We are weak and on our knees simply trying to comprehend the accelerating suffering from coast to coast and country to country which, as we have known has been simmering for centuries and now reaches the boiling point.
Since I was a little yout, I never got the "why" part. Why beat down the downtrodden? Why create circumstances to deliberately divide us? Why make hard that which is naturally easy, what was it, what is it, they can't see? It follows, of course, that those early years would not have been smooth. But still, they formed me and were imbedded more deeply every single day in one way or another. My crime was holding ideals that differed radically from too many others' ideals, that is, if they held any genuine ideals at all.
I can't say I've changed much in that category. Truth always mattered more, although it commonly comes at a high price. One must be able to convince the medium from which truth comes to you that you will accept it with no repercussions, an impossible feat. The first repercussion is your normal curiosity for truth. And curiosity makes you think which makes you feel a way. It can not be helped.I am sure anyone reading here already knew the repulsive truth about torture many years back. They thought we would forget it with the passing of time, our attention long diverted with school shootings, cyber hackings, privacy leaks and abject consumerism as if "all that was so then" in the same way Bill Cosby might think about his past behaviors. Only now we are presented with a damning report years after the fact and already its being run through the dairy queen dispener. Yes, its Christmas under the tree for the damage control industry which are as you know, ruthless professionals in Timing is Everything whose hands are permanently stained with the stigmata of global misery. Instead of apology they race to deny. They threw this report at us to get those criminal, lippy protestors to knock it off by shifting the spotlight. We're in Present Shock, remember? Where everything happens at once?
I can't breathe.
I want to speak to them directly and let them know WE can't breathe. We can't eat, we can't speak. We can't live, we can't weep because we know their stock in trade and brace ourselves while inside our tortured hearts we are praying they get hip.
But you know, they don't see it that way. They have a vision that they are untouchable, a uniquely superior example of our species, a more perfect person. So remarkably special, revered and powerful, so right, so clean in conscience, communication of any sort with the slightest potential truth might accidentally slip out is not allowed. It appears truth was made illegal and the ruling kept secret because damage management was on vacation in some private blackjack suite high above the golden avenues of Fat City.
The divide is wider than the distance between Mother Earth and Uranus which means it is extremely unlikely we will see any of these white face Ken dolls fess up and get with the program.
The program, (you know the program, you are the program) is and always has been DO NO HARM. There are a million, billion, trillion subheads under that title, including all sizes and manner of beautiful, truly Godly acts of compassion and seva.
I will make it simple for them by saying truthfully, all they have to do is recognize we are all one. Yes! Pan Species Diversity. Without the game, we're all the same. We breathe as one.
There is nothing, NOTHING, less than absolute ZERO, ever to be gained by allowing ignorant prejudice, vanity and testosterone fueled anguish to dictate action.
Raining in My Heart:
Post title from The Best of Slim Harpo
Excello Records, recorded: Crowley, Louisiana,
November 1960
Photo c. Yahoo/Pinterest
