From the way I like to eat my eggs, to the way I handle a lighter, to the way I wear a watch, the way I make coffee, tea is different.  It's not like I sought these things to be different.  What it comes down to is that it never occurred to me to mimic what others were doing.  In fact, it seemed a rather insane pastime.  If I run across a better way to do something, I adopt it.  It has been rarely the case.

That also relates in a way I cannot yet explain.

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This is an edit.  That weird state I have entered has rid me of all of the angst regarding the situation that drives humanity mad and caused me to spend a lifetime unraveling its cause.  The angst is gone because I have unraveled the madness of humanity to my own satisfaction.  Now, I just have to figure out how to lay it out for anyone to see.  This time, I won't rush the book.  At all.  I still despair of ever making it clear, which is very frustrating indeed.  A lot of that is due to the prehuman condition in which most learn to distrust themselves after hitting the wall of the prehuman stupour long enough after puberty that, for all intents and purposes, it is buried in a grave with no tombstone, no markers.

I cannot go out and seek an 'official' editor because finding one that I could bring up to speed and the time it would take to bring them up to speed seems beyond my bounds at this point in time. 

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I have put away the bitterness that had been building up, which is what makes this new state so difficult to define and understand.  I cannot stand the idea of becoming bitter.  I consider it the most useless state of existence.  Just identifying its growing hold was enough to put it away.  Interesting that.  Yeah, there's a rhoem that covers that perfectly.  I wonder if you can guess which one?

I have accepted that I have to plug away a while longer.  I know how good I am at staying healthy and it is difficult for me to let myself intentionally just wear down - physically or mentally.  It's that self-honesty, once again.  That doesn't mean it won't crop up when least expected to bring me down, of course.  When circumstances really justify it ...

Something could crop up, like lunatics running America, that will force me to take drastic measures (that run against my dictates of elegance and grace, and state; or require a change of venue - regarding which I have been procrastinating forever) but, other than that or a personal financial, physical, or mental implosion of some sort, I'm going to be around for awhile in the weirdest state of existence that can be imagined. 

If I try to picture it, it is as if I were standing on the border of our sentient state without being let through. (actually there is a very good rhoem that describes this state almost perfectly.  In the rhoetically imagined version, though, the border does finally let me through)   I guess I have to equate being 'let through' to conveying what I know in my heart and written millions of words regarding in such a way that it can become accepted with ease.  Maybe not even with ease.  Just accepted.

There's another way to look at it.  I have always believed in magic of a sort.  Not the facile fantasy version with a puff of smoke!  No, it has always been the sense of magic regarding life itself.  Maybe this is what I have been seeking all along.  This sense of the magic of life has become honed to a fine point.  It is what is keeping my head above water.  I finally, in my recent bitter past, abandoned all thoughts of magic other than "there is no magic".  That almost ended this grand adventure.

It was just another field of muck from which I inadvertently ( annoyingly and amusingly, in retrospect) pulled myself.  There is magic.  It is called life.  In its best form yet, it is sentience and a sentient perspective.  Animals were fine and dandy until they grew too much brains and looked into the eyes of their lover.  Then, the animal needed to step up and become human.  It has yet to do so.  

We will find a new order of magic along the sentient vector of the Trajectory Of Life.  Maybe it is the Trajectory Of Life itself that I sense as magic.  Only a fully formed sentient being will be able to explore that ball of thread with any determination and discrimination.  A fully formed sentient being from birth.  It is beyond my bailiwick.  

Serendipity is another matter that I must leave as indeterminate.  In this case, I'm not even sure a fully formed sentient being can do better.  Let's see if I can come up with a better description of what I term Serendipity than I have been able to suggest in the past.  Something a sentient being might understand, if no one else.  Mostly, for future reference, in other words.  

Maybe my best definition of a serendipitous approach to life is to let the winds of life lead you.  Whenever you force yourself against those winds, you are doing life and yourself a disservice.  Sounds crazy, I'm sure.  As I think, once again, about many of the monstrous winds that women face every day of their lives, maybe this definition doesn't work so well.  Or, maybe it is, as I have begun to think, that men, rather than acting as if they are taking the lead in human affairs while just throwing chairs around the room, actually need to start taking the lead for real in the most important way possible, since they are in the Serendipitously determined position of having to do so and they are the only ones in such a position.   Or, maybe it could never work well as long as a race clings to its animal nature against all sense (do you see? men are the reason that we cling to the stupour so).  Serendipity seems to work best, though, for a sentient existence within a sentient reality following the sentient vector's trajectory.  It is certainly not an animal's concern.  In the no-man's land between animal and human, it is a disaster.  Ask just about any woman.

Sorry for a few of the last paragraphs, but I feel they are important cogs, so I am leaving them.  They sound a bit too mystic for my tastes, though.

It's just that I am beginning to use this site as a sounding board from which to pick and choose that which works while, simultaneously, describing it in depth to an audience that might just get it.

whickwithy@gmail.com