Thursday, August 05, 2004

Critical Mass and Straws on Camels' Backs.

Often I spend time musing on the ironies of peoples lives and their destinies; Michael Jackson with all that money and fame, that football player who died in Afghanistan; I can't even remember his name now... Bill Bennett moralizing and pissing away all that money; George Michael, what was he after? ...the curious case of Mother Teresa. What happened to Christopher Hitchens?

Every day I watch the scroll unroll, I see the events of the day and read analysis on evidence of events from preceeding days. I marvel at the transparency of the lies. I shake my head at the mindset that allows for ugly behaviors that embarrass this nation before the eyes of the world and in the eyes of some portion of its citizens. I can't quite ever grasp what it is these people see that makes it posible for them to be as they are. It's like a fever.

We know about physical illness and mental illness. According to half of the people, half of the people are crazy. Certainly a lot of people are not rational. We have a physical immune system and I now believe there is a mental immune system too. You can lower it significantly in a number of ways and then opportunistic vapors and humors find their way in. Some go postal with a gun or a ball point pen. Some slip increment by increment into a scoliosis of perspective. As people age they get bent. You can see it physically. You can see it in other ways too.

One of the reasons I am assured that re-incarnation is a fact is by observing the destinies of individuals. I see it too in the talents they possess and the speed at which they master their game. Bridey Murphy's just one of many bits of evidence. It's not even the most impressive, not even in the top ten.

When I was a kid I was fascinated by Ripley's- Believe it or Not. He had some other books too. I read them all. I loved Richard Halliburton and all the voyagers who took me with them on their magic carpet; whether into a speculative future or by parting the curtains of the past. I learned that many, many a curious thing happens but happens out of the common view.

Only reincarnation can explain the barbarities of the present and the past. The playing field of life does seem to be no more than an arena for settling scores and realizing dreams. It didn't take an acid trip for me to see the truth of the twin masks of Comedy and Tragedy. It may well have been acid that showed me the face between them. My fascinations went from the phenomenal world to that of the unseen. Surely there are other worlds besides this one. I am not fond of this one.

When I first heard of george w. bush it was as the 'out of nowhere' Republican candidate for President. The first time I saw him and based on the few things I had heard and read, I said to myself, "Here comes trouble." I remember thinking, right off the bat that this was an evil, deluded man. Consonant with that was my awareness of the mighty engine of money and power that appeared in his wake. I really thought the world was in trouble.

The times the world has been in trouble are too numerous to remember. The world has never been so large nor so pervasive though. Materialism has never been so congestive. Materialism is a living being. It's fed like an animal in a cage. It gets bigger and stronger. It has a mind and a purpose. It is one of the primary warriors in the battle for the human soul. And it has it's faces. It has its warlords and its frontmen. There is always Plunder. But the goal and the game of the primary gamer is not the wealth of the world. Its goal is for the subversion of the human soul.

Looking at george w. bush for the first time I saw a man devoid of conscience. I saw a robot being whose intention was to fuck up the world, to fuck up my little world. I usually let the materialists play their games. I'm not concerned with losing my share of the Rolexes and Roll's. I'm not concerned with starlets and summer homes. All I ever wanted was my space to create in and my freedom to sit still or to roam. If ever some portion of success or fame were to come to me, no doubt I would be grateful for the greater lattitude and exposure. Why would one create without the idea of an audience?

george w. bush's world impinged on my world. His world glorified the trivial and the stupid. There is seldom room for the performance and pursuit of real art in a world that celebrates the banal, plastic face of the Las Vegas whore.

In concert with re-incarnation comes the idea of a higher mind, an over-seeing, interpenetrative consciousness. The idea of being reborn always to the potential of a greater destiny implies the unseen guidance of a living God, whose mysterious ends, all work toward the common purpose of realizing our greatest potential. We have all fallen short countless times. I believe we all return, again and again, until success is finally achieved.

Slowly but surely over the course of these last years, Critical Mass has approached. One straw after another has been placed on the camel's back. Voices are raised from the throng. Voices are added, until it seems as if a thousand choirs are singing across the land. Outrage has followed outrage and Outrage has grown in the collective human heart. The amount of good in the human heart is always greater than any evil extant. Hope has always been greater than dispair. Now, I see the important voices joining the song. They are not more important essentially, but they are more important for the position from which they sing.

Hundreds of business leaders who voted for bush are now coming forth to say they will not do so again. The Wall Street Journal has switched sides. Military leaders and major artists are all stepping forward to point with a collective finger at the door through which bush and his associates must go. It's been one straw too many and Critical Mass has arrived. The game, according to board position, is over.

This Critical Mass is not yet spoken of in wide release. The camel struggles to stand but will not stand again. For those who have the eyes to see, what has been happening lately tells the tale; the tale that is not on the newstands or yet in the news. But YOU CAN see it.

Now they scheme in their desperate corner. Now they must plot to what degree they can safely act. Eyes watch from every vantage point. What can they do? What would they do?

No matter, whatever is still to come, I know we've turned a corner, not the same corner recently spoken of. We have turned a corner in favor of the human race, in favor of the greater hope, the elusive dream to which most hearts are naturally inclined.

On the playing field of endless payback, one more face of darkness is soon to melt- back into the shadows from which these faces come. Whether we will get a 'bounce' as the human race is yet to be seen. All I know is that the opportunity is there. What I know is that although evil may prosper for a time, it never wins.




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