Blipped Rant

I typically don't post (what I consider) "rants" on this blog. I often, but not always, find rants irritating to read.

That said, I'm posting (part of) a rant. An excerpt from one I wrote a day or two ago. As a rant, it has some language in it.

As I reread the rant this morning, I got to thinking about people's stories, the stories of our lives. In that sense, our stories are sacred. I like what I read on one of Fred Poole's blogs, a line from Tom Groome's thoughts: "[...]Tom also wrote and spoke of stories as sacred, a person's actual stories, reflections upon stories, stories played off against other stories, stories changing [...]"

I wish the world weren't so paranoid so that folks could share their stories without fear of others trying to sue, or squelch, or abuse for simply sharing their humanity. For sharing the way life happens. Yet I understand the reason for the fear of not feeling free to open up, to recount; sometimes the costs are too high for an individual. They may pay emotionally or physically or mentally or spiritually. That's not a fault or cowardice; it's just the way things are.

I think of a couple lines from a poem: "Perhaps we would be holier if we allowed with candid face ~ Our dirtied souls' exposures and open hands that offer grace."

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The rant (now partially blipped):

So I'm reading "The Cult that Snapped," for the first time.

I'm reading some over at GSC. I read what some people post and I want to respond.

But I know not to. I wouldn't even now how to approach posting at that place. It may be that I can't post there anyway. I don't know. The last two times I've tried to add to my blog over there, I couldn't...like it'd been disabled.

Right now I feel...hmmm....like...hmmm...like....hmmm....like damn it. I'm not a Wayite. I want to do something with my 28 fucking years in The Way. I want to be able to contribute to ex-Way folks experiences. Oh fuck.

My fucking brain goes down the path that GSC is the only place I can do that.

That ain't true, really.

I have to recall the emails I've received, the phone calls, from ex-Way folks...most long-timers like me....who've contacted me unsolicited and shared that my writings have helped them process some of their own stuff.

Right? Right.

GSC was an abusive place for me. Not only me, but for others as well.

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GSC behind-the-scenes drama. Secrets. Cover-ups.

Sticky.

I don't want those kinds of relationships. I had enough egg-shell walking in TWI.

So...calm down Carol. Yes, you'd like to post over there regarding certain issues that people are bringing up now, issues involving their own personal processing. Issues you can relate to as a long timer in TWI.

But, maybe Carol that ain't your place to do.  Apparently not, at least not at this time.

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One of my great uncles was named Rant. He's deceased now. There is a road named after him, Rant Drum Road. Or maybe he was a distant cousin of some sort. Regardless, Mom always referred to him as Uncle Rant.
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