Respect and Honor

I was watching The Last Samuri one day.  It's a story of total and undeniable respect for a hated enemy; an enemy (Katsumoto) that does not want to accept the influence of the west upon traditional Japan.  Although Katsumoto is the enemy and ordered to be killed by the imperial soldiers, he still commands the respect of the imperial soldiers under the command of the Imperial Emperor of Japan, although the control of the Imperial Emperor is weak.  As Katsumoto lies dying in the field of battle, all of the attacking soldiers of the "new" Japan laid down their weapons, crouched to the ground and kneeled, placing their forehead all the way to the ground showing great honor and great respect.

I feel that respect even with "commoners" has fallen by the wayside.  There is no respect for the fellow man.  The fellow man is taken for granted.  The fellow man is always there, always in competition of something perceived, always an invasion to another's "territory".  If there is one ounce of suspicion that more attention will be given to another, then the enemy shall be harassed, ridiculed, persecuted, and ostracized until they are removed from sight.  As the old saying goes, "out of sight, out of mind".  If the bully feels the least bit threatened, they will do whatever it is necessary to get rid of the imposer.  The one being bullied only wishes to "move through the crowd" without confrontation.  If they have to they will make things up so that they will gain the attention that they wish for nothing more than to be left alone.  Some will find influence in the company of another level of society.  All the victim of bullying is looking for is just a little respect from their peers.  That's all.  Just a little respect.  Nothing more.  The only reason that a person bullies another is because they feel deficient in one area or another, or maybe even all areas and therefore, they have to take their deficiency out on those that appear weaker than themselves.  Somehow the physical size of a person denotes to another that they may be more knowledgeable than others.  This may not be a true account, but why shouldn't it be?  Otherwise, why would they have followers unless the followers are just as bad as the bully.  In some cases, they are.  Sometimes the victimized feel they will regain honor by striking back against the bully.  Sometimes that works. Sometimes it exacerbates the issue.  Sometimes the result is pernicious.  Not only is the bully removed from the problem, but the problem of disrespect remains thereby being ostracized altogether so striking back didn't work either.

Many times we only perceive what others think of us.  We don't actually know what others think of us until we interact with them.  Our own perception becomes our enemy.  When we do try to interact and win the influence of others, we try too hard and push our targets away even further.  Maybe we have tried a technique at the influence of others, but our case is not the same as theirs and the conclusion turns out with a negative ending.  Maybe we've tried a technique suggested by another because they are older and therefore wiser in the ways of the world.  The consequence as it turns out was only so that the "wise" would have more strength in the area he was trying to acquire.

As is the case with my older sibling.  Being that he never wanted a younger brother to start with since he had "it" all to himself for nine years, he was able to influence other members of the family, due to his stature, that I am just simply a horrible person.  Having socialized with some of the other family members at one occasion, the conversation with them led me to believe that I was not too far from my feelings.  I am never called on the phone by any of them.  I am never so much as written a letter by any of them, I am not even so much as thought of even in that moment of strain in the bathroom.  Even with my own daughter, I do not exist.  She is simply the result of that entity that the Christian world follows called God.  I have even found bullying in the Christian world, of which my ex-wife is so much a part of.  Sometimes I wonder about our legal system and wonder why they feel the mother is so much better to keep the children with than the father, except for the sheer fact that the mother is the one whom bore these children.  Bullying.  It exists everywhere.  It is in all walks of life, and it is masked by many different "faces".  One just has to weave their way through this world like a pin ball machine.  Sometimes it can become scarring.  One can beat a child into submission.  Eventually, those physical scars will go away.  It's the emotional scarring that can trail on throughout our entire lives.  Some of us can only suppress it for so long.  Others have no release except to let explode as though it were the volcano Mt. Vesuvius.  Even then, the innocent caught up in its path will be harmed in one manner or another, sometimes even death.

The best thing to do is find one single person that can be confided in and trusted.  They are hard and few between.  Release your emotions to them.  Relinquish your thoughts to them.  Let them help you find that area that is not so dark and cold.  Few of us do that.  Meditate.  Some think that it is hokey to meditate.  Don't knock it if you haven't tried it.  Reaching that relaxing, emotional state can be satisfying.  In the end, if you realize that sacrificing the relationship of others will be the difference between you having peace of mind or having constant turmoil in your life, then you must do what is needed if you desire that peace.  Once it is done, don't look back.  Don't revisit.  All you do is reopen the wound.  My father used to tell me that my best days would be in high school.  Really?  He grew up in a different age than I did.  People I went to school with are a lot colder than when he went to school.  The people he went to school with remained friends with him until the day he died.  I, on the other hand, have been ostracized from any and all high school reunions.  Why in the hell would I ever want to cherish those days.  Some of them never quit.  They try to contact me as though they were a long lost friend only so they could discover whether or not I am still alive.  There was no respect then.  I don't have respect now.  Why in the hell do I want to go back.  I have a peace in my life that can't be matched now.  I have a satisfaction in my life that my even my brother hasn't been able to achieve.  That's why he has even stolen the relationship of my daughter from me.  If she, a practicing, devout Christian that she is, has forsaken her father in such a manner that I do not exist, if she is that mean and hateful of me, then I don't need that kind of relationship in my life if I want to achieve the peacefulness, the satisfaction, the love, and the caring that I have with my current wife.

Respect and honor.  There is no more.

The Do Gooder

So, my ex-wife left.  She left taking the children without my permission.  She left playing on my ignorance and fear of the law.  I was trying to be nice throughout the whole ordeal.  Nice.  In a divorce, one cannot be "nice".  Your being "nice" will be taken advantage of every time.  I certainly didn't find the proper attorney either.  I did a little research and found that mostly, the men that had male attorneys did not gain as much as the ones whom had female attorneys.  I relied upon a female attorney.  I also did not read the "signs".  You know.  What I had discussed earlier in this blog.  When I walked into her office, there were books all over the floor and papers every where, all in disarray.  With an office such as this I was wondering how her practice was.  I sat and talked with her and she talked a good game.  After spending my money with her, it turned out she couldn't do a thing for me anyway because my wife had run back to her home state which she had not been in for eight months.  My ignorance of the law.  During the process, my brother played on my emotions and ignorance.  After a life time with the bastard treating me as though I was the gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, I still played into his hands.  He was the information gatherer for my wife and she used it all against me.  As she professed, she made sure that the children would never see me again.  Only, that was after my daughter would turn eighteen.  Remember, my son had ADHD and he would listen to no one.  He stayed in touch as long as he was able to get financial help from me.  But, if the help was not there, I would not hear from him.  The good ol' bro was explaining how I should be and how I should react and what I should do for the children, all the while, he was giving my soon to be ex-wife money and food to support the children.  Falling back to the definition of bully.  I didn't realize it until too late and I was still trying to be nice so that I could still see my children.  After it was all said and done, the children also became the information gatherers and when there was no more information to gather, there were no more visits from them.  And the daughter also turned eighteen.  Even so, she made another attempt of getting money from me.  She told me, "God needed money so that she could go to Germany and pray for some hookers".  Sounded to me like Oral Roberts was on the attack again.  First, if God needed the money, why didn't he contact me himself?  Second, if some hookers in Germany needed her prayers to help them leave the business, why couldn't she pray for them right here at home just like we do for our soldiers off in another land fighting a foreign war?  Third, by this time, she was now into her college years of religious indoctrination and she didn't feel the need to visit with me any longer.  If someone needed money, I would give it to those that come and visit with me.  I was not going to pay someone to stay away from me.  I'm quite sure she could do that on her own.  Instead, she turned to the good ol' bro and he supplied her the money.  The good ol' bro.  The "do gooder".  It seems to me if he wanted to do some good, he would have encouraged the ex to get the son on medication so he could be closer to "normal" whatever normal is.  And if he was any kind of brother at all, he would have stayed the fuck out of my affairs rather than fuck up the relationship I had with my daughter.  Instead, since he was married to a bitter, selfish, dyke-like woman that was just like him, he encouraged my daughter just to stay away.  Hell!  He already hated my guts for coming into the picture at birth and infiltrating in territory.  Now, he had to bust up everything that meant anything to me.

Finally realizing all of this, still having the dream that has plagued me for so long, I decided to follow the suggestions of professional psychologists and start a journal.  Writing a journal of all of my emotions was actually a release of my contained emotions.  It began to flow out like Niagara Falls and I began to let go.  Once I began to let go, all things began to fall in place.  Once they started to fall in place, I began to step over the debris and find my way.  I found my way to satisfaction and happiness.  And no more dreams However, the ones trying to make me feel bad as a person, still make their attempt at trying to make me feel bad.  What pisses them off the most is the fact that I have found my satisfaction and happiness and they obviously have not.  The things that they attempt to do to me just runs off like water on a ducks back and it pisses them off even more because they don't know what to do now except just to keep me ostracized.  Really?  Is that all that you have?  Really?  I am still alive and well.  I haven't committed suicide at your behest.  Is that really all that you have?

Karma

I grew up next door to an only child that was about 2 years older than I was.  His parents spoiled the crap out of that kid and if he did anything wrong, they never lifted a finger against him.  "My child didn't do it" syndrome.  In front of his parents, he was always an angel.  Once he was away from his parents, always causing mischief.  One time, it was just he and I playing with his Lionel railroad set outside in what was called the carport.  After a time, he became bored so he caught a green lizard.  He disconnected part of the track so that the leads of the rail were sticking out.  He turned the train on just enough so that there was electricity flowing through the track.  He forced the lizards mouth open and held it to the leads.  Immediately, the lizard began to contort and change colours.  I told him to stop because I think he is killing the lizard.  He wanted to see what happens he said.  The lizard was looking worse.  I couldn't stop this kid because I was much smaller in stature and he was a bully anyway.  I don't even know why I was over there except that he was just next door and I had no one else to play with.  I couldn't stand watching him torture one of God's creatures, so I left.  Along Six Mile Creek, someone must have had a lot of time on their hands.  They had dug a series of tunnels into the bank of the creek.  One of  them even had a radio installed into the wall of one of the tunnels.  The next door neighbor kid and several others rode our bicycles to the creek to do some exploring.  While crawling through one of the tunnels "Mr. Mischief" let's call him, was having one of his moments.  He had caused a cave in.  It was not a serious one, but for a child of our age, it was serious enough.  He couldn't stop what he had caused, so he climbed on his bike and rode home; not to get help, but to pretend that he had nothing to do with the situation.  The rest of us were left to dig out the poor sap that was covered up.  Another time, we were riding our bikes through an old grave yard.  We all got off to walk our bikes through for a better look at the grave stones.  We all came upon a bee's nest that was on the ground.  We had the good sense to see the swarm swirling in the air and to leave it alone.  We gave wide clearance for the swarm.  I had noticed that "Mr.  Mischief" had turned around and went back, but I didn't pay attention to why.  It wasn't but a few seconds later and he had run by us like he was running for his life. I wound up getting stung by a couple of the bees and we ran like hell also.  He had gone back to poke at the nest on the ground and stirred the bees up good.  By the end of the day my arm where I had been stung, began to swell.  The next day my arm was twice its size.  My father was asking questions and I couldn't tell him because I wasn't supposed to be so far from the house.   I didn't have his or my mothers permission to ride for miles away.  On the third day my arm was so swollen that the skin on my arm began to split and look nasty.  My father said, "Ok.  That's it.  I'm taking you to the hospital".  It turned out that I was allergic to bees and I had to have a shot of antihistamine.  The swelling had gone done in a couple of days.  Years later, this same kid and a group of other bad asses from school that this kid was hanging with were out at the property that his parents bought for him to go deer hunting on.  I never heard all of the story because few ever spoke of what actually happened, but as the story goes, they were sitting around the campfire after a day of hunting.  All had been smoking grass and doing other "stuff".  Someone had a shotgun laying across their lap and pointed right at the head of the kid sitting next to him.  The gun accidentally went off.  I'm sure that after looking the situation over, they decided that this kid was surely dead.  Too much of his head if that was his head, was missing.  Rather than take him to the hospital to be pronounced dead, they just took him straight to the morgue.  I never did catch who all was involved and it really doesn't matter.  Later in time, "Mr. Mischief's" father was looking for his guns.  "Mr. Mischief" had stolen them and hocked them at the pawn shop to buy some smack.  He was an addict.  Probably trying to forget what had happened with the kid.  His parents later sent him to a rehabilitation clinic, he married, had a kid, and divorced.  He found a job up in Dallas, Texas and was working up there.  One weekend on his drive home, he stopped off at one of his friend's home because he was so tired he would have never made it home safely.  His friends made him a pallet to lay down on and go to sleep.  He did.  At thirty three years old, he had done enough smack to wreck his body.  When he went to sleep, he never work up again.  Karma. Karma always comes around sooner or later.
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