8/2/18: Sure, Not

I know we’ve come a long way
We’re changing day to day
But tell me, where do the children play?

—— Cat Stevens

No answers, only questions. More and more questions. Certainty is now the enemy, and truth (or even speculation) becomes a political position. Thus all ideas fail to fully come to market, mincing mindfulness into a choice between servitude and suicide.

The Lover in me desperately wants to embrace everyone and all things.
While Warriors frantically scan my horizon, looking for threats.
Magicians are in the next room, ready to make me invisible.
As King, I stand alone, commanding only… the mirror.

It often seems as if no one I speak with now, has any idea what to do about it. Not that I do. I’m as much in the dark as anyone but at least I’m open to new data. Since I started trying to do more… since I started attempting to suggest even the slightest possibility of another perspective, I’ve felt like I don’t belong anywhere.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Belonging. But how can I feel I belong when my community is constantly expressing contradictory levels of consciousness? Not multi-levels of mind, but multi-mindsets of levels. The higher… the fewer.

And then there is all this… LIFE happening.

You know, joy and sadness. Events alternating randomly between fabulous good fortune and tortuous tragedy. The so-called world I see in media demands attention from all present. Loved ones right here in the room with me look away or worse yet… right through me.

All is extreme opinion and all are voiced, all at once. There is no filter, no queue. Announcements, denouements, proclamations, documentations, advertisements, exercise intents, introductions, instructions… all manner of statements are simultaneous in this world. They blast together in one great dissonant din, a wall of sound.


In the end it makes no difference… at all! The chattering crowd clatter to the ground, their voices unheard, their energy wasted. The only thing that matters in this world is getting to the top. No matter how. Climbing over the broken bodies of all that waste. Those wasted lives. Once one is there, there is nothing left. Left or right, up or down, inside and out.

My pilgrimage to understand what I can of all this is complete. I reluctantly return within to repopulate and retune my soul. My spirit (whatever THAT means) is spent, but I expect fortune will have it that this too… shall pass.

As I have been saying to all those willing to listen long enough to “get it”…

We just have to survive as intact as possible.

Time to hunker down, stick to storytelling for a while longer.



By |2018-08-03T03:41:29+00:00August 2nd, 2018|Random Awesomeness|Comments Off on 8/2/18: Sure, Not