Nothing can escape the reality of change when awareness and clarity of our reflection kicks in sometime around toddler-hood and adolescence. Egotistical fascination with self-image will delay the brutal reality of change through this period and well into adulthood. It’s not until gravity and the ravages of exposure wear us down that our reluctance to awaken finally gives in and submits to life’s inescapable reality.
In a world of gazing over and over at our reflected image(s), photo shopped cropped enhanced features, smoothed out slimmed down torsos and cut off bits and pieces, we find that there’s a reluctance and revulsion for the now fast becoming redundant honest mirror.
Keeping up with the changes of life is a sobering experience; it’s a daily reminder that we are as expendable as the illusion of relative time. Balancing acceptance of change with a need to survive at all costs is a suffering that emotionally arrives for all of us at some stage in our finite path.
Keeping that path well swept and free from unnecessary obstacles can allow for an easier footing.
Freedom to walk with your true reflection is preferable than looking over your shoulder at your changing charging shadow.
Absolutely everything that requires an opinion is being opined upon to the point of demented frustration.
The biggest problem with the overpopulated subject of parenting is ironically human opinion.
I doubt that any other species spends so much time and stock offering all manner of opinion on how the infant should be carried delivered and reared. Most of what emanates from the wise and worldly is invariably anchored in their very own infantile ego stage of constipated development.
For a species that relies upon generation gestation ad infinitum we seem unable to keep our bloated opinionated snouts out of the judgmental overflowing gossip swill.
Our insatiable thirst for any opportunity to stick a suggestion right up and deeply into the parent pie has spawned hordes of text and voice. All designed in the main, to inform Mothers, to supply Mothers, to give Mothers the secrets and technical competencies in relation to how they must perform the ancient art of Mothering.
Unfortunately this has created scientification of a natural subject and condemned generations of neurotic paranoid and traumatised Mothers to be the globalized demographic wealth well for all manner of profit. It’s also opened a chasm for all those opinionated experts to blab on about a subject that no one is expert in and at.
It’s probably about time to licence the act of parenting, draft a comprehensive job description and begin a global interview process aimed at weeding out those non suitable.
That should drastically slow population growth and with a bit of tinkering here and there from the endless opinionated and pompous masses, extinction should be complete by 2100.
My opinion, over and out………..
It can be food and shoes, drink and sex, leather and social media, cigarettes and love, hate and latex. It can be pain and joy, life and death, pills and poison, you and me. It goes on and on and on and on. We are driven to seek pleasure even if it kills us.
What’s behind it all?
It’s the seed, plant and flower. Without money individual human existence is literally non-existent. There’s absolutely no chance of a human seed plant or flower thriving to maturity on any level. Competing with a currency that we created is futile. It rules us all.
Money is the great supplier and beguiling gatekeeper, enticing us to enter and explore endless majestic ballrooms. Grand fantastical stages were we can dance with every desire imaginable and then some. For something that isn’t actually real, it can certainly shape reality into a kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain, in an instant.
It’s the panacea for pain and the destroyer of pleasure.
In its various forms it’s as old as time and will endure until the last human evaporates.
It has evolved through time as a physical entity. Even though handled by us, its elusiveness has kept us chasing the Mother of all addiction.
Individually, we are now the currency. Our image is what reflects our addictions.
Our recognition will soon be mapped in order to gauge our worth.
We are enslaved.
Money is not our Mother.
Money is the dictator that we elected to rule over our deepest darkest desires.
Money allows us to escape them for a while but only on its terms.
We are addicted to MONEY.
Observing whats real is becoming increasingly difficult. This site is my view, my perception and my commentary on what I believe to be real, from my own unique position.