REmembering The Will and the way:sick degrees of separation

Wehn I was about 11, my sister and I were wating on my parents to select a Christmas tree. We chose to stand in front of some horses in a corral, and possibly pet these creatures.

My sister slipped away to pick some flowers while I whole heartedly went up to the fence to call these horses to come over to me. I grabbed the fence with both hands, and suddenly had my self stuck on an electric wire.

I was aware that I was sizzling with this power, but my grip was on this grid and my muscles were frozen out of my control. I seemed to suddenly have 360 degree vision, I could see my sister a few yards away, back turned. And the horses were backing away too.

I tried to remember the safety classes, taught to stay away from live wires, but it served no purpose. I lost track of time, my fear, just a roadmap of ideas of how to end my saddled soap opera of feeling caught and helpless.

Within a few replays, I gave up all the advice and warnings I had on record and went for full throttle will power. I focused my own laser tag on the right hand holding a hot line of separation. i kept that open communication with my limb, commanding it to release. Actually, the words I screamed silently to my body was "LET GO."

I urged the hand to pull off as I owned my fisticuff linked to the power usurpers linr deliniation. There was some focus pocus but I won. Suddenly I was airborne backward onto the ground, free of charge.

I got really angry, at both the horses and my sister for not aiding my helpless condition. Or I assumed helpless. But really I had the master switch and I only needed to know how to turn off the surge protecting the urge to give up to the forces between me and these horses.

Today I know I should be angry at the fence poster child for keeping kids from ponies and Fonies are internally and eternally a habitual response.

Who knows how many times I was surging in the control of the keeper of separations, distancing us from our own power.

Will it to be....And It will be.

Sick Degrees of Separation....Part one

As I get ready to exit my homeless car lifestyle, wipe off the marker and make a new start of it, I'm reminded that I must overcome the sick degrees of separation to get my message heard.

Yes, you may think you've heard it all, but trust me, you have not.

Everything a wall, is not an idea unfamiliar to those who read this blog. There are two other blogs which will continue as a spillway of information along with a series of short but robust thoughts on our current condition, and "Cuntditioning."

My first foray into street fighting writing, KVHD Under Fire, the perky and original blog dedicated to the game of old age pyramid scam bucks and life and torture itself. Elder abuse and murder. Brought to you by the "nobody cares" not Obama, certainly not California Governor, Jerry Brown--community as there are discounts for being old and not advantages.

Yes, I'm over 50 but just around the mountain but not over a hill full of holes in it's story.

www.kernvalleyhospital.blogspot.com

GEneratioN Gaps:

We can hardly remember or understand each other, as we have a language full of shackles, and generations of those who claim not to understand each others motivations and intentions. There is arrogance, Fear, and hopelessness, to trek thru to get to the other side.

Simply put we are sick from trying to communicate.

When I write, I write with my intended message. The reader, the reciever, has a whole list of reasons not to hear my hard, dark messages, couched in humor. And there is not much, except for repeated, rephrased, louder, clearer, writing that I can do to acheive a re pore with my friends, family and fellow prison mates.

But add a generation, a whole group of those who have lived and breathed rules, regulations, ideas of their formation, and you have a real challenge.

I'm getting ready to challenge it all, and my message is patience. lol

For me, this is big. But I truly care about what I am attempting to transmit and it is worth my effort.

CAN YOU HEAR ME?

Hope so.

Aunt Laura

The newest Mascot: God B lessed America

Aunt Laura to Uncle Sam: It's time....

It is time to start thinking what it truly means to wear the stripes and stars. I am the free thinker only if I give up thinking. I am the model if I intend to walk the talk of the cock of the walk.

So, to those who truly have given up everything to play a game of "fake economy" I genuinely refer to as "Boring for dollars the Pyramid scam" I am in the game too. I have a job, it's being the kind Aunt to those who have been ripped off and apart trying to manage a shell game whose board is slanted to the side of those with no interest in anything but themselves.

No way, I am interested in playing for us all. I don't want for needing, but have recently been taken for every item I ever "thought" I owned. I own nothing on a dicey gamble called life. But found myself living in my car with the weary remnants.

We have been kicked in the teeth, our memories of a good dream, a good life, all haunting us now.

There are books to be written, and I'm continuing to write my fair share.

It's now time for Uncle Sam to meet and marry his new mail order Bride: Aunt Laura.

More to follow....