One … Two… Three…

I submit:John,
We never know who_ we are going to be, but we surely know who we are. Reality check…
I am solidly, personally_ publicly and privately_ forever_ beholden to your truth. You have trusted me with your intention. I am no shining light, but I just gleam, when I read such a personal testament to my qualification to be ‘the keeper of the keys’.
Let this be the moment of the beginning of our compact to
regard_henceforth_ all comers, as friends and colleagues. As with all truth there are versions for the washed and another set for the unwashed, but not by our hand…following onto_ the enlightened Way.

I would like to continue owning my perspective to the tombs of time, and I cannot really imagine this stage of ‘life’ without you around, but it sounds like your making room_ for your planned retreat.

John, truly, I won’t begrudge you_ exactly, what You say and what you plan to do. It is the natural course and what you have worked for.
A lot of people are having their plans rudely altered right now.
It is well that you continued to pursue your course, and it will bear great times and purpose_

To Be, what the Lord has seen is the result of trust and faith…in which belief is found…. I can say as an older friend _that you
make me proud. I am certainly not wise, but in my unusual vernacular and brand_I have purpose, too, and it has been furthered by coming to the writing in this way that I have.
I absolutely could not be doing this_ without out the realization ‘remembered’_ Of our first meeting ‘that Sunday’ winter2007.

Mr. squabbler or not, You have changed my life _ forever, because I heard what you were saying, even when you didn’t know I was listening. I have always been a doubter of myself, but gradually,over time, I have begun to sustain an intention and force of intellect that is evident only_By the tenderness of it’s application. I believe on everyone_ the intention of Love that I have come to have for myself…It is not Narcissistic. It is a homely of Hope and a dream of a better life _ for all who command their weakness and demand only love from their heart.

John, If there is any_ flawed detail in this post. It is a rush of words that are just trying to say something, and now I must go, so here’s hoping it contains the mortal version of my whole. I have always dreamed of being free and of holding onto a life, that is complete. And writing _just could be the the way I get to say these things. I hope, I dream, I live_ the life of Me. Wholly and completely hoping for completion. How else _Can I Be? Your friend TR

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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Friday June 12, 2009 @ 12:55 AM   (del)

Ex opere operato: “This above all; to thine own self be true.” One of my first posts was about Polonius, the heavily-flawed instrument of God’s truth, TR. Self-doubt, self-hatred – these are to be expected because of the sin of Adam. It requires courage to put your two cents in. But if any of us speak the truth it is not by accident. We’re not the source of it. The way you express yourself is original, by the way. I had never encountered the like before. All I want to do with my life is get stoned and listen to music. From the start I had no ambition, no higher aspiration. I never wanted to succeed in business; I never wanted a house, a wife. I never wanted a career in Real Estate, insurance, banking, or any such thing. I never wanted to win the game. I never even wanted to watch other people playing it. But, for some reason known only to God I’ve been pulled – sometimes violently – through life to be wherever I happen to be right now, leaving all hope of being able to follow my heart’s desire long behind me. I seem always to be moving perpetually forward, and it seems each time I find a mate or make a friend I am pulled again so I must disappear to them into a fog their eyes can’t penetrate but where I can clearly see. I want to linger forever – somewhere – and just break out the hash pipe and put on some tunes, but… I get pulled away into some kind of “purpose.” I’ve resented that. I think I drank chiefly in an attempt to retard that process – to never grow up, like Peter Pan in Neverland.

But write I must – at all times – write write write. It’s what I do. Until there’s a cure, there’s The White Lodge.

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by John, the Squabbler (PM , CC ) on Friday June 12, 2009 @ 6:01 AM

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