These first moments of the day after arising can be a serene, comforting time, on those wonderful mornings when Murphy is occupied elsewhere. There is always such a fine feeling of potential, one of promise and hope. Then, naturally, I open my eyes to reality, and depression crashes back down, filling the world with darkness and despair….
Well, make up my damn mind, would you?…. Which is it, promising and full of hope, or dark and despairing? You can’t have it both ways, not in this house…. although, come to think of it, that might be a totally awesome experience, once…. To feel such completely opposite ranges of feeling at the same time…. it might be entertaining, for a moment or so anyway….
Nah, probably not…. more likely it would just be confusing, as if we don’t have enough in life to do that for us….. Oh well, it was a thought….. I get those now and again, but try not to let them get too messy, and I certainly wouldn’t allow one to drip all over the client’s chair; that one time was an anomaly, I swear…..
Ah hell, who am I trying to kid? We haven’t had a real client in here for ages, and the chair we use for them wouldn’t hold up anyone more than 90 lbs., anyway, so I’d most likely steer them into walking outside, rather than letting them sit down in the deathtrap…. We DO take customer service seriously, even if we don’t have many customers….
Not only do we not have many customers, we have no business. None….. it’s all just another plot device, thrown in by me in a moment of panic, to get me further down the page. It is working okay in that respect, but I don’t think this morning’s intro is going to win many literary prizes for eloquence, or elegance…. I suppose I could use it as a teaching tool, to show how NOT to write….
Of, course, then I’d have to find students, and set up a classroom, find some chalk, and a chalkboard, and….. nope, too much hassle. I’ll just let it lie, like a sleeping dog, or a politician, and we’ll move on to the next stage of this nonsense, whatever that may turn out to be…. It’s still a mystery at this point, as your guess is as good as mine as to where to take this….
Since where I took it worked, I won’t bother to detail the direction, but will merely accept the change without objection, and move on…. And, since it DID work, at least in one sense (all that is required by law….), I can legally get on with the rest of today’s effort without having to concern myself with finding a lawyer to save my ass. It’s always a good thing to avoid litigation when possible, yes? Yes…. Shall we Pearl?…..
“Trust your hunches. They’re usually based on facts filed away just below the conscious level.” — Dr. Joyce Brothers
I find this to be a fascinating statement, from a person many of today’s youth won’t recognize as a celebrity. Dr. Joyce, as we called her when I was young, was a celebrity from back in the 1950’s and 60’s, who became famous at first as a prodigy child contestant on a quiz show, The $64,000 Question; she later found celebrity as a radio and TV talk show hostess, and a syndicated newspaper column, answering questions about relationships, love, and life in general. She had a calm, friendly, confident manner that was easy for people to accept, and her brilliant mind gave her answers a certain depth and cachet that otherwise would have been lost, had she been less intelligent, or less charismatic…..
What I find to be interesting here is her reliance on the subconscious mind for accurate data resolution and interpretation, and her confidence in proposing that people explore that connection. I was around at the time, and the world was NOT in a place, philosophically speaking, where the reliance on subconscious activities was considered to be a mainstream belief. In fact, it almost put her in the category of mystics and clairvoyants, as far as established society was concerned….. To many, she might have well just said that we should all become witches….
I suppose what helped in the long run toward acceptance of this kind of thinking was her documented genius, that gave what she said a certain validity. In addition, she was at her most popular right at the time when society itself was going through some severe upheaval, during the late 50’s and early to late 60’s, so her ideas found more acceptance among the young, then spread to the rest of the culture as the Cultural Revolution went on, and society became more open to such free-wheeling philosophies.
Another effect of that time, that many people lose sight of, is the polarization that occurred in society, as the two intrinsically opposite philosophies, of liberalism and conservatism (as they are understood today….), became the two camps of ideology that would engage in a struggle for control of the government, and society, for the next 60 years, right up to today….. It’s a struggle between two ways of looking at life, and neither one is aware of being under the control of a third party, one that remains in the shadows, unseen and unheard, expect at their own command…..
Okay, here is where those of you who don’t buy into the conspiracy theory of life can skip on to the next section… to your own peril, but, hey, to each his own, right?….. I’m not particularly paranoid about such things as conspiracy; most of the time I think the things the ffolkes who believe in them see, that support their ideas, are seeing examples of human stupidity, rather than conspiracy. But, I am also a scientist, FIRST, and there is just too much evidence that supports the idea that there is a small percentage of humanity that controls the majority of resources (ie, food, land, money, armaments…), and as a consequence, have far more influence and control over the rest of us than is either just, or ethical.
This small group of mega-rich fanatical egotists believe that, because they can, they have the right to hoard all of those resources for themselves, and have the right to determine who should have any access to them. They believe this because they are allowed to do so, having grabbed all the controls (to wit: the guns and money….) long ago, and have arranged matters so that the great bulk of society is not only under their control, but is unaware of being in that position….
To tie this all together for y’all, let me say this…. I have a hunch that this is true. I don’t always have evidence that I can point to that is obviously definitive in the direction of proof of that assertion, but, if what Dr. Joyce tells us is true, my subconscious mind is aware of the facts, and can show me where to find them, if needed. That hunch tells me that, YES, there are a small group of assholes who are in control of society, for their own benefit, and they don’t give a fuck about the rest of humanity…. and there is evidence to support this hunch, even if it isn’t right out in the open where everyone can see it easily.
As yet, I don’t have any viable suggestions about how to go about kicking these punks to the curb; all I know is that we need to do so, and soon, before they kill all of us with their own brand of stupidity…. This isn’t to say they are altogether stupid, or that it is their primary defining characteristic…. but, they are human, and as such are subject to Murphy and his natural law…. So, I suppose it is a matter of watching for the right moment to catch them just at that instant when their own humanity will bring them down….. and hoping that moment comes soon…..
“Do you like “TENDER VITTLES”??” — Zippy the Pinhead
Of late, I’ve been writing quite a bit on aging, and it’s effect on me… an occupational hazard, I suppose, for us retirees. Last night, I was reading some WordPress blogs, and was introduced to this Australian contemporary poet, David Lewis Paget. In looking through his poems on PoemHunter.com, I found this one, which speaks very eloquently of this period of life, and beyond, and I’m happy to include it here as part of the ongoing discussion…. It’s a bit long, but worth it…. Enjoy!….
I was wandering through the Nursing Home
In the town of Morton Rise,
Seeking an old and weathered face
That I’d known in another guise,
For Richard Spratt was my father’s friend
That I hadn’t seen for years,
I was going to let him know his friend
Had taken a turn for the worse.
The eyes that stared from the armchairs there
Were blank, and devoid of pain,
They’d taken the pills that dulled them down
So they wouldn’t be restrained,
The nurses treated them all as fools
This gross humanity,
Whose only sin was they’d given in
To age, and infirmity.
It was all so very depressing, I
Imagined my future there,
Staring in immobility
From the prison of one of their chairs,
Waiting my turn to be spoon-fed
By a very impatient nurse,
Who shovelled the food all over my chin
As I sat, and inwardly cursed.
I wandered the home there, room by room
In search of his friendly face,
This Richard Spratt in a cricketer’s hat
I remembered from Ambergate,
He’d batted a decent fifty, while
My father polished the ball,
And took five wickets alone that day
In his bowling, over all.
It was nigh on forty years before
That I’d watched them play as a child,
Out on the green at Ambergate
With the weather, warm and mild,
But the years dismay as they pass away
And my father grew so old,
Now he lay in bed in a kind of dread
As the bell of his lifetime tolled.
I said that I’d find his friend for him
And let him know, at the last,
That he was remembered, thick and thin
For a friendship, forged in the past,
There were days when they both had sunny skies
And met each day with a grin,
But time drew shrouds like storm-filled clouds
And the end was looking grim.
I heard a shout from a private room
And went to investigate,
Quite a commotion in the gloom,
I hoped I wasn’t too late,
And there was a nurse stood over him
In a wheelchair, Richard Spratt,
He’d thrown his meds all over the room
And sat in his cricketer’s hat.
‘You know what to do with your pills, you witch, ‘
He shouted, and turned to see
Just who was stood in the doorway, I
Was grinning from ear to ear,
‘Well I’ll be… You can get out of here! ‘
He said to the wayward nurse,
Who said, ‘If you’re going to be like that…’
And left the room, with a curse.
I told the news of my father then
And I swear, he sat and cried,
Just a couple of tears escaped
That he hid, he still had pride,
‘Life is a trail of sorrow, son,
But we’re all on the same long train,
Your dad and I in the tunnel, while
Your carriage is still on the plain.’
‘What do you value of life the most? ‘
I saw the pain in his eyes,
‘Youth was that great and precious thing
That with age, you realise!
I’d give it all for an hour to spend
In the glow of my lady’s eyes,
The touch of her skin and a hint of sin
But the thing that we love, it dies! ‘
‘I’ve often thought of those balmy days
On the green in our cricket whites,
And think I hear the crack of the ball
On the willow of sweet delight,
I remember your father’s terse ‘Howzat! ‘
When he scattered another’s bails,
Now I sit in this prisoning wheelchair, here
And all I can hear are wails.’
‘Wails from the ones who want to die,
Wails that they want to live,
The future is lost to the best of us
We have but the past to give.
You’d like to know how I feel right now,
Like a leopard, caught in a cage,
If only I could be young once more…
But all that I feel is rage!’
David Lewis Paget
4 October 2012
“The wise man’s eyes are in his head; but the fool walketh in darkness: and I myself perceived also that one event happeneth to them all. Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool so it happeneth even to me; and why was I then more wise? Then I said in my heart, that this is also vanity. For there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever; seeing that which now is in the days to come shall all be forgotten. And how dieth the wise man? As the fool.” — Ecclesiastes 2:14-16
To look at this, one would tend to be persuaded of its veracity, or at least of its intention to be so. The latter part is the more accurate assessment, because, in truth, this is a complete and utter lie, a lie that I consider to be one of the most egregious of those told by the fanatics who wrote most of the Bible….. “And how dieth the wise man? As a fool.” What a crock of shit!
Think about this for just a second, okay?…. A wise man approaches his death with equanimity and dignity, arranging matters so that he dies having lived a life filled with the joy of loving, and with compassion for his fellows. The fool dies badly, fearing what comes after, but more afraid to continue living in misery and fear….. Those are very simple observations, based on reality, and what I’ve observed of it in my time.
Vanity isn’t ALWAYS misplaced, you know, as long as it is not embraced as a lifestyle, but rather acknowledged as an amusing form of self-love, one that can serve to motivate toward improvement. Only when assumed as a faith, producing a sense of entitlement based on unreal expectations, does it become ill-conceived, and ugly. (Gee, and doesn’t that sound more like those who preach against vanity, with their sense of entitlement as one of God’s children?….)
It is much the same as with any human characteristic, or emotional state; moderation is the key to handling them with grace and common sense. When people make too much of ANY of their emotions, or their personal characteristics, they tend to go overboard, and act without restraint to achieve their wants…. SIGH…. In this way, as in many, most people are like children, with no control over their own inner self as yet….
But, given their way, the men (very, very few women fall so deeply into the religious BS to become preachers/priests) who want to control the rest of humanity through religion would have us remain children, at least in our emotional responses…. Children are much easier to control than adults, as they are conditioned to accept whatever they’re told by an adult…. If a person manages to get to adulthood without being so conditioned, well, they can kiss that constituent goodbye, because very few of us ever return after becoming aware of how the church is fucking with us…..
Bah, humbug…. I’m a bit worked up now, and it’s getting hard to organize my thoughts enough to keep this on a logical track. I just get so mad, when I think about all these centuries that humanity has wasted under the influence of all those who act for their own benefit, and screw the rest of us. I get SO angry, it takes all of my will to keep from getting up from my chair, grabbing some weapons, and going out to hunt…..
But, then I would have to give up my own philosophy, because, who will play God? If I go out and start eliminating those whom I believe need to be absent from reality, for the betterment of all, then I am making myself into God…. which kind of goes against all I believe. I hate them, those assholes, but, killing is THEIR method of choice for assuming or maintaining the status quo, and really doesn’t fit in with my own choices. I guess I’m just going to have to keep looking for the right way to bring their chicanery out where all can see it, and make fun of it enough to make it go away….
Not the most logical, or strategically or tactically practical plan I’ve come up with, but, for now, it’s the best I’ve got…. If y’all have any ideas, I’d be interested, for sure… We need to figure out some way to boot their asses out the door, before it’s too late…. though I suspect that moment may have passed yesterday…..
“So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.” — Bertrand Russell
I’m at a loss for words to express how this one came out…. After re-reading it, I’m almost impressed. Allowing subconscious control works better than I had imagined, I’d say…. In future posts, we’ll see if we can’t expand that little capability, and see where it takes us…. For now, I’m probably better off to bid thee adieu for today, and let the chips fall where they may….. Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
I just sits.