The Freemasons

The Masons

What exactly are the Freemanson? And who are they? The misteriously locate themselves in major cities and towns, the own expensive buildings and property but you never hear anyone talking about it. 

It's like they are there, just in front of you, in front of everyone but camouflaging, like wearing a disguise but they are not ... How do the manage to be right in the middle of everyone but remain a mystery?

Their secrecy amazes me and how they manage to keep it that way for hundreds of years even more.

Their buildings always have their symbol at the front, the Compass & Square

This is the Masonic Center in Sydney, located in the corner of Castlereaugh and Goulburn St, made following the Brutalish Movement. 

http://www.sydneyarchitecture.com/cbd/cbd4-013.htm

Above he link of a very interesting articulo regarding the architecture of this building.

Old "handbooks" of freemasonry define the organization as "a peculiar system of morality veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols," "a science which is engaged in the search after the divine truth," and "the activity of closely united men who, employing symbolical forms borrowed principally from the mason's trade and from architecture, work for the welfare of mankind, striving morally to ennoble themselves and others and thereby to bring about a universal league of mankind which they aspire to exhibit even now on a small scale."

They credit themselves with the building of Noah's Ark, the Tower of Babel, the Pyramids and Solomon's Temple. The practice of freemasonry includes temples, altars, a moral code, worship services, vestments, feast days, a hierarchy of leadership, initiation and burial rites, and promises of eternal reward and punishment. During the initiation rite, the candidate expresses a desire to seek "light," and he is assured that he will receive the light of spiritual instruction that he could not receive in another Church. 

The Freemasonry is anti-Catholic. In the United States, one of the leaders of freemasonry, Gen. Albert Pike referred to the papacy as "a deadly, treacherous enemy,".

One of the most famous Freemanson was Benjamin Frankling, which became a member a few years after starting his own society, the Leathern Apron Club. He was the Grand Master of Pensilvaniia, a hero of the Revolutionary War, Founding Father and inventor.

George Washington, Mozart, Simon Bolivar, Mark Twain, Wiston Churchill, Franklin D. Rooselvelt, J. Edgard Hoover, Silvio Berlusconi, Jesse Jackson, John Elway, Oscar Wilde, Michael Richards are just a few. 

Anorexia & Bulimia: Dark Places

Everything is a bit fuzzy in my mind but I was around 14 or 15 years old. A normal happy girl, with friends, active, healthy with no problems. Some how I ended up lost in this haze, in this life that now seems to have belonged to somebody else but me.

In a psychiatric hospital sharing room with a lady that had the aged to be my grandmother and that thought that had the ability to jump out of the bedroom window and fly. Surrounded by minds long gone and bodies that moved as if were part of a puppet show.

I was just a young teenager lost in my own pain, puberty and searching for answers, reaching for help of those that I though they knew better. With a wiliness to make a different, with the ability to ask why, what, how, when. With more questions that answers, with a sense of searching for a idolise freedom and with an inside full of uneasiness unable to express myself in a manner that could had been heard or acknowledge.

I dig deep inside in the search for that something and I got lost. There was no help. I was thrown around like an experiential rat and when things went wrong the fingers of those adults, of those professionals pointed back at me looking for someone to blame but themselves.

I never fully recovered and that year life as I knew ended.

I travel as far as I could to go away, to hide, to escape. Of course only to find that it was still there. Self harming appeared to be the best option. Feeling a real pain that I could at least be control and explain.

I always wonder how many more people like me are out there. What went wrong? Why me? How my life would have been if that never happened? What if that year I got the right help, the right treatment? Would I be a better person? Could I have spare myself and my love ones so much pain? If only somebody listen. If only somebody explained. If only those that didn't know stopped pretending they did. If only I didn't trust them. What would it be of me?

The mind is a powerful tool. A fantastic piece of state of the art machinery. So much that we don't know. So much we can't explained. Some people rely on religion to quiet their fears, to stop their questions for being asked or answered some. I still think of that little girl now, almost 20 years later, and I can't help but to cry.

I felt pain, hurt, lost, abandoned, unfairness, discrimination. I felt really scared, I still feel scared now. So lonely, abused, bullied. I was just a little girl, maybe a bit different. Maybe I asked too many whys and the lack of answer started to built up inside, and not too long it was a big dark space that couldn't be explained.

I was 14 and I didn't had anorexia or bulimia. I was sad, depressed perhaps. I was a nervous girl that was growing and lost her grandfather and godfather. That saw dead and pain and didn't really cope with it.

As my health deteriorated I seek for family and medical help. I didn't had anorexia or bulimia but I picked it up later from the patients that shared roomed with me just as if it were a virus that was going around in the room.

I was asked to droop out of school. To join a "team" in a "special department". I was isolated, locked up for weeks. Not able to sit or lay but only to semi lay in a bed I was not able to leave but to go to the toilet follow and in the presence of a nurse. I was not able to write or read. I was no allow phones calls or letters from family or friends. It was only me, the nurse and the crazy old lady in the next bed.
A small group of young people were in that hospital with me but under different conditions as their illness was treatments was clear. I was just a doctors nightmare. A big pain in the bump. An annoyance because they had no answers for me. They couldn't explain me so they locked me up, treated me like a mental patient and then put me back into this world and expect what? Expect that everything would be like nothing ever happened??? I don't think so. The drugs, alcohol and self harm follow very closely.

Now I look back furious wanting some justice. Wanting to hear somebody saying I fucked up, I am sorry. For them to take some responsibility of what I went through, what they put me through. And more some awareness so that no other young girls and boys ended treated and locked up like crazy people just because they are going through some things and are lost.
Life is not easy and we are not born with a manual that explains where everything goes and what should be or not touched.

I have done things I regret. I made mistakes. I hurt people. I didn't mean for that to happened. I am sorry. I got a second and third chance. Some other people don't.

Others get taken by this dark cloud that follows them in life taking position of their bodies even until they die. Living a life unworthy far from what they dreamed of. I was lucky in a way. Still fighting. Still confuse, and lost and sad at times but I am still here, I am still fighting. I am still making progress, keeping on trying to make it happened. Refusing to let go. But on me visible are the scars of those darker times.

I wish I knew more so I could understand. I wish somebody could explain even if its now. I wish I could be of more help.

I registered and support The Butterfly Foundation and wish I could do more. I wish I knew more.

Amor de madre

Van sonando las alarmas por el viejo boulevard,
Las calles estan mojadas, silenciosas paredes en la madrugada.
Voy caminando, tacones afilados, pantalones apretados,
 cartera en mano, cigarillo en boca, pelo al viento.
Cada vez mas cerca, cada vez mas lejos.
Siempre pensando en  ti.

Mi reflejo en los cristales de un banco sin dinero,
escaparates que muestran tu reflejo.
Muerdo unas, pierdo peso.
Cada vez mas cerca, cada vez mas lejos.
Siempre pensando en ti.

Un avion que da mil vueltas, como un niño muy travieso,
Pasan dias, pasan anos, se va haciendo mas intenso.
A veces mas cerca, otras mas lejos.

Llamadas de alegria y otras desesperadas,
desde una cabina publica a horas muy inadecuadas,
Tu esperando a que suene el telefono,

Unas veces mas otras veces menos.
Siempre pensando en mi, y yo pensando en ti