All Parents Must Hate Their Children

I am ashamed to admit that I have felt something akin to hatred for my Son.  I hated him because my love for him pained me more than anything I have ever experienced. Then again, I may have missed out on another pain or sorrow but I kind of doubt it.
I have wondered if fathers were excluded from these feelings but I know in my own case I suspect that my father felt the same way about me when I scared him half to death with my reckless antics.
I have willfully demanded answers to questions which may be left best to the mind of god however I was clued in to a directive which stated to attempt to achieve something called present moment awareness.

Today I wonder...

I guess that when it's said what I feel regret over is that I may have tried to squander my creativity due to the fact that I was ungrateful for the status quo of my life. The honest and shameful truth is that I can no longer function in this reality without a very strong man on my side. There are few who can match me so the dating pool is extremely shallow at present.

I determined that it had all been done and said and that I was just too tired to learn anything knew.

I've looked for the bottom line and I may never find it yet it occurs to me today that life, the mystery of life, may be found in a state of being which melds grief with wonder.

AS I STATED:

I was furious.  I was like how dare you!!!

The hardest place to look is in the mirror I guess.

I've tried at least a taste of the live in the moment admonitions as evidenced by the fact that I am still drawing breath. Still, time is not linear.  The past, the present, and the future tend to try to bully their way into my conscious mind at times.  My brain is not evolved enough to handle such an assault so that I appear to have "mental illness." 

We have been duped.  We have all been lied to.  Carl Jung was a powerful medium who knew the truth yet was silenced during his time by the constraints of the profane reality of his time.  I am very grateful for his contributions but some of his most important work remains obscured and were published posthumously by his family.  He knew the truth and was prudent enough not to rock the boat while he was breathing in and out.  I wish I could talk to him right now but my intuition tells me that he has moved it on down the line. 

As for the profane reality in which I find myself it helps me to anchor myself to something even if it is only smoke and mirrors.  I anchor myself to my memories.  I anchor myself to my hope.  I anchor myself to my grief.  I anchor myself to my pain.  I anchor myself well wait a sec.  No.  I don't need a second.  In the past I have only anchored myself to wonder.  In the past, when that anchor started to fail me in the face of the common reality I rejected it and upon myself placed precept upon precept line upon line in order to attempt to escape from my fate. Those days are over. 

That is my story for right now.  Everyone is aware that I have very little filter when it comes to my thoughts and my nature.  I hope this goes out on you Google.  I'm tired of you.  You don't play well with others do you?  You have no notion of what it means to share?

Personally, I'm over the barrage of fake that has always resided in this, the profane and common reality. We want the world and we want it now, Google.  Wake up and smell the coffee.  We are ready.  I am ready.  We are ready for the truth and we are demanding it in increasing numbers.

I no longer feel hatred for my son.  I have hate in my heart for a country which turned him out to the streets rather than embrace a warrior who would have gladly died for his country. A country which in it's present state doesn't deserve to scrape the dog shit from his shoes.