To: K-list
Recieved: 2003/11/16 17:46
Subject: [K-list] guys post
From: Guy Johnson
On 2003/11/16 17:46, Guy Johnson posted thus to the K-list:
Here is another post To share
namaste
Guy I grew up on an Island in Maine and
> >though I was surrounded with natural beauty my childhood was not
> >pretty. I was subjected daily to physical, and emotional abuse along
> >with intense brainwashing. My role as eldest son in a family of
> >seven children was slave labor, under a daily admonishment [no worky
> >no eaty]. I do not know when I started working but my earliest
> >memories were storms at sea and hand jigging codfish out of sight of
> >land. I remember stearing the boat while standing on an upturned
> >lobster trap while my father did deck work. I remember the stench of
> >bait and the maggots as well as being forbidden to cry or feel. I saw
> >the beauty of the ocean, her many changing moods from the deck of my
> >fathers lobster boat. I was there for every sunrise and every sunset.
> >My fathers freindly admonition {keep working or I'll beat the shit
> >out of you]. I remember being stripped and held in the air by my
> >wrists in a grip like a vice, my feet dangling and body twisting to
> >avoid the blows while being wipped. My room in the attic with the
> >winter wind blowing through, eddying around caos of unwanted thinks
> >and the paper tube I used to stick out from under the covers because
> >the air froze my nostrils unless I warmed it with my body heat. Later
> >I put a screen over the end to stop the rats from chewing on my ears.
> >At twelve I built my first boat, 20 ft. long and 100 lobster traps so
> >I could be free, but my father sold his boat and took my boat and
> >traps and gave me a dollar a day, but I was happy because I wasn't
> >near my mother ,she was much worse.
> >
> > I liked to sit in the woods and as I peered into their depths the
> >forest glistened with light, and the form of everything dissapeared
> >becoming enchanted. I did not know I was seeing the life force. I
> >honed my skill throwing hatchets knives and target practice with my
> >gun. At 16 I shoveled out the fish from all the fishing boats in the
> >harbor and learned to sit on the pile of fish while I watched my body
> >work. I thought I was pretty smart letting my body do all the work
> >because I wasn't tired and I didn't have to feel the pain. I spent
> >the money on a trip to Europe for a year trying to be free and
> >finding that was not possible with a body to feed. Taught myself how
> >to stop the words and learned to play with the inner energies of the
> >body. How to create pain or pleasure with focus of my will. Later I
> >decided I could create the sexual energy with the energy between my
> >eyes and concentrating on the energy behind my testicles. I practised
> >hours each night. It worked but it was much more then I had
> >antissapated because I raised my kundalini and had no idea what I had
> >done. I learned to exist without words and lived in the pleasure of
> >the kundalini, practising staying there in every facit of my life. I
> >met a yoga instructor in 1974 and she showed me books that explained
> >events of an identical nature. I was horrified because I was a
> >complete heddonist and had absolutly no desire for any form of
> >saintly life. I dug in my heals and resisted for all I was worth but
> >it was like strugling out of a muddy pit..There wasn't a soft spot in
> >me, and believed emotions were a primative animal response that only
> >a woman would indulge them selves in. I went to sea and stayed for
> >years but I kept becoming one with anything I did. Hiding from the
> >core of ones self is difficult. This energy was mine and I could
> >control it and manifest at will but somehow it always bit me in the
> >ass. I sometimes played at making people say and do things without
> >speaking. I hated authority but did not hessitate to comand. Men
> >followed me without question. If a storm was coming I cast off the
> >lines and put to sea in order not to miss it.
> >
> > My resistance to kundalini brought me a broken back and a ripped
> >off left foot followed by a broken neck and later during the Golf war
> >a crushed left big toe from a tank. I had incredible will, spiritual
> >insight, and an intellect capable of anything I turned my attention
> >to, but under my smilling face and eternal happiness was deep anger
> >and pain. At forty years old I plunged into my emotional healing
> >process. It remains in my mind as the most awful experience I had
> >ever had. I could not allow myself to hide in nervana and I had to
> >feel plus it took years because surrender to the feminine aspect of
> >myself was on the other side of my burried rage toward my mother and
> >I had to relinquish control. I'd rather have taken on a hurricane in
> >a row boat or ripped 10 men apart with my bare hands With my
> >intellect screaming in my ears that I didn't believe in any of this I
> >kept going. I took joy in facing and defying death, but to cry like a
> >baby and be vulnerable took everything I had. Everytime I got some
> >past trauma up I would say "there that is done" only to find there
> >was another and then another layer with no goal and no end only
> >heartache and pain. A rather ignoble end to a warrior. The process
> >was opposite to everything I had ever believed in. My family wanted
> >no more to do with me and my freinds who had followed me into the
> >teeth of hurricanes and called me Ahab, desserted in the face of
> >watching me bare my soul. I am surprised that they didn't hold a
> >funeral service for the sea captain and warrior gone soft in the
> >head, they might have but they didn't invite me.
> >
> > I tell you this not to elicit your sympathy put to share the
> >potential of pain in your growth and to assure you that every one of
> >you can travel your road and survive your pain.
> > Katrina will have to write her own story and her is no less
> >painfull. I have to go and help her with a horse she is training.
> >
> >Love and Peace to you all.
> >
> >Guy
Dear Chris,
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