HUMANIVERSITY

Tourist programme 10/09/2008
Dawn is breaking and today I start the journey to the Netherlands. Inside I am shaking with a mixture of fearful anticipation of the difficulties that I may encounter, my dislike of restrictions to my personal freedom, painful memories, the fear of getting stuck in old feelings, and I also feel a light joy ,an excitement, an expectation, that this experience will lead to a new, more real type of choice filled freedom that I am seeking. I expect to emerge with sufficient mental clarity, sensitive loving emotional awareness and centred resolve to make the best choices that I can to create my new future.

My father died last year and I have spent much time as his legal executor sorting out his estate and making sure that care was provided for my bedridden and dependant mother.
My parents had three children First my sister Hazel then three years later my brother Andrew, then after another three years myself. My father had just returned from the war when he and my mother got married. In the war my father Fred fought the Japanese behind enemy lines in Burma and because of natural ability and fighting instincts was promoted to the rank of Major in his early twenties. The family house reflected his expectation to be the leader and give orders that had to be obeyed. He was not tolerant of disobedience or work not performed to a high standard. He set very high standard for himself and he drove himself to serve society with exceptional single mindedness, He swam year round in the sea every morning. There is much that I admire in my father and I respect his achievements but i do not feel love for him. As his son I lived in his shadow , he was not affectionate man although he was often sentimental. I craved affection and touch as a child and he was not someone I could turn to, I learned not to come to him with problems as he would tend to take them over tell me the solution and then push me to implement it. I realised that I was better off away from his sphere of influence and moved to Australia at the age of 19.
As a small child I lived in fear of my father, he was unpredictable and often very angry. My brother sister and I were regularly and harshly punished by spanking on our bare bottoms with a shoe or hairbrush. It was very painful and we emerged bruised and humiliated. At about age 8 I remember being beaten for not having passed on a telephone message; I remember how unfair I felt it was and how much I hated him.
The family situation was made worse with the nervous breakdowns that affected my mother from about the time of my birth for the next 15 years or so. The trigger point that unbalanced Yvonne was the purchase of a new house to accommodate the growing family. She did not like the new house because it was dark and more importantly away from her many friends who also had small children. She suffered the first breakdown in about the first 6 months of my life and was given ECT and drug therapy. She never really seemed right and we all had to be very quiet around her when she was at home. I do not really have much of a sense of her presance, although I can remember cuddling up to het on the couch while she was watching television. My mother was not very present in the house and all the punishments took place behind closed doors and away from her. We were really brought up by a daily help that was employed to look after these three children. She was a wonderful woman and i feel deep affection for her because she loved us.
I spent as much time as I could at my friend’s houses as I felt unsafe in my own when my father was around. My friend’s parents I know viewed me with some suspicion because I used to steal money from my father and buy sweets to try and make myself popular and be liked. I can trace that inner feeling of loneliness and anxiety back to those days. I did however have friends and they were really important.
I am sure that I would not have survived to this present age if an unexpected event had not happened within our family system. The medical profession realised that there was little they could do for my mother and one of them said that he knew someone who, although not a doctor, could be very helpful in cases like my mothers. My mother was introduced to a man called Eugene Halliday, who the first time they met asked her if she wanted relief from the symptoms or to learn something. Eugene was a teacher who had a profound influence on my mother, father, brother and me. My parents changed under his influence. Eugene was a self realised spiritual master, a reflexively self conscious being he lived embodied and taught spiritual truth. He became the most important influence on my life. When I was 11 I was yet again caught stealing money and instead of being beaten I was taken to see this strange man with a beard. I thought he was very peculiar and he asked me all sorts of questions about what I wanted when I took the money. Anyway realising that this was better than being spanked I told him what I thought he wanted to hear. This although it took me some years to realise was the start of a long friendship and extended learning process that continued till his death 21 years ago. 

THE INSIGHTS OF A MAN GONE MAD

It seems I have gone Mad. I have been told so by people who know me well. You are crazy, mad they say and so perhaps it is true.
Fear is trembling through me, 12.53 pm and was I awakened with a start by this gathering wave of emotion. The content was that maybe the deal to rent out my shop will go wrong. A mixture of fear and anger fill me. My chest feels like I am shivering on the inside something like a. It has the quality I remember as a child of having being caught doing something forbidden. The content is new but this feeling is so familiar like when I was stopped at the customs in Dover and questioned about the car. I suddenly feel quite small I have the answers but is the paperwork right. My ingrained fear of Authority this time it is building control who may ask if I have the right permissions.
I lie in my bed and feel this fear this raw naked fear, I forget my age, skills and ability and surrender to this inner shaking anxiety. Ask me in the morning and I will have found a solution but now at night in the privacy of my dreams I quake with a lifetime of encapsulated submission. This is not for public show it is my personal hell I may acknowledge it with a terse reference to some idiot who went straight to ask building standards instead of asking me. I am the real idiot

Another part of this nigh time drama is the quiet grateful acceptance of this visitor who wakes me. Fear anxiety anger they are all visitors who are welcome with the gifts they bring. They turn my home upside down change my blood chemistry, alter my heartbeat, dance inside my belly and in my chest. Tense my hands but all are welcome and entertained. To the seeing eye all emotions are passing visitors to be gratefully acknowledged. Surely this is true madness getting up writing about fears instead of engaging directly in solving the problems that they bring. The threats to my financial security….yet here I am not bothered. Security is never on the outside events, however much money i can get hold of I always face the ultimate insecurity of death. Security is in my my ability to be present and interested in what is happening now. Acknowledgement that all I really have to offer in any given moment is my interest and attention. I own nothing more than that. The rest is subject to change like tonight’s ancient visitors, I call the visitors ancient because they invade my home with accumulated force. They awaken the child in me fearful and dependant. Memories of distant situations immediately come to life how my adult I floats precariously on a lake of unremembered woes. My poor posturing adult I desperate to be seen in a good light and yet so prone to inundation from the lake dwellers the half dead. It really is such an insecure self with no real authority, no wonder it grabs all the trophies of success it can to fill that emptiness.
The one who owns nothing has nothing to lose. For him every moment is a gift whatever is presented. This moment of fear is a delight why I ask…….because it reveals something. This is the madness that I am pursuing.
The pounding of the keyboard had modified the pounding in my chest it is still there and I wonder if sleep is a possibility yet. My other mind will stay up till dawn then go happily for a walk whatever the outcome of this particular business deal. It is not invested in outcomes and wastes nothing. Every moment is an opportunity for affirmation. Consciousness of consciousness .
How can I live with this madman in my house who does not take my life seriously. Well I am going to try and sleep I have much to sort out tomorrow and over the next few days. I am convinced that this is a very important time in my life.

I and eye.

I and eye
Sitting on a throne
I and Eye
Eye and I.

God help me………….laughter. What an opportunity
1000 step exercise
Another broken night. Images of speeding toward the ocean on a boat and hitting the first wave too fast and theboat jumping in thr air . hitting thr second and even worse the third still at full throttle there are others on board and the waves are getting rougher. Ihit the fourth by now very big and the boat flips and my crew/ passangers fall out…………… guilt

Two Lines

Two lines
One horizontal
One Vertical

Flat conditioned response
Upright total immediacy
Ninety degrees of separation
Between action and passivity

It takes Gods will to hold this cross together
The fusion of these opposites engenders blinding heat
The burning

I have come to the end. I am writing this to get some clarity. I have come to the end of this stage of my life. Emotions arise in my soul that disturb and frighten me. I have no home to go back to. No certain future. It is a time when there is lightness in my soul and a feeling of affirmation and positivity followed by dark emotions of aloneness, being unloved and the idea to end my life, to kill myself. Self love which I feel and forgiveness for those who caused me pain are counterpoised by emotions of personal worthlessness and intense anguish and pain. Today has been a day of isolation and suffering and a day of self love and lightness. Extremes that are so close together. I feel like leaving this place, my illness and isolation of staying in a room by myself raises memories of punishment being spanked then left alone in my bedroom.
I have been questioning the value of re-feeling these old memories. They are in my past but admittedly in my present as well. My purpose for allowing then expression within me is to get to really know them, then consciously be able to let go of them. My governing purpose is to live in the present as fully as I can. Emotionally conditioned memories of painful and unpleasant situations and events that damaged my emerging sense of self continue to affect my behaviour and interfere with my chosen purpose of being fully present in the here now. For that reason I am prepared to sacrifice my time and some comfort to free myself from undesired psychic disturbance.
At an emotional level expressions like the above are a total pain in the arse written by someone who does not have to suffer the consequences of how hideous this experience actually is. I feel desperate or should I say emotions of painful and profound desperation arise within me. When I feel like this, I feel the emotion and tell myself and that sad isolated fearful part of me that I truly love him and myself. I accept that this statement is tested and will be retested and retested till proved true or false. My basis for saying it is this. It is very simple. There is only God in this universe. This is very important; everything without exception is a manifestation of the creative power of God. Personally this is tremendously important to me because it can only mean that my being this man called Richard Freeman is a modality of that creative power. Everything that I call mine is in fact owed to the source from which it derives, every thought, every muscular movement, every emotion, is a thought, action feeling within Gods greater body. 

Reflections on the meditation

Homeopathy evokes a feeling of gratitude and pleasure in me
Homeopaths, who they are and
What they do make a difference
A positive difference
To themselves, their patients and the wider community
Homeopathy is an art that links things together
Sees patterns and makes connections that do heal.

I am not surprised that homeopath’s work is at times disrespected and
There exists an empirical conspiracy to dis-empower
Is it not because real and different values are embodied
That it attracts this opposition.
Hahnemann had a similar problem
“……..such an absurdity could only arise from brains of a materialist stamp. It is this absurdity that has for thousands of years given to the hitherto system of medicine all those ruinous directions that have fashioned it into a truly calamitous art” Para 13 Organon
It has been a personal pleasure and a privilege to have studied homeopathy with an exceptional group of individuals and to have been taught by enthusiastic and gifted teachers and practioners.

LIFE IN BRAZIL

A lot has happened in the last nine months and I am now again in the right space to re- connect and share with you a little bit of my journey and hopefully hear some of what has been happening in your life.
Last July seems an awfully long time ago, getting ready for Graduation, concerns about my Fathers health, lots of family discussions, visits to Hospital. Packing the contents of our house into a container and finally shipping it off to Brazil, handing the keys to the new owner with a mixture of relief, sadness and near complete exhaustion. Moving into August with increased concerns about my father, mutual recognition of the changing relationship, frequent visits to hospital, seeing his vulnerability masked by the desire to be in control. The loss of bodily control, incontinence, diminishing mental abilities, his fear of death. Then the drama of hospital incompetence. A sudden end on the second day of the homeopathic summer camp, disorientation and another drive south. A week of phone calls and funeral arrangements, so much goodwill and kindness, realising he was finally gone. I spoke at the funeral, held it together, and dispersed the ashes with my sister Hazel half a mile out in the muddy water of the Dee estuary with fish and chips, loud voices, champagne and divine blessings.
The inheritance of responsibilities Executor, trustee, treasurer, bedridden mother, aged and infirm Aunt, and a house to sort out that was literally covered in piles of letters all clipped together covering nearly every flat surface in the house. 7 four drawer filing cabinets full of paperwork. An office that was almost impossible to get into for clutter. Yet he still was writing letters and pursuing a multitude of connected purposes even up till a couple of days before he died.
A quick trip back to Brazil to receive the container, unpack and remember where I now lived and then back to England to complete the necessary jobs.
Slow weeks of cleaning things up, Skips full of outdated and old things that he could never let go of. The wheelbarrow with only one handle that he insisted on keeping, the bronco toilet paper, his unfinished projects, his security against the next world war. Brazil seemed a distant place, with my family back over there and patiently waiting for me. The house was starting to breathe again the windows open the soiled carpets replaced, much less clutter and more peace. Hazel and I returned to our respective countries. I needed a three month break.
Back home the plans for the studio my office and a guest room were ready for the builders and we started the foundations that week. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, was the rhythm of the construction. The foundation took ages and nothing seemed to happen then the walls shot up overnight, Then pouring the concrete for the second floor was a three act drama, for three days we were told that the ready-mix would arrive but everyday a new problem then when it finally did come it was really, really late and we were pouring concrete till after midnight. But it was all worth it when I saw the view from what is now my study. On one side are trees so near the open window that I can touch the shiny green leaves. On the other side the rolling blue ocean. I love my new office, it is all white and all mine. My first room of my very own for thirty years. What a difference it has made to my life here, a personal sanctuary and a place to work. It is also where I see clients.