Sincerity

I like the truth. I'm a big fucking fan of being honest with people. Yes, like everyone, I have had my moments of deceit; moments that I now regret. But, on the whole, I try to let people know where I stand. I try to be honest and upfront. If I don't like you, you generally know why; and, if I like you, I hope that I've made that clear at one point or another. I let people know my intentions. I try not to hide my reasoning.

What is so terrible about this concept? Why can't we be clear with each other. Instead, we sit in the faded shadows of indecision. I want to know why we, as humans, can't give each other the most solid sign of respect I know, the gift of truth. I don't mean truth in the legal sense. That kind of truth can be bent, can be rationalized. What I refer to is the truth of the soul, the truth of intention. I want us to be able to provide each other with the deep honesty of character that we can build a society upon. Honesty won't make us all like each other, but it will allow us to really find the people that we fit with. Why do we hide ourselves behind peeling layers of inconsistent messages and hidden design. From our intent lips we let flow hazy statements of destructive promises. Worst of all, we don't track the consequences. You don't know what devastation your simple bluff has caused. Our minds can do more damage to us than any weapon concieved of by man.

They say that the truth will set you free. That is a lie. The truth will trap us; it will trap us within OURSELVES. True honesty will force us to live lives with our true faces exposed; free to be scarred by the stones thrown at us; free to be scarred by the burning disdain of others. This is the only way to truly live. If you package your soul in styrofoam, it will hold its shape. If you break from the shell, you will feel pain. If you show the world what you truly are you will be attacked, but you will also feel the tender kiss of kindness. You will be able to feel acceptance that your false mask could never relay.

Am I crazy? I want to feel the good, so I deal with the bad. I want to be a part of the real world, but I don't believe it exists. If I believed in god, I would pray to discover more truth from those around me, but I'm sad to say that the majority of the world will die alone, because they will never open themselves to the stimulus available outside of saran wrap.

The Insensitive Society

Every day that I interact with another person, I am struck by the ability of the human race to act...well...less than human. I am amazed on a daily basis that a people can treat each other with such indifference, even antagonism, and not feel. This is never more prevalent then when one logs into any number of online communities. You will never experience more racial slurs, sexist humor, and insensitive conversation that you will when playing an online game.

Some would say that the anonymity of the online space allows people to truly experience their 'Id' so to speak. To let loose of all social norms and say what they really think, to act on the urges that polite company would never allow. Is this really what people think? Is the world smiling to your your face but really wanting to tell you that 'your mother is a goat-f@#cking Wh#@re who should have dumped you in a pile of manure to let you rot' (this is an actual example copy-pasted from a chat log during a conversation about the 2008 election)? Is this really all we've gleaned from those "conflict management" posters that were pasted up and down our Junior High school hallways?

Maybe so, but I think this has less to do with the 'Id', and more to do with the 'super-ego'. Could it be that the home of our societal mores, societal belonging, and feelings of guilt is what is driving us to engage in what looks like the most indulgent pointless blathering since the first Neanderthal said "ook"?

People aren't saying shocking things because they're lower brain tells them they want to, they're doing it because the society in which they're operating is TELLING them that they must. A chatroom is filled with text posted by the first person to type. This is usually the brashest, most offensive person; the person there to try and 'stir the pot'. This seems to set the tone for everyone else.

All of the sane people are talking in 'whispers' or 'tells' (private messages not open to the public eye). Most of us are uncomfortable throwing ourselves out there for the sharks. We tend to filter our ideas through others. Just look around next time you go to watch a comedy at the theater. Wait for a joke, then look around to see how many people are making sure that they're supposed to be laughing. They're looking at their date, their friends, the people sitting in front of them.

Back to the chat room. This first person to talk, this loudmouth who thrives on creating chaos (and these people do exists in our daily lives, watch for them), is the only person not speaking in private. These people are the ones who are creating the community that we look at for guidance. They don't have the same amount of shame and social responsibility that we've built up over the years. We all look at the loudest person and follow in step. In following the society, we end up creating the society that we all strive to avoid.

Remember, YOU are society, YOU are the voice.

Don't fall in line with the other ants; you might end up being led across the wrong counter-top.

The Whole Story

We all start off life feeling small. We see the world around us and see an ocean; each and every infinitesimal piece of life swirling around us in darkness. We see through eyes unburdened by the weight of life, yet unaccustomed to viewing the possibilities. The sun is coming up, the burning light creeping into the corners of our world. Slowly, the treasure surrounding us becomes clear. We swim left, reaching for the glow of promised gold; then turn as we feel the heat and comfort offered by a warm flow. The light itself glints into our eyes, blinding us, but inciting our wonder and joy at wealth of possibility beyond. As we push into the light we see the path that was once unseen. As we follow it we realize that our vast ocean was but a diminutive puddle, a splash of life in what is truly an immense span of creation.

As our eyes adjust, we can see that the light has been here long before us. We feel the rocks and are burned by the heat to which our new fellows are already accustomed, in which they were raised. We are blistered but not broken. We are injured but not handicapped. We peel from our bodies that which is not needed and move deeper into the warmth of our chosen path. We are alone. We may be joined time and again by others; but they cannot truly be a part of the journey, for they cling to a different path. Those that try to dissuade us are scorned. Those who attempt to come with us quickly lose heart and swim for cooler waters. No one stays.

As we push with all the fervor of an animal who knows that winter is coming soon, we feel a cool current at out side. We see it flowing in tandem to our path, holding true to the goal. We glide into the stream, letting the cooler water sooth our aching muscles, finding repose in the tranquil waters that we had forgotten. There are many more waiting here. Were they waiting for us? Is this our true path? We had been fighting for so long, and now the way has become undemanding and peaceful. Gone are the heat and the strain put forth by the hell we had become obsessed with. Now is the time to be at harmony with what is around us.

As we float along, we distractedly glance to the old path, expecting it to be running in tandem with our own; but no. It is cautiously edging away. We are struck with panic. What have we done? We have taken the way of the languid, easing into a slumber of false joy. We try to jump away, to forge our way back to the fire. The cool current is to strong, it’s hold to great to escape that way. We must turn back. We must find the beginning of the path. We must return on our chosen way. We must return to our home, to our puddle. We must embark on our journey anew. The current is strong, but our resolve is stronger. Our muscles work in concert to evade the current pushing us away from the path.

We see our home, it is smaller that we remember, but, from a distance, looks the same. As we slowly slide up, it does not feel the same. We see that the sun that once illuminated our young eyes has labored in our absence. The light that was to be our friend has destroyed that which we loved. The glinting gold has been replaced by char and ash. The food that once nourished our young soul has been picked clean by those whom you left behind; but hope remains. You turn towards the light, that which you followed in the beginning. That which was filled with the hope and illumination provided by an endless future; but it is dimmed somehow. You frantically race to the path, you can feel it, almost taste the water. The path has been blocked. The hellish sun burned it until it collapsed. And you are now set. You are lost within the puddle that you once viewed as the endless utopia. You are trapped within the world that you now know to be but a thimble on the thumb of whatever creator there may be. You are left to ponder the scraps abandoned by those who held to the path; but you are not alone. From time to time you see one careening back towards there home, hoping for a new beginning, but you know they will only find an end.