Crazy-haters C`ulling the Suffering-innocent Crazy | Pine Cone

OSHO TALKS: Meditation is Not Part of Your Biology - but Your Freedom

https://youtu.be/iILB-gvX238



I am deaf, but as soon as another can have fun, and create enough Delight-in-acceptance conversation the higher light frequency vibration waves of energy makes it so I can hear everything without missing a beat. Giving others a flow of Golden waves of energy creates a HoloGlow mosaic of Creative Intelligence Communion to replace any need for a useless scientific hearing aid.

The realer miracle in all this Spiritual Sovereign Singularity Awareness come when I laugh it up with another about not even wanting to hear low light frequency vibration Curmudgeon censures, so I don’t can’t and won’t either as long as Listening with love on Light energy beams replaces any more need to play the victim with hateful grouches.

Others in this experience with me, take my vulnerable self-disclosure as affirmation of their, own high light frequency vibration Delightful fun energy, and not a day goes by without hearing everything on the waves of delight that creates no more victim possibility to even want to get stuck with others who are addicted to power tripping on over other helpless victim-hostages. Th Celestine Prophecy pooped up on my movie list last night again, and I am grateful to Holy Spirit after writing yesterdays letting go of Torture-pain, and Toxic-shame sacrificial addictions.

What abundant continual forgiveness miracles enlighten enough Compassion, to realize all Duality is a illusion fantasy crated to enslave fragile human beings for the Satanic minion curmudgeons that force us to listen to their every social norm Blackmail-threat? Holy Spirit Light stops me from hearing grouches, and at the same time puts me with Pleasant fun-others who, really enjoy Listening with Delight in Love with Life-discovery together.

12 years ago when I was able to express pain, and shame enough from a God-perspective, that saved me at that stage-specific almost religious now ever changing more Spiritual list of opportunities, has re-appeared in my Karma need-bag after yesterday’s slavery-shackle breaking toward freedom. Who can even imagine this much absolute humiliation and stll being ale to write “Crying in Formation”, and what a beautiful capture of our lack of compassion that we’ve all begotten so desensitized without compassion even that this can happen and, still does on a regular basis, ya?

Delight-in-acceptance with me please, and thank you with Flower Pleasance, as if our fertilizer lives depended on it? Isn’t it a miracle of Grace, for a Pine Cone to replace an abused child with no Human-chance at all in this Earth gang of grouchy deafening Curmudgeons censuring everything of Innocence in a World gone completely bitter Mother-censure Worship “Nuttin Honey” double DD Donut-hole Blackmail Madd?

Baby Soldier Torture Pain/Toxic Shame

When I was a 5 year old precious little boy, both my mom, and gram beat me when we were all in the same room together, so I wouldn’t come too close to either of them, and so the daughter-in-law, and the mother-in law wouldn’t start guessing about the other one using me for luscious lover love, I suppose by “Accidentally fondling them from each, our more private experiences.” I was being tagged teamed by both, without the other ever finding out, until my gram died during “You know”, so when my mom found us she terrorized me with jealous rage for weeks, until she sent me away for raping, and killing ole gram.

This was so much of a drama/trauma, that when mom called me the DEVIL, it sunk way in my subconscious. More has been revealed from deeper hypnosis, and attachment therapy for twenty seven years, that has everyone on my recovery team knowing that oral sex was forced on me, so I later put relish on my tuna rolls to kill the oil of fish. The rage boiled in me for about ten years, and when I went to freshman school lunch, two old ladies seemed more like my mom, and gram to 15 year old me, so as I ate their tuna on hot dog rolls, I survived, and kept the awful pain alive, so I wouldn’t just disappear to die dead dead, instead.

It was hard enough to, even go to school, and get good grades in college groups, but I wasn’t able to, even order lunch with those two old grouchy ‘mother replications’ serving lunch. The closest I would let anyone near was when I joined ROTC and marched in the precision drill team. It feels like God etched a little Love into my heart at this time, and I was ready for just a smidgeon of soldier-like intimacy. I wrote “Crying in Formation” 12 years ago, but I’m feeling much better now....

CRYING IN FORMATION

I have arrived, sweet God, thank you for this nurturing rhythm and cooperation! Left boot accents loudly automatic cadence; we’re so clever; no left, left, left right left sloppy verbal for these secret discipline soldiers. Sixteen young men sixteen years marching into mother’s paradise of safety and protection; we are pretending. Polished, elite, and shiny dress right dress keeps us in close, not touching, precision ‘identicals'. Over, and over, and Left right, Left stomp our heels onto the concrete timing; we hide our tricks inside prisoner’s fence to keep ourselves the secret. Drill team four by four, name under the coldest hearted General, with special braids, and medals are marching mesmerizing.

Needy angry mother’s sons perhaps they’re all like me. Children, feral, mixed with ‘not good’ hugs; from concrete, and metal to groping tickling, no-giggling incest-exploitation. Perhaps the tears running while we’re walking are from the safety of never touching, and this marching so close to dancing. Joy or grievous sadness starved for some kind, kind, kind in rows and columns, or perhaps achieving precision in some kind of organizing. As I peer from up above, our split soul seems wrapped in toilet paper tubes down over us, and all that’s left in the discipline of fear, is vertical pipe, such shiny metal marching.

What makes us dreary soldiers, lock washers, uptight machinery, and so disciplined with limited tension design, hiding rage, gray rainbow march on parade? I made the strict practice non-changing rules, to go by without any variation, and what relief, and nurturing for this space trauma split soul marching. God found me wandering, threw me to the ground, and first Loved me in formation, crying grateful, asking, “Could this be bonding?” Am I one with the coldest hearted, like vertical pipe with triggers acting hollow weapons murder? Maybe we all assume our sergeants, teachers, and bosses, that we have warm family elsewhere; maybe at home they think?

During this same time in school, I remember sweaty saddles soiled my shirts when asked what food I want in line. Couldn’t talk, and answer, so hall pass during study, and explained, as freshman. “Please, I always want two tuna rolls mixed with relish to cut the oil of fish”, and it will never change all four years ago at senior graduation. The less bitter old women winked, and seemed to understand that’s why I ate my tuna lovelies in the boiler room alone. What’s left inside a toilet paper tube a-marching is just the smell of old fish, and not much companionship. Come Holy Spirit, and teach me how I really feel, as you release me from this bad dream? And I bow to your Grace, true companionship, and Love, to let me see the old me. I remember we are at the movies, it’s not the real me, and thank God, you are honest here, and so forever real, really.

OSHO: With Meditation Life Will Be a Sheer Joy

https://youtu.be/HHgNVRnkO88