Cold Sunny Sunday
The Tao is infinite, eternal.
Why is it eternal?
It was never born; thus it can never die.
Why is it infinite?
It has no desires for itself; thus it is present for all beings.
The Master stays behind; that is why she is ahead.
She is detached from all things; that is why she is one with them.
Because she has let go of herself, she is perfectly fulfilled.
Where is the boundary between a broken and a fully functioning mind? I was brought up in a strange way, nurtured by a woman with a tortured mind and encouraged to act as a kind of sop for her relief. I was always very trusting. My father was pushed out of my life, I was always troubled when I saw him as to what I should or should not say, where the boundaries were. He took his own life when I was 21, that's why Granny hasn't got anyone else to look out for her. I was used in an awful way by my mother, from the moment I was born until about a year ago.
I am troubled because she sent that email yesterday. A hi how are you as though we'd only been out of touch for a week. She's like that, she'll pretend that nothing bad has ever happened once a few months have passed by. She'll be very careful in what she says for a while. Nothing is ever her fault. If I reply then she will take that as an invitation for a deluge of communication, and as a reinforcement of her own belief that she was right all along. She is entitled to her own opinion yet experience has shown me that she has absolutely no ability to even hear the opinions of others.
I'm not angry with her about the past, not any more. I just have no wish to share any sort of bond or communication with her at all. The way she sees it that her life is beyond her control, it always has been. She is a victim of circumstance, but look how wonderful she is! How bravely she's dealt with those circumstances. Yeah right. She's a kind of martyr to herself, a proper headfuck.
There is no honesty, only self-delusion. The paradox is that I was raised almost exclusively by her, she would allow almost no one else to have any sort of input into my life. Her way is how I was brought up to think. Her lack of friends meant that a trusting son could always be relied to listen to her. I was lucky in that I was sent away to school at the age of seven, I got to know that there might actually be an alternate reality. I always cared about her, so I listened, all my life until a year ago.
I don't care for my mother now but it troubles me that I cannot care for her. It's a paradox between my nature and my nurture, but I'm not a sop for her social dysfunction anymore. It annoys me that she ruined my weekend by barging into my headspace, pushing me back to trying to assimilate her way of thinking with my own. Making me write all this introspective crap.
Enough already, Granny is clattering plates in the kitchen, the ham is cooked in the oven and there's eggs to done. Nice!
