From globally to locally injustice is being faced down. From Black Lives Matter to the battering of ‘submissive’ individuals in domestic unions, enough is enough.
Physics proves that if you inflict any relationship to abuse maltreatment, degradation and punishment the opportunity to grow and thrive in a culture of wellbeing is purposely stunted and weakened. The designed bringing down to the point of chaotic withering and ultimately death of said organism is inevitable, unless a reckoning to balance the ledger is implemented. It really is that simple.
The pathetic irony is that the perpetrators of such injustice(s) are the weak and insecure entities who absolve themselves by twisting contorting and bending over backwards. Remember it is all about them. They create distraction and throw up pity arguments, all the while trying to convince you and gaslight you to believe that the obvious is not the obvious. It is a ‘natural’ ability, designed and manufactured with no thought at all, other than to force you into submission and into believing far down the rabbit hole that they are right and good. They will bend you into believing that you are the problem. That you have caused what has affected them. That they in their insane reality are in fact the victims.
Ask any domestic abuser to global dictators why they do what they do. They do it because they can. They do it because they are allowed. They do it because their selfish issues far outweigh your accommodating urges, your diplomatic conversations. They do it because that is what they are, and you are the problem.
You twist contort and become as sick as them.
You have been groomed to accept that you have no choice, you do it all and then some, in order to ‘rescue’ a negative entity that admits no responsibility for their destructive actions, other than blaming you for their never ending list of grievances emanating from their developmentally constipated childish ego. You are decent, they are evil.
To debase oneself in appeasing their selfishness is to forego your own values and standards. Your instincts about what is decent righteous and fair.
But one must remember what one is dealing with.
A reckoning is happening.
Enough is enough.
Call it out.
Spending time with humans who were dealing with the reality that their time was up, one theme kept coming from the deepest recesses of their collective psyche.
Struggling to make sense of finality, one constant from the unraveling of what was left of their life stayed strong. Forward momentum was finished, not halted, stalled, stuttered.
Reeling from a brutal clinical shock that their existence was rubber stamped as finished, all plans hopes and dreams of a future within any previously normal parameters needed to be obliterated, abolished, annihilated. The clusterfuck that had become their inescapable and unbearable nowness had to be normalized at warp speed. Going back was not an option. What was left of the muddled mess that once resembled their ordered mind, took up residence in a walled in space. A waiting room designated for those dumbstruck dumbfounded and terrorized souls who had nowhere left to run. No place left to escape from the unavoidable reality of impermanence. New unknown and unwanted normal is very frightening for a species that does not like enforced change.
The pandemic is proving problematic and troublesome for humans who are collectively attention deficit. Such a fast paced 21st century interconnected globalized and overpopulated species cannot come to a crunching halt without some rupture to a reality that offered rapid growth. In that reality, where no matter the cost, greed was good, we now have rapid fix, rapid testing, rapid back to normal. All debris from the explosion of what was left of the old reality.
Terms like getting back to normal are used in a feeble attempt to deal with overwhelming shock, dissolve denial, soothe anger, buffer bargaining, soften depression and align acceptance in readiness for what comes next. But there is no anesthetizing this level of loss. No denying death. There is no comforting next. This is loss of loss, industrial scale.
Everyone in these pandemic days is alone in dealing with a collective reality. Our conscious awareness that we exist, therefore we shall cease to exist. In a frantic disordered mind, surety and security are illusions that we insatiably seek and endlessly chase, attempting to make comfortable an uncomfortable reality.
The Pandemic has shown how instantly our existence can be altered, changed, extinguished. There is nowhere to run, escape, hide. We are all in a walled in waiting room, a basement space, with no protection from the gross elements of impermanence. We are collectively mourning the loss of illusion and facing our greatest terror.
The very real thought about reality.
That at any time, any moment, our time is up.
What was it going to take? How far did we really think we could push back against a life support system that has provided us with breath? How long did we seriously believe we could isolate our arrogant selfish actions while mass murdering everything we saw as below our superior intelligence? Who did and do we really think we are? How dare we put it all at risk. We were WARNED. Are we listening now?
I have always believed it would take a shock so overwhelmingly brutal, an invasion from a malicious alien entity for instance, to bring humanity together as one functioning force. Not an aggressive, we must wage war force, that will blindly continue its destructive insecure patterns of kill it so we can survive.
I am not so naive to believe that survival of the fittest isn’t an element locked in for survival and continuance for any species. But when life sustaining realities are in a constant state of brutalization what did we really think would happen when those systems decide to enact their own survival tactics.
COVID-19 is erecting a global mirror that is making us face our nature, our human tendency to abuse everything else that resides in and on the greater natural world.
It appears that hope and fear are the only emotions that bring us to a full stop. We have nothing else to blame anymore, that infantile reaction is way past use by date.
The hope is that this will frighten us enough and the hope is the experience will jolt us enough to force a collective evolution. The hope is that we will become a respectful part of this planet. The fear is that we will breathe a sigh of selfish relief and go bigger and better on the destructive freeway of ruin that we alone have created.
When I was young, I believed that getting older would produce a slow down in stress and that things would get easier. Of course, the naivety of youth and the reality of you don’t know what you don’t know come into play. A growing realization over years of observation and real-life experience(s) certainly blunted most of those fledgling decades when blissful ignorance was a zone of comfortable unawareness.
Grief is an awful thing. Its so many things created from one thing that jettisons a functioning being into a gut churning G-force trajectory of unbearable shock. Orbiting in a totally foreign reality one is left reeling with nothing from before to anchor onto combined with an all imploding hellish nowness. There is no escape in such an atmosphere, its literally a death zone.
Some grief states and stages are survivable, some are not, and many must be carried like another layer of crushing heaviness.
Loss as age proceeds is unavoidable and grief becomes a looming shadow fighting for limited space and time. At a time when the setting sun should warm and soothe, loss and its associated effects fuel and fire up an aging physical cooling system, attempting to fire up an emotional furnace that is incapable of handling such a high level of intensity.
Hell is a state, which is a place, located in our minds. It’s very real with a load of substance and an ability to create insanity. It’s a merry-go-round with no off ramp or stop button. It’s an all-consuming emotional ride that creates and manifests physical feelings and reactions that plunge and plummet a being into a bottomless pit of despair.
From explosive shock to deadening darkness there is the wild roller coaster of emotional torment. These fluctuations are truly steppingstones on the pathway to madness.
Loss robs us of what we hold dear and rips our security into shredded leftover memories leaving us weak and mournful, yearning desperately for what once was but will never be again.
In this hell realm grief is our friend. Initially seen as an unwelcome visitor that intrudes into our ‘secure’ existence, grief quickly becomes an enemy to fight and defeat. The medicine to soothe and cure is perceived as a distasteful demonic ally to trauma combining forces to force us to demented levels of suffering.
Grief is the mirror on reality, its there to guide us to the inevitable acceptance of that unavoidable fact. It shows us who we are and allows us to take responsibility for our reactions to traumatic actions. Its that friend that will tell you the truth without sugar coating the reality. Its that companion who will support and be with you all the way no matter how much you rail against their company.
Grief is not the awful thing. It’s the thing that brings grief out that is truly awful.
Hell takes over the room in your mind, grief is the doorway out.
'Usually uttered under breath, mumbled through shaking teeth, screamed via wide open agape mouth.'
It can be in reaction to wonder, amazement, surprise. But much more often this universal statement translated in every language is thrown out and expletively regurgitated because a shock so great has pierced the utterer in that bony awareness point situated right between the eyes. You all know the location, that miniscule spot when aggravated will flatten you stone cold and instantly.
It’s a favourite sentence for those who are facing imminent death, an occasion that brings sharp reality to life and all its mundane oddities.
As a species we are rapidly approaching OMGITI. And we are doing everything to avoid the reality. So, what will it take to awaken from the obvious fact that we are destroying everything around us that sustains us? Our ability to hold on to our self-survival at all costs whilst literally sacrificing the rest is absolute and nonnegotiable.
Evolving past our fear-based instincts that deem we wage war on everything appears to be locked in. And as goes an obsolescence chip, we seem hell bent and destined to sign our own death certificate, after consigning our fellow inhabitants to the crematorium of chaos and human actioned cruelty.
OMGITI will ultimately be the chant of future generations, unless some force is great enough to affect us collectively and equally at the same time. This drip feed of degradation, destruction and depletion will only splatter individuals and communities at the bottom of the pile. It will gravitate upward and arise in the nostrils of the elite, its already wafting their way, unfortunately by the time it activates their bony points it will be too late for those masses of natures beings who have gone and least deserved the suffering.
One can only hope that beings from some greater intelligence source can intervene soon and garner a worldwide OMGITI as they collapse our destructive instincts and actions and awaken our wonderment at the possibilities that have always been there but blinded by our ignorance and selfishness.
Hopes and prayers are most certainly not going to do it.
If you were really tuned in to all the shit we do, it would be impossible to block the endless flow of thought bubbling diarrhea emanating pumping and oozing from the minds of the planets most populous parasites. Think about it. How many times have you caught yourself thinking or thinking out loud or mummering muttering mumbling it all and just outright asking in a loud enough voice to be noticed by those within ear shot. ‘Why am I doing this shit?’
Its as eternal and elusive a question as that other most fervent one. ‘What the fuck am I doing’? Gotta be careful with this one as its apt to get one in trouble or one locked up in a troubled place for those with troubled minds if uttered too often too loudly.
However, asking questions is a real thing these days and even if the answers are complete lies the acceptable marriage of why the shit and what the fuck comes out freely from the mouths of billions of questioners as. ‘Seriously, what the fuck is this shit and why am I being subjected to this when I didn’t fuck it all up?’ Usually served up with a side order of. ‘Shit fuck.’ Unfortunately, the answer to the question is designed to distract and fool the questioner. To disengage the curious into believing that a truth is a lie. Weaved waved and wafted words, to persuade your belief. To steer you in a certain way. To a certain tribe or group or belief. In a this, or a that, or a what.
We do the shit we do because we don’t know what we are doing. The structures that attempted to inform, guide, nudge and force us into meaning purpose and submission are crumbling faster than the ice shelves are melting. It's becoming obvious that we are basically stupid selfish immature organisms who grew way too big for our headspace and squandered the gift of insightful awareness of our actual place in the mega system.
We do the shit we do because we are scared frightened and insecure, because we have come to realize through our technological advancements that we are intimately connected not only to each other but with everybody and everything.
And with that comes the ultimate realization that we are not unique, not special, not immortal.
And for so many billions that’s a Shit load of FUCK.
It’s absolutely everywhere you look, driven by a never ending search for the elusive of all emotions. Like the proverbial bejeweled pot at the end of rainbows we are obsessed with finding lasting happiness, forever joy.
In part due to a period of unprecedented technologically accelerated human evolution, striving to be happy has taken on a monster proportion persona. All backed by a commodity fueled global market the bloated buses have already careered over the cliff of consumption.
Funny thing about us humans, it appears that we are dumbly blindsided when it comes to chasing the feel good chemicals. Our disaster switch is perpetually in the off position. It’s as if we are very simply designed to default to a no choice, gorge ourselves to death and consume everything else that we can get our shaking digits on to give ourselves a daily hit.
As religions and institutions crack and crumble and as nations collide and crash our rush to fill the vacuum is pushing the happiness throttle to wide open, full speed and limitless regions. All forms of spiritualism are back-filling old faith based standards, those fear, hope, wrath and punishment philosophies that have proven to be nothing more than corrupt self-serving servants of me and mine. Politics and politicians have been exposed and seen for what they have in common with Church and State. No wonder the happy pill has become more valuable than ever.
Searching for the illusion is unfortunately growing, speeding, spreading. It’s wrapped in stuff, stuffed in visuals, visible in the machines that dominate our lives, dominant in the Nano seconds of our days. It’s finally become everything that our lives are searching for. The search is not the issue; it’s the dependence on the most elusive drug. That’s the problem.
We are most definitely ghosts in our machine, drinking from the machine, fighting for the machine, born into and dying from the machine. Pleading with the machine for just one more hit. Just one more and one more and one more, consumed by the machines, while you forlornly seek and search for something that you will never ever be allowed to possess.
Lest you break free from the insanity.
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.