Boys Cry
Many old adages, along with the power vested in the platitudes of yesterdays, served a vital purpose once upon a time in the epoch of those now waning days.
In light of this enlightenment, there's need for an upgrade to these symbolic metaphors embedded inside the ancient ideograms of the Japanese—their suffering reflected in the blood, sweat, and tears of the ancestors and tutelary deities of the emerging neo-clan societies.
Honoring their sacrifice is the way—constantly upgrading the free-range avatar’s wetware brain-mainframe, sanity in neo-clan societies inside customized sanctuary—under the judicious umbrella of Johnny Rainman with Zac as an incarnation of his honourable ancestry.
It is here that we reject all shame as we play into the next stage of this phantasmagorical journey, free range avatars playing an infinite game.
The chip on the shoulder serves a purpose—a well-worn reminder of understanding the magnitude of it all—back against the wall.
Invoke timeless themes to conceive what the mind has seen―manifestation of ethereal scenes―dreamt into ephemeral tangible things―internalizing on ko chi shin―温故知新―learning new things from the past―facilitates creation of magnificent things.
Flies in the ointment, they're features, not bugs.
Yet, this protocol serves as a deeper calling to finally arrive to where the brain reframe takes place—flies turned to allies—somewhat akin to commanding a powerful cadre of comrades with the accompanying camaraderie exclusively among the neo-clan brain reframe team.
Take a page from the playbook of the Japanese—wazuwai o tenjite fuku to nasu―災いを転じて福となす―turn misfortune into fortune, indeed.
The same technique embodied inside this rewarding concept can be used when the years of pent-up tears must go into flow―for a valid reason or emotional justification, it’s time for a good solid cry―go ahead―bawl out your eyes.
Reframing shifts the vibration—intuition, a gut feeling, a distinct yet subtle sensation—a reflection of collapsed superpositions creating a dream inside this quantum field, a simulated zone known as Mother Earth, the Universal Truth now revealed.
A reflection of the mind, absent of space/time, power of unexplored emotional connections to the hungry ghosts embedded inside the darkness in the pit of one's very own soul.
The flood of tears to the four holistic quadrants of restoration, has now been instantiated—Seity stirring up a commotion and emotional ruckus, deep inside the core of one's very being—do not misconstrue the profundity of this meaning—boys cry.
The story of a teardrop is like an elaborate plot, with a somewhat negative connotation related to sadness, depression, desperation, and frustration—tears containing remnants of innermost fears, yet as one turns disaster into fortune, tears of joy; "Congratulations, sir, it's a boy" is the reframe those of the neo-clan nation may no longer deny—boys cry.
The tutelary deity of the Kizuna Jinja was told as a child, "Boys don't cry."
At the emergence of the Kizuna Jinja neo-clan, June 15, 1935, the winters harsh, the porridge sparse—suck it up buttercup—it’s your lot in life—if I told you once, I told you twice: “Boys don’t cry.”
Thus, he did not cry through much of his life, for he was far too busy digging himself out of poverty, as the infinite voice of his Seity drove him to become the one that he was meant to be.
Choosing a life filled with laughter, chapter after chapter, while fishing on the pristine Dean River—thanks to his fortitude and resilience, he and Maggie May created extraordinary experiences throughout this Incidental Occxie’s life.
Evolving into one who followed the sun, it was one random day that his intense emotional nature was at last brought to bay.
With solemn resolve, he forced himself to evolve, telling himself in defiance of everything he had been told or thought he had known—on the road to ΩNE, no one walks alone, that's what the tears are for—boys cry.
For it was Seity all along, as she said to him over and over, “It’s okay, you big ol’ tutelary deity, it is always satisfactory rejecting what others think of thee, pay no heed, for yes indeed, open up the floodgates and wash the pain away—boys cry.
