psychoanalysis IX

A MAJOR EPIPHANY

Psychoanalysis IX, I think…

The view from a drama queen’s perspective

Another high horse

from which to descend into Hell

A somewhat lyrical semi-diatribe

which gets very iffy at the end

By Izzy Ess of Wilderness

It finally occurred to me:  Amongst Judeo-Christian-Muslims I would easily be labelled as the Devil!  Firstly, I do talk a lot and have great influence upon a listener who isn’t confident about his tenets and his principles.  Then, secondly, I laugh a lot and tell a lot of jokes in situations where a listener may think a joke is wholly inappropriate.  Then thirdly, sometimes, I am stubborn, irritable and quick to show my anger at a listener who takes my words and twists them to his own Judeo-Christian-Muslim templates, perhaps thus hoping that I would see his point of view and change my mind the instant I would re-consider.  At other times, I may be moody, quite depressed and act as if I do not care a whit about the other person’s reasoning and may be quick to brush him of, as if his arguments are not worthwhile.  Fourthly, I am smart and have a better memory than most, although recall is not too swift, these days.  Everyone accepts that a person’s ego may be crowded if a speaker has a way with words and that person may suspect that he is being hood-winked, eh?  Then, fifthly, I am handsome, youthful and quite devilish in my appearance, with a beard and moustache, and a red-faced countenance, and my exact resemblance to old Nick, the Santa Claus, and perhaps the Lucifer, whose actions in the Eden Garden caused the BIG SIN, the sin that was ORIGINAL, that caused the downfall of all mankind, but especially of women, felt to be inferior to men in most J-C-M religions, such that in the Bible, despite the reference to hundreds of offspring, there’s hardly mention of a woman.  It is unimaginable to me that such a chauvinistic view has held the fore for some millennia.  To this very day, there are some women on this Earth, somewhere, who are prohibited from voting, taking charge in churches and the mosques, and are seriously blamed for causing Man to have a built-in Sin, requiring special redemption to ensure that Man will have some Peace on Earth and THAT THERE TRULY is, in fact, a Heaven with a mechanism to expunge THE BUILT-IN SINS and get to HEAVEN, or be damned to HELL.  I have a feeling that the writing of the Bible was specific: Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward MEN, not an afterthought or mention says, there will be Good Will so extended to the WOMEN and the CHILDREN.

Sixthly, in the Old and Newer Testaments of any Bible, and perhaps the old Quran, but I’m not sure, there are distinct instructions for a dealing with a “devilish” man who has opinions different than one’s own.  If he mentions his opinions, it is written that one cannot listen, lest the dogma that one holds so dear is challenged.  If the person tries to change one’s mind, he must be killed.  “Run him through!” the scriptures say, in no uncertain terms.  There’s also protection by the priests and churches, offered just in case there is a trial because of accusations, such as murder, or man-slaughter.  This does make it easier to see why warring sects continue conflicts, despite the allegory’s indication that the blood-lines make them brothers, or certainly half-brothers.  Abraham qua Ibrahim is all the same, engendering Arab Ishmael by the young Hagar and Jewish Isaac by the older Sarah.  Both were promised all the land, the Promised Land of all the Canaanites, including Persia, now Iran, and Mesopotamia, now Iraq, as well as Assyria, now Syria, Phoenicia, now Lebanon, and Turkey, too.  Understood it was that all the desert land from Sinai to Jordan and Jerusalem, including Saudi Arabia, Yemen and Kuwait, would easily be conquered by the Jews on their way north, with armies led by Joshua, Saul, David and King Solomon.  About the time of Esther, Daniel, Mordecai, Xerxes/Achascverus, when the Babylonians/Iraqi defeated Solomon and destroyed the Temples in Jerusalem, and took the Ark with all its precious scriptures and destroyed them, while the Bible was re-written to make Ishmael the Patriarch and put Lilith in the Eden Garden as Hermaphroditic She-Devil, and call God, Allah.  Although the Jews were slaves and prisoners, Esther/Hadassah rose to be the Queen of Persia and Mordecai, its Prime Minister.  Daniel also was promoted in the Government of Persia.  The Legend of Arabian Nights confirms in Spirit some of this, in that the beautiful young teenage virgin of the Sultan’s Harem, outwits the King of Persia to become it’s Queen, perhaps suggesting that Esther and Scheherazade were the same young teenage, clever virgin who did save her life by outwitting the Persian King and entrancing him for him to take her as his Queen.  Both were quick-witted enough to save their lives in the face of a powerful king who would have killed her if the usual restrictions were applied.

It’s after 6 and I’ve been writing this while cooking one of my mother’s unwritten recipes, that my only grandparent that I met briefly when I was 2-3 in the old family home in Toronto in the Jewish neighbourhood in 1940-1 at Harbord and Bathurst, where my father owned a Jewish Deli for two years.  My other three grandparents, including the one after whom I was named, all died in Eastern Europe during and before WWII.  The dish is a “lockshin kugl” or noodle cake which I have made my own by adding other things to make it more like a backed pasta prima vera with mushrooms, sweet peppers, ginger, pepper, garlic and whatever leftovers I have around.  My oven doesn’t work to brown the top but it made a softer version of itself atop the stove.  It smells just great and has just finished cooking as I turned the burner off just a few moments ago.  It needs to cool and probably won’t be ready to eat until tomorrow morning.  It brings back very strong positive feelings from my very early childhood.  Some of my earliest memories are of my father’s deli and my conflicts with his perfectionism and need to make a living for a growing family and a very complex family setting.  My bipolar mother and my always angry uncle Solly, my dad’s best friend, who introduced him to my mother, are prominent in my development and the way I behave toward everyone.

I’m tired of thinking I’m seen as devilish to justify my family and friends behaviour to me.  It just might be my innate paranoia or a part of the hypervigilence that comes with trauma and abuse, or both.  Dear reader, I’m sorry that I mounted my high horses and expounded on my twisted view of history, religion and social behaviour.  I need to learn my mother’s method of adjustment to her uncertain environment and unstable kith and kin.  She hid her brightness and her talents and deliberately acted stupid and confused and helpless.  It’s almost like the adage about attracting more flies with honey than with vinegar.  I would attract more friendly flies if I behaved to indicate some helplessness and lack of smarts, instead of showing everyone that I can be quite independent and intelligent and beat most people at the game of life.  This itself is half psychotic and an ego problem for I haven’t beat most people at the game of life; I’ve lost a lot of kith and kin.  Lately that has greatly been accentuated as I am more than ever isolated and alone, lonely and confused about it all.  So accept my apologies for trying to compose an essay that seems to boast of knowledge that is special and talents that are rare.  Neither is true.  If they were, I would have been rewarded grandly and be rich as everybody else, and had more kith and kin than anyone.  Perhaps I’m wrong about that assumption, too, eh?

Perhaps I’ve blown my load and reached the end of the line.  Perhaps I should desist from writing blogs and spending much more time with friends and associates that I have now and build a better basis for a friendly base of operations, so-to-speak.  Perhaps I should just accept my peaceful form of senility where memories are faded and the world no longer needs me to expound on anything.  I think I should consider writing love stories rather than stories of explosive conflicts, murder, mayhem and irony.  I should be writing inspiring stories show how the Grand Creator made it possible for me to blow off steam and still be not struck by lightning or drowned in floods.  Perhaps I need a vacation from my attachment at my nose with my computer and reserve the emails for some love and happiness expressed to ones who love me and the ones that don’t.  I forgive you all for just deleting everything or ignoring it, just as most my kith and kin do, unabashedly and openly sarcastically saying they would never read such trash because it’s dangerous to their young families.  So be it.

THE END

© izzy sommers, md

Welland, Canada

August 9, 2013

The day I stopped writing blogs

on blogger after this one

God Bless and May God Keep You Safe

Until you happily join him in Heaven.