A new year in bi-polar: yet another way of thinking

I apologize that I haven't had much in the way of time to come over here to my favorite site and write to the "order of the bi-polar disorder" but I'm now here for a few moments and have quite a bit to say.

A new year, yes, whatever that means. But what a "new year" means to me is an example of a photo album of my life. You really don't want to open 1967 or 2007, as it was rather, umm, ugly.

But in a way of learning to be more than what I was, there was nothing like those two years.

I've never had a moment regretting the horror that was those times. And how they changed me, frightened me, to the point where I could not even live with myself.

Not just not living my path, but resisting the path, kicked up dirt in my own eyes and by the time I was forty, the environment had gone dark on me.

However, that changed, as I called out to the universe for help. It wasn't about praying it was about creating. The two are much the same, except one comes from fear and the latter is from the tools, the powers, we are endowed with by virtue of being part of the universe.

It's this foible that man stumbles upon every single day and that is: we are not powerful, we are victims of the cold and chaotic universe.

Nothing could be farther from the truth as you can only know by doing. But we are so powerful it frightens us and certainly scares those who believe that only "some" of us are like this. (no it couldn't be me or anyone I know)

It's an exclusive club of power. Not at all. What a terrible misconception which could lead to a less than productive and fulfilling life.

We learn what power is along the way and it's not what I personally thought it was. I had some lopsided notion that power was "wise" and "unapologetic" for it's uique talents.

These talents are not unique. They are open and come from everybody. You have heard of the collective unconscious which is the universe from which we all feed, evolve and grow.

I've prayed for my friends, always taking a moment away from me to allow the chance that my positive thoughts may have an effect in a good way in their lives.

And maybe they can use it like fuel, carefully made by their friend and co-creator.

We have work to do and the tools to use to get it done.

I've always felt that I was missing something, something important, that should be there for me daily. The Swiss army knife of life.

If I am in a situation that needs to be opened up, I pull out the bottle opener, pop, and we're on our way. Put back the tool and remember that it was useful, and could be put to wise use again sometime.

Then there are the moments where things have escalated, a bipolar moment, a spontaneous combustion, and again the tools are there. I reach in and pick out the most likely useful tool.

It looks like a nice saw blade could cut away at all the bulwark set up to keep out the truth.

The book called to me

I want to talk about the books, your books, my books, the one's that speak to us almost personally, perfectly.

For years, if it didn't sound pedantic and delivered in a way that is almost placating the reader, it didn't appeal to me. I wanted or thought I needed something in concrete: the immutable voice.

Yes, I read bibles, looking for something to sustain me, yet I found myself more and more frightened of the world.

In seeking this security I ended up finding the fear. In essence I don't need to seek security nor do I need to run from fear.

A trip out of the way and I had the book

I didn't want to drive I was tired and it wasn't what I was up for. But I did it, and found myself in a situation where I would have to wait.

Not wanting to do that, I opted to walk around Kernville for a while, as the wind blew winter cold on me and in all the cracks of my jacket. I slipped into the antique store to have a look around.

Everybody coming in and out talked about the cold, and each time they did, it reminded me I was luckily wearing my long underwear that day.

Then I looked into the corner, books pulled into stacks below the shelves, looks like they were sorting out some new arrivals.

Although I looked directly at the book several times it finally spoke to me. "hello." Well, it was the lady from the store, but she came over to notice I was staring at this book.

I opened the book quickly, but I already knew I was going to buy it.

The clerk seemed to know too.

Next we will discuss what happened once I began reading the book...and is still happening....