We are common dust,
moistened into clay, become brick and mortar. Interjected into which
is life. Precious? For me it is. And when I awoke this AM I sensed
something happened in my sleep, a dream, so bewildering, I had no
sense of it until I encountered the daily quotes: Wisdom and
annotated experience of others. Interjections: both the dream and
those whose words I seek to explain my experience to myself.
Perception is important.
Especially if you rely exclusively upon your dominant inherent
vision/version of what life is and for. Education is generally
regarded as a survival modality; applied to endow security for which
there is none, never was and never will be. But to educate yourself,
continual, is how you see can liberate you from slavery. I can
explain my thesis in manifold ways but for now will limit myself to
the experience of being transported from one place to another as a
thing: an object.
Made exceeding well aware of
contrary opinions regarding the meaning and value of life itself. As
did the dream awakening me. About which I will not comment, save to
say that this little dust devil is aware of what moves it about the
desert of our time. Add. Perhaps all time: the before and after of it
as measured by the experience, collective, of all perceptions;
personal and communal.
If I forgive the
executioner, the theft of my privacy, the desire to control,
manipulate me by fear—mainly—for the profit/pleasure of a few. I
acknowledge what I now think Jesus meant when he said “forgive
them.” And I know there is more to this than I can comprehend in
this moment definitively. We are no different, the assassin and I,
having choices not obvious to those who know nothing but their
version of “TRUTH!”
The same mind set giving us
prolonged life is the same mind set attempting to categorize our
sexual proclivities and sell us things to keep the entire hot air
balloon of our world economy aloft. So my sense of justice is
balanced between both the material and immaterial. At the same
time—privately—sensing myself (and choosing to be) a citizen of
the universe: not limited/defined by race, creed or gender. In this
sense I am an anarchist advocating freedom for all to be fully
themselves with the usual universal caveats: The Golden Rule plus “Do
no Harm.”
The cream, in the milk of
life, rises to the top.
Really?
I see it otherwise. Since I
sense we are all cream; but lazy, inattentive, and lulled into a
fatal trust that someone is going to do well for/by us. Like my sense
of God, who I sometimes variously call the interlocutor, Mikey,
friend, parent, lover, etc. I cannot know completely myself any more
than I can know another.
"Man
is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman—a rope over
an abyss ... What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a
goal." -
Nietzsche
Discovered
this date, this place, this time. Key to unlocking the mystery of my
astonishing dream.
Life
is a process about, and for which, we all are participants. None more
noble than another. Yet in time, history is littered with martyrs
who’s
witness was unconventional and inconvenient; later to be
celebrated—marginally—as better than what followed . . . how can
a person claim ownership to that which is freely
given? The
list is long though small compared to the rulers of our lives. Who,
if I am forced to judge, are successful only for themselves, while
preaching Public Service.
I
have been informed that NSA is not the problem but the Merchant
Princes, who would be Emperors, are. Greed and usury abound. While
mercy, forgiveness and kindness are lost in the process. We
are known objects (actually unknowable) subject to controls by people
who sense everything though thought: thinking is only one way of
knowing God, Good, or people. My sense here is that we are known
about—but not as a value—unique.
Cynically.
In
a sense what, and why, I write is in protest against being
object/subject—slave—to
anyone or thing. Did I just answer my curiosity: why the meek shall
inherit the earth? I think so. Since what I know of the interlocutor
is humility. While those who rule currently are masters of instilling
fear.
I
will not be the same tomorrow, any more than I am the same as I was
yesterday. I grow.
"Tomorrow!
- Why, tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday's sev'n thousand
years."
-
Omar Khayyam
Be
yourself, not what you are told to be, or defined by greed and usury.
Together we can form a world in which love is possible and absent
addiction.
“Money
is human happiness in the abstract;
he, then,
who is no longer capable of enjoying human happiness in the concrete
devotes himself utterly to money.”
-
Arthur Schopenhauer
"The
price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it." -
Henry David Thoreau
130612 MDT 04:17
interjection
©
2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved
