OK, business done, cash in pocket, carvery consummed and Doctor Who watched (the absolutely atrocious 23rd season, how Patrick Troughton must be spinning in his grave [if he is dead, I've got no idea; Tom Baker is still around and shopping in Tesco's at Hollington - how the mighty have fallen!]).
Anyway, I have no idea what I have already written, it is nearly bedtime and I have an urge to drink gallons of H2O mixed with vinegar to give it a bit of a kick, so I'll keep this brief.
I seem to remember listing Tony Blair and Barak 'I Shot Osama So It Doesn't Matter If I've Fucked-Up The Economy' Obama as being Diabolically Possessed, and laughing at the Hollywood version of Possesseion (apart from the first two Hell Raiser films, they were pretty close). So I'll just try to give a quick, pithy, concise description of what it means to me (anyone who knows me knows that I don't do pithy or consice, but here goes).
I feel a 'presence' just about 24/7, one that shares my body. It has no power, no physical control, no authority over me, but it is there. It speaks to me (more accurately, they speak, all at the same time). Oral communication is constant and has been all my life, but is msotly easily ignored. It is not a clear dialogue, rather a badly-tuned, almost silent, radio set with heavy static and ofton in a foreign language. However, this is the minor part. The presence shows images, colours, smells; it makes physical changes to my body (limbs become heavier, I get the feeling of floating or flying, I feel bones growing out from my head, wings forming on my back - none of these things happen, of course, but I feel them and am ofton clumsy and drop things as a result - I regularly do not know where my arms end, or even how many I have); promises are made, rewards offerred and temptations given, mostly not verbally.
What does it want? Harm. To anything that reflects the Glory of God. It has no power other than lies and deceit, but these can be very powerful indeed - just think of politics and international banking. Self-harm has never been an issue for me, barring the odd half-hearted suicide attempt. Other-harm has always been my thing. Encouragement to violence or to ignore those in need, especially the innocent (I'll cover this in a future post).
How do I deal with it? Various ways.
As a teenager/young man I didn't. I enjoyed it. I revelled in it. I welcomed, nay encouraged it. It excited me, I followed Millwall FC around England (I missed our one and only outing to the Continent, just coming out of the scene then). We caused chaos in many a town, gained several tattooes and a few minor scars, a couple or three convictions (nothing heavy) and a lot of good memories. Do I miss those days? Too right I do. Plenty of excitement and a real disciplined structure to the day. I can honestly say, very few regrets even though I now recognise almost every day then as being lived as an insult to God. But come the Final Trump at least I can hold my head up and say 'Regardless of what I did, I never followed West Ham!'.
Realising the trouble my immortal was in I came, slowly and with relapses, out of that scene. A couple of incidents took place which awoke me to the fact that I was getting in a wee bit too deep. I had to find ways to deal with the inner presence.
First it was exercise. If you are too knackered to do anything but sleep, you can't hurt anyone. Two, three hours a day in the gym. Still angry? I had two large suitcases full of sand. Heavy buggers. Take a bus ride to Croydon, making sure I only had the fare to get there, and not back, and walk the eight miles back home carrying them. Good for the CV system, and shut the inner imps up eventually as well. Followed by a good sleep.
Then it was alcohol. Well, that had always been there, at times it was my medicine, at times my prop, ofton an excuse - and always a risk. Most, if not all, relapses were alcohol-fuelled. But used sensibly (not a regular occurance, I admit) it was a great soother. Used to excess a great remover of the voices, albeit replacing them with pink elephants and dancing hippos. But not my best move.
The best solution was to reject the Presence by fighting back with the Truth and Holy Word of God. Not the crap liberal wishy-washy nonsense bleated out by the average trendt Anglican who always seems slightly embarrassed to talk about God, not the American TV Evangelist nutters in twenty grand suits, not the false teachers of the Papist church with their institutionalised child abuse rings (what better example of Demonic Possession in places of power can there be?) but true faith, strict and harsh as needed. Presbytarianism, Ulster-style, Identity Churches in America and, finally and most definitely foremost, the One True Original Apostolic Church, the Orthodox Church.
A strict regimen of prayer, fasting, confession, mass and exorcism controls the worst of it. All that is missing is True Love. This could defeat the Presence of the Evil One, the reason it is not there I'll come back to at a later date.
O, and avoiding medication. Medication can only either mask symptoms (dangerous as the 'disease' is still there, and if one voice is masked, then so is the ability to clearly hear the Saving Words of Grace from the Lord) or, even worse, ruin the spirit and mind, leaving an empty shell that cannot concentrate or focus on its defence and so opening itself up 100% to Demonic Possession. No one will ever get me to take a chemical 'solution' for this spiritual struggle without having me first physically restrained and incapacitated. And then it will have to be continued for life, as I will either succumb to Possession entirely (and then not be all that safe to be around) or else, if I (God willing) manage to resist, first opportunity I get I will remove those responsible for the 'treatment' - not due to Possession, but for simple cause-and-effect - anyone involved in trying to sacrifice my immortal soul to the Devil has lost their right to existence. They are, knowingly or otherwise, in league with the Devil and need to be removed before a just world can be made on Earth.
I cannot read their soul, so I may make a mistake; for that I certainly apologise and would do so in the afterlife, but only God, not I, can judge the reasons for their actions; I can only judge on the actions themselves.
Enough rambling for one day. Night-night all.
No comments:
Post a Comment