The greatest thing that one can take into old age is not fame, not financial gain, and not even good health, though good health is a close second, and it's worth much more than money or fame; the greatest achievement of all is to still have love in your heart. If one still feels love after sixty or so years on this crazy planet of illusion and delusion, then one has done very well indeed.

I don't know about everyone else, but I strongly suspect that everyone else is pretty much the same as me, and I was born with love in my heart; and while no one knows where we come from, I strongly suspect that we come from a place where love is triumphant and pure.

Babies and very young children are so full of love that it's almost impossible for even the greatest of cynics not to love them in return. Especially if they come from ones own blood line...They are love magnets.

We say they are innocent, and I've never quite understood why we say that. Innocent of what crime? A wee helpless baby would have a hard time robbing a bank, so why do we say they are innocent? Maybe we mean that they have not yet started lying and deceiving. If this is the case, then I suppose I can see why babies are innocent, and as such we should not hold the same resentment towards them that we hold towards those that lie and deceive, which, I suppose, would include ourselves; and if this is the case: Why do we start to lie and deceive?

Of course, I'm assuming that everyone is like me, and if you don't lie and deceive then please accept my deepest apologies, and please tell me what mountain top you are living on. I'd love to pay you a visit.

It's not like I want to be a liar and a deceiver, it's just that I have this thing called a survival instinct, and the survival instinct is expanded ten fold when one is responsible for the life of a helpless baby, from ones own blood, that is more or less ones own self in another form. As such we get a very strong instinct that is now combined with the most powerful force in the universe.

The survival instinct joins forces with love!

I'm jumping way ahead of myself here, because the urge to lie and deceive comes many years before one becomes a parent.

It''s been shown that we are all creative geniuses until we get to the age of around five, after that age most people tend to fall in line with what one perceives the world to be. The survival instinct kicks in, and one begins to pretend to be what one is not. From then on, one is not so much concerned about being creative as much as one is concerned about what one should be.

Teachers and parents tell one how one should be. If one does not respond then one is set aside for special education, or nowadays one is also put on a drug. I think it's called Ritalin, or some thing like that.

If one survives childhood intact, then one must still go through adolescence, and adolescence is the time when the Earth kicks in wanting us to reproduce the species. If one has survived childhood without lying and deceiving then one is in for one hell of an adolescence. The sexual urge kicks in big style. One pretends to be what one is not so as to have sex. Then peer pressure takes care of any other inclinations one might have about being sincere.

Then one gets married, has kids, and one is then a fully blown slave to lying and deceiving that is handled very nicely by the experts on lying and deceit.

If one hasn't been killed by a machine gun, or worked oneself into an early grave, one eventually reaches middle age and financial slavery.

The kids have all gone nuts, they are lying to you, your wife has divorced you, and even those that you once trusted, old mates, are found out to be lying. Nobody is telling the truth, and nothing is what you once thought it to be. All is vanity, all is about oneself, ones role, and all is illusion and delusion.

By the time one has reached sixty, one has been lied to so many times that one expects to hear nothing else. Ah but, one decides to say fuck it, and one means it, because one still feels love, dammit.

One welcomes old age as a time when one can actually try to be real, and not lie and decieve any more. It's an impossible task, but one can at least try, within reason, to be honest.

Yer right, have you ever tried telling the truth lately?

No matter. I came, and it's a damn sure thing that I'm going back, back to the world of love.

In the meantime I'll be thankful that I feel love, still, even after all that!

Bring it on.

Waltre

There may be something to this subconscious training. Waltre thought as he almost blushed at the look a young woman gave him as he walked by her machine. The woman had given him the come on in such a way that it could not be mistaken for anything else.

He decided to go to the men's room on the idle side of the factory so he could have some privacy. It was empty. No one would walk that far so as to take a piss, he'd reasoned. He'd read somewhere that in the name of efficiency the mirrors should be removed from all men's bathrooms. A study had shown that the time men stay in the men's room was almost cut in half by simply removing the mirrors. It was decided that the women wouldn't put up with it, but the men who work in factories wouldn't have the nerve to complain because they pretend that only pansies and women worry about how they look.

He was glad that the efficiency experts hadn't got their way. He stood before the mirror so as to try to have a good, and honest, look at himself. No more squinting so as to try to make oneself look better, he'd decided.

He shook his head in dismay as he saw the reflection of a full head of white hair, the still dark and very bushy, almost wild, eyebrows, and the silly grey moustache that he didn't have the nerve to shave off due to not having much to call an upper lip.

I look like a fuckin old man! He thought.

What the hell do they see in me?

He sucked in his beer belly and turned sideways so as to see if he looked any better, but all he could see was an old man sucking in a beer belly.

Maybe it's my eyes, he reasoned. Women have a thing about eyes. He looked at his eyes and slowly shook his head. Nah it can't be that, he thought, as he saw the red rimmed poor things. He tried to look into his eyes, but he couldn't get past how tired they looked.

"You are fifty eight, and you look like your all that and some more." He said to his reflection.

Then he got very serious as he remembered that neither of his parents had got past sixty three, and then he felt very sad upon thinking of his eldest sister who had died at the age of sixty.

Bad genes, he thought, it's all in the genes, and mine give up the ghost at around the age of sixty. If a man got sentenced to death today, what with all the appeals and what not, he would have more life expectancy than I do. The only difference is that he knows he is doomed; ah but then again, so do I, he thought as he relaxed his shoulders and every other part of his body tee boot.

"Fuck it!" He said to his reflection.

As he was saying the words, the big fork lift driver walked in.

"Hello Waltre!" He said with a big smile.

Waltre smiled back out of sheer habit, and then he said:

'Fuck it all."

The big fork lift man motioned like he was pulling something down while imitating the sound of train tooting it's horn.

Whooo Whooooo!

"Why does the sound of a tooting train always sound so much sadder at night?" Waltre asked.

"It's because you wish you were on it." The fork lift driver replied with a laugh.

"Damn it, you are right again!" Waltre said in his usual jocular way, as he walked out of the men's room.

"Fuck it." He thought. Then he felt a surge of delight as he realized that he actually meant it.

"Fuck it all." He said as he walked back to the noisy side of the factory.

And I think I'll fuck her too." He thought as he tried to remember where the hell her machine was.

I gave up on self help stuff years ago, but while I was surfing around trying to find out some more info on the latest brain research, with regard to quantum physics, Buddhism, and Yoga, I stumbled onto this course of action, and this one is actually rather good; that is it makes sense to me, and best of all it's free. The world is changing very fast...So at least give it a read.

http://www.best-self-help-sites.com/index.html

Knowledge of the brain has took a quantum leap! This link says that most of the things they thought they knew about the brain, before 1990, has been abandoned, and I think he said that eighty percent of what they now know about the brain has only come to light since 1998.

It's very interesting to find that the unconscious mind keeps on working on a problem after the conscious mind has let it go. This fact is now well validated by scientific research, and it's also validated by history. The saying: "Sleep on it" was good advice. There's a long list of discoveries that came to people in their sleep, and many a great classic was written with the help of the unconscious mind.

The thing about the sub-conscious, or unconscious mind is that it doesn't know reality from fiction, and the main thing about it is that it can be your greatest servant or your worst enemy.

Science has shown that when one is working on a problem six parts of the brain light up. One part is the conscious mind, the other five are unconscious. When the conscious part of the mind switches off the five unconscious parts keep working on the problem, and they work on it around 800 times faster that the conscious mind.

The link, above, goes into it in more detail, suffice it for me to say that the thing is that it is much better to have your unconscious mind working with you than against you. Sailing against the wind is fine and dandy, but it takes a lot of tacking to make much progress, but what if the wind can be brought to blow in ones chosen direction? It's not a bad idea to try to get that advantage!

I found a nice explanation of the four stages of consciousness in ancient Hindu stuff: One is the conscious mind, two is the dream state, three is the state of pure sleep, and the fourth is the very mysterious state when one is is none of the above, which I suppose is Nirvana.

The thing that interested me was that pure sleep is presented as a state of bliss. They can say that again! No wonder it's so hard to get up in the morning.

Thoughts of Waltre.

Much as I hate to admit it, it is beginning to look like the God of the Old Testament is more like the real Creator God than the all loving God of the New Testament.

The Old Testament God of the Jews was a fierce God who threw his greatest creation, or so mankind thinks of itself, out of the Garden of Eden, and then He all but drowned them like they were a litter of kittens with no place to go. Of course I know it's mythology, but even so, there's a lot of truth in mythology, and the mythology of a fierce and ruthless God stands up to the test of time and life much more than the all loving God that Christians believe in.

Christianity believes in three aspects of God: 1: The Father; Yahweh, the fierce God of the old Testament. 2: Jesus, the loving Son of God. 3: The Holy Spirit; better known in my circles as the Holy Ghost. As I see it, Yahweh and Jesus are united and then we get the Holy Spirit.

In other words, the bad side of God and the good side of God are finally joined together; they become one, and then we get the Holy Spirit.

Could the word holy derive from wholey? It looks like it could, and both words sound exactly the same. If so, the word holy could mean to become whole, (maybe it does for all I know) and the way to get holy or whole is to unite ones bad hateful side with ones good loving side. If one achieves the union one then becomes filled with the Holy Spirit, or could it mean one becomes filled with the whole spirit? Like, instead of being divided by two spirits one is brought into a state of wholeness where both spirits merge and become as one. The Trinity. Brendan Behan wrote about the ould triangle, is that the same thing?

Was John Lennon onto it all when he sang: "Come together, right now, over me?"

Was John Lennon one of the Holy people: one of the Whole people? He might well have been. Maybe in some strange way he somehow reached the archaic, mythical, and subconscious desires of mankind, and that's why the Beatles became the Beatles that kind of changed the world, but then again it might have been McCartney that did it. In a way it was both of them meeting, and then uniting, that in a way is what bought about the magic.

Did Elvis Presley come first?

Is there a rhythm to this, apparently chaotic universe, that repeats itself over and over again. Does the tide come in then go out, does the sun rise and then set, does winter come after autumn, does autumn come after summer, and does spring not always follow the barren cold cold season of winter?

Do spiritual matters repeat them selves in the same way? Is there always an Elvis that isn't fit to wash the feet of a Beatle?

Is there always a savior, if we want him, and is he always killed?

That seemed to be the case, as far as Waltre could see.

Change it into third person tomorrow.







The Devil