Don’t Judge…. Just Choose

So you like judging others lives while skipping your own?

Everyone has an opinion. Does that make everyone wrong?
Everyone has a perspective. Does that make everyone right?

If you subscribe to a weaker set of morals and values than the next person, does that make you less valuable an opinionated person than the one subscribing to a higher code of conduct?

So, you wanna judge, huh?

What standard are you using to measure your behavior by? Your imagination? Your “unstable as water” emotions? Your older “mistake riddled” relatives? Your deceased friends? Your high school and college textbooks? Your bible?

The non-violent Hindu referred to as “Ghandi” had an opinion about Jesus Christ and Christianity. Article

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Tim had one too.
So does Jeff’s Blog.

With the passage of time, the addition of even more articles can effectively blur his quotes even further from the truth of its origin….eventually watering them down to a mere opinion, a myth, an intangible set of ideals wrapped up in a mere memory.

And we trust historians? I don’t think so. Gotta choose to find the truths of his life..gather a sense of what he was about. Same with Jesus. There are records of ancient data with testimonials of people….but ultimately truth is possessed by the possessor.

People have used similar methods of deception by flooding via opinions, perspectives, story telling, unsubstantiated facts offered as theories…. in watering down the truth of events…for centuries.

I struggled with conveying truths to my two siblings as they approached teen years. Their mothers (different age and ethnic origin) were fiercely adamant about covering up the truth….hiding the facts. They willingly forced their perceptions and fears upon my kids that would haunt them to this day. They altered their birth names, disguised the paternal information and ascribed their care giving to another male who’s DNA and level of love had nothing to do with my kids need for their real father who was not deceased. They were raised like I was unreachable… like I never tried to gather and embrace them,  all in an attempt by the mothers to cover up the truth. And the moms had help to do this. Can you imagine? What a conspiracy?!

Yet, God gave me an early warning prior to this baby mama drama, and I didn’t heed it. I recalled the one woman (young lady at the time) who convinced me I was the biological father of her newborn girl, even put me on the birth certificate….but married off soon after the child was born.

Took me 15 years to uncover that lie…but uncover it I finally did. I couldn’t believe the outcome at first. Next had to tell the truth to all those that believed the lie along with me for all those years.

My kids get to choose and to judge at some point. It’s the truth that will make them free eventually. In the meantime….well… God only knows. I’ve yet to see the Tiger in them (just a feminine version of Simba so far). I guess that’s as far as the mom’s and co-conspirator’s could take them. My kids were entitled to the truth.. and to my presence.

Oh I have a story…. not enough space in a blog though. True fathers… get ready, set….. grow!

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The more pain you try to coverup, the more you run, why is that?

How to know when you’re fearful as opposed to being careful.

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From the Movie "Training Day" caption

If I talk to you about Chinese checkers, and you never played it, you probably wouldn’t react passionately about anything related to these checker games in China. Lol. (Supposed to be a joke). So, listen, if I refer to something that you have no connection to whatsoever, it’s expected that you are numb to the information and so you’re indifferent to it as well. NO REACTION.

But on the other hand, if I say something to you and you now react in some type away …. it shows you are affected by what I said… you could be in a certain type of way…and not even know it.

Okay, let’s go one step further.

So, now if I move closer to you with a phone call, or a text, or a visit, or simply just an idea or thought for us to join together,… and you react in such a way that you run, or disappear, or become preoccupied, or become obsessed with something other than what was about to be discussed… you might have some real pain. In fact, it ain’t no might in it. You DO have real pain inside….and you are running.

The problem with this “Run Forest run…” behavior is that it is repetitive and duplicatable, and it follows you to every juncture where you encounter big opportunities, and any moments that have an emotion of pain attached to it potentially. All this evasive behavior starts in our youth, and parents sometimes helped foster this bad reaction that you repeatedly have to events of significance in your life. It’s not just being “nervous”… it’s the affects of the silent trauma to your emotions which had its beginning in custodial issues.

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Captions from "Training Day" Denzel...

I see this pain as it relates to my own life, especially with my non custodial sons. Their mothers (one black, the other Italian) didn’t know that as a result of their parental selfishness, their first born children would have this evasive reaction to huge moments in their life that would follow them into their teenage decision making. My elementary school aged boys became naturally anxious to be with me, so much so that their moms incorrectly and fearfully interpreted it as unnatural and in need of medical/psychological intervention (for which I didn’t agree at all).
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When it came to isolating the kids from their biological father (for any jack ass reason at all) my sons (who are years apart in age and different in race) surpressed and internalized their feelings year after year. They began to deal with their own intrinsic paternal seperation questions by using the comic relief of cartoons and video games (the electronic babysitter commonly used by their moms). I could see the pain in their eyes when I dropped my sons…my only sons… off.

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Caption from Movie "Training Day"

Tough part in all this… this dad wanted to be there for his sons from day 1. But these moms just chose to be with that “other guy”. They could care less about me as a person…. they just wanted the dna. I chose badly…. that’s all.

I remembered the questions the young lads asked me as to when we could go out together again and how soon that would be. They were cautioned (by their moms) not to get too happy about these scarcely planned visits that the moms rationed for their own selfish reasons. I remember being hindered from sharing with my sons the details of why the separation had to take place at drop off, and in some cases they were so young they really only wanted to have a good time, they didn’t care about the cause as to why, they just didn’t want the pain. Still true up to this day.

I also remember the long, silent rides home. And I recalled the pain that I too felt…. with all its quiet simmering hurt. I went searching for my music…. and my comfort food because I saw the fractured state of my family. I never liked it… but I knew I did everything I could to avoid it.

Their mothers, incapable of understanding the depths of this silent cry within these young men, were blinded by fears they possessed as females unbridled. They were oblivious as to how this silent pain would turn itself into a quiet storm of anger in both sons,… looking for a way to release itself from out of their own young emotional cavern of thoughts. They (the moms) after all, where not men… and didn’t exercise the wisdom that dictated that they not try to replace that biological bond with dad…. with a cheaper substitute (usually a different love interest). These moms eventually found in one another a comradery in motherhood… a mutually shared selfishness, a twisted sense of self denial that my boys were forced to live with and get used to as “just normal”. As sons, they couldn’t speak up without upsetting their moms, no way could they express their pain from deep down inside…they could only listen to the drama unfolding before them and watch… the tv.

Later on down the road in high school my sons sometimes could channel that anger into areas that produced enough energy for them to burn and use to excel in sports, to overcome a deficit of peace that pain rendered, separating my kids from just a peaceful, stable comfortable maturation process. And in the end… dysfunctional living for them was accepted as…. their new normal. Fathers… you know what this is. You recognize this M.O. right?

Tomorrows are an accumulation of todays… I put my time in, I paid with my own blood and soon my story will be told.

The time for healing, and for courage to step forward front and center…. is now. I don’t expect courage to rise up from a victim’s mentality. Even when family such as moms and dads don’t collectively buy into the reality of the truths they must face and give account for, their contribution to a victims mentality is evident in the apprehensions of a child’s ambitious endeavors while growing into adulthood.

We as people are entitled to the healing phases of life. Spirit, Soul and Body.
My prayer is that God will allow that to form and to take place… because I choose not to be indifferent.