Wednesday, December 10, 2014

THE TRANSMISSION OF THE 144 MEDITATIONS TO SAINT LESLIE ANN OF GEDDES

THE TRANSMISSION OF THE 144 MEDITATIONS TO SAINT LESLIE ANN OF GEDDES





In or about 1460, Leslie Geddes, head of a clan in Geddes, Scotland, murdered Thomas Wentworth.  

After she drank his blood from her skull she felt compelled by an inner voice to retreat for 40 days and 40 nights into the wilderness.  

There, she was transmitted the 144 meditations.  

She became known as the twelfth shadow saint of the Vatican and is considered the key to understanding the works of 
Leonardo da Vinci and The Book of Revelation.

Listed below are 
the 144 meditations 
of 
Saint Leslie Ann of Geddes:


1. MEDITATION ON BODY AWARENESS:


2. MEDITATION ON BREATH:


3. MEDITATION ON WALKING:


4. MEDITATION ON HEARING:


5. MEDITATION ON FORM:


6. MEDITATION ON SMELL:


7. MEDITATION ON TASTE:


8. MEDITATION ON TOUCH:


9. MEDITATION ON THINGS:


10. MEDITATION ON INTELLECT:


11. MEDITATION ON BONES:



12. MEDITATION ON MUSCLES:



13. MEDITATION ON INTERNAL ORGANS:



14.  MEDITATION ON ENERGY POINTS:


15. MEDITATION ON THE BRAIN:



16. MEDITATION ON THE HEART:


17. MEDITATION ON SKIN:


18. MEDITATION ON WATER:


19. MEDITATION ON EARTH:


20. MEDITATION ON WIND:


21. MEDITATION ON FIRE:


22. MEDITATION ON SPACE:


23. MEDITATION ON PERCEPTION:


24.  MEDITATION ON CONSCIOUSNESS:


25. MEDITATION ON CLEAR MIND:


26. MEDITATION ON PURPOSE:


27. MEDITATION ON A FLOWER:


28. MEDITATION ON FALSE THINKING:


29. MEDITATION ON THE STARS:


30. MEDITATION ON AN AWAKENED MIND:


31. MEDITATION ON THE NAME 'AMITABHA':


32. MEDITATION ON THE DESIGN OF NATURE:


33. MEDITATION ON BIRTH & DEATH:


34. MEDITATION ON YOUR EARLIEST EMOTION:


35. MEDITATION ON HABITS:


36. MEDITATION ON RELEASING DESIRE:


37. MEDITATION ON FORGETFULNESS:


38. MEDITATION ON YOUR THIRD-EYE:


39. MEDITATION ON YOUR FUTURE INCARNATION:


40. MEDITATION ON AN INJUSTICE YOU CAUSED:


41. MEDITATION ON THE EXISTENCE OF PURE EVIL


42. MEDITATION ON THE EXISTENCE OF PURE IGNORANCE:


43. MEDITATION ON THE EXISTENCE OF PUR APATHY:


44. MEDITATION ON THE REALITY THAT AT YOUR LOWEST POINT,
YOU WILL BE ALONE


45. MEDITATION ON THE REALITY OF HUMAN NATURE:


46. MEDITATION ON THE REALITY OF HUMAN LIMITATIONS:


47. MEDITATION ON THE EPIDEMIC OF CHILD ABUSE:


48. MEDITATION ON GROUP THINK:


49. MEDITATION ON OBSERVING EMOTIONS:


50. MEDITATION ON SEXUALITY:


51.  MEDITATION ON PAST, PRESENT & FUTURE INCARNATIONS:


52.  MEDITATION ON THE DESTRUCTIVE POWER OF LIVING ONE'S LIFE 
FOR THE APPROVAL OF OTHERS:








________________________________________

WAYS OF MEDIATION - 
PATHS OF RECOVERY FROM TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCES

SUMMARY:

1. To change myself, I meditate on an alternate view of myself;

2. I meditate on achieving self-awareness with the realization that self-awareness in others is the exception;

3. I meditate on the evil spirits that will greet me when I am dying;

4. I meditate continuously on the question: "Why am I doing this" and whether my motives contain greed, ill-will or ignorance;

5. I meditate on the emotion of loving myself;

6. I meditate with the chant Om Benzra Sato Hung to purify karma.

7. I meditate on my true core nature;

8. I meditate on the feeling of compassion for my worst enemy;

9. I meditate on the emotional feeling of happiness;

10. I meditate on the feeling of positive energy overcoming emotional pain caused by my enemies;

11. I meditate on the feeling of compassion for the mentally ill;

12. I meditate on mindfulness on each part of my brain;

13. I meditate on feeling empathy for myself and others;

14. I meditate on symbolically burying those relationships that painfully ended without closure;

15. I meditate on the triggers that cause me stress without reacting to those triggers;

16. I meditate on identifying and freeing myself from codependent relationships;

17. I meditate on having a positive purpose in life;

18. I meditate on cause and effect;

19. I meditate on people to inspire me;

20. I meditate through poetry;

21. I meditate on releasing concepts;

22. I meditate on the illusion of love;

23. I meditate on the physical feeling of meditation;

24. I meditate on emptiness;

25. I meditate on releasing desire;

26. I meditate on releasing an object I love;

27. I meditate on my mission;

28. I meditate on releasing personalization;

29, I meditate on the illusion that happiness exists;

30. I meditate on the transitory nature of relationships;

31. I meditate on the release of expectations;

32. I meditate on releasing the past;

33. I meditate on the existence of evil;

34. I meditate towards a wall;

35. I meditate with ritual formula repetition;

36. I meditate on a monothestic universe;




Most people carry trauma in the lives.  For most people, I've observed that they bury their trauma.  The result is that it manifests itself in neurotic actions.  Every persons' traumatic experiences are unique to them.  Even if the same on its face, traumatic experience affects people according to their own individual make-up and circumstances.  Thus, it is critical to validate each survivor's unique experience.  

In my case, I experienced severe abuse and neglect as a child.  Like so many people, I finally confronted my past as an adult.  Also, like many people, I made the mistake of relying on people I thought were my friends.  I didn't understand that they, like most people, were emotionally stunted and self-absorbed.  In other words, they were not only completely incompetent but they made my trauma worse by responding in abusive and dismissive ways.  

Luckily, I found the DC Rape Crisis Center which had compassionate and knowledgable people who validated me and my experiences.  The rest of my recovery was largely self-learned through meditation.

There are multiple approaches to meditation.  My thought is that one should do what is practical; in other words, take what works in leading one towards a centered and peaceful mind.  

Below I collect forms of meditation that have worked for me.  I include some descriptive background for some meditations.  The names I use are fictional.  

1.

The Tibetan Book of the Great Liberation

Takeaway: To change myself, I meditate on a substitute view of myself

The traditional way to break an addiction is to create a substitute.  For instance, chew gum instead of smoking.  The power of religion is when it creates a substitute emotion.  That is why many broken people feel the transformative power of religion.  They often, of course, attribute that power, to God, and specifically to their God.  Thus is born fanaticism.  

Meditation is also transformative in that anything one does changes one's brain chemistry and wiring.  The Tibetan Book of Liberation offers the story of a prince Padma who gets married and thereafter goes through many tribulations.  The story contains many howlers for any thinking person and it is sexist and fantasist, ripe material for Ricky Gervais.  For instance, finally wining his bride, the Book notes Padma gets 500 virgins thrown into the deal because that is customary. He later deserts his wife, who he stole from another man, because he wants more from life than love, family and sex with 500 virgins.  The story makes no comment on what today would clearly be considered narcissistic and sociopathic behavior.  This made clear to me how religion is simply a product of culture and the times.  Specifically, religion is a reflection of power structures.  

Putting that aside, however, if taken as an allegory for a teaching on how to achieve wakefulness, or self-awareness, the story is instructive.

Self-awareness comes in bursts; seeking it is a continual path.  By changing his view of himself, Padua achieved wakefulness.  By achieving the discipline of meditating on the spirits around him and on the gurus, Padua changed the view of himself and achieved self-awareness.  Evil spirits are in essence, creations of unhealthy social relations.  I meditate.

_____________________________________________

2.

The fallacy of religion is the underlying premise that everyone is the same and can reach a state of being "saved" or of transcendence.  

Takeaway: I meditate on achieving self-awareness and the realization that self-awareness in others is the exception.

Reading about personality disorders accentuates the practical limitations of human interactions.  The narcissistic personality is one of the most damaging because in many ways society rewards the narcissist, who may be a high achiever.  The victim is sucked in and then, when discarded for having tried to express his or her own feelings, left isolated.  Like so many people, I learned this the hard way through a prior relationship.  To avoid this in the future, I meditate on the attributes of the narcissistic personality and the reality that a narcissist will not change and can't be reasoned with or helped.  

I mediate.

_______________________________________________

3.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead

Takeaway: I meditate on the evil spirits that will greet me when I am dying.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead explains what will happen when we are dying.  It encourages a person to understand that process now, and to meditate on it, so that when the actual time comes we will be prepared.  We will meet many evil spirits which are trying to confuse us and to distract us from being reincarnated at a higher level.  If we recognize those evil spirits, and understand they are all created by our mind, they cannot prevail.

I have found a practical way to approach this.   There are certain people who I have concluded are simply evil, who lack a conscience and who enjoy hurting others.  All normal people are aware that unfortunately there are sociopaths and narcissists in their lives.  When I encounter such persons I typically have gotten a knot in my stomach and felt anxiety because they trigger memories of my father and his deranged mistress, Ilse.  Now, if I run into my ex girlfriend or her girlfriends, or any of the numerous sociopaths bound to be encountered in life, my plan is simply to observe them as evil spirits; they are narcissistic and sociopathic material manifestations of evil spirits.  They now have a purpose in my life: I look forward to seeing them to practice calm in their presence, as practice for greeting those evil spirits described in The Tibetan Book of the dead.

I meditate.

_______________________________________________

4.

Dear Patrick, by Jeffrey Schwartz, M.D.

Takeaway:  I meditate continuously on the question: 'Why am I doing this?' If the answer contains elements of greed, ill-will or ignorance, don't do it!"

At one of the most difficult times of my life, I was fortunate to have stumbled onto a one-day lecture by Jeffrey Schwartz at the Smithsonian. Schwartz is one of the foremost neuroscientists who developed the new paradigm of the plasticity of the mind. Besides introducing me to this new field, he also got me interested in meditation, which he is a big proponent of. I've been rereading his book Dear Patrick which is based on letters he wrote to a teenager who didn't have a father. There is a passage I find useful:

"Whenever you feel any doubt or hesitation about something you're about to do or say, stop and ask yourself: 'Why am I doing this?' If the answer contains elements of greed, ill-will or ignorance, don't do it!"

To some extent this seems to stop most action - because for me I feel in a constant state of ignorance. But, it is essential as a technique to avoid being simply reactive. Schwartz would explain that this actually has a neurological basis, as asking 'why?' allows activation of circuit breaker of the mind to cut off the amygdala from running out of control.

Psychologically, it is interesting to think of habits formed. My father was a person of total self-indulgence and completely lacking in empathy. While I can feel compassion for him, knowing his actions were caused by unloving and abusive parents, it is important for me to realize that this is the role model I had. Consciously I want to be nothing like him in that regard, so perhaps I need to be more aware of the unconscious patterns I absorbed from him and incorporated into my emotional memory, and thus must more often ask myself "why?"

Meditating on mindfulness is a useful tool also to develop this new habit.

I meditate.

_________________________________________________

5.

The main story line below is inspired by true events: the reincarnation of Saint Leslie Ann of Geddes,  a shadow saint of the Vatican, fulfilling the prophecies in The Book of Revelation which will lead to the rise of a Third Rome.  The story reflects the greatness of people I've known and the evil of people I've experienced. I have necessarily changed names and events for privacy and narrative continuity, so I call it fiction.   And after all, until all of the prophecies are fulfilled, so will most others.



The meaning of life is to love one's self.

Takeaway: I meditate on the emotion of loving myself.

Where is hope? What is the best thing you ever did for anyone? Where is truth? Where is your truth? Political activism and religion do not translate into emotional empathy. Alienation didn't die with Camus. It is in every neighbor, friend, lover. I am excluded, a bother, an imposition of boundaries. And so are you. Trust me, at your lowest moment in life, you will be alone. Through me - and through you - they'd see themselves.
___________________________

I remember him strangling me. 

I couldn't breath. 

And for years afterwards I held my breath, inside. 

And then I met her. 

And loved her. 

When I think about those rare moments of coincidence in life, events so random and fantastic that change the trajectory of existence, I wonder if they are, in fact, destiny.

Since being an infant I remember having been fascinated by the concept of art.  Yes, I clearly remember sitting in a playpen outside as Toronto maple leaves fell around me and squirrels were my only playmates wondering: "What is it?  How is it created?"

Of course, maybe it wasn't as clearly articulated as I remember now.   Maybe what I remember was a craving for acknowledgment and nurturing.  An inability to understand that need transformed into a search for empathy within objects of art.  The first of which were comics.

At the age of six I stood in a Toronto supermarket transfixed by colors of pages placed right within my line of vision (fabulous marketing!).  Captain America 100, "Big Premier Issue!"  My Mother leaned over and asked: "Do you want one?" "Which should I get?" I asked.  "Whichever one you want," she said.  A rare confluence in my life of attention, nurturing, choice and sensory stimulation (the last being Jack Kirby).  I chose Captain America and for years afterwards was perplexed by how a "premier" issue could start at #100.  Later I decided premier meant "best" not "first".

Thirty years later I met Leslie.  I realize now it was deja vu.  It was one of those experiences that made the universe seem whole and meaningful.  It was so random to create a dizzying sensation of destiny.



For nearly two years Leslie Geddes repeatedly told me how deeply she was in love with me. 

This was through the hundreds of emails she sent me, and over the months we lived together. 

And every time I saw her. 

I wanted to believe, but was occasionally given reason to ask "why?", such as when she told her friends at a party (during the time we lived together) that she wanted them to set her up with someone-else, "someone cute and rich"; or when she would stop in her tracks while walking with  me to simply stare at a strikingly attractive man, and then refuse to discuss it; or when I came over one morning to see that she had clearly spent the night with someone else, or when she'd literally turn her back on me and walk away when I foolishly tried to communicate my feelings or to ask her about hers.

Once, when I persisted and tried to ask about such things she gave me an icy stare of such deep hatred that I jumped, and as I did so I saw a glimmer of laughter in her eyes.  She had a way of turning her emotions on and off like a light-switch.

When I visited her at Princeton, Leslie told me with glee about a classmate whose boyfriend had broken up with her.  Leslie laughed as she recounted that the woman was in so much emotional pain that she was rolling on the ground in agony.  When I suggested to Leslie that maybe the woman needed a friend and that Leslie could be that friend, her response was one of total bafflement and incomprehension.  I sensed then that if I ever showed feelings or vulnerability to Leslie she would use it against me.

So, as a result I felt that I was constantly walking on eggshells around her.  In short, a relationship with Leslie felt like being in an insane asylum.

Logically one would then ask: "So if your intuition told you she was a gold-digger and con artist, why did you stay with her?"  The answer is that the first months were bliss and unfortunately I fell in love with her completely.  I was so much in love with her that I blocked the sense of warning and the fear I felt from her later controlling behavior.  

Unfortunately, my love was so deep that I was blinded and once it was out of my heart, I couldn't put it back.  

Also, I didn't know how to articulate the confusion I was feeling.  Walking on eggshells felt natural and comfortable in a dysfunctional way, since that's how I had grown up.

But mostly, by then I wanted to believe her daily declarations of love.

I wanted to believe I could be loved because my childhood made it difficult for me to believe I could be loved at all. 

After nearly two years, the stress of it all took it's toll.  "I want to be friends," I told her.  What I really meant was that I wanted to develop a relationship based on emotional intimacy.  But, having never expressed my feelings or even allowed myself to acknowledge them, I didn't know how to begin to communicate that.  

Leslie had moved out and, I learned later, had been seeing that "cute and rich" guy her friends had offered to hook her up with.  His money apparently resonated.  Her response to me was simply, "okay." 

A couple of months later after living in agonizing pain at having, in my mind, sabotaged a meaningful relationship, in an act of shocking naivete I decided to call her and to confide my painful childhood, the reasons for my distrust of her and others and to ask for her support in finally confronting the past and moving beyond it. 

I also told her I loved her, which I did very deeply. 

Leslie laughed.  
She told me to never contact her again.  
She hung up. 

That was the last time we spoke.  

I fell into a cycle of despair. 

Thinking there must be a misunderstanding, remembering that she had told me in hundreds of letters that she loved me, that she asked to move in with me, introduced me to her family and repeatedly told me she loved me, and remembering the good times, I decided to write explaining the situation. 

I wrote every few weeks the most insightful and sincere letter I could, believing in my ability to open my heart and that that was what Leslie wanted, because she had said she loved me.

It was a huge mistake, the biggest error of my life, to put my faith in Leslie's love.  I already knew from experience that she was capable of turning her emotions on and off on a dime.  But I felt I had a breakthrough in confronting my past and decided to believe in her, foolishly throwing caution to the wind.  

I also naively considered her two best friends my friends and so reached out to them for advice. 

Kirsten Feyling was my neighbor who I had spent a lot of time with. 

I knocked on her door and asked for her help and guidance. 

She angrily yelled, "why do you keep bothering everybody?" before slamming her door in my face.   Later, I saw Kirsten Feyling again and she lunged towards me screaming, her face distorted with rage.  I ran.

Another day as I entered my building I ran into Leslie's other friend, Maggie Martel. As I reached for the large glass door entrance to my building Maggie Martel saw me and slammed open and smashed the door in my face.  As I reeled in shock, she snorted with laughter and walked off. 

Her friend Autumn Francois practically spit on me the times I passed her on the street.

It was very difficult to understand this onslaught of hostility from these people I had felt so close to. 

Of course now I know that my attempts to communicate with them were profoundly naive. 

I didn't understand the dynamics of relationships: because I hadn't loved myself I chose a relationship with a person alienated from their own emotional life.  Leslie was the last person who could offer empathy since she lacks it for herself. 

The common denominator among Leslie and her friends is that all of them have very difficult relationships with their fathers and in their romantic relationships.  

I theorize that once Leslie had no more use for me, they projected their unresolved anger towards their fathers onto me.

It was some sort of primal assertion of power which at the time I didn't understand.  They were the same as my childhood abusers in the enjoyment they gained from causing pain.  To me, in a perverse way, the abuse of Leslie and her friends felt familiar.

Just as the man strangling me and abusing me seemed to take great pleasure in doing so, I've found that what creates the lasting pain of abuse isn't the physical act but the memory of the joy reflected in the abuser's eyes at the moment of total control.  

This is what is the survivor remembers: the emotional pain.

I remember seeing it in the eyes Ilse, of my father's sociopathic mistress, when I was locked in her apartment as a child desperately trying to get out. 

My father would leave me with her in some warped effort to get me to know her. 

Ilse would sit on the couch smoking, icily staring at me. 

Finally, the ritual would be I would freak out and want to leave, clawing at the locked door. 

She would laugh hysterically and refuse to unlock the door unless I kissed her, at which moment her eyes reflected triumph. 

This was my first taste of emotional and sexual abuse. 

I saw it in the eyes of Peter Barnett, my fourth grade teacher at the International School of Geneva who would hit my everyday and tell me I was stupid. 

Just at the moment of impact of his hand on my head a self-satisfied smirk would appear. 

And I saw it in the eyes of the teacher, John Fogarty, as he strangled me in a distant field. 

And in the eyes of Bruce Harlow, the headmaster of the school who realized my parents were incapable of protecting me, and so he was safe. 

And in the students at The Peddie School who in ninth grade would viciously beat me up because I was kind and thoughtful. 

I saw that same look of hatred in the eyes of Leslie Geddes and her friends.

It was a long climb out of their brainwashing to realize that I have value, that I deserve to be happy, to care about myself and to love myself.  And that I don't need them for that validation.

It was the DC Rape Crisis Center that ultimately helped me to heal. 

I now understand that having grown up with abuse I learned to devalue myself and consequently chose friends who were controlling and manipulative to reinforce my lack of confidence and to perpetuate my emotional scars. 

But, I've also learned that for me, compassion towards those who were hurtful is the final stage of my healing. 

For years I found myself plagued with the despair of "why?": Why would a teacher tell me he loved me and take me to an isolated field to violently sexually assault me? 

Why did the headmaster cover up the assault when I reported it? 

Why did my father choose alcohol, drugs and a sociopathic mistress who would hurt his children over treating his family with love and compassion? 

Why did Leslie Geddes, who told me she deeply loved me over two years, turn her back on me at my most desperate moment, when for once I believed in trust and in emotional intimacy? 

Why did her friends respond with abuse to my reaching out in friendship?

I nearly drove myself crazy with this "why" until I realized that the "why" is ultimately unanswerable.

At a basic level abusers have unfathomable emotional immaturity and lack the capacity for empathy.

But, explanations and theories are mere speculation, as meaningless as parlor games. 

What saved my sanity from the need to constantly ask "why" is insight I received through attending the lectures of the Dalai Lama: the only goal I have to work for is a peaceful mind.  

A means of doing this is to extend compassion to others - and to myself - with the belief that this engages the power of my mind and creates a virtuous cycle of karma. 

This is what works for me and what gives me sanity when Leslie, my father, and those others I loved and trusted acted insane. 

For me, the answer to "why?" doesn't matter anymore.

They either chose a role to play or it is their karma to play it.  

I choose mine.

I choose to believe in God as a power found within.  

That is where I focus my mediation practice.  

That is my answer. 

From a practical perspective, through the DC Rape Crisis Center I found friends who are empathetic.  They gave me strength and I learned practical coping strategies, such as somatic therapy.

I also empowered myself by taking legal action against a childhood abuser.  

It was not easy and took years of persistence.  

I won. 

Most importantly, I learned that the only person who needs to love me is myself.

Finally, I also forgave my former friends who turned their backs on me at my lowest moment. 

I sat down and placed a chair opposite me and asked each of them (in spirit) to forgive me for having given them pain and distress by imposing on them my expectation that they were greater than who they are. 

I know now from experience that Leslie Geddes, Maggie Martel, Kirsten Feyling, Autumn Francois, and Alice Riener are people of staggering and unfathomable emotional immaturity, seemingly incapable of empathy, completely lacking in self-awareness.and
 conscience.

In short, they are emotionally vile, abusive, self-absorbed fakes.  

In this, I feel, they are simply like most everyone else: banal, Ordinary People.

What Leslie Geddes, Maggie Martel, Kirsten Feyling, Autumn Francois, and Alice Riener taught me is that people are horrible human beings.  

They reflect a particular kind of evil: cowardice.  Based on my experience and in my opinion they enjoy seeing others in pain and inflicting it, as long as there are no consequences.  People for them are objects.  The causes that consume them - gay rights, health care policy, affordable housing, fund raising and politics - are worthwhile but really exist as means to inflate their egos, allowing them to manipulate others and to validate themselves.  In character - in how they act towards others - they are empty.   They seek relationships with one goal: money. 

My belief that Leslie Geddes and her friends were capable of more than that was a delusion resulting from my pain.

The pain resulted from desire at the lowest point of my life: a desire for their empathy, a desire for their compassion, a desire for their kindness, a desire for their friendship.

I meditate on releasing all desire.

And, I meditate on the causes of their actions:  Leslie had confided terrible stories of childhood abuse but at the time I lacked the knowledge of how to respond and find her help.  She recited the events of her past with an emotional dullness, which I now suspect reflected a dissociative state.  I observed the serial promiscuity of Kirsten, Autumn and Maggie, which I now see as clear signs of emotional detachment connected to unresolved trauma.  And I knew Alice was living in the closet as a gay woman, in love with Leslie, no less, reflecting, I now believe, a broken identity expressing itself through neurosis. 

I release the desire for them to be what they are not capable of being.

I thank them for the valuable lesson of the evil of human nature because it pushed me to have confidence in my capacity to love.  It is the adversity brought by enemies that allows my compassion, empathy, love and forgiveness to materialize as strength.

I wish them self-realization even while experiencing that they aren't capable of it.

I won't hold my breath anymore.

I won't believe in them.

I saw on Leslie's MySpace page a photo of her surrounded by numerous empty alcohol bottles.  She had two "favorite" quotes on her page: "I love the salty taste of cum" and "I'll climb up the pipe, go over the wall, and through the window to kill him."  The first made me feel sorry for her but the second sent chills down my spine.  

I fear her.

I did have two later indirect interactions with Leslie.  About two years after she hung up on me I received a disturbing call from the Princeton University police at  around 5:00 am while I was sleeping in a city hundreds of miles away.  Leslie, they said, had contacted them and said I was following her that morning.  They asked me where I was and to provide an alibi.  

I went to my friend Elizabeth's apartment to do so, but was so upset and in such a state of shock that I was hyperventilating as I wondered, "What happened to this person I trusted so much?"

Fortunately, Elizabeth is a massage therapist so helped me return back to normal breathing and then I called back the police with her number.  I never heard anything more about it but I later received a fedex at my door from Leslie with  a multi page nonsensical letter full of threats.  I tore it up.  A therapist I spoke to surmised that Leslie had had a psychotic break and couldn't seperate reality from fantasy. 

So I feel compassion and although I wish I didn't, unfortunately I still love her.

But now, I also acknowledge my fear of Leslie Geddes.

I know that she is a person with no conscience, and I listen to that.

When the scorpion asked the frog for a ride across the pond, the frog said: "but you will sting me!"  The scorpion answered he would not as they would then both drown.  So, the frog gave the scorpion a lift but halfway across the pond the scorpion stung the frog.  "Why did you sting me?"  the frog cried, "For now we will both die!"  The scorpion answered, "Because it is my nature to sting, no matter what the consequences."

I meditate on compassion and I forgive Leslie Geddes and her friends for their lies and abuse.

I sense exactly how Leslie Geddes' life will play out and feel sorry for her that she will never experience the gift intimacy and allow herself to feel the emotion of love.

I forgive all my childhood abusers because it allows me to reclaim power from them.

I meditate on forgiveness.

And I forgive myself for my past naiveté.  

I have dedicated my life to helping abuse survivors and standing up to abusers.  

I learned to draw and to write to explore ideas, thoughts and emotions.

I no longer need the validation from others, a desperate search for kindness.  

It doesn't exist.  

What does exist is evil.  

Evil is mostly recognized in our society as a caricature.  For instance, it appears cartoonish in movies about serial killers and super-villans and in tabloid titillation over the horrors that people inflict on others.  On the other extreme are somber academic tomes about the pathology of evil, the banality of evil, the sociology of evil, and such.

My recognition of the existence of absolute evil came when I saw the eyes of its victim, Krystyna Trzesniewska.  

Krystyna was a young girl captured by the Nazis.  Wilhelm Brasse was assigned by the Nazis to photograph all concentration camp victims; his photo of her captures a haunting desperation and pain. 

When I saw that photo I lost all faith in humanity.  Krystyna's suffering was caused by an indifferent humanity.  Her pain exists today as a commodified artifact.  And it is this indifferent commodification that distinguishes conventional evil (the infliction of pain) from pure evil (the indifferent viewing of suffering).

I realize that it is easy for me to project onto Krystyna because the counterpoint to her suffering is the indifferent pleasure I saw in my childhood abusers.  So, I empathize with Krystyna and want to protect her from the insanity of the adults around her just as I  wish someone had protected me, and as I wish I could have protected Leslie. 

The strongest memory I have of Leslie Geddes are her eyes telling me, "I wish you were dead".  She gave me this look twice and In itself it was terrifying.   But behind them resonated the insanity of multiple adults I had experienced as a child, so my fear was amplified.

In Krystyna's eyes I see the lost innocence and suffering of Leslie Geddes as a child, her true self before she built a protective wall of anger and rage.  

That is the Leslie Geddes for whom I have compassion and still love.  It is that Leslie Geddes for whom I weep.  

I realize that her need to hurt me began centuries ago through cause and effect.  As long as I am in a place of safety I can put aside panic and cultivate compassion with the hope that it will positively effect her future lives while knowing that it is unrealistic to believe that meditating compassion will change anybody in this lifetime.  I am sure that all of my childhood abusers died self satisfied and stuck in their narcissistic worlds and I am sure that Leslie and her friends will be no different.

Popular culture says that love redeems.  Yet, the abuse I experienced by Leslie and others is what pushed me to redouble my efforts to cultivate compassion.  The meditation on compassion, cause and effect and emptiness is ultimately, I've found, for my benefit.  It wasn't their love that saved me but their hatred.

And, ultimately, it was through Saint Leslie Ann of Geddes that I learned the 144 meditations.  How that came to be is another story for another time.

The meditations saved me because, through understanding emptiness, I will be be what I sought all along: love.

The hands of that teacher around my neck are released.

I see love within me, and I breath again.

I'm no longer a victim.  

I meditate.