I’ve been to a Hong Kong church in my hometown this morning. This was after my usual early morning visit to my favourite coffee shop. They usually only fill the lattes three quarters full. Much of the top half is mostly froth. I’ve politely asked them to fill my cups to the brim. There’s a buzzword in the industry for this practice: It’s called Extra Wet. I recommend you also start asking for your coffees extra wet. You get much more bang for your buck.
I get heckled everywhere I go in public, so after the caffeine boost, I decided to grab the bull by the horns and enter the church to go on the attack against them all. I sat at the very front of the pews, something I never do, shouting, “Long live Lucifer! Long live Lucifer!” Or Loserfer, as he’s known. I know, I know, I’m smack out of order, but come on, it’s only a joke. I didn’t really mean it. I was just looking for a comic reaction. All the Hong Kongish stared at me like a Bushbaby with two heads.
Then there was my apology group. Because my testimony has taken off into stratospheric levels, I’m become prey to a hoard of jealous fellow sharers who have maybe relapsed lately or are lying about how well they are doing. They are trying to get me omitted from the group for being disruptive when I do nothing but question how the apology structure should be managed. We have values on the white board which need reading each and every session. There are rules I’m familiar with which go back years, and yet new faces with false testimony are moving in for the kill and shifting the goalposts.
My apology group is a special place for struggling recluses to come to for comfort and solace from me, which I freely & graciously offer with compassion and love. I have been in a crusade against addiction for over 20 years. Like most middle-aged addicts I have a story. I often make a joke to the other participants, stating that I have the best story. This is not too far from the truth. In a way, I mean it.
The story of my life, despite hardly any career or travel, is astoundingly incredible. I don’t share it, because no one would believe it. But I touch upon it eloquently and poignantly. It’s so touching and tearful at times. I hope it inspires.
So, for the lost souls who blunder in through the door, baffled by the chaotic disaster of their lives caused by drug and alcohol abuse, my apology group is a chance to get emotional, expressive and intellectual about their shattered lives. Because talking matters. It is the last chance saloon for some. Plus, recovery IS possible. There is nothing quite so magic as a destroyed victim of substances standing to their feet again and forging a rewarding, fulfilling life for themselves. Getting their families back, managing their finances efficiently again, getting healthy and fit once more, and all of that other good stuff which arrives with sobriety.
I adore meeting those who are crushed by their own self-destructive nature when it comes to booze and drugs. Even Sex Addicts are welcome. Any kind of addiction at all. I do not own the premises to these apology groups, but I consider myself the main guy there. Mainly because I see it as apology, like all the greats, and not merely ‘sharing’ about narcotics. And we don’t wallow in defeatist terminology either: I try to speak like a politician upon whose words hang the fate of the spiritual state. My own destiny depends on how I react to the prospect of falling foul to demonic temptation. If I die, the universe dies with me. That’s how I see it anyway. Because if I’m not present, it won’t be in my perception anymore. If it’s not in my perception any longer, it may as well not exist. I am the state, in a fashion. And the state is me.
The economic state can find a tall cliff and topple off over the edge of it. All that cares about is change and growth which arises from destruction and creation. No need to mention corruption. Bombs away! Another country liberated by US police. Now Pepsi-Cola can move in…
Remarkably however, I find myself in almost violent combat with fakers who are sabotaging my special debating place on purpose and plonking their big fat rumps on my chairs with no drug or alcohol background to speak of! They are double agents there to disrupt proceedings by interrupting people who are testifying, wasting time by waffling about nothing, and generally being low vibrational frequency and bringing the place down in energy.
They are there to terminate my happiness for no reason at all. They strive hell for leather to achieve this in vast organized numbers and with gritty doggedness. One word out of place and they hurry to go above my head and report me. One passive aggressive reaction and they grass me up to the police. They take great umbrage when I retaliate with laughter. Joyful laughter. Because I have joyful laughter in the deep creases of my DNA helixes. This is why everyone hates me. This is why they do it. Worse, they pretend to me my friend in the process, sticking the knife in with a smile and a nudge and a wink. But I am joyful laughter. And I. Am. Apology.
My temper is in the balance lately. I’m honestly thinking about lashing out. This will undoubtedly get me arrested. That means nick, or more likely psych ward. Years of freedom lost. So, if I go missing, don’t fret, I might be able to continue blogging from the prison computers. But rest assured, I shouldn’t be dead. I have quit smoking, and secured myself a future. I am alive and well in Christ, so nothing should happen to me. If you find me missing for several weeks, give it another several weeks before you check in on me again. I should return. Of course, one of these days, I'm going to surely shuffle off this mortal coil permanently, and my last entry will be the deadest last. In that case, you can travel backwards in time via my many previous posts, where I was blindfolded and misled by many untruthful forces, to read about how I arrived where the current date sets me.
Now, as of this day forward, I am grateful and honest with My Maker. I don’t want to be the best blogger in the world. I don’t want a thousand hits a day. I can live without cars and holidays and kids. I just want to retain my joy. I cherish the same for you too, if you’ve been with me on this scribbling nethead’s odyssey into bleak caverns and back again, or if you’ve arrived here accidentally and are simply having a mooch. Now, for the first time, although my persecution is excessively impactful, I sense a clearing of the windstorms, I detect an easing of the overflowing floods. My soul is flying high, my spirit is sailing free, I am conclusively becoming who I was born to be…
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