(B01C17) Chapter 17: Bifurcating the Tale

Another Degree of Difficulty (ADD)

“THIS IS HOW I SHOW MY LOVE. I MADE IT IN MY MIND BECAUSE...BLAME IT ON MY ADD, BABY. THIS IS HOW AN ANGEL DIES. BLAME IT ON MY OWN SICK PRIDE. BLAME IT ON MY ADD, BABY.” – “SAIL” BY AWOLNATION

The more that I allowed myself to be consumed by the unlimited number of possible human variables, the word revealed itself to be much stranger than I had previously believed it to be. There didn't seem to be anywhere that I could stop analyzing and experiment with what I had learned or observed. As a result, the information piled up, causing a backup of various questions and considerations that were not easily answered in short moments of reflection or occasional solitude. It never occurred to me to give up; instead, the time that I spent in contemplation increased.

I can't necessarily tell you just how long my daydreaming would last or just how frequent I would stare off into the distance. What I can say is that moments often felt like hours, days, or longer. Sometimes, when I would come back into myself again, I would have to look around and remind myself where I was and what I was doing. Occasionally, this would happen at school too. After this happened enough times, the teacher became concerned that I may have some type of attention problem. However, in the early to mid-1980's ADD or ADHD was not a popular diagnosis. Instead, my teacher just associated my drifting off as an issue with self-control and discipline.

“I SAID, FAR OUT, WHAT A DAY, A YEAR, A LIFE IT IS!' YOU KNOW, WELL, YOU KNOW YOU HAD IT COMIN' TO YOU. NOW THERE'S NOT A LOT I CAN DO. DREAMER, YOU STUPID LITTLE DREAMER. SO, NOW YOU PUT YOUR HEAD IN YOUR HANDS, OH NO!” – “DREAMER” BY SUPERTRAMP

Instead of recognizing that my daydreaming was the way that I studied and processed newly learned information, teachers considered it more a self-obsessive trait, a hinderance to my learning. In order to appease my teachers and parents, I was asked to limit this unconscious behavior. I was also required to consult the teacher on a daily basis, keeping a written account of my behaviors. The teacher would observe me throughout the day.

At the end of each day, the teacher would initial her observations in a small black and white composition book. I was then expected to take the book home and show it to my parents. If the teacher observed me not paying attention, I would receive a minus (-) for the day. If I rarely drifted off, I would get a check-mark. If I barely daydreamed at all in the presence of the teacher, I would get a plus (+) written in the notebook. If I received too many minuses from the teacher, my parents would have a “talk” with me that would make me feel as if I was in trouble.

This was the first time that I was forced to look at my intuition as a threat—or something that could cause me to feel the presence of conditions from my parents' approval. I did not take this lightly. My parents were everything to me; I wanted them to be pleased with my school performance as much as possible. So, when I was forced to look at my contemplative moments as unwarranted or otherwise as a “problem” that needed to go away, I was incredibly confused. After all, I had used these moments to help me find clarity to reconcile the information that my mind was processing. When this occurred, my entire perspective of education changed. No longer did I feel trusted to learn independently or to prioritize my own learning language. Instead, I felt that my priority should be placed on appeasing my external environment and meeting their expectations.

Teaching Cain to be Disabled

“THE MAN IS BLIND TO THE BOY AND HIS OCCASIONAL SIN. TRYING TO BECOME WHAT IS TRUE AND SAVE WHAT’S WITHIN. YET GAMES OF THE MIND ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BE SPOKEN. ALL THE WHILE, THIS BEAUTIFUL GIFT OF LOVE GETS BROKEN. FROM THE HIGHEST HIGHS TO THE LOWEST LOWS, HE RIGHTS. WHILE THEIR DIAGNOSES AND DISCUSSIONS KILL THE DELIGHT: THE ONLY FUEL OF EMOTION THAT THIS MAN STANDS STRONG. CAGED BY THE TRAUMA, THEY CAUSED A NEED TO BELONG.” – “THE QUESTION” BY JD STAHL

When I became self-conscious of my daydreaming, I was forced—by fear—to limit or disguise these periods in various ways. As a result, I started to perceive my own intuitive learning as possible threat to the love and acceptance of both my parents and school mentors. Since I was not well practiced in lying or concealing the truth, it was very uncomfortable to feel as though I was not permitted to learn in the same way that previously led me to so much success.

Not only did I have to deal with the variables from my observations, now but now my brain was stuck in an endless loop, trying to figure out why nobody seemed to understand what I was doing. More so, I couldn't explain to myself why it all of a sudden became a problem. After all, my grades were still consistently high and I wasn't missing or late on any assignments. No longer was I motivated to learn, but I was instead just trying to figure out how I could stay out of trouble. I had been convinced that it really didn't matter how much I was learning as much as it mattered that I was appeasing other people's expectations of what they believed I was doing—even if they never asked me what I was actually doing or helping me to express myself so that I could do so.

As a result, the rate at which I processed new information decreased significantly. Instead of simply accounting for my own variables, biases, and conditions, I was forced to incorporate every single variable I had ever observed in my environment as my own. With the world on my shoulders, I now felt responsible to appease my environment before listening to my own intuition. I felt somewhat depressed and tried to compensate my absence of joy with food.

“I NEVER GIVE YOU MY NUMBER. I ONLY GIVE YOU MY SITUATION. AND IN THE MIDDLE OF INVESTIGATION, I BREAK DOWN.” – “YOU NEVER GIVE ME YOUR MONEY” BY THE BEATLES

Even though I no longer felt safe to learn independently without looking over my shoulder to see who was watching me, I continued to practice my methods. Instead of freely looking out the window for the sunlight or staring into the corner of the room, I made it appear as if I were paying attention. I learned to pretend—or to lie—because I knew that what I was doing was what both my teachers and parents wanted, even though I couldn't' explain it. Sadly, knowing that I was lying made me even more upset; that was the last thing that I ever wanted to do to those I loved.

As a means to do both—continue my research and give my teachers attention—I split myself into two separate people. One of these identities was a perpetual child locked in innocence and capable of learning anything and everything with very little. The other identity was a people-pleaser, focused entirely on giving people what they wanted so that I could finish the “work” of living as fast as possible so as to return to my independent study. Being a human being became tantamount to another workbook that I was expected to complete. There were always two parts of me working all the time—each with a different perspective of the world that led them to develop two completely different personalities. One was a collection of all that was innocent about everyone in the world and the other was an amalgamation of the world's conditions and expectations that I felt pressured to carry so that they could still consider me “good.”

I did my best to use both of these identities to my benefit, silently seeking a greater reward of universal interconnectivity between all things. To protect the innocent student within, another part of me did whatever was necessary to avoid any more distractions. While I was “off” in contemplation, I tried to keep a part of myself present during the lessons—just in case the teacher called on me and expected me to answer a question or participate. Unfortunately, diverting my energy into fragments not only created additional confusion, but it also limited the processing speed. Eventually, I had to stop learning altogether just so that I could give the teacher and my parents what they wanted: obedience and compliance. When I did this, I was forced to disconnect with the source of my limitless intelligence and intuitive wisdom.

Limiting my independent learning progress caused me to occasionally exhibit anger and frustration. Sometimes I would cry; other times I would explode into a tantrum. These fits were not a result of being unable to get things my way, but more that I didn't know how to explain myself in a way that could be either understood or believed by my parents and teachers. It was like living in a country where nobody spoke your native language. Instead of being able to elucidate your situation, people immediately assumed ignorance, defiance, or other nefarious intentions.

Always, just moments before I could find closure on a problem I was solving in my head, someone would interrupt me and all would be lost—just because I wasn't adhering to a specifically timed schedule or some other expectation that only served to reprogram me so that I was more like everyone else.

Decomposition Books

“WON'T YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHAT WE'VE LEARNED? I KNOW IT SOUNDS ABSURD. PLEASE TELL ME WHO I AM, WHO I AM, WHO I AM, WHO I AM. 'CAUSE I WAS FEELING SO LOGICAL...D-D-DIGITAL.” – “THE LOGICAL SONG” BY SUPERTRAMP

I felt lost—even around the people who previously celebrated what I had been doing. Nothing made sense—except the variables that I was attempting to process. I knew that if I could express myself in a way that they could understand, they would understand what I was doing and help me work through it instead of making me feel as if there was something “wrong” with me.

After all, it was these variables that would eventually lead me to being able to communicate and connect with people in a language that was much more efficient and effective than verbal attempts. All that I had to do was to find consistencies between people so that I could better understand the subtle differences between their definitions and intentions. Since I had yet to define my learning as “independent processing of multiple variables via intuitive reasoning,” I used the label that my teachers used: “lack of self-control and discipline.”

Unfortunately, trying to explain the benefits of this type of learning was impossible. After people have rested themselves on definitions of words without remaining open to alternative applications of those concepts, any attempt to do so can be seen as either defiance or an even more problematic “learning disability.” The last thing that I wanted was to be slowed down in my learning.

What confused me the most was that I was being asked to abandon my continued “research” without ever completing it.. However, my parents and teachers had convinced me that it not only acceptable to do so, but required in order to be considered a “good student.” I reprogrammed my brain to see project incompletion as something “healthy.” Prior to this, however, abandoning something because it presented difficulties was not necessarily something which I had yet to be introduced. In this moment, I was taught that scheduling and appearance were of greater importance than quality or efficiency.

Regardless of how much effort I put into something, what I learned was that it mattered more that I was “on time.” That rule caused me to see a sharp decline in depth of my work. Instead, I focused my unlimited resources on being compliant instead of developing my independent thinking skills. Sadly, before these consultations, I just assumed that the act of “quitting” something that was difficult was not even an option. But, since I always wanted to learn from my parents and teachers, I accepted this rule as an absolute, prioritizing it above my independent learning efforts.

Blocking out the Sun

“THE WORLD IS MY EXPENSE. THE COST OF MY DESIRE. JESUS BLESSED ME WITH ITS FUTURE AND I PROTECT IT WITH FIRE.” – “SLEEP NOW IN THE FIRE” BY RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE

Because I believed in what I was learning as much as I did—even if nobody else could see it or understand—I continued to do it. As a result, my external personality became very defensive, like an older brother protecting his innocent younger self. This older brother would do anything to ensure that his younger sibling would be protected at all times. Even if it meant lying to those he loved, he would do it. After all, being expected to stop doing something that just recently was identified as the number one reason why I was so loved by people around me, asking me to stop doing it just to make appearances was like asking me to stop breathing because someone else could hear me. I hid my innocent self from the external world's endless expectations and oppression.

Any time that someone would ask me to make a concession for them, I did it. Underneath my smile, I would burn with incredible anger so that I could protect the innocent part of myself from ever experiencing a world that hated it for being different. This shadow self was unbreakable, unshakable, and could not feel pain. Instead of being manipulated by their expectations, this self saw their emotions as just another tool of manipulation that helped them get what they wanted: control. If I saw my innocent self being pulled helplessly into emotional reactivity, the other part of myself would step in and coldly remove all affect. This allowed me to keep my heart wide open to people while still maintaining boundaries with my external world.

Letters From Inside

JD Stahl (03/14/2018) My arrogance is intolerable. My pain is immeasurable. Lightning-quick judgments And a sickening consequential. Bright hot is my fire that burns. And a filth says I’ll never be clean. Words and voices from nowhere. And every second a struggle for means. Yet this beauty is unbounded. And intelligence that’s unfounded. Pure white reception; Endless fields of euphoric intentions. The struggle is where I am born. And synapses fire when I’m torn. Complicated inner misery With my bittersweet rejections. Petals of the prettiest angels Are blistered with thorns from lies. Loss that screams from under, And the heavens shout from above. Parted like reclaimed seas of red. Changes in futures often misread. Wondrous depth of emotion Capsize every ship of devotion. Too many acts in the depths of my hell. And my heaven is written and sings to me still. Swirling in the middle is only me. I can see you pass by, but I too wish to be free.

The Warrior Angel

“DON’T HANG YOUR HEAD IN THREATS SO VIOLENT. NOTHING GENTLY DERANGED IN GAMES SO SWEET. THERE’S AN ANGEL THAT GRIPS A FIST INSIDE YOU. IT’S THE ONE YOU MUST FIND IN TIMES OF NEED.” – “YOU, ME, AND GABRIEL” BY JD STAHL

I embodied this external self as a means to deal with the world's incessant expectations and obsessive requirements. I saw right through the timeliness, blind obedience, compliance to false authority systems, or conformity for exactly what it was: an attempt to kill my soul's authenticity and purity. I committed my protection like an older brother, hell-bent on protecting my soul's priceless purity.

Denying this innocence was like trying to block out the sun (soul/sol). Being that this was the source of my unconditional love, joy, compassion, and excitement, I treated it like a mother would her only child. I protected it with my life. Though at times I felt incredible anger well up inside of me, I never wanted to hurt anyone. Whenever I did cause pain, I would feel incredibly guilty; I would feel the pain that I would cause anyone else—immediately, like shock treatment.

After every single tantrum that I experienced, I was forced to reconcile my opposites again and again. No matter how explosive these moments were, I always settled back into my innocent self. Each time, I had to resolve the distance. Each time I realized that the purest source of my innocence—my magic—would never want me to sacrifice its power towards destruction or violence.

Tempered Glass Ceilings and Firmaments

“YET UNDERNEATH I’VE REBORN THIS SAGE WITH A FOCUS THAT STILL BURNS WITH RAGE. AND DEEP INSIDE THIS COLD STEEL CAGE IS MY YOUNGEST SPARK THAT COUNTS NO AGE.” – “GLITCHES” BY JD STAHL

Even though rage was often the extreme polarity of the innocence I was protecting, I had to learn to control myself. No matter what would happen, I must always be cognizant of the effects of my responses.. If what I did to protect my source of purity would at all be in opposition, then all I would be doing was creating additional conflict where none previously existed.

In essence, I was forced to humble my armor in a way that it only served to protect purity, not to destroy it. I had to forge my own warrior (angel) who existed only to serve its creator—both father and child—its twin or equal. In this dynamic, there was only a quarter in the darkness of my shadow. This quarter was the speaker, the front man, and the Master of Ceremonies (MC) behind the microphone.

Serving purity didn't mean that I couldn't defend myself. It only meant that I had to learn—quickly--what was an actual threat and what was meant to instigate my temper. For this, I required balance for all expressions of my externalized energy. Any time that I would effort towards bias, I would essentially be stealing from the source of my own energy to create additional conflict. And yet, at the same time, I was raised to believe that overcoming conflict and dealing with pain was the source of all maturity, experience, and growth.

“THE 'PROBLEM WITH YOU' SPEECH YOU GAVE ME WAS FINE. I LIKED THE THEORIES ABOUT MY LITTLE 'STAGE.' AND I SWORE I WAS LISTENING, BUT I STARTED DRIFTING AROUND THE PART ABOUT ME ACTING MY AGE. NOW IF IT'S ALL THE SAME, I'VE PEOPLE TO ENTERTAIN. I JUGGLE ONE-HANDED, DO SOME MAGIC TRICKS AND THE BEST IMITATION OF MYSELF.” – “BEST IMITATION OF MYSELF” BY BEN FOLDS FIVE

Not only did I have to balance my intentions between faith and will, but I also had to use all conflict as a source of energy—like food. From this “food” I could develop the necessary strength I would require to pass the various tests I would have to endure while I carried my innocence through the external world. I had found a “new game” to play. Every “mission” I was to complete would require a collaboration of both aspects of my personality—yet honoring both as equal parts of the whole. Without both, I would lack the sovereign power necessary to exist as a whole (holy) being.

Though some may perceive this shadow self as the existence of “demonic” or “evil” forces, the fact that I was consciously aware of my opposites negated the danger that would normally be associated with the suppression of anger into the subconscious. Being cognizant of these extremes forced me to learn how to control my tantrums and not allow rage to be expressed physically. What began as explosive tendencies to break things quickly became an internal dialogue of repressed frustration and anger. In order to release this rage without damaging anything or anyone around me, I swallowed the fire and burnt away anything that wasn't pure or otherwise kept me from reuniting with my purest self.

Whatever Doesn't Kill You...Becomes You

“HE HID HIS FIRE BEHIND AN INNOCENT CHILD. WHEN THEY CAME TOGETHER, THEY CREATED THE WEATHER. THEY BECAME WILD. THE STORMS CAME. THE SKIES WEPT. THE FAMILIES OF HUMANS THOUGHT TO HIDE UNDER STEPS. IT WAS ALL WELL MAINTAINED BY THE ORDER OF TIME.” – “THE OPPOSING VIEW” BY JD STAHL

I would have conversations with myself all the time as a means to cope with my own polarities. This allowed me to express the energies I had absorbed from the external world without perpetuating negativity or transferring it to someone else. Essentially, I was transfiguring darkness and turning into light by finding balance within opposites. These conversations began at the extreme so that they could eventually find balance when confronted with the opposing view. When equanimity was reached, all would be transmuted into raw energy again and again. I used this energy to shorten the distance between both of my polarities, finding internal union outside of time (karma).

The great thing about manifesting an ego self to protect the purest part of my being was that it was forever malleable. Just like a computer program, I could make it to be whatever I wanted. I could even change it to suit whatever situation I was in at the time. And, if something happened to it, I could kill it off and bring it back anew again and again—just like the video games that I played. In this way, I could assure myself that no matter what had happened, I could wipe the proverbial slate clean and start all over again. I could build back the same archetypal “angel” or I could develop it and shape it to account for the previous day's weaknesses.

“I DON'T NEED PLEASURE. I DON'T FEEL PAIN. IF YOU WERE TO KNOCK ME DOWN, I'D JUST GET UP AGAIN. I'M THE URBAN SPACEMAN, BABY.” – “URBAN SPACEMAN” BY BONZO DOG DOO DAH BAND

As long as I never fully identified with this creation (persona), I would never have to actually feel its plain. And so, if I found “bugs” in the coding of my fierce protecter, I would burn it down and build it back up again stronger and stronger each time. The fun part about doing this was that I eventually learned to shape my personality however I wanted—quicker and quicker each time. Since I never really took myself that seriously, ti really bother me to shed my skin. I had practiced doing this so many times that I never saw it as abandoning or giving up on myself. I didn't identify as much with my external personality; I forever saw myself as the child who was connected to the entire universe. No matter what questions I had, every single one could be answered—as long as I could detach myself with my creative persona and identify with the source of all of them: my soul.

I could copy and paste any archetype or personality on my body's canvas and use it based on its strengths and weaknesses. With each change I made, I could focus its full energy into a single source. The rest of the world and other identities would be set aside for later. I could completely clear my memory until I merged completely with what I was doing or learning. Since I really never claimed to identify exclusively with any of them, it really didn't matter what anyone did or said to me—unless I felt them reacting to who I was at my core. It was only when I let people meet that source of innocence did I actually incur any pain or suffering. However, in order to heal, all I had to do was to go into solitude until I could find balance. When I found balance, I could take whatever I had learned or accomplished from each archetype and teach it to my best self—assured that the coding was clean and checked for “bugs” or other inconsistencies.

“IT'S A LOT OF FUN. I NEVER LET MY FRIENDS DOWN. I'VE NEVER MADE A BOOB. I'M A GLOSSY MAGAZINE, AN ADVERT IN THE TUBE. I'M THE URBAN SPACEMAN, BABY, HERE COMES THE TWIST: I DON'T EVEN EXIST.” – “URBAN SPACEMAN” BY BONZO DOG DOO DAH BAND

I applied the various tools and achievements that I gathered from various “missions” and added them to my collection. I could draw from these tools whenever I could free myself from confusion. Essentially, I had to heal from any pain that I experienced during periods of vulnerability and sensitivity. Healing these emotional bruises required me to enter periods of deep introspection. These internal conversations lasted as long as they needed to until they were able to express themselves without causing damage to anything or anyone in my external world.

Though nobody would be able to tell, behind my smile was a battle cry, one that could never be expressed, else I would be imprisoned as an “enemy” to those who were unable to recognize that which is required to be a true, whole (holy), sovereign being. During these periods, I could reunite with my source of innocence—my sun or soul/sol. By sacrificing my rational mind to this spiritual metabolism, constantly shedding my ego I could returned to my intuition: the child/prophet/source of solar education, cosmic consciousness, and unconditional love.

Public Enemy

JD Stahl (04/29/2019) My future loves the past And hates the present. Isn’t it evident? Making a mess of this. Again and again, forever and then. The Devil is in the details, But then so is genius. Perhaps the apple presents the information. It’s fed by the Sun, Just like the ones who have won. Quite forbidden and expression foreboding. Some call it talking. Others call it loathing. I call it depth, and enough of it to reach, With it, experience to teach. How can you know what is unreal, Without feeling the truth, concealed? How can you know yourself, Until you’ve lost your mind? What would be the rules, If to break them would be so wrong? For if a prophecy goes unspoken, Then to call it may not be to come. Futures go unwritten, When the holders control older pens. Outcomes unforgiving, When the man hands down dollars and sense. Lovers cannot beg from emptiness. I hear all your handlers in my head, While I look into your face. But the grace is a waste, unless... Unless I can place this taste of space. It’s only useless if it’s bruise-less. Or so I’ve heard from the crowd. Overly well-endowed with confidence, A package of data, From the consciousness pool. Who’s the fool when you go it alone? To be stoned, cloned, honed. Then to be forced to wake up alone, While witnessing well-worded undertones. What of these words you send to me? The light between the lines, Seems to begin the end of me. And so you all know, What they say goes, it shows, you see? Every secret spoken becomes a public enemy.