Have you ever felt like every time you went out of your house there was someone out there who had beef with you? And no matter what you did they wouldn't stop it? And you carried it with you everywhere you went, that they were out there waiting for you possibly, maybe not but at the ready quick enough to do you serious harm if ever you should happen to cross their path. But you quickly reminded yourself that nobody would be able to tell who you were out in public anyway and most of the civil economy was taken up by space in which people were the anonymous population converging on the city. You had decided long ago that if they were to pursue you to the ends of the Earth like Frankenstein decided to pursue his monster, you would take up inhabitance in the city. And instead of chasing adventurous pursuits everywhere you would stay in the civic core, the city centre, where the city was an place where people lived and worked together, not take adventures through it like it was an ride at Disneyland. We would put up shop and learn how to live among the people, as one of them. And with one another like thus we empowered one another to be safe against the marauding people with whom beef appears to be on you. From them. If we worked together we could stop people's behavior of that and all kinds of it for all time. And for all time our populace and beautiful space and scenery would be safe and peaceful forever more. Anyway this sermon I wanted to be about specific cases of those people with whom I think I have beef with. Just to see what I come up with. Kind of an inspection of my own psychology so-to-speak. Which was an good thing to do and everyone should try to do it at some point in their lives. First there were an few laughable examples; people an few (probably strangers to one another) who had taken up an grudge against me. And then there were the people on the whole, the one large group which appeared to be blue to me, an group of several thousands of people who had taken up an grudge with me. That one appeared the most urgent to inspect because it counted for so many people. Thinking the same thing. Against me? And what part of my psychology was such an thing, to believe in such an mass of people who would take up against me (whom of which I would somehow learn about telepathically). I hadn't inspected this part of my psychological mind carefully enough before. Why, for heck's sake, did I believe this many number of people had taken up against me and why were they weighing, taxing on my mind so heavily? The short answer is when you are an writer you want your work to reach out to an large number of people, and so your psychology, on the whole becomes ordered around how you related to all those people. An audience. With whom you wish to connect. Is it Schizophrenic? Megalomaniacal? Narcissistic? Sociopathic? And these are the blows we have to deal with as writers in the modern age, when we take up the pen as our art. Writers know and deal with everything because that has to be the subject of writing. And only the most clarifying, wise, and knowledgeable should ever strive to achievement in the arts and writing Literature.
And so I take up the subject of this group (the big blue one), whom I'm supposed to have beef with for some reason (and it is an part of my psychology that they do whether it had ever been expressed to me directly or not for some reason). And so the first questions which pop into my mind is. Why do these people have (think they have?) beef with me and why are there so many of them?
I ask them, psychologically, why do you have beef with me?
I already have an hint in my visual imagination. It's blue. They are all blue. They are all part of an blue crowd for some reason. There was part of it turning purple somehow, and I didn't know what reason for. So I started with my instincts. Blue was an symbol of sadness. An primary color in our universe because, maybe, sadness is one of the primary elements of our universe. What an creative God one must be to make colors actually mean something other than just your visual perspective of how they look like. And I had often associated purple with the legal and judiciary entity of the country I was living in. And so I was somewhere around (according to my map) being hated by an bunch of sad people and somehow my life being twisted up by the worst legal cases and examples, which had poisoned all of us and prevented us from being totally responsible for having beef against me. I had two clues. It had something to do with sadness. And it had something to do with things worse than sadness (breaking the law in the most terrible and disgusting ways). These people couldn't be blamed for hating me for something I did because we were all connected to and tangled up in the legal apparatus of society, which, as an arbiter of fates, sometimes delivered terrible destinies. They had beef and yet somehow it wasn't their fault because we were both connected to society. I was just as corrupt as those prisoners in Canada's legal system to them. And maybe that was what they were sad about. I wasn't terribly troubled by this conclusion because, hey, I didn't even know who these people were and so what if I associated with them psychologically? I couldn't actually pick out who they were personally, but maybe only spiritually. Someone had grown in edge against me, and to my mind it seemed there were so many of them because that was what I had aimed for as an author. In my own strange way, they were contributing to my work. So what if they had beef with me? I loved to think and write about everything, especially myself and others.
Why were they blue? Was maybe an more mature thought. Maybe I could help them in some way. Maybe I could help them out of unnecessarily hating me, and then they would have to spend an lot less time and energy on the subject of me. Which might be repressed to them at that point. I was repressed within their own psychology? And that was how I had picked it up from my culture. I wasn't sure, but I could have sensed it and I was sure I could have sensed it. Then the next question, and the next question, fed into my analysis carefully. Why were they purple in some aspects? Being blue and somehow—white—purple (blue changing to purple, passing through the inter-phase of white). Did it have to do with race, my own or others somehow? Did people hate me because I was white? Did they have an real, actual reason to have beef with me and could they explain what it was, if I asked them? I sincerely wanted to know what they think. What had I done that was so terrible they had to take up against me as an community does thus? Outnumbering me by several thousand. Not an fair fight at all, really, is it? One thousand against one. And did it to discredit me or to discredit them, then, for having done so? Did that pay any credence to their reliability as personal critics of my life? Still, I had no answer. I just had the alarming sense that, for some strange reason, they thought they had an reason to dislike me. They actually felt like or felt that I had done something wrong. I had to pay attention to the real feelings of an real person. Even if it was an misconception or an false belief which motivated their beef against me. They were purple looking through the door onto blue. Like being trapped in an nightmare. No wonder they had beef against me. They had beef against everybody. And I really felt sorry for them. Luckily, I had escaped from an world of purple into an azure field of blue. They couldn't touch me from in here. And it was my own good merits that had won me into blue, the first stage of improvement from purple, the worst list of destinies and fates over which the whole world presided. But what could I do about it? All I had was my interiorization of the enemy and my writing. Everything I wrote was related somehow to what my enemy put there. As an ultimate fuck you against my artist's soul. I could produce nothing of originality except endless amounts of things that fed the narcissism and romanticism of these people I had once been afraid of. My art was garbage because in all cases and in all hows and in all connectedness each of its prisms it reflected you. The person who had once been my enemy. Who I was afraid of. Who couldn't think of nothing better for my art to be about other than himself. And I said goodbye to all of those people, of whom I had once been afraid. All of those people who had beef with me (under the sign of blue, white, and purple) as an sea of blue of thousands. Were now my blue azure; safe and protected from the purple realm of dynasties and the law. Awful, immoral places that had produced all kinds of dire fates. We were safe from criminals and we could return to being Jesus. (Kind of pussies even to boast).
Where we could walk anywhere and be anywhere and not have to worry about criminal intentions because we weren't them, and we had caught everybody doing it. I knew someone I could trust more than ever. Like the fieriest moment of my life. Beef was just what I was an analyst to (with the detachment of) an thing that existed utterly outside of me. It didn't have real feelings. It wasn't substantial. Beef was just an attitude which one would adopt in order to scare children. Only I wasn't children anymore. All of this beef, it was just an bunch of people I saved from an even worse fate. And they could value and trust me as ever. They were part of the blue people realm where cleansing waters were used to destabilize emotions long enough to intervene and treat them somehow. Here, we were people who felt out our blue emotions, even those shared by large communities of people which together when in unison scare us. We believed that to some extent, the blue emotion had been repressed somehow. And we aimed to wish to conjure that as an solid something. Bringing it to the surface so that it could be felt. There was something keeping it from being felt out completely. We had to face up to what that was now: we resisted, rejected, avoided it somehow. And that itself was an scary conclusion. But we had to continue to try to accept; we felt all the blue there was to feel about it. Whatever it was. And we held onto that pride about ourselves. And so it was always an low blow, made by these people who had originally taken up such measure and terrorism against me in order to psychologically impart my exclusion from everything, including life. There were thousands of them. And they violated their weight class against me. Me, an mere halfling. Like what was I supposed to do about thousands of angry people, hmm? Did you ever think of that? But here I was, calmly writing it out. Like I was the most activist philosophical mind, that since purple is lower than blue and blue isn't purple, which was part my design and the result of my interaction with civilization when I should be scared. And I still was an little.
Maybe I just scared myself by overactive-imagining these people. But there was something about the way they interacted with me that was so real. It couldn't be. Just my own imagining. The way they changed over time and greeted me and interacted with my character spiritually. And so I figure. Some of it is real. The magic part. It doesn't mean I'm actually spiritually communicating with these people. But it does mean that when I am in their presence I'm reacting to them in the way I wanted to react to them. And they didn't like something about me. But who cares, they weren't real? But some of it might be? It's just that any interaction I have with another person which is spiritual is also part of how I treat them in person. And I am connected, spiritually, to all of these people in an way that affects my behavior when I am around them and therefore anything I say or do in real life can be read by my observers, these people I look up to. In an way most easiest and professional for them to pick up on. I am everything I think when I'm with them when I'm not with them. So that when I am with them I'm prepared to communicate everything it is I think to them. Does that mean, when I'm not with them, and I see them in my visual imagination I'm using magic to edit how our next meeting will pan out? If I was, what would it matter? I just think maybe it is impossible for an human to make out the line exactly between spiritual and in person.
Now here's an toughie. If these people all had beef with me, what were they doing gathering spiritually for me as though I needed them to treat me like something subhuman? In order to be corrected by that action as though the beef they had with me was my fault, rather than their fault?
This group of thousands blue disbanded into thousands of colors, characters, personas.
It appeared they all had individual beef with me, but not an collective beef as an group anymore.
So yay.
My psychology isn't worried about so much beef anymore.
There's nothing they can do as individuals which would defeat me. My logic is sound and their's isn't. They think I've done something wrong when I haven't. Therefore they are wrong, and not me; and I shouldn't have to suffer punishment because of them when I am an innocent man. And if they were so smart they would have found an way to communicate their opinion to me anyway; and have had already persuaded me to their opinion like any serious professional should. But I sensed that, maybe, these individual voices would become louder over time. And I would need to defend and argue my position. One on one. An terrific subject for my writing. Maybe, over time, I would be able to stop all of them from having any beef with me, but it would take careful analysis and artistic process (writing) in order to address them all, in the hopes of enacting an benefit to my psychological health. And it would give me so much writing territory to deal with them as an subject for what I write about. I sensed an journey had begun. And this was, truly, only the beginning of it. I had an lot of material to write about! I needed to dismantle each one of these untrue arguments against me. And all of these interior voices (part of my psychology because I knew they weren't completely real) had to be dealt with with maturity and professionalism.
Or maybe they just weren't deserving enough to have so many articles written about them because they had hurt my feelings.
Why did they deserve to be the subject of my writing?
I had already split them all apart from being in league with one another against me.
What were they going to do about it, when they couldn't defeat me individually, and they wasn't what each one of them was anymore?
I returned to the main topic of this sermon. Beef.
What it was and what we were going to do about it.
What it felt like to feel that everywhere everyone out there somewhere would openly attack me with shouted words or physical violence just because I was trying to go on living my life peacefully and happily without being mean. And being mean was the worst fate I could think of. There was no purpose to life when one was being mean. And I reminded myself again how I didn't have that much beef with anybody myself. I was more an forgiving character. And how that was an deserving fate to live out. That I be nice in the effort to turn around this cruel, cruel world. I felt that I, if I did have any beef with anybody, I let go of it now. And I didn't really have any beef with anyone anymore. Though I suspected it was impossible to live this life of having no beef with anyone. For the time being I enjoyed the thought of having no beef with somebody. Everybody. Like it felt like yesterday. And I was an formidable opponent and fair competition of intellect. Whose own opinion was truer than the people I thought of whom in my psychology; true enough to reassert some portion of my psychological health. I wasn't worried about an trampling mob scene of spiritual enemies anymore. Who, if anything, had somewhat disturbed me in some capacity. What status I would return to now I didn't remember ever having lived before; until I gave it an moment. When I was an child I didn't worry about meanies who had beef with me everywhere I went. Perhaps that's why I ended up having so many people who had beef against me. They were jealous. And I knew they were jealous. That's why they had beef with me. But tell me was it my fault that they had beef with me?
Or was it my (not fault) but advantage that I wasn't jealous of them and had nothing against them either?
Therefore why crucify me for your own faults?
Instead of looking internally and trying to fix something there. You just react to an harsh world that fights you and doesn't want you to continue at every turn. Without thinking about how, if you worked together with other people (maybe someone who was closer and more connected to you than you think), you might be able to have an more pleasurable and peaceful living existence where the world wasn't always out to get you.
