Arising
or falling there is a stillness now. Freedom from superlative or
preposition relative to nothing but freedom to be as I am.
Surprisingly, the question arose, within: 'do fleas have fleas?'
Expanding
from the events surrounding the Boston Marathon and the noise
surrounding it. Invoking a certain hatred of broadcast journalism; as
like a carnival freak show. Cacophony lending thoughts of “You Bet
Your Life.” Taking the average Joe and selling him on the ideal of
being hunted to death while paying his survivors a living wage. For
the the edification and delectation of the bored, the specious, the
vacuous of those with no life save for entertainment until they fall
over dead themselves.
Day
times spent in soapy mental enemas for the mindless.
Do
I sound harshly judgmental? Of course I am, since I apply the same
standards to myself. Remembering being there, doing that, as a
vocation. Wondering, had I found myself legless, blind, or splattered
against the nearest stranger would I have the mercy or grace to
forgive? To recognize that the thought was sufficient proof of life
that the loss would be inconsequential?
Adapt,
improvise, prevail.
When
in doubt; make it up.
Suck
it up.
Deal,
with it.
Not
what you were, will be, but are.
Be
Here Now
The
stillness I experience is in darkness, bereft of the mirror maze I
found myself in, then calling it life. Seeking to be seen as adequate
or good enough to be allowed to live--not merely exist.
I
sense myself being birthed. Altered from what I was to what I am.
This is a daily, or near so, experience. Another day? No. The First
Day.
06:08
Imagine
yourself in an euthanasia clinic, awaiting your turn to die, being
sucked hollow by commercial broadcast television (additionally I am
thinking of NPR yesterday--eclipsing the world other than what
happened in Boston, making myself ill the memory) then add the
pontifical posturing and menace of the Police. Recalling the
pontifical harrumphing blow fish checks of the wanna be king from
Arizona expelling methane orally. Ah. Yes. McCain the only republican
I once thought myself capable of voting for.
My
point being that while all the nattering goes on about specific
crimes nothing is said of the serial rape of the world, its
inhabitants, the economy by the gangsters on Wall Street.
10:11
.
. . and then the savage longing for revenge exorcised upon the
perpetrators. Astonishing! An eye for an eye leaves the entire world
blind.
Do
I eulogize my self or the world broken?
As
I, we, the world, were, no longer.
OMG
just realized that I had forgotten what year it was!? Having served
the demented
and those with full blown Alzheimer's I wonder if I am not in the
beginning phases? Possibly a “senior moment” but then equally or,
more better yet, merely me writing from within that place I go when
creative. Writ large or small upon the sand storm of time.
130421
01:12
Awoke sieving the desert of my mind seeking something magnificent. Then
realizing I'd been equivocal about this post. Merely for my loathing
of all things Mass Man: Crowds, Wars, Riots and the many times I
found myself imperiled thereby. Recalling my vocation as called to
'the temple of truth' or so I called then newspapers and journalism;
a knight errant.
Too
aware the fabric of culture rent with avarice and indifference to the
value of what happens to one happens to all.
And
then there is my head-long plunge into an education attempting to
train my sense, thinking and feeling near equal to my intuition.
Discovering instinct fearless seeking the meaning of chaos. Turn,
turn again, twist and shout I can find nothing but meaning everywhere
I seek. Then the poverty of language to speak of it in any terms
vernacular or all the other forms obvious to me.
Emergent
within is a sense of stillness and silence odd to my assertions. True
of all change it takes a while to integrate the truths self evident.
Therefor
this may be folly to let go. A tearing of another sort of bread,
sourdough, spread upon the vast waters of the Web.
I
love people but distrust crowds.
130420
04:13 MDT stillness
©
2013 by Jack Spratt – All Rights Reserved
