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Society doesn't really care for madmen. It actually thinks they're pretty wacko. But the more I thought about it, the mind itself was what was really wacko. I mean just try to follow any train of thought for just one minute. It's almost impossible. The mind's flying in all kinds of fucking directions.
It really is. And a lot of these thoughts are just memory. Like it's all in the past. It's all dead already. But then it was back to the mind with all it's hungers. The therapy group congregated around the doc and we started to say goodbye to each other. There was also this cute psycho-therapist who had
the face of an angel. She definitely was interested; and it wasn't hard not to be interested in her. I mean she had it all. But something inside me said, " WHOE, BOY! " It's like my desires were going to really kill my spiritual quest and I didn't want this. But another part of me said, " Go for it, Fool! " I
was getting confused. I was at war with myself. The mind had won. FUCK!

The doc and I had a private session and he strongly urged me to tell my dad to have surgery. I was surprised by this remark, but I accepted it.

" You mean he should have surgery? " I asked.
" Yep! " he answered.
" But he wants to really cure his body with his mind, " I pleaded.
The doc sat back in his chair and just put his fingers to his mouth. He was quiet for a minute.
Then he said: " I think he's a foolish man. He's fighting with something he doesn't even understand. " He said this with such conviction that he scared the shit out of me and made me real quiet. I mean QUIET.

" But his illness is making him start a spiritual journey, " I added.
" He's going to have a spiritual journey, regardless of whether he has surgery or not, " he intoned. " I think he should cut out, what can be cut out; and employ every mental resource he's got afterward. This business is going to force him to draw on everything he's got anyway."

He finished our interview with a flourish. Yep, it was a really sobering interview. As far as I was concerned, the doc then said: I should face my phobias head on. That it was always unwise to project my internal divisions outward; and that I needed to relax into all my psyches and to welcome all challenges. Boy, what a mouthful!

The doc also said I had this gift for integrating large chunks of information quickly and that my gift was coated with this great feeling-intellect. He said it was pretty rare too. The doc emphasized as usual, the expansion of awareness, not the exaggeration of the intellect. He urged us all not to run away from our psyche; and to not split it by going to war against it. He wanted us to really claim our entire psyche. Not to disown any of it.

The doc was something of an anarchist. I just love anarchists! But the doc was a sweet one. He had this laugh which came from deep inside his heart. He really cared about me. The doc could be often really blunt. Like he said I had this tendency to retreat into myself when people imposed their shit on me.

It was a strong defense mechanism to hide my vulnerabilities. This was OK to a point, but ultimately this over-protection led to a gloomy isolation. Which was no good. It really wasn't. The doc also said I had a tendency to get pretty lazy; and that it took a lot to move me. Like a disaster, maybe?

My dad was off the wheat-grass and into his laetrile phase. He would go off to Baja and take me along sometimes. I didn't like going to these clinics because they all looked kind of sleezy and the people inside looked pretty desperate. I mean it was like fantasy island. Serums, these gas and heat treatments. I don't think any of this stuff was documented well enough. So I wasn't that confident it would make a difference. I just wasn't. But my dad was totally against any surgery. There was no changing his mind. PERIOD.

My dad was also consulting a lot of psychics. They were all members of these spiritualist churches. One of them became good friends with me. He was an English fellow who liked to talk about spiritual laws. I came to him for guidance. He was the only person who made me calm, really. One of the first things he said was that my third book would be this gift from the heavens. That it would be the BIG ONE. I thought this was a bit odd at the time because I wasn't really planning on writing another book anytime soon. I had already written two and they had been rejected by three publishers.

This English psychic also told me that the struggle between the inner and outer needed to be harmonized or I would lose my balance and end up in a really bad way. He felt worrying would be no good at all. The material crisis I found myself in was leading to a spiritual search. The market was teaching me lessons that I needed to understand and digest. But he didn't even see me, being in the markets in the distant future. Some sort of karma still needed to be worked off. Tension was the way to do this. I meekly accepted it.



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The following comments are for "Harvest of Gems: Dealing with Death"
by gamblerman





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