It is not enough to know that the end is near (if this is what you believe) or that it will be at all happy over the long spells of time classifications we are inured (bonded? branded?) to live.
What real thought is being given to what you are doing? What learning has lasted thru the ages is that of the Classics. Being around the longest, these carry the weight of having dredged through so many minds they are left behind after move-outs, repurposed & in that way carried forward with everything magnetized along the way. We eat each other’s earth all the time. Round or flat, it’s a closed system so we continually breathe each other’s air. My earth can support me. Why cannot ours support us all?
In a closed system, everything must run according to the last running thing. Deus ex Machina. The story gets passed along to the next to be embellished or pared down. Right now, we live in a word desert, the most lack of imagination among the collective consciousness. Words are gutted of meaning, brought down from the Great Table as bubble gum. Perhaps it is a meaning desert. Vague repetitions of slogans replacing language. Emojis replace emotions cuz people don’t have the words.
This morning, for me, there is a tug of history threading my spine…a few passes over the Internet have fired me up. The books I just finished have fired me up. The music given to me to hear by chance discovery & rolling the dial on Pandora has fired me up. All these firings are seeking one another in my brain. I can feel them doing so…I encourage them for the most part. I understand these last points I pick up in life as learning have, hold, and relay, the best resonance to how I’ve lived my life so far. I read once that after the kids are raised & most life-housekeeping stuff in hand, the time arounds to thinking, “what’s next?” It generally enters that care of the soul at a personal level is that.
And here I am. This is when the tiny muse buried in the soil of my soul chooses to sprout. She is the unification which will occur when the firings reach their own “brainiacal” joining. If I’m not making sense now, there’s a good chance I need to find the place where I will . . . where this will.
Suddenly all the mythic & magic I enjoy reading lays a rail alongside the technology I watch with a kind of stupefied fascination.
Social media is anything but either of its names.
I am compartmentalizing far less than I did. If a work does not align with a pathway whereupon I walk, I move off from it. I have become familiar to all the voices speaking at once, I have become one of them. Simultaneously, I’ve moved on from outside voices to inward. These swell the chorus immeasurably.
It is safe to become a stranger to the life so many want to be living. It is okay to disconnect to a less busy-fied way. I have no close family raised within my mythology. Most friends are too busy for abstract discussion. Now, what I grew up with is easiest to do as stand-up: “remember dial phones?” jokes.
What is simplest for me to know now & ally with now are the more “esoteric knowings” which have become acceptable as a “mainstream, allowed kookiness” – the separate source of knowledge always out there on the fringes but around so long they’re now popular, familiar, & fraught with promises to continue deepening into the center of the world.
Thing is, the direction is up. Why aren’t we facing up?
I am in dire need of silence. Even if what I get is only a grave’s worth, it is enough.