AN ALTERNATIVE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE : A SPIRITUAL MESSAGE
by Paul Schroeder
by Paul Schroeder
by Paul Schroeder
Since sex is less than five or ten percent of a marriage, those who marry just for sex, find imposing reasons later on in the relationship, to not confine sex, within the parameters of their marriage, but remain as faithful, as their options and opportunities.
Women wander sexually, as well, as statistics reveal, that every other wife strays to another’s arms, for love making.
I often thought that women had it better than men and that if I were a woman, without any love, I’d be down at the docks, no underwear, waiting for the fleet to come in, with my skirt pulled over my head.
But, today, much older and jaded, I’m a cheap date, for myself, and even after sexy-self-love, I don’t even take myself out to dinner or to a movie..
More and more women today, say aloud, that they “don’t need any man, anymore, even for sex, but that they DO need men , sometimes, but then, ONLY, to lift and move, heavy things around…
Sex, is forever something that parents are loathe to discuss with their children; when I was a child of seven, they mentioned the fearful danger of sex, saying, “not to play around with sex, because it was,”playing with fire.”
At seven years old, I recall thinking:
But one who marries, just for sex, is buying a 747 jet, just for the little bag of peanuts.
Surely, there’s other ways to get peanuts, if that’s all that you really want.
Men are more juvenile in primitive sexual drives and emotional makeup, and women are indeed, far better human beings, providential, sensitive, charitable, strong and beautiful.
This DNA primate difference can be demonstrated.
Equality, in mutual passion, is easier to demonstrate:
When a cop on the beat encounters a young couple making love in the tall grass, in a park, he does NOT tap their shoes with his nightstick to angrily demand:
Progress will turn HIStory, into HERstory.
Women remain naive and not the least bit aware of men’s glandular functioning concepts towards all women.
At a party or wedding,
deep within men’s psyches.
For women, few rarely grasp that their public dancing, is clearly nothing but public, overt, symbolic sex.
Most cultures associate ” beauty”, with a simple more precise symmetry, of the face, where perfection is a mirror image of both sides of the face.
We equate physical beauty with inner goodness, which has allowed nice-featured and handsome psychopaths like Ted Bundy and Jefferey Dalmer to serial (successful) murder so many duped women and duped so many gay men .
Men are suckers for a pretty (merely perfectly symmetrical) face and will sacrifice marriage, family and children for a dalliance with one..
Each solitary, individual feature on your face always stays its birth shade and original color.
Methinks, that If men wore makeup, most would be disconcertingly prettier than many women.
You can always wear shorts despite how awful your legs do look.
Your last name, regardless of marital -legal battles, stays put.
People do not ever stare at your breasts and your nipples when you’re happily chatting with them.
Calorie intake and belly size are never a crucial consideration.
You always have the consummate and total freedom of choice about the growing of a mustache.
You don’t have to remove all of your clothes just to pee.
You can wake up just as attractive as you were when you went to bed, rather than have your beauty somehow deteriorate, during the night.
Woman, as the pretty sex, is a relatively new idea:
Throughout the animal world, whether it flies or swims, the male is STILL the colorful sex, the female, the drab one.
But since the eighteenth century, sexual and cultural reversals have oddly persisted in human affairs, and women instead have become the pretty sex.
But “pretty” means, slim and skinny, as fashion dictates.
Straight men, do not adorn themselves towards being highly polished- exceptions exist for politicians, actors, sports-stars, head gangsters, and police detectives, for within these men, narcissism, a sinful sense of entitlement, and monumental ego all loom.
‘Beauty’ television commercials and ‘beauty’ magazine ads feature graphics of highly curried women, extolling Western society’s virtues of vacuous, narcissistic women, who gaze back at us, made over into a man’s surreal vision of what ‘beauty’ should look like..
In Maine, at a lobster restaurant, I went to the register to pay and behind the counter, opening the register, was a tall, strikingly handsome, buxom woman, in a formal ballgown who sported a large handlebar mustache.
Men perpetrate this hoax until they themselves believe it.
In truth, a woman is as sexy in bed as that woman was interesting, before bed, and interesting, after bed.
(“No man ever reached up a woman’s skirt, looking for her library card”)
But, for many non-self-respecting men, it’s all just about a woman’s exterior patina, and veneer towards sex.
Yes, men are more shallow than one would imagine, more vain than women and more duplicitous in satisfying their overwhelming hormonal drives.
Women thus feel that loss of beauty means loss of love, and then rush off to plastic surgeons, for tits and ass augmentation, nose jobs and liposuction, mascara and eyeliner alert, to avoid NOT being a love object..
REAL beauty emanates ONLY from within, something not taught in our culture, where women spend very much time on their outsides and little or no time spent, on their ‘insides’…
Women at an early age learn what dizzying effects their bodies have on men, and men’s sex drive, and use THAT against them ; women culturally have been taught guile and deceit from a tender age, to ‘trap a man’, by using their physical, sexual allure:
They shave armpits,
shave legs and mustaches,
dye their hair,
(“Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy”)
tints of rouge blush,
sport uplift brassieres,
go for Botox or plastic surgery to erase facial wrinkles,
install Hershey-kiss silicone fake breasts,
wear high heels,
then, they meet a man,
and they want, …
Can such preoccupation with sexual camouflage avoid extra-marital diversion , and allow longevity and truthfulness towards a meaningful marriage?
Many couples who have lasted together forever, don’t have to work hard, to get along in marriage’.
When George Burns and Gracie Allen were asked how they remained so in love after sixty years, he said:
I remember once being stopped and asked at Disneyland by a graying and aged couple, to “photograph them”, for it was none other than their “fiftieth anniversary”.
I wondered what wisdom and marital advice they might share, for too many, marriages end sadly in divorce.
These too many short-term marriages, for too many men, seemed to me, just like a tornado:
in the beginning, there’s a lot of sucking and blowing , and later on … you lose the house.
Whatever happened to the romantic woman and to the romantic man who said that they could not live without each other?
He went East, and she went West… and they both lived.
My wife went over to speak with his wife to comment on how sweet they looked together, but when
I returned the camera as he made his way over to me, I asked him the $500,000 lulu question:
“What’s the secret to being married, so successfully, for so long?”
He looked confidential and wise and peeked to see if his wife was engaged in conversation before he spoke:
(Author’s note: the title is from a Rodney Dangerfield routine..)
You have certainly heard it said, that in our lives’ destinies, “All IS WRITTEN”?
According to reputable and gifted psychics, our lives are carefully planned by our spirits, beforehand, that we assemble spirit helpers and spirit guides, in Heaven, to accompany us, long before we jump into another womb’s prenatal body, for yet another lifetime.
Life, they assure us, is a series of pre-programmed events staged with proscribed boons and travails, specifically designed to grow us spiritually closer towards God, a God who gives us myriad incarnations, to hone and perfect us.
Earth is our ‘school’.
Even a ‘deja vu’, a moment haunting in its odd feeling, that we’ve ‘ been ‘there’, before’, psychics say, is precisely such a specially pre-inserted moment, in our blueprint, a small odd- feeling- ‘bump’, in time, designed to remind us, unconsciously, that we are assessed perfectly aligned, with our pre-planned spiritual lessons, in that moment.
How, then, is one to understand spates of bad luck, that stubbornly seem to follow one throughout?
For some of us, and that includes me, day after day, week after week, awful little and large things happen in doses that nag at us, and seem to resist greater meaning.
The title’s male comedian, once complained:
“I have the worst luck all of the time; I have no luck at all.
If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck at all!”:
I miss buses and oversleep appointments lose my wallet and keys, stub my toes, step in dog poo and bang my head underneath cabinets.
“Just yesterday, I woke up, got dressed, and a button fell off; I reached for a closet door and the knob came off!
I grabbed my suitcase, and the handle came off;…
I was afraid,… to go to the bathroom!…”
If it’s true, that “all is written”, how does one explain annoying and troubling
‘nothing is going right’ periods, that persist?
Many gifted psychics, privately affirm that since ,’all IS written’, awful bad luck events happen, by no accidents; aligned with spirit, bad luck, in a continuous line, is commonly backstage- orchestrated.
Large and small bad luck occurrences will happen everywhere, all at once, in one’s life, as a spiritual “sign”, an alert that one is sadly far from one’s prearranged spiritual path.
When one has strayed too far away from one’s Heavenly, towards God, pre-planned ‘blueprint’, self delineated in intricate fashion, bad luck will stubbornly continue to manifest.
Then, It’s no coincidence that you lost your wallet, spilled the coffee on the computer keyboard, stepped on the cat, had a bathroom pipe leak down onto the kitchen ceiling, got a flat tire and missed the train and that was only Tuesday!
“Nothing is going right!”, life malfunctions, reveal that something else LARGER at stake, down a long hallway, and somewhere else behind our ‘curtains’, is ALSO not right.
Bad luck in series, is the tyrannical effort of Heaven, specifically,
our spirit guides and spirit helpers, who are more than just trying to get our attention.
I can actually, at this point hear the known cynics and pernicious doubters yet again exclaim,”Your thesis, to me, personally, is just nonsense!”
What about those people who have one good luck event, after another good luck event follow them?
When one is on one’s correct preplanned blueprint’s spiritual path, ‘everything just seems to go right’?
If we are progressing correctly, according to “plan”, then all of the little confluences and connections in our life begin to seem to work, and series of fortuitous coincidences occur like perfect magic:
We catch the bus, right on time, we meet that person we were hoping to see, we gain hope and guidance automatically, from kind strangers, we find that misplaced thing we searched for, garner the needed finances that we sought ;
wonderful coincidences gather like flies at our mustaches.
Only when one is much too far from one’s self-set goals, does all Hell seem to break loose, everywhere and all at once, repeatedly.
Chronic and persistent ‘bad luck’ isn’t the ‘disease’ itself, but is instead an emergent ‘symptom’, of a disease.
But, can it be all that simple?
After learning this, minor constant misfortunes that never seem to end, rather than blindly depress you, will enlighten and cheer you, because it confirms that our path, is indeed a pre-planned path, and that, “Yes, Virginia, there really IS a Santa Claus,”
on ‘stage’, and ‘behind our curtains’.
Consistent negative synchronicities, are messages and bad luck events, now alert us that we are NOT up on our spiritual ‘toes’.
Am I being helpful to others or self-consumed and impish?
Am I forgiving, or nurturing grudges?
Am I consoling someone who needs consoling or am I, not wanting to ‘engage’, avoiding them?
Am I offering charity to someone in need, or cautiously sidestepping involvement?
Am I being supportive or judgmental?
Am I being loving or impatient?
The cessation of bad luck troubles, relies and depends on one’s spiritual shift- of -perspective, a recognition that will appeal to your spirit helpers and spirit guides.
Listen to something emotionally releasing, like taped wholesome standup comedy; laughing can reset brain chemical imbalances from angst and is a wholesome therapy, instrumental in stopping deepening fugue, about persistent bad luck events..
Large doses of laughter can jump start and stir the cheer of one’s lagging soul .
Essentially, one must recognize those backstage spiritual influences; a prayer for guidance and enlightenment is now tantamount.
Pray, IN THANKS to your spirit helpers and angels, who do a mostly thankless job, most often, and then, ask them for spiritual assistance.
Prayer, to be put back on the ‘right path’ will suffice, and then all at once, as though in answer, the confluent series of ‘ bad luck’ events will suddenly abate.
Then, be sure to react with love to the situations that next present themselves, to you.
“Why me?!” is always the wrong question.
“Why NOW?” is more apt.
Bad luck in a series of repeated events means that
we have missed the inner signposts of mercy and patience and forgiveness and are indeed far from our set spiritual goals at that moment in time.
Series of bad luck incidents in our lives are NO accidents .
“All is written” may sound facile and glib, but one’s spirit helpers can and will reach from behind the curtains of Heaven and appear almost tyrannical, as they attempt to fast turn one into another direction, like adjusting a human skillet frying pan by grabbing one roughly, by the handle…..
For we are not humans having spiritual experiences, but spirits, having human experiences.
Prayer, with feelings only of gratitude, strongly helps to bring a message for the cessation of travails, until one’s head is re-screwed on, properly, to extend love, in all endeavors, to others..
“I think we consider too much the good luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm”
Just before my grandmother on my mother’s side died at the age of 95, I whispered a kiss in her ear and thanked her for her wisdom.
One odd piece of advice, that she had taught me when I was a child, I had carried close to my inner ear, all of my life.
It had been an Independence Day warning, borne of a distant Russian wisdom, one that she had whispered to me four decades ago, when I was nine or ten years old, impressionable and the apple of her eye.
The imprecation that I got from her, the warning whispered in my small rapt ear when I was nine or ten years old had been an odd warning that ruled and guided my life, and through angst, had come to define a larger part of what I called my soul.
Now, she at ninety-five was far from that woman who in giving advice could be ironic and poetical.
She had used lipstick as a rouge to color her cheeks and then decided that her whole face was of a pallor that also needed color, rubbed lipstick all over her face.
She was quite a shock when I got onto the seventh floor of the retirement home and turned the corner and saw her sitting in a wheelchair, as though apparently waiting for me.
She earnestly asked with a childlike innocence if I could bring her some new makeup and some big diamond jewelry for her to wear to dress herself up, when I visited her next?
Cautiously, I had asked her, skeptically dubious ;”What type of diamond jewelry?” She had said;
“Expensive, fancy jewelry.”
She labored under the delusion that she was in a hotel in Miami, one that slouched in basic standards;
“The meals at this hotel are terrible, but what is a person to do?”
She did not ever surmise herself to be in a nursing home near the beach in Coney Island, Brooklyn.
A person’s senior mind can lend a type of psychic anesthesia that acts in many ways to protect it from uncompromising and painful truths. .
Now I was an odd adult.
I wanted her to know that I loved her, how her whisper had returned years later as my gratitude.
I had loved to cherish ideas; a rare few philosophers had touched my early soul .
Dr. Seuss had barely competed with grandma.
But, he wrote : “Be who you are and say what you think, because those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind, don’t matter!”
My other odd philosopher was sitting here in her wheelchair, armed and propped with a pillow/ alarm that would audibly alert nurses in the retirement home if she pitched forward and left her chair’s upright fixed position.
She was different the next time I saw her, the way she used to be ;
” Hello, Paul; sharp as a matzoh and twice as crummy!”
“How come you don’t call your grandma more often? Humph!!”
“Humph;You going to wait until I’m in the cemetery and THEN you’ll visit me?”
“I’m sorry, that you’ll be sorry, but THEN it’ll be too late!”
This was the same verbatim greeting that I had gotten from her over the years over the telephone . I presumed that I was calloused to it all.
It always deeply riddled me with guilt but I never let her know, but instead I saw it rather as a good sign that she was still feeling feisty.
When she successfully aimed ring-toss-Velcro-guilt in my direction, I rationalized, she must be feeling much better.
I quickly tried to change the subject; ” Grandma I remember that boardwalk we can see here in Brighton Beach from a time when you were fifty years old and I was about nine years old and I still remember the good advice that you gave me, back then.”
“What advice did I give you?”
I told her.
It had stayed with me for many years as a token of her wisdom.
“You brought me to you on a bench on that boardwalk, in Coney Island, on a hot 4th of July afternoon, when the whole family was there suddenly hugging and kissing each other,
“Don’t get too close to people; you’ll catch their dreams,” You told me.
“What?”, she said, so I told her again;
“Don’t get too close to people; you’ll catch their dreams.”
“OH!”, she said,”I am VERY sorry, if I ever told you that!.”
“I AM very sorry.”
I reminded her, however, what an impact she’d had on me then.
“That whisper, as a recommended life philosophy, was both poetry and true and that, your advice, really stayed deeply with me.”
Taken to heart, it had allowed me to remain aloof and separate from everyone, as a type of self protection, to preserve my OWN dream.
She looked at me as though I were some stranger in a dream.
I said it, again;
“Don’t get too close to people, you’ll catch their dreams.”
She was thoughtful and then looked worried.
“I never told you THAT.” …
“You shouldn’t get too close, because…”
“Germs”, she said.
” I said that you’ll catch their GERMS.”
“I told you and your sister MANY times;
“Don’t get too close to people, ’cause you’ll catch their GERMS.” she said, again.
That wrong belief had overshadowed every relationship in my life with an ambivalence and a craving to just be left alone.
If one was alone, one was safe from what people could do to you, I had always reasoned.
But, I had been running away from my own shadow.
Two marriages and a dozen influenza later, I had realized her truth, too late.
-the Chinese seven valuables, and so on, ad infinitum.
Rabbit’s feet were always considered lucky and were carried in Ancient and Medieval pockets of garments as a guaranteed ward against bad luck.
Today, one can purchase a dyed novelty item rabbit’s foot for a key-chain, but it will be of a front paw, useless, as only a rabbit’s rear foot has value magically.
It was well known that wild rabbits will rapidly thump their hind foot as an approach signal of danger, to warn other rabbits in their warren, in much the same way that beavers slap their tails onto the water to alert their families of approaching danger.
However, the rabbit’s foot available today, is the front paw of a domestic rabbit and only a wild rabbit’s hind paw, will suffice as a ward against danger and bring one magical good luck.
Knocking on wood originated in England with the people who built Stonehenge, the ancient Druids, who believed in human sacrifices and also that good spirits dwelled in Pine trees.
Modern Christians on Christmas who bring Pine trees into the house and decorate them, are following this ancient pagan Druid’s rite which the Church tried unsuccessfully to extinguish.
This ancient Druid pagan holy day, was originally on December 25th.
The Church stole and supplanted this Druid holiday date in an attempt to substitute it and replace it with their own Holy Day of Christ’s Mass, (Christmas) symbolically representing December 25th as the date of the ‘birth of Christ’ instead of the pagan holy date.
only uneducated, superstitious people, without historical knowledge, believe this birth of Christ date as fact.
Ancient Druids exchanged gifts with each other in their pagan celebration of that Roman agricultural holiday, on December 25th.
Christians today exchange gifts, still following that pagan ritual, which has nothing to do with what the church tried hard to impose, as Christianity.
The church was patently unable to erase this gift giving Druid element of pagan celebration, despite prodigious efforts to punish those who did.
Mistletoe was revered by these ancient Druids such that it was never allowed to touch the floor and instead was hung from eves, above doorways, and from ceilings.
In their pagan rites, revered and valued mistletoe was used as an aphrodisiac, a sexual stimulant, for under its horny influence hundreds of young Druid women and young Druid men would go into the fields (‘children of the corn’) to lasciviously and licentiously copulate in public in great numbers, to excite and thus encourage the ‘Gods’, to do likewise, a type of Godly pornography.
Druids believed that the rains which enriched the fields at this holiday time, which fell from the sky, were the ‘seeds of the Gods’, or God’s sperm, which fell down to earth from Godly sexual unions, and were essential in order to stimulate agricultural growth.
Christians who still hang mistletoe are displaying the vestigial remnants of this shameless sexual rite of the pagan Druids, as on Christmas, one can kiss anyone who stands under this herb, without owning guilt or shame.
This fear of 13 as magical evil goes back into ancient history.
Prehistoric man counted with the only calculator that he had, his two hands with a total of ten fingers and his two feet, counted as not having ten toes, but as each foot being a single digit.
Twelve represented that which could be ‘known’ and
prehistoric man knew therefore that twelve was natural,
The unknown has always been considered sinister and worthy of being feared.
This precedes the myth notion that the Last Supper (a Jewish Passover dinner) had 12 disciples and that Judas who betrayed Him, was the unlucky 13th.
Throwing things at people, is also considered magical, and
throwing certain things, considered good luck.
Throwing rice at wedding was, from ancient times, considered a sign of good luck, as rice was so prolific, that tossing a handful into a puddle caused it to germinate within a few days.
Throwing rice, therefore, was thought to bring good marital reproductive luck, to magically cause the bride to have many healthy babies.
If one doesn’t like the groom, one may throw five pound bags of rice, in an attempt to seriously wound him.
Throwing coins into a wedding fountain accompanied by good wishes and throwing bridal bouquets also are both magically attributed with bringing good luck.
Throwing salt over one’s left shoulder, prevents evil from approaching, as salt is magical, absorbs negative energy and is reputed to kill witches.
Before refrigeration, salt was widely used to preserve any perishable food.
In Roman times, a soldier’s pay was given in bag measures of salt, (saline) instead of in coin money and thus the word,’ salary’ comes from the word ‘salt’, given as payment for military services rendered.
Salt that is blessed and left in a continuous line to encircle a house troubled with loathsome spirits, can create an effective ward or barrier to protect those inside from more harassment.
I know from personal experience, that this particular aspect of blessed salt is positively true, and not at all mere superstition.
Salt is so valuable and so magical that if one spills salt accidentally, one is left unprotected by its magic, and evil ones approach at once over one’s left shoulder.
Throwing salt over one’s left shoulder into evil’s face reestablishes salt’s protection for your aural/astral energies, against evil ones.
In fact for the first 100 years of our country’s educational system children were forced to write with their right hand if they were naturally southpaws, as left handedness was then surely considered a sign of the devil.
Directions aside, finally, magic exists in ladders.
If one leaves a high open ladder in evidence in the middle of a busy city street, many people will avoid walking under it.
Walking under a ladder as a sign of bad luck originated in England in the 17th century, when pickpockets were hung from the neck until death, from tall ladders, publicly, capital punishment for the minor crime of being a pickpocket.
Pickpockets roamed and picked pockets, and worked those crowds who had assembled to witness such executions, a grim reminder that capital punishment, as a deterrent, simply doesn’t ever work.
It was believed that should someone walk under that ladder, after the hanged criminal’s body was removed, the ghostly spirit of the dead criminal lingering there would attach to and follow one home, to cause havoc and eventually spiritual possession, in an attempt to continue to steal, but this time, the most valuable of assets, one’s soul.
Must one be crazy to dance,
I thought long and hard about that statement, approached it from different angles of thought and pondered it.
Orthodox Hasidim Jews, believe that wild dance, ensemble, is a way to approach sublime Divine attainment, most tribal and ancient.
Is it the case that
those who were deaf, could not hear the music and thus thought the dancers insane?
What makes a person gyrate sexually in front of strangers? I finally accept that dancing is publicly symbolic sex, with the exception of Lambada, which IS sex, most graphic in public.
Lap dances and belly dances enthrall men as consummate sex fantasies unfurled, and these reside deep within our psyches.
Men who routinely go to “topless” bars to watch naked women dance, harbor a wild and degrading fantasy, an addictive stimulant, that seems just as unwholesome as public sexual gyrations to music.
But sex, in public?!
Why do you think that men are so very willing to buy ladies drinks?!
“On-stage dance takes from sexuality practices “off-stage” and imaginatively stylizes them and possibly reinforces or challenges these practices that include expressions of sexual identity and attraction, flirtatiousness, friendliness, exhibitionism, eroticism, and love-making.”
(Hanna, Journal of Sex Research / March-June, 2010 )
Would one who is a Buddhist and contemplative, dance or would he resist the impulse as unabashed sexy exhibitionism?
After all, what is,”sanity”, if “no sane man dances”?
Drinking alcohol during a “cocktail hour”, before public dancing at such affairs may assist the temporary insanity inherent to very public sexual gyrations called dance.
Sexual unabashed exhibitionism?
I can often resist the impulse to publicly gyrate, or to circle dance or line dance amidst a large group of people by recalling Twain’s sentence.
But, if dance is truly symbolic sex, the horizontal mambo, then group dancing brings to mind another quote:
“Sex between two people can be a wonderful thing, among ten people, it’s just fabulous!”
To me, having unabashed multiple polygamous sexual partners is demonstrated by line dancing.
Dancing in public, however symbolically obscene in its blatant sexual gyrations, is not likely to expose one to HIV or STDs.
For one like me who will not dance, I wonder about the biological absurdity of dance and of sex, for many species have dance-specific mating rituals wherein if the dance is wrong, the mating doesn’t happen..
There has to be a more dignified way of expressing your deep love and affection for another human being, because despite our spirituality,
the human body is a odd marvel, in that it has its waste disposal plant, immediately next to its amusement park.
But these days, older and more jaded,
I’m a cheap date, for myself, and even after sexy-self-love, I don’t even take myself out to dinner or to a movie..
“Want to dance?”
Since public dance is blatantly sexual and thus, embarrassing, in public,
I and Twain, shall instead, sit this one out.
IN THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES, CAMOUFLAGE PREVAILS
“Sex is not the answer.