The Defiant Ones

And there are the defiant ones. They are opposed to the masks that we are imposed upon to wear, to keeping ourselves well apart from each other. And we are fed nothing more than analysis of statistics, nothing of a medical or realistic nature, and the defiant ones see this clearly. On bus journeys, they have given us, hardly a seat for us to sit on. And there is no proof that masks and social distancing, make any difference. The ideas from the top people, change when there is another whim, of what this thing, might just be about out. They don't know. They are in no position to dictate. And they have given the defiant ones all the ammunition that they need to be so defiant. My abiding fear is that there could be more than one evil mystery at work here. My fear is that we are in the void. My fear is that we are in a hopeless position. My fear is that we can't possibly know what is coming tomorrow and then for the forseeable future. My fear is that the future doesn't look like any kind of future at all.

New Post. America

America, you are being wound up by a sinister magician. He will turn out to be the orchestrator and manipulator of violence and tragedy.

Lorraine

All of my heroes turned out to be fakes. And then I have to return to myself, to ask myself 'how much of a fake am I.' And I turn to the lady who declared to me 'I am always alone.' And of course, I wonder, if she herself is a fake too. And if she is a fake then my affection for her is a fake also. I guess that I miss her and I really don't know why. And just the other night, she was in my dream, and she was crouched and with a different colour of hair, and she looked in discomfort. And I awoke from my dream to find her nowhere around me. And then I began to ask questions of myself, like 'who is she?' and what are my real feelings for her? And 'why am I in this place at this particular time.? And anytime she comes into my mind, I tend to smile. And I am not sure that we were cut out to be lovers. And I'm not even sure that she will remember my name, and I'm not so sure of myself anymore. And I can't be easy about my thoughts of her. There is no guilt just the feeling of foolishness on my part. It has been a long time, and the days increase the longness. And I spent my day, today, alone and being alone. I couldn't find very much to do with myself. It was a strange place for me to be in. And Lorraine in truth is far from me. I don't even know if I will ever see her again. And I don't even know about her feelings for me, or the lack of them. She remains a mystery to me.

The Unifying Factor.

This battlefield where the warriors unite in their defencelessness. Unified by an unforeseen horror. Frightened by the day and each passing one. And we seem to be armed with not a lot more than statistics. We are set upon, and we don't know why, and for how long, and we don't know the reason why. This evil mystery plays about with our lives, and we have no choice but to succumb to it. And we as a race don't tend to take adversaries seriously enough to allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by them. We are spirited and within the spirit lies our character. And within our hearts lies our love. There are many aspects to love. There is the love between a man and a woman and there is the love in a simple friendship where nothing much is asked for and where only friendship is gained. And from these things lies our oneness as a race. Love is the essence of our being, it can deceive us but we are unable to deceive love. Because without it we lack and are weak and are possibly devoid of spirit. And when a mysterious and evil enemy comes looking for us all, I believe that we would have to gather up all of the love that we have to attack it and to defend ourselves with.

Coronavirus

This world is at the mercy of a murderer. Inviting itself into the community. And we live in fear. and we really have no understanding, of how long this murderer will murder, nor why he would wish to do so. And we reach for our defenses, and all that this can possibly can turn to is hope. If this world is truly an evil place, then the murderer will murder as he wishes, but if this world and its community has the strength of goodness within it, then, we all will see goodness triumph. A murderer is simply one who takes lives away, but goodness is one that gives love and understanding to the world community.

Dark Surprise

Dark surprises. In the search. And the search goes on. My eyes on a certain one and no other. She could be my dark surprise. Light within the dark, or only dark? I will have to wait and see. And at times there is denial, of myself, mainly. And there are memories that still haunt. Happenings of the past that amounted to nothing really. Sometimes I wish to get away from this self. And I wonder if I could've been born another person. With another life, with other thinking. With other feelings and with a different mind. And on this day, I just have the feeling that I wish to relax, and be easy.

The Thought Police

Shampooed and conditioned with political correctness. The thought police are in town, and they mean to reach inside of your head. There are no names nor faces to speak of. They withhold the democratic rights, that they probably profess to believe in. They wish to colour your opinions with guilt. They wish for you not to be free for personal expression. And they wish for sameness, because they can gain some kind of narrow comfort from it. They are opposed to imagination and creativity. They fear people who refuse to be the same as they are, when they are bland and shallow, and above all are insecure and fearful. They believe in 'wings' in Political rhetoric and the causes of their 'right' or their left. Their ideas are outmoded and obsolete, and beneath free thinking. They are dictators, and they despise truth. They hunger after their own vanity, wishing for it a general acceptance. And the thought police wish to take from you, your freedom. They would like you not to question any single thing of them. If you don't feel and think the same as they do, then they are at war with what they could very well term the proletariat. And they condescend, deeming you not as an equal, but as a lesser human, with lesser rights. I hereby declare war on the thought police.

Truth and the Struggle for Truth.

There is light in the shadows. Ties, even familial, cannot be perfectly broken. All, is a part of the whole. Memory is a truthful guide. It must be consulted and trusted and believed in. This picture cannot be denied only ignored. Life runs its course. It is complete in itself. It isn't of one scene or another, it is of the totality of things experienced. And memory is the gift that leads to a truth, not the perfect truth, as this isn't given to man or woman. The truth belongs to God, and he only allows us to know what we deserve to know I believe. There is as always, the fight for truth. It cannot be known purely with mind. The truth is still not available with mind, no matter how smart we may think that we are. I believe that humility and memory are more of a way to truth. And there is soul and spirit in the shadows. I believe that they are closer to truth than mind is. And I am tried and I am challenged, but I won't relent. Truth is the greatest word that I have ever been aware of. And if I can't find truth, then I will find my personal honesty, no matter what the price may be to pay for it. And hurt can be overtaken. It can be subdued. What is it anyway but negative feeling towards the self? Or an assault by injustice? And injustice is in itself, an assault of cruelty and inconsideration. Empathy and compassion, have been left behind. Love has been confronted, by at the very least, indifference. And perhaps it has been confronted by evil.

Night and Day

And the night comes again, when the day relents.

We Celebrate the Sun

And we celebrate the sun In the peaceful spirit of tranquility.

What is the Way to the Truth of Dream?

Searching for truth in the secrets of dream. Faces appear, some known, some unknown. Sometimes the expected and ordinary, and sometimes the unexpected and extraordinary. I wonder if sleep was meant for dreamers, or if dreams were meant for sleep. And I wonder how one can connect with the truth in the secrets of dream. And does dream hold truth anyway? And who is the dream maker? And are there more forces at work, than just I? And what is the way to the truth of dream?