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My Little Voices

I’m going to be 57 in a couple of months. I’ve tried to gather the wisdom I’ve been granted in this blog.

I say “granted” because I am conscious that it’s not mine. When I wrote the introduction to “Love Works” back in 2008, I remarked

I have benefited again and again from “private conversations” with people both living and dead. I am honored by the association with their company.

Sometimes that’s beneficial – even if a little later then I’d like. After I posted “Extinctions” last week out at Love Returns, I had a voice come in to observe that hemoglobin is red because it combines iron with oxygen. So when John spoke of the oceans becoming “blood,” he may have been seeing that bacteria that bound oxygen to iron bloomed in the ocean. That’s a stronger interpretation than the one that I offered – but I wasn’t about to go back and rework the clip.

I’m tired.

Part of surrendering ownership of all of these ideas is that I am also conscious of interactions with personalities that work to push me down. When I posted Trial-by-“Fired” last week, I had also put a comment up on the Washington Post site. The Republican retirees that haunt cyberspace put pressure on my employer to try to discipline me.

Whatever. F’em if they can’t take a joke. Even if the joke IS true.

But more typical are these voices: when I post a comment on a pretty lady’s site, the thought “See. All he wants is sex.” Or when I check my blog stats at work “You’re just a click whore.” They used to be loud, but they’ve become quieter. They can’t help themselves, but they’re trying to avoid my attention.

I don’t give energy back to them, so when they broadcast into the space of my intentions, I heal them. They are dissipating.

Every now and then I hit a powerful reserve, though. These are things hidden deep in our subconscious, in our Freudian behaviors. When I finished taping this week’s video, they came at me hard last night. The ancient reptiles: “He’s telling them everything!”

Yes, I have been. For a long time. But they enjoy their fantasies more.

Everybody wants to be God of their own world. Nobody wants to contemplate how much effort it takes to clean up afterward.

Yeah. “Bruce, Almighty.”

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