Inspiration, for all its universality, is a particular affair. Long have I wondered at its presence, almost as long as I have at its absence, be it on a white page, a blank regard, or a heart empty of recognition to the love calling out its true name. Though a fool yet I am, still I question, still I wonder, still I see how it might be otherwise would we but choose to imagine what dreams might come…
Purposely surrounded by a symmetry of steel and glass, concrete and cubistry, elements that attempt to cage the world from its own wild nature, from this place of juxtaposition I spell out my magic, I call out our true name.
Amazing what a little lipstick and lace can do to transform what is essentially a savage beast. And no, I haven’t taken a leap off any transgendered ledge, only comically describing humanity’s plight, the ridiculous reality sold to us at every turn, in every nook and cranny, in every word and deed. I admit to using more than one meaning with my language, it’s a fractal kind of reality, holistic really, kinda holographic too, and if spelled out properly can elicit illicit change and transformation, aware of it or not. After all, how did we get into this pickle of a jar anyways? And what was that about the lipstick again?
Was it some lonely star-god with a razor and low standards shaving monkeys and playing dress up with the locals? Or was it a stranded suffering consciousness, madly proclaiming its angst-y and edgy rebellion against The All That Is, that, in a fit of pique, fuelled by cosmic separation anxiety, decided to rule over a hell rather than just give it a minute, try a little forgiveness, a laugh and maybe pass the salt already? Celestial Big Babies abound in our mythologies. What’s the Devil anyways but a fearful folly fornicating the fun out of everything? An angry fist to the heavens has little to say of beauty. What harmony there is left is mostly found away from our presence, at least in mass. Sometimes though a punch in the nose, so to speak, is the only way to get the message through all that denial, past the lunatic stubbornness and right into ignorance’s big red honker. Maybe that describes all our troubles.
We’ve all had shitty days, been hurt by unfairness, crucified by the uncaring, the unloving, the unkind. At some point we’ve all wanted to lash out at anyone and everyone, cursing our Creator, our parents, our selves. All of humanity can certainly relate by now to the gamut of possibilities merely hinted at here but expounded ad nauseam by our very own culture in every media and medium. What is History but more of the same? Or Religion for that matter? Or Politics? Even the present form of our science is based on separation, combustion, violence and pollution.
Assuredly other ‘sciences’ exist, not just the stuff ‘they’ like to keep from us or use against us. Other civilizations have come and gone, some willingly, others by other means. We’ve but to listen to the various blaring narratives deafening our collective consciousnesses or glance at the multitude of speculative works articulating our dystopic destination to imagine the what and the why and the rest of what might be or has been or is still to come.
But let’s remember to see the forest and the trees. Sure there are crazies out there doing crazy things, some trying to get in here to do the same, but can we fault them for wanting to share? Facetious statement? Maybe a little, but it is telling: misery loves company, and so do the rest of us. What I’m saying is that even at its worst – a change in perspective, an aggrandizement if you prefer, will out the truth, will free the soul. So that even at its most heinous, at its most cruel, at its most evil, an act, its perpetrator, is illustrating, even manifesting the truth of its opposite, in a sense empowering that which it fights against. Villain meet Hero. Psychopath meet…?
The nihilists, champions of separation, are actually demonstrating the lie of their philosophy. If this was all accident then why worry? If this is all really so meaningless how could a tree be? Or a flower? Or our enjoyment of either? And if it all really rests on our shoulders, the giving of meaning I mean, then bully for us, well done, and aren’t we magnificent, and what a responsibility! If God really doesn’t exist what’s with all the hooplah and tacky desecration; the masturbatory devil worshiping; the mad cult of vapid personality; the cyclopean monoliths of inverted truth? As Shakespeare put it “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
And come on already, look at all our works, our achievements, our expressions of transcendent splendor. There they are, there we are: Amor’s own weeds cracking the hardened stone pavements of Roma herself. Have we but the faith of a mustard seed. Consider if you will that it (all the horror and pain in the world) is actually there to inspire us to manifest our own greatness, our own Humanity expressed in Love, challenged to grow beyond the limits set and created by its opposite.
Without our light what is their darkness but blindness? Without beauty…well, look around, it ain’t pretty. We can do better. We can be better. Let’s not allow the terrible and awesome sacrifice evil makes on our account go to waste.
Anything they can ‘make’ us do surely we can do better without the stick in the eye, the kick in the pants, the punch in the nose, regardless of how necessary it may yet seem to receive. Why not just wake up and smell the roses?
So once again: be of good cheer. Our happy destiny is unavoidable. Imagine it with me. Participate! Free yourself. And though it looks grim and grey when the sunshine goes, our hearts blaze eternal, lighting the way through any and all darkness. This we have in common. This is our adventure. This is our universal truth. This is our magic.