He's dying. my father. He's been dying since his major heart attack when I was 18 years old; he has taken his time. The doctors told him 6 months to live - or so he told me - and that was two generations ago. Now he tells me he has an aneurism, but doesn't tell me where, and he goes to the doctor next week to see if there's anything that can be done.
It sounds serious, and it probably is. I've already shed a large number of tears. Ever since I was very small, the thought of my parents' death has moved me to tears. It's a large cloud that has overhung over my spirit my entire lifetime. To be so close to the actual event has made it so I can't sleep, and I can barely eat. Even though my father and I aren't close the way we used to be. Even though my mother and I can barely talk.
They threatened me with their deaths so much, I have often stopped to wonder today if my emotional reaction isn't a response to the years of threats and mental shaping through the thought of it.
Although it's probably not true, I tend to attribute most of this MKultra and spiritual part of my life to my father. It's not as if he brought me to one of the masters and said, "Here's my daughter for $5." It's just that growing up he would tell us kids stories, give us pendulums to play with, taught us psychic mind tricks, told us about aliens, his experience in the Bermuda Triangle, and a myriad of similar details. He facilitated my ability to grok this mystery on the waking side of life simply by allowing it to be openly acknowledged.
And there was his own involvement with the government program.... I don't know much about it. Just that he was involved in the psychic programs, did some readings, and there are a few details he and I spoke about.
So I find it ironic that his sun sets when I have begun on this blog journey - setting my own story to a sunrise. The thought brings me to more tears. I am sad this evening.
I had so much more to say before, but it has all fled.
It sounds serious, and it probably is. I've already shed a large number of tears. Ever since I was very small, the thought of my parents' death has moved me to tears. It's a large cloud that has overhung over my spirit my entire lifetime. To be so close to the actual event has made it so I can't sleep, and I can barely eat. Even though my father and I aren't close the way we used to be. Even though my mother and I can barely talk.
They threatened me with their deaths so much, I have often stopped to wonder today if my emotional reaction isn't a response to the years of threats and mental shaping through the thought of it.
Although it's probably not true, I tend to attribute most of this MKultra and spiritual part of my life to my father. It's not as if he brought me to one of the masters and said, "Here's my daughter for $5." It's just that growing up he would tell us kids stories, give us pendulums to play with, taught us psychic mind tricks, told us about aliens, his experience in the Bermuda Triangle, and a myriad of similar details. He facilitated my ability to grok this mystery on the waking side of life simply by allowing it to be openly acknowledged.
And there was his own involvement with the government program.... I don't know much about it. Just that he was involved in the psychic programs, did some readings, and there are a few details he and I spoke about.
So I find it ironic that his sun sets when I have begun on this blog journey - setting my own story to a sunrise. The thought brings me to more tears. I am sad this evening.
I had so much more to say before, but it has all fled.
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