5/11, 8:42am L: – “So good morning! And, where are we?”
The Young Man: – Before I get into the Soap Opera part of the YYM’s life, I figured a bit of context is Appropriate. A rewind to the early stages of the Social or Public-Self, the Outside-Persona. I can’t tell the Soap Opera before filling in the lead-up. It’s essential for a fuller understanding of the YYM, which is vitally necessary for the Drama parts to come.
I mentioned the first town I lived in was small with the one school in a remote part of the country. The house we lived in was on a large lot with trees in front and back and a few other unique features. Like behind the house to the left an old broken windmill with a large junk pile underneath, next to an empty water tank on an unused cooler room.
Across from it, more or less in the middle of the large back area a mulberry tree, a most strategic asset because of the silk worming hobby for many kids. One of only two in the town.
Behind and to the right of the mulberry tree an old swimming pool with raised earth sides which had long since become a pond. Complete with frogs. Around the far side of the pond were three large awesome willow trees. And at the very back of the property a large dead reed-patch with marvellous small narrow pathways through it.
On the side of the pond opposite to the willows was a vegetable garden. And on that side of the property an open lot. On the willow side also a dirt street, rarely used by anyone. On the other side of the street the run-off gully from the town reservoir, an earthen dam in the middle of town. The gully was flanked by earth mounds on either side by way of raised banks.
Behind the reed-patch a main road leading to places far away. A tarred road. Beyond that open country, semi-desert bush-veld.
On the side of the house with the open lot, a narrow lane. Where, for a time, my father despite being the town doctor, incongruously kept a goat supposedly for its milk, which he had grown up on, but much to the botheration of my mother who saw it as “beneath” them. I do remember when the goat was slaughtered, after not too long in the lane, by a sort-of gardener. I never saw him do any gardening, and not sure what he did really, but he soon after wasn’t around anymore either. He did however show me how to eat prickly pears from the tree near the goat lane.
Watching him skin the goat, I noticed his expertise, and noticed I noticed, despite never having seen the procedure before. Always stayed with me, the artistry of his strokes as he separated the skin without damaging the lining underneath. Which I also understood without being told, would make a mess if torn or ruptured and the whole effort would become much more difficult. How we know such knowings, just know, fascinates me. Just as how so much is taken as a matter of course, if those doing have this attitude. Never would that man ever have imagined slaughtering a goat was anything other than commonplace and that’s the communication he automatically conveyed.
On the other side of the house, more or less in the middle of a sort of side yard across from a smallish stoop, another large tree, not sure what kind. An extensive creeper entangled its lower branches spreading from a metal garden arch it covered and connecting tree to house. A convenient if somewhat hazardous access my brother and I used for climbing onto the roof.
I’m starting a whole new story now. 🙂 <3
L: – “Yay! Tangentials.”
The Young Man: – Yeah lol. I have to have some purpose to write. Which here is to describe a starting point for the social-self. There’s some relevance to it as you’ll see in a minute.
L: – “‘Another Day. Just Breathe’… love those lyrics… on right now. 😀 By Telepopmusik Oh I get that… the U is guiding you… after all, you’re writing about ‘context’ lol.”
The Young Man: – Yeah. 🙂 🙂 I think of it not as writing, but as telling you the story. To me this is like you said, laying out some context for the coming soap opera. The larger context. It’s relevant, otherwise I think that story will lose a lot as its much connected to the society we lived in.
L: – “Yes… background props. 😀 ”
The Young Man: – But only because there’s connection. That’s most absolutely the way of it for me. Has to be relevance. The yard I’m describing is significant. I”m thinking maybe I should mention that beforehand. 🙂
L: – “Got it…. I realize, by now, that you’re not into trivia. Lol teeheee. Unless it’s related and then it’s NOT trivial. Bouncie dots! Yay!”
The Young Man: – In front three large poplar trees provided another climbing alternative with the additional benefit of neighbourhood surveillance. A”rockery” garden and a small lawn with a driveway on the open lot side presented a “respectable” frontage. The street out front also dirt and another open lot across the way.
The two nearest neighbours my first-grade teacher, well, everyone’s, an older woman who lived alone, and across the street a widow with an older simple boy who was mentally still somewhat similar to a first grader or even pre-schooler. Further up the street two families with children. One we interacted with because they were close in age to my elder brother and sister. Across the gully another family of three girls and two small boys younger than me. The girls were friends with my sisters.
The school on the other side of town making for a fairly long walk every day.
My memories from this part of my life are relatively sparse. There just wasn’t that much that went on. But there was significance. I loved that yard. A marvellous magical place where I spent most of my time.
Haha yeah and cool, love them Dancing Dots. 😀 😀 <3
L: – “I just want to say… I’m so H a p p y 🙂 <3 ”
The Young Man: – Yay yay yay L . 🙂 <3 🙂 It’s so amazing how for some reason most people regard being happy as an unusual state. When of course it’s the normal and usual. Yes?
L: – “Keep writing !!!! Didn’t mean to distract you.”
The Young Man: – Nah, you are never ever a distraction. Always a stimulus. <3 <3 <3.
L: – “But that’s ALL I needed to say! Keep writing!!!!! Let’s get lots of YYM out today! :D”
The Young Man: – I’ve hardly any memories of the inside of the house and could not describe it easily. I’d have to construct it more or less from exterior memories. There’s good reason. Being inside meant hassle. It meant being in range of my mother. And always for her there was something or other to fuss about. Being near her was pointless. No fun or joy or anything like that. She was just a nuisance and a bother mostly with absolutely no reason to be anywhere near her. I didn’t hate my mother, but I didn’t love her either. There just wasn’t anything to love. Besides, at that time, kids did kid’s stuff and adults did whatever they did. A clear and definite divide. The only time kids and adults interacted was to be given chores or when they were in trouble.
Rather an amazing setup. But suited me just fine. I was left to my own devices on a scale which is somewhat incomprehensible today. When outside I was completely unsupervised, even from pre-school years. I could go anywhere in the town, and did. So amazing. Excellent from a child’s point of view. I had freedom, as long as I was outside.
L: – “…”
The Young Man: – What amazed me about my mother was the logical disconnect. Lol, I had logic right out of the box somehow. When I was outside she never came out to see what I was doing, or my brother, who was the only other one to spend time outside. We did do some things together, but mostly I was on my own.
However, as soon as we went inside there was always some little things she had us do. Nonsense stuff. She just could not leave us alone when we were inside. Strange to me and made no sense. It wasn’t as if there was some backlog of things which needed doing which built up the more we were outside. I can’t even remember what kinds of things. Also, her underlying mood and feel as a person, wasn’t nice.
All I knew was inside wasn’t fun, and outside was freedom. That’s how I felt about outside, as freedom. I loved it also. There was fun and excitement and adventure. But first and foremost is was freedom, escape.
I spent much time in the trees. Climbing all of them to the very highest I could. Just spending time in them. But what I especially loved were what I called Remote Places. Not necessarily remote in location, just places where the connection to the social world is not present. Private spaces maybe. But it’s more than that, an energy thing. The *feel* of those spaces and places.
Forgotten spots possessing a very specific feeling of peace and joy, a contained excitement combined with contentment, freedom, and Power. Places with an element of the sacred. A particular feeling of non-religious Reverence and Grace. But I didn’t connect to those elements individually, but to an overall magic hard to describe other than they were special to be in and I sought them out as much as I could, spending most of my time in such spots. Alternating as the energy faded. Coming back to one I had not been in for a while and discovering its delights all over again as if anew.
L: – “Love trees!!!! <3 Yes…the perspective… and, it may change you yet again, I suspect… very powerful, this writing of the story and looking back at Then, with Now eyes. 🙂 ”
The Young Man: – Yeah. What’s interesting about the perspective on the Remote Places, those magical spots, the power’s still there. Never changed for me. I continue to feel them the same way. I guess Magic is Magic. One can’t go any more past Magic. Which brings me to one such especially special space. 🙂
[I’ll add in here the introduction I wrote for this part of the Young Boy’s Story for a post I made of this particular episode after I told it to L, as it’s different, and written differently.]
“I’d like to Share a Personal Story from when I was about five or six to illustrate a number of points which I believe to be most important. First, the story below is a true story, written via the immersion of the Me-of-Now into the Me-of-Then and the Experience-of-Then. This is the first key Understanding.
At the time, the experience was fundamentally transformative. A big deal then in terms of accomplishment, in the many ways illustrated in the story. However, my Me-of-Then, while knowing the big-dealness of the points articulated in this telling, came by them differently. I knew then for instance that backing down from a logical challenge, one well within my capabilities, one only governed by fear, was something I would not easily deal with or “live down” within myself. Giving in, in this way, even once, I felt would be enough to affect me. I knew this then, but, would not have been able to explain it as clearly as I can now. The big deal is bringing the fullness of that Understanding-of-Then into the Awareness-of-Now. It’s an of owning it, and an Owning of Ourselves. Most powerful.
Further, when recounting a Memorable-Event such as this, when we go totally into the immersion of remembering for the purpose of the retelling, much More is accessed than via the usual remembering. We tend to remember the whole when we casually remember, not the step by step moment to moment experiences as they unfolded. But, in each moment there is much, much power and Awareness-of-Self, if we choose to access in this detailed immersive way via a re-telling.
Our Self-of-Now can add significantly to the re-experiencing. At the time I indeed felt a strong pull from that Sanctuary and also the powerful pull of vertigo from the height and from Earth. I did not then fully realise how much I had already conceptualised them as Abstracts. Especially with Earth, or The Land as I would think of it then. I had a deeper love for The Land than I realised consciously back then. But it was certainly there, the feeling. This terminology only came into full usage for the Me-of-Now via the re-counting.
I used to feel that feeling of vertigo in my stomach whenever I thought of the those moments at the top, throughout the years I have remembered this life-event. But, the detailed and intense re-telling of it all, in this way, has removed those feelings and others. This Memorable-Event no longer pressures me to remember it. I have extracted the Lessons and Awarenesses I needed to. A most powerful point and value which comes from a detailed articulation of these kinds of experiences.
At the time though I did not think in Abstract Concepts as much as I do now. A mode of thinking and conceiving which adds tremendously to my experiencing of Life. Blending that mode of conception into the re-telling made the recounting and re-living a much more potent experience for me. A combining of the Me-of-Then into the Me-of-Now, and perhaps the reverse also. A most powerful benefit of this simple but complex undertaking. A Life-Doing I highly highly recommend when it comes to Memorable-Events or Significant-Experiences, those which stay with us and don’t leave, coming back to us time and time again, until we unlock their magic fully through thorough re-telling via a full Immersion.
There’s a kind of peace which is hard to describe that’s the end result. A freeing of energy, an easing of subtle pressure. Most excellent, besides all the advantages of gained Perspective, Understanding and Awareness. We think we know and remember those experiences, but, until we go back into them, we don’t really, we just believe we do.
Knowing their power, the hearing of these kinds of stories from others is for me a Joy indeed. <3 ”
When I think back to my time in that small country town, the connection to those special spots is the only significance which stands out to me. It’s interesting I don’t consider it a connection to nature specifically. Yes many of those places are in nature, but they can be anywhere.