(no subject)
the truth hurts (only when liars are unearthed)
whether there's any validity to such a grand concept as "Mother Earth" (or our unity, synchronized with her whimsy; her artistic freedom), the truth is that we betray ourselves on a moment-to-moment basis by virtue of those isolated choices we make on it: the course we have determined for our own thinking; the very shape of our thoughts; the evolution of consciousness, itself. this should come as no big surprise. the course is no dark secret; no subliminal misadvent... it is the decision, and its decisive results. of course, if the ozone could speak for itself, there would likely be some struggle involved should it endeavor to speak well of the human animal. by observation, i'd say the most it could speak on our behalf may be, "well, the actions of one seem to cancel out the actions of the other."
the hallmark of our humanity is the language in which we think:
it is not without ulterior motive that man consigns himself to improving upon beauty... natural beauty, as that of trees and birds and blue skies. this "ulterior motive" also happens to be as self-defeating as the very act of tearing down forests in one location, only to landscape other areas with the intention of giving them a more natural appearance. in de profundis, Oscar Wilde says that love is more interesting than hate. of course, this is but a tongue-in-cheek response to the asinine and ignorant presence of vice (greed), and the narrow world-views that spring from it. love is qualitatively more than hate in many ways beyond that of the human interest it garners. in other words,...
the revolution of the future is a revolution of the mind.
the external world is meant to be explored. only the mind is designed to be divided and conquered. what goes into the nature and function of the mind, the human brain and nervous system?
we are creatures of habit, not instinct. we are capable of adapting ourselves to a broad spectrum of habitats - and, by this, i don't mean to imply local facets of the physical realm, but rather, the endless possibilities open to us when pursuing academia, creativity, our own psychology, our collective sociology, and the otherwise countless branches of empirical study. such expanse and blue pastures men have stripped of inherent value, and re-positioned over the same competitive pre-occupations which, in the past, just as they do today, have given birth to partition, itself, as well as philosophies of segregation which leave unrealized potential feeling insecure and confused (the only cure for which is an accurate vision of one's own ignorance, as, historically, such vision has a tendency to incite revolution).
thus, the very constituents of self-worth are thrown to hogs to be trampled and torn. designed to perceive and conceive, his life can only be worth as much as the man values it. rather, the man is filled, by proxy, with images and imitations of the actuality he craves. strengths that he cannot see call to him from places he will not inhabit: a call to arms forever ringing from dim lighting, neurons firing unfamiliar signals, messages from the messiah we, biologically, intend to be, to the uninvited guest we have grown to recognize in mirrors.
ecstasy remains our birthright while introspection reveals only the measurements, the limits, the bars of our cage. cowards, we are relentless in pursuing the dead ends that we do. the fantasy we endeavor to sustain is shallow, and leaves frail the empowering psyche which makes dreaming possible. rather than dreaming, men only dream of dreaming, and thus, wreck havoc on the very tools they could be employing to fulfill their desire. this desire, however, is as well as hidden, while all that enables, and everything that rubs against it, is beaten to death and beyond (as horses).
my greatest fear, among all of this obviousness, is that its transparency occurs to be the covert impetus inspiring so much subterfuge: that any crack in the structure can only spread, and we cannot afford the attention that will be drawn to its mending. our lies are designed only to obscure the fact that we do lie. to see the truth, then, would shed too much light on the cost of shielding our eyes... hocus pocus! we are our own worst enemies.
whether there's any validity to such a grand concept as "Mother Earth" (or our unity, synchronized with her whimsy; her artistic freedom), the truth is that we betray ourselves on a moment-to-moment basis by virtue of those isolated choices we make on it: the course we have determined for our own thinking; the very shape of our thoughts; the evolution of consciousness, itself. this should come as no big surprise. the course is no dark secret; no subliminal misadvent... it is the decision, and its decisive results. of course, if the ozone could speak for itself, there would likely be some struggle involved should it endeavor to speak well of the human animal. by observation, i'd say the most it could speak on our behalf may be, "well, the actions of one seem to cancel out the actions of the other."
the hallmark of our humanity is the language in which we think:
it is not without ulterior motive that man consigns himself to improving upon beauty... natural beauty, as that of trees and birds and blue skies. this "ulterior motive" also happens to be as self-defeating as the very act of tearing down forests in one location, only to landscape other areas with the intention of giving them a more natural appearance. in de profundis, Oscar Wilde says that love is more interesting than hate. of course, this is but a tongue-in-cheek response to the asinine and ignorant presence of vice (greed), and the narrow world-views that spring from it. love is qualitatively more than hate in many ways beyond that of the human interest it garners. in other words,...
the revolution of the future is a revolution of the mind.
the external world is meant to be explored. only the mind is designed to be divided and conquered. what goes into the nature and function of the mind, the human brain and nervous system?
we are creatures of habit, not instinct. we are capable of adapting ourselves to a broad spectrum of habitats - and, by this, i don't mean to imply local facets of the physical realm, but rather, the endless possibilities open to us when pursuing academia, creativity, our own psychology, our collective sociology, and the otherwise countless branches of empirical study. such expanse and blue pastures men have stripped of inherent value, and re-positioned over the same competitive pre-occupations which, in the past, just as they do today, have given birth to partition, itself, as well as philosophies of segregation which leave unrealized potential feeling insecure and confused (the only cure for which is an accurate vision of one's own ignorance, as, historically, such vision has a tendency to incite revolution).
thus, the very constituents of self-worth are thrown to hogs to be trampled and torn. designed to perceive and conceive, his life can only be worth as much as the man values it. rather, the man is filled, by proxy, with images and imitations of the actuality he craves. strengths that he cannot see call to him from places he will not inhabit: a call to arms forever ringing from dim lighting, neurons firing unfamiliar signals, messages from the messiah we, biologically, intend to be, to the uninvited guest we have grown to recognize in mirrors.
ecstasy remains our birthright while introspection reveals only the measurements, the limits, the bars of our cage. cowards, we are relentless in pursuing the dead ends that we do. the fantasy we endeavor to sustain is shallow, and leaves frail the empowering psyche which makes dreaming possible. rather than dreaming, men only dream of dreaming, and thus, wreck havoc on the very tools they could be employing to fulfill their desire. this desire, however, is as well as hidden, while all that enables, and everything that rubs against it, is beaten to death and beyond (as horses).
my greatest fear, among all of this obviousness, is that its transparency occurs to be the covert impetus inspiring so much subterfuge: that any crack in the structure can only spread, and we cannot afford the attention that will be drawn to its mending. our lies are designed only to obscure the fact that we do lie. to see the truth, then, would shed too much light on the cost of shielding our eyes... hocus pocus! we are our own worst enemies.