Finally, some relief from the sheer chemical and implant hell that has been my life for the last three years.
Regrettably, the speed that I am forcefed continues to make it impossible for me to read or pray; the reason for this is because speed very effectively prevents me from entering the "contemplative" state--the "feminine," receptive yet active state of readiness that allows fruitful entry, pondering, and either deep acceptance or conscientious rejection of ideas, thoughts and concepts.
From my philosophical view as a Christian, the ability to excercise the contemplative life is paramount. Before the drugging began, I would say that years of spiritual discipline had resulted in me living over 70% of my life in the contemplative state, and it was very easy for me to begin or end my day in such a state by just reading some Scripture, poetry, or truly reflective prose or fiction. If I had had a rocky day or night, it was a surefire, quick and easy way to get back in touch with the depths of my being. For years, I have worried about the decline of reading in our population because it is clear to me that people who read are people who think and dialogue clearly and fruitfully. It is not that non-readers are unintelligent, but rather that their thought processes, opinions, and conversations are not structured in the contemplative readiness and response which I find to be the mark of a more fully realized, potentiated human being. So by stealing my ability to live in the contemplative state, my persecutors are stealing my humanity--as the Christians would quote from St. Ireneous--"the glory of God is the human being fully alive". I now live less than 1% of my life in the contemplative state. It is possible to read, but only from a superficial, information gathering standpoint, not from a creatively receptive and evaluative state. Words in and of themselves no longer evoke a deep "feeling" (as opposed to merely "emotional" response. This is why I, who used to read poetry nearly every single day, can no longer read the classic poets whose books line my bookshelves. I read a line over and over but it makes no sense to me, as it did for the first 43 years of my life. What a loss!
The speed also causes me (and anyone else who is under its baneful, pernicious influence) to suffer from constant anxiety and agitation--no more deep peace of the contemplative state I've read over and over again (and have encountered in my own personal and career experience) that speed is the one drug most associated with demonic spirits, and I believe it. (Heroin and cocaine destroy the user, but they don't create the same intensity of desire in the user to lash out to others in destructively violent hate and rage. I know, because I can smell it on my own body, that I have this evil spirit of anxiety, anger, and agitation riding me, and I can't get rid myself of it because I cannot get in touch with that contemplative state that allows the Holy Spirit to come and take over my life and being (I used to experience frequent indwelling by the Holy Spirit; I can honestly say that indwelling has never happened since the chemical invasion began 21/2 years ago. What the speed does is block the "deep feeling function," "holy desire," the receptive yet active (ie, contemplative) yearning for God. While they can't sever my faith in God's presence, they do successfully disrupt my ability to present myself to God in an experiential state of contemplation.
Finally, while speed may help most people with productivity and increased concentration, with me it is the exact opposite. Being naturally (and very healthily) hyperactive, the speed slows and drags me down, making the simplest of tasks seem overwhelming and protractedly difficult. It is a struggle to maintain my once truly remarkable and prodigious ability to concentrate and focus. It is like having a perpetual case of the flu--just constantly trying to stay on task.
Having said all this I do feel a little bit better. Last night I watched a rerun of a comic X-files, and I was surprised to find myself laughing at the antics and idiosyncrasies of Scully and Mulder. It's been a long time since I have been able to laugh like that because it has been a long time since I took delight in the emotional life and foibles of another. Yet that is such a human gift--without it, life is unbearably heavy.
So what happened to make that change--well, I finally am learning how to combat the implants in me, and have neodynimium (sp?) magnets taped to my body (starting out slowly, trying it on the elbow implants, but so far the results are so impressive, I think I will be moving on to more sensitive, implanted areas). Finally the feeling of "deadness" and inflammation in my arms is declining. I am still not 100%, but my arms and hands feel so much better. I was so arthritic in my hands that I was in constant pain--gripping the steering wheel, drinking from a glass, even splaying my fingers out on a table top or bed all caused severe arthritic pain in my finger joints (ALL GONE!). And my arms are starting to look normal again, gone is the plumped out, stuffed sausage look caused by all the edemic fluid in my arms which were caused by the implants. Hopefully, I will soon be able to do the same with my legs but that is trickier because while I know they are caused by the implants in my back, I am not sure of their precise location. But I am on the right track, Tita, and I just have to keep going. It is such a slow and tedious process that involves a lot of research on the web, most of which is repetition or marginally helpful, but little by little I am building a database in my head--just don't want to spell it all out. Time to go--I've forced myself to write that last 10 or 15 minutes, since the speed is disrupting my ability to concentrate and write, but I think I can let go now...till next time.
