I realized, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. ~ Shantaram
I’m always intrigued by those puzzles about how America treats our children.
The American establishment HATES children. Those that survive pregnancy are treated to childcare by some stranger as we have denigrated a mother being at home and raising her own children. Voters in some states want to extend abortion to the first birthday of the child. Once the children are in school, they are maleducated by our dumbest college grads. Once they’re out of school, they are informed by our second-dumbest college grads. Society wants to grant the privilege of a job to those with the right skin color rather than to the kids who worked the hardest. When they want to marry and raise their own family, our society makes it impossible for them to own a home, and the mother-to-be is ostracized by the culture and media for wanting to be a mom.
The idea America today values children at all is fantasy.
I absolutely love this piece, Karen, just as I loved reading Shantaram. It fell into my life at the perfect time; your essay is doing the same.
I'm in an airport on my way to a family reunion where I'll be in the presence of my sister who cut me off for my beliefs and choices re:covid. I haven't seen her for seven years. Thank you for reminding me of the freedom I already possess to choose to love or hate, and the only choice that truly frees any of us... Xox
Of course, I can't see the logic in not saying - Jesus said it first. Though in Jesus' statement he has already made the right choice between hate and forgiveness.
So...it's not original to Shantaram.
And, I can guarantee those butterflies didn't last long after released from their imprisonment in little boxes having beaten their fragile wings into damage and being deprived of sustenance for who knows how long just to satisfy people's egos.
The butterflies would be much better off to never have been caged in the boxes. The same is true of all living things. People, too.
I don't know why people wax poetic on such tragic nonsense.
Or do it and expect blessings to be bestowed on their lives.
That was so powerful Karen! I left LA in 2022 because it's become a truly dark place. Chatsworth is the capital of the porn industry. So many people come from all over the world to "make it" and then don't and then they unleash their pain on the rest of us. The narcissism and mental illness that permeates Los Angeles and cities adjacent is like nowhere else on the planet. Forgiveness is a good thing but sometimes getting away from a toxic environment is absolutely necessary. Thanks for sharing. sabrinalabow.substack.com
Heroin, SFV, wounds, misery…have you had a chance to read Crooked Smile? Death is a constant among the addicted. Besides luck, what saved his life was prison, as in forced rehabilitation. What solves no one’s addiction is harm reduction. Misery attracts addicts and forced abstinence can give them a chance.
I haven't read it. I've been exposed to so much of it in the real world, it's affected me so closely, so it's hard for me to read more about it. Over 20 of my sons' friends from their school days have died from drugs or suicide, my younger son's best friend, who used to call me his mom, died three years ago. Christmas is forever ruined for my son because his friend died at that time. It's heartbreaking.
I understand. It’s a very sad time when family and friends are unable to help the addict. But, I think they deserve a different approach than today’s free needles, some housing, some drugs and little consequence for crime to buy Heroin, Meth et al. Perhaps the author Klickstein would have a POV your readership might find useful.
I agree. Thanks for sharing about Crooked Smile, these books are very important to raise awareness. The rehab industry is meant to keep addicts coming back, not to make them better. It's corrupt as anything. I wrote about it in Hustling Humans https://khmezek.substack.com/p/hustling-humans
whatta strange day of contradictions, I'll bet it seemed unreal at the time--it sure feels uncanny, filled with symbolism an' omens almost--the blessed joy of a weddin' (however uncomfortably fancy the venue!) -- and a day of sunny celebration--your birthday too! -- contrasted SO starkly with the sorrow of this poor seriously injured boy steeped in blood (both innocent that day and it seems a conflicted guilty soul too) in this sordid place among tortured young souls sharin' a strange dark worship for this cult of "juggalos"--the opposite of a weddin' it sounds positively funerary--an' it seems it was nearly so--an' then again a reversal for him-- being "saved" by you, just in time (literally just in time), because you dared to cross into this disturbing territory--just as uncomfortable for you as the polished an' perfect place you'd left in yer finery.... But cross over ya did that day--something even the child's own tormented mama couldn't do.... So like Orpheus you descended inta what truly was a Hades! Yet in so-doin', you were saving a life, giving the butterfly a chance.... to fly--as literally he was freed (not imprisoned) and recovered. That he turned again... is tragic but once a spirit is freed you cannot "own" it -- it's just sad but that sadness doesn't lessen what you did--- to save a life an' give it a chance at freedom!
It's heartenin' ta know those others you helped DID get outta the endless loop of drugs an' darkness an' like the butterflies flew away safely to new gardens--to thrive! like Roberts/Shantaram who was able to make things right with his own soul--and with the world. You could have done no less than what your heart told you--in all these cases. An' bless the butterflies that made it an' you fer helpin' em be free, to find their wings an' soar...
You have a good way of putting it. Crossing over. I did a lot of crossing over from one world into another. It's a surreal experience because you're aware that although the world looks one way on the surface just take a little step left or right and suddenly you're in this other place and you see all the darkness. Those who live in the mansion have a very dark world beneath the surface too but they hide it much better.
yup! "Crossin' Over" seems right--glad it rings true--it's like trekkin' to other worlds "moments away" vs distance only--sometimes the other world is literally under yer feet ('been readin' 'bout the DUMBS or 'bout the not-so-innocent traffickin' "tunnels" under stores, museums (The Getty etc)--so I think've this a LOT. I do know a bit about the very dark world of some of these truly "rich folks"--ya mentioned drugs an' likely that's just the tip of the iceberg...
Even 'fore havin' kids, one thing that struck me--we "acteurs" who did caterin' gigs that gave ya entree inta fawncy apartments so you could serve (pardon the pun) all the whore-derves (an' I mean the people too! b/c some of these folks were prosty-tootin' themselfs fer $).... was a very dark underbelly--an' a weird undercurrent too. Not "all" ya'd see but some.... one kin witness a whole microcosm of their "whirled" on the little trays--folks that took double caviar an' just discarded the cracker on the servin' tray! or folks that doubled their drinks, were rude an' ungracious, never even looked at ya (or acknowledged there was a human holdin' the tray, offerin' that napkin), folks drunk, gettin' handsy with others' spouses (or in few cases gettin' handsy with us "staff"--'specially some of the real purdy boys--they didn't know where it came from?!), folks that made assumptions 'bout the "help" bein' stoopid (most of us were college educated strugglin' ahr-teests of varyin' kinds...)... the list goes on.
I'm SURE after we all left there wuz monkey bizness--some ugly... What always struck me too--in many cases... no books! Where were the bookshelves? If they had kids, why were there no toys (even in bins?)--why was there only perrier & champagne in their fridges? WHO WERE these folks we were "servin?"... So yes, one short subway ride away from my most humble walk-up apt. were dark worlds... hidin' from plain site...but not invisible if ya looked closely. Sounds like you too sawr the little bits of soiled silk peekin' out too... (In the E. Village where I lived fer many years the other side too was visible--not the dark clown folks--but young'uns on crack or beggin' fer $ with weird stray dogs covered in sores....an' yet they had trendy "hair"... I've seen glimpses of some of those lives too... an' a few more!) Anyway... giftin' a child with a second chance (whatever they did with it) was a good deed..."we" call it a mitzvah an' you can do no more than that! ('cept write about it so we all learn too!)
We face those opportunities of choice all the time. We just pretend they aren't there. Which is then the choice made. So one is defined by choosing that as someone who hides from reality.
I’m always intrigued by those puzzles about how America treats our children.
The American establishment HATES children. Those that survive pregnancy are treated to childcare by some stranger as we have denigrated a mother being at home and raising her own children. Voters in some states want to extend abortion to the first birthday of the child. Once the children are in school, they are maleducated by our dumbest college grads. Once they’re out of school, they are informed by our second-dumbest college grads. Society wants to grant the privilege of a job to those with the right skin color rather than to the kids who worked the hardest. When they want to marry and raise their own family, our society makes it impossible for them to own a home, and the mother-to-be is ostracized by the culture and media for wanting to be a mom.
The idea America today values children at all is fantasy.
It's tragic.
I absolutely love this piece, Karen, just as I loved reading Shantaram. It fell into my life at the perfect time; your essay is doing the same.
I'm in an airport on my way to a family reunion where I'll be in the presence of my sister who cut me off for my beliefs and choices re:covid. I haven't seen her for seven years. Thank you for reminding me of the freedom I already possess to choose to love or hate, and the only choice that truly frees any of us... Xox
Oh my goodness, I'm so glad to hear you read Shantaram and that my essay is helping you along this important journey. Sending you prayers.
Such a thought provoking and disturbing piece in one. Thanks, Karen. I'm going to look for the book.
It's a wonderful book.
Great quote. Because it's true. Thank you.
Of course, I can't see the logic in not saying - Jesus said it first. Though in Jesus' statement he has already made the right choice between hate and forgiveness.
So...it's not original to Shantaram.
And, I can guarantee those butterflies didn't last long after released from their imprisonment in little boxes having beaten their fragile wings into damage and being deprived of sustenance for who knows how long just to satisfy people's egos.
The butterflies would be much better off to never have been caged in the boxes. The same is true of all living things. People, too.
I don't know why people wax poetic on such tragic nonsense.
Or do it and expect blessings to be bestowed on their lives.
That was so powerful Karen! I left LA in 2022 because it's become a truly dark place. Chatsworth is the capital of the porn industry. So many people come from all over the world to "make it" and then don't and then they unleash their pain on the rest of us. The narcissism and mental illness that permeates Los Angeles and cities adjacent is like nowhere else on the planet. Forgiveness is a good thing but sometimes getting away from a toxic environment is absolutely necessary. Thanks for sharing. sabrinalabow.substack.com
🙏
Heroin, SFV, wounds, misery…have you had a chance to read Crooked Smile? Death is a constant among the addicted. Besides luck, what saved his life was prison, as in forced rehabilitation. What solves no one’s addiction is harm reduction. Misery attracts addicts and forced abstinence can give them a chance.
I haven't read it. I've been exposed to so much of it in the real world, it's affected me so closely, so it's hard for me to read more about it. Over 20 of my sons' friends from their school days have died from drugs or suicide, my younger son's best friend, who used to call me his mom, died three years ago. Christmas is forever ruined for my son because his friend died at that time. It's heartbreaking.
I understand. It’s a very sad time when family and friends are unable to help the addict. But, I think they deserve a different approach than today’s free needles, some housing, some drugs and little consequence for crime to buy Heroin, Meth et al. Perhaps the author Klickstein would have a POV your readership might find useful.
I agree. Thanks for sharing about Crooked Smile, these books are very important to raise awareness. The rehab industry is meant to keep addicts coming back, not to make them better. It's corrupt as anything. I wrote about it in Hustling Humans https://khmezek.substack.com/p/hustling-humans
whatta strange day of contradictions, I'll bet it seemed unreal at the time--it sure feels uncanny, filled with symbolism an' omens almost--the blessed joy of a weddin' (however uncomfortably fancy the venue!) -- and a day of sunny celebration--your birthday too! -- contrasted SO starkly with the sorrow of this poor seriously injured boy steeped in blood (both innocent that day and it seems a conflicted guilty soul too) in this sordid place among tortured young souls sharin' a strange dark worship for this cult of "juggalos"--the opposite of a weddin' it sounds positively funerary--an' it seems it was nearly so--an' then again a reversal for him-- being "saved" by you, just in time (literally just in time), because you dared to cross into this disturbing territory--just as uncomfortable for you as the polished an' perfect place you'd left in yer finery.... But cross over ya did that day--something even the child's own tormented mama couldn't do.... So like Orpheus you descended inta what truly was a Hades! Yet in so-doin', you were saving a life, giving the butterfly a chance.... to fly--as literally he was freed (not imprisoned) and recovered. That he turned again... is tragic but once a spirit is freed you cannot "own" it -- it's just sad but that sadness doesn't lessen what you did--- to save a life an' give it a chance at freedom!
It's heartenin' ta know those others you helped DID get outta the endless loop of drugs an' darkness an' like the butterflies flew away safely to new gardens--to thrive! like Roberts/Shantaram who was able to make things right with his own soul--and with the world. You could have done no less than what your heart told you--in all these cases. An' bless the butterflies that made it an' you fer helpin' em be free, to find their wings an' soar...
You have a good way of putting it. Crossing over. I did a lot of crossing over from one world into another. It's a surreal experience because you're aware that although the world looks one way on the surface just take a little step left or right and suddenly you're in this other place and you see all the darkness. Those who live in the mansion have a very dark world beneath the surface too but they hide it much better.
yup! "Crossin' Over" seems right--glad it rings true--it's like trekkin' to other worlds "moments away" vs distance only--sometimes the other world is literally under yer feet ('been readin' 'bout the DUMBS or 'bout the not-so-innocent traffickin' "tunnels" under stores, museums (The Getty etc)--so I think've this a LOT. I do know a bit about the very dark world of some of these truly "rich folks"--ya mentioned drugs an' likely that's just the tip of the iceberg...
Even 'fore havin' kids, one thing that struck me--we "acteurs" who did caterin' gigs that gave ya entree inta fawncy apartments so you could serve (pardon the pun) all the whore-derves (an' I mean the people too! b/c some of these folks were prosty-tootin' themselfs fer $).... was a very dark underbelly--an' a weird undercurrent too. Not "all" ya'd see but some.... one kin witness a whole microcosm of their "whirled" on the little trays--folks that took double caviar an' just discarded the cracker on the servin' tray! or folks that doubled their drinks, were rude an' ungracious, never even looked at ya (or acknowledged there was a human holdin' the tray, offerin' that napkin), folks drunk, gettin' handsy with others' spouses (or in few cases gettin' handsy with us "staff"--'specially some of the real purdy boys--they didn't know where it came from?!), folks that made assumptions 'bout the "help" bein' stoopid (most of us were college educated strugglin' ahr-teests of varyin' kinds...)... the list goes on.
I'm SURE after we all left there wuz monkey bizness--some ugly... What always struck me too--in many cases... no books! Where were the bookshelves? If they had kids, why were there no toys (even in bins?)--why was there only perrier & champagne in their fridges? WHO WERE these folks we were "servin?"... So yes, one short subway ride away from my most humble walk-up apt. were dark worlds... hidin' from plain site...but not invisible if ya looked closely. Sounds like you too sawr the little bits of soiled silk peekin' out too... (In the E. Village where I lived fer many years the other side too was visible--not the dark clown folks--but young'uns on crack or beggin' fer $ with weird stray dogs covered in sores....an' yet they had trendy "hair"... I've seen glimpses of some of those lives too... an' a few more!) Anyway... giftin' a child with a second chance (whatever they did with it) was a good deed..."we" call it a mitzvah an' you can do no more than that! ('cept write about it so we all learn too!)
Not facing the opportunities to make the choices that define us leaves us undefined.
We face those opportunities of choice all the time. We just pretend they aren't there. Which is then the choice made. So one is defined by choosing that as someone who hides from reality.
Sometimes called a coward.
beautiful ... to be or not to be ? good God please enlightenn our darkness
🙏
Amen Karen.....
Jesus died for us while we were yet sinners! Poignant story as usual! Maranatha!!
Jesus didn't die. Jesus is an immortal God.