The quote with the picture above by Dali, is from one of Ireland's most notable writers, James Joyce, whose works until recently, we censored in Ireland. His partner was a woman, who was born, in a village near my birthplace in Galway. He was also like myself partial to all sorts of whores, which is also the much argued theme of my favourite song Raglan Road, above. Some people say I'm still a bit of a whore myself and there might be some truth in it, but I wouldn't be listening to everything they say, for you're own peace of mind, if I were you.
James Joyce was so disgusted by the the two scum states of Ireland in exile, that despite dire circumstances abroad, leading up to his death, he refused to accept what passes to be an Irish passport. Like James Joyce, I have a love-hate relationship with Ireland, primarily because of its dark dirty secrets and hypocrisy, unlike James I am not much of writer, as most of ye can observe but then I am writing first for myself, so see if I'm bothered what ye think.
Below is an aggregate, of the only solution that I have found, with regard to a matter, that has seriously concerned and enraged me, since I was a young boy, growing up in the west of Ireland and which is currently topical, with even more revelations, regarding the ongoing abuse of children in Ireland, by professed Irish republicans, with an alleged dozen more revealed yesterday.
As I have learned in recovery, DENIAL is not a river in Egypt, and despite considerable recent media coverage of child abuse n Ireland, based on my considerable interactions there, the vast majority of Irish people are still in considerable denial about its reality and are still passively enabling it. With the help of the Big Spirit that I do not understand, who has taken good care of me, through the 12 Phukt Steps, whom I have come to trust, I hope the day never comes, where I would turn my back on my own people or sell out our age old dream of liberation.
I came across much of this material, while grappling with the 12 Phukt Steps, which are above in the right hand corner of this page. I used to think my lying was only about drinking. However, whenever I lied about how many drinks I had, it was because I had far more and I knew it. So, my lying was a symptom of my sickness. As I acquired more sober time, more and more has been revealed to me, with the help of many other people, some of them being mirrors of myself.
The saying, "we are as sick as our secrets,"applies to all parts of my life or to anything I am lying about today and I confess to be no born again virgin yet, nor do I aspire to be one. As I said, some whores are alright. I have learned that, when I start to stray off the road less traveled or lie about something, of the smallest detail, I try to stop right there and check my motivations and internal agenda, by taking a good, gentle look at what is really driving my fear of the truth of being revealed for who I really am.
I have learned that even a bit of blarney, to save someone else’s feelings are really not about saving them from hurt feelings, but trying to save myself by lying. For example, if my wife who just loves her new tee shirt of a female finger sucker and asks my opinion, while I think it's ugly, my first impulse to to lie, comes from fear of confrontation or the discomfort that comes, when I tell people something, she or they they do not want to hear. Jack Nicholson expresses it perfectly in " A Few Good Men," when he says, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH".
This seems to be precisely, what appears to be happening in Ireland currently, with regard to child abuse and child rape. I do try(occasionally) to be gently honest, without hurting their feelings or being hypercritical but sometimes it's just too phuckin frustrating, beating round the bush, so I have developed a lot of dirty talk, which comes in quite handy sometimes and feels quite liberating. However I have lost a lot of so called friends in the process but I have found a few quality ones instead. So it seems to boil down to a question of quality or quantity.
From experience, the consequences of lying, are far worse than the feared result to begin with. Telling fibs or blatant lies or withholding truth are all self destructive habits, I developed in my dysfunctional home and country of crazy behaviour, that denied both myself and other Irish people around me, dignity and respect. Most Dutch people people I knew, when living in the Netherlands for instance, would much rather hear a difficult truth than be lied to, even if a lot of them are cheese heads.
I differentiate my real friends from acquaintances, as the people who always get the whole story; whom I can tell anything, and vice-versa. If I ask them for the truth, I expect it, otherwise they are messing with my head, heart and spirit. It naturally follows, if I expect the truth from them, who am I, to ever withhold the truth from them. Intimacy from my own experience, is only possible when we tell each other the truth, everything withheld creates distance and barriers.
Likewise some of my biggest lies are lies of omission because context is really important. Without the truth, I was sometimes very lonely and had many conflicting feelings along with being very confused, that is mostly not the case anymore. I have learned, that there is always, some underlying fear of consequence, which I don’t want to face, with fear being the real culprit. My truth needs to be brought out into the bright light of Spirit, otherwise I am as sick as my secrets and I am infecting my immediate family and larger Irish family and in my case it is large indeed.
I learned with the above, to forgive, as I have been mostly forgiven, fortunately. In fact I have a confession to make. The primary reason, I celebrated when Maggie Thatcher died, was that it removed my last remaining resentment and my impulse to strangle the bitch. I had forgiven everyone from my past but Maggie was the big exception. I spent a lot of my time taking her inventory.
She had ordered the execution in cold blood of my country women and men. She was the principal cause of the death of 10 Irish hunger strikers. She contracted her father's disease of being a pedophile. She had two children and hated her husband Denis. Being the pervert that she was, she sought intimacy elsewhere, and brought the paedophile Jimmy Savile over for diversion at Christmas, while they both kiddie fiddled.
She had the audacity to tell her ministers, that all the Irish are liars. However recently observing the child rape debate in Ireland or more correctly non-debate, I horrifically have come to the conclusion, that perhaps there was more than a little grain of truth to what Maggie the bitch said. Forgive me please, I'm human and still trying to heal after 27 years of it, but it has been a wonderful trip, thanks to all you sick phuks for healing me, 12 phukin steps at a time!
