Against The World


The meditation did it’s job, I think. As I seemed to be descending into the abyss of calm, I suddenly was overcome with the knowledge that I have lived a life of “against”.

I no longer have any desire at all to be against my late father or mother, but I do feel that they brought me to “against”, and then moved on. Leaving me there multiplying the “sins of the fathers”.

Because I knew them well, I hardly believe they would have thrown me into this cesspool with any inkling that I would have spent an entire lifetime drowning. And pulling innocent bystanders in with me.

I have reasons to hold them responsible for the initial dunking, but only God could know why I spent so many years swimming in this fight.

A life against is a life of stress, anxiety, failures, and endless wandering.

As my meditation continued I could see that I had been firmly against my father. Rooted in standing against something that I loved and held to be my God.

Rooted so well that there was no meaning to be found in life, other than an endless attempt to somehow satisfy this God of mine while standing against every word and idea that came from him.

From about the 3rd grade on—I was actively against each and every teacher. My God spoke to me often about how the teachers had always been against him. Until he finally stopped going to school. There was school whippings and beatings at home by his mother, until he had finally had enough.

He rebelled! I was serving a rebellious God.

From about the 3rd grade on—I was against each teacher, bar none. I was against the idea of people having the authority to give me bad grades—which turned my God against me.

School was nothing to me. Not friends, or good times, or learning. It was only knowing that I would fail. I would fail on my test and my God would turn against me.

I think I loved my God, but I hated him at the same time. He also had authority. He held the authority over the car, the time to be home, the belt, my mother, what we all did, and how we did it.

A life in high school with a girl friend who joined me in being against what her parents wanted most of her. We never spoke of our being rebellious children, but we rallied each other to disobedience in all we undertook to do and be.

It must have been mostly myself, because just as I used the lessons of “against” against my teachers and my God, I was against my comrade in arms: my girl friend.

Somehow she must have realized I was against her too. She deserted me, leaving me against women. A lifetime of loving women and being against them.

I had to go in the service. From the very first day, I was against all that had anything to do with authority. Boot camp was a time of fear and learning for everyone—but me. I had no fear of authority now, I had at last escaped the authority of my father, my God.

But I brought a spirit with me. I was against everything in the service but getting violently drunk. I was a slobbering drunk, always looking for another place, another way to rebel against everything.

At the end of about 4 years, I turned against very close friends that had helped me through life and death in my service years.

I set my entire life up around looking to see who I would be against. I was not so much against places, and things, but I was always against how I perceived people were not doing me “right”.

After being out of the service for a couple of years I married someone my age that had also been against. She was to the outrage of her father, and not so much her mother, the unwed mother of two children with no ties to the different fathers of either.

I only knew of one child, until the very last days of our marriage.

It seems that marrying me allowed her to grow up and stop being against. She now had a life of her own and was making a home for myself, her daughter, and our children.

I was against! Not only was I against my parents, my God, but was now against her parents because I assumed them to be against me. I would naturally assume that, because I considered all to be against me.

It took no time at all for me to realize that my wife could well be against me.

I lived in a world that required everything to be of my own choosing; to be own way. If not—who was against me?

There was no knowledge of what compromise meant or was or stood for. No knowledge that anything existed but my own thoughts, hurts, and fears. No knowledge that anyone else in the world was anything more than a tree.

All other people were threats to me. They could arise at any moment and attempt to exert their authority over me. Over what I did or thought.

I was against her parents because I held all parents in contempt. All parents were authority figures. I seemed to have a responsibility to my wife to rid her of all that could hold authority over herself. Except for my self.

The more I attempted to do what I saw as my responsibility—the more she disliked me. The more she too rebelled against me.

As her two sisters had somehow been trained to think they held sway over my wife, I was saddled with the responsibility to rid my wife of their presence in her life. They somehow had been given the idea that my wife’s child was their child. And I did not understand any one thing in the world—but people attempting to exert their authority over me.

I was against them. Some times I liked them, but then I would realize that they could well be trying to show me their authority. Authority over what was mine to have authority over. I only knew I had to be against.

This is no more than a beginning!  I am sure I will need to finish this.  Finish it until I am no more against.

Even though I have no blame for anyone (indeed, how could I?), I find it essential that I seek explanations for a life gone awry. 

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