March 1, 2013: Being a Purgatorian, Part I

Thus you may understand that love alone is the true seed of every merit in you,
and of all acts for which you must atone.
Dante Alighieri

Have you ever wondered what language they speak in Limbo? Lee T. Gallup

Are you carrying a big stick or are you just one? Author

As I am struggling this round and feeling every bit the Purgatorian, I might as well write about it. Purgatorian language is bound to be flawed, so I don’t see the point of white-gloving anything when it comes to communicating about Limbo. That gives me a get-out-of-jail-free card—I hope. During this enterprise, I’ll also refer to Inferno, but will likely have few comments about Paradiso as my present state of consciousness is decidedly not Paradisian. So, here goes Purgatorian random thoughts…

Psychologist Alfred Adler offered that organ inferiority can be a good thing—think a young child who only has improvement ahead of them. What if the same can be said of Purgatorians, only it’s spiritual inferiority?

Being centered (not losing one’s conscious sense of balance) is not a full-time enterprise when one is a Purgatorian—teetering on the edge is exactly what being a Purgatorian is all about.

So, do Infernians only wonder why it’s all so unfair and are disturbed because they shouldn’t have to recover or cope, while Purgatorians hope for recovery and are disturbed they’re having trouble coping, whereas Paradisians can love being out-of-balance as it’s so much fun to recover? Or, they don’t have to be out-of-balance at all. In other words, one way or the other, they’re not much disturbed?

I’m curious: If a dog is barking incessantly does a Paradisian simply not allow the disturbance to affect them? How about a child being molested? Women raped? Genocide? Well, I can tell you there are lots of things that do not disturb me, but there are some things that do create a disturbance I don’t want to ignore. I guess I’ll deal with my inferior Purgatorian status in that regard and call it having lots of room for improvement ahead.

I’m curious: If practicing one’s center is important, what’s with the meditating for hours at a time or standing for hours under a cold waterfall to practice remaining centered, etc.? I offer that Purgatorian challenges such as intimacy, sex, playful mischief, eating, adult beverages, etc. are also a good way to practice being centered. And a good way to spend some time as well.

Purgatorian Love Process: “Carrot-and-stick-love?” I’m disturbed by this practice and admit I have trouble being centered when women start seriously bargaining. Besides, I don’t care for carrots. And I’d rather carry a big stick than be one. But that’s not a big stick with a carrot—that stuff doesn’t work for an older male ginger anyway. Well, unless they have money and/or fame and/or lots of power.

A Purgatorian Love Chant: “I am sorry—it seems like I should have known better, but of course I didn’t.” Yet the crap behavior just continues? Aren’t we supposed to carry our apologies in our deeds? Maybe that’s just me overstepping my Purgatorian boundaries. Arrogant fool!

A Purgatorian Love-Balm (A Fantasy in Limbo): “Be with someone despite their faults.” It seems to me there’s an unwritten addendum: “But I can’t do it.” Yep, I’m divorced because I couldn’t do it. Still haven’t been able to, married or not. Neither could they. But, we do like the fantasy love-balm. It’s so—well—distracting.

Purgatory and Gender: Women are not as nice or as nurturing as they think they are, or as men might be hoping they’d be. Men are not as strong and invulnerable as they think they are or as women might be hoping they’d be.

Love in Inferno: If love was like the card game Hearts, every suitor is like the Queen of Spades and there is no chance of shooting the moon (collecting all the Hearts and the Queen of Spades which nails all the other players).

Love in Purgatorio: If love was like the card game Hearts, every suitor is like the Queen of Spades and there is a chance of shooting the moon.

Love in Paradiso: I dunno! Still, let’s give it shot. How about if love was like the card game Hearts, but shooting the moon is not left to chance—it was a skill? And, all the other players win as well—even though they lose. Hehehehehe

What to wear in Purgatorio: Something stealthy to cover the lurking terror? Maybe the appearance of religious practice? Maybe the appearance of good works? Whatevvvver—it’s still a hungry wolf in sheep’s clothing. Yeah, that’s what I said.

A Purgatorian Poem: Somewhere In Time and Mind

I can resent it when my theater is interrupted. And it shows.
I can resent it when my emptiness is interrupted. And it shows.
I can resent my resentment. And it shows.

After brief pause,
A pattern emerges.


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