Headspace and Timing
Is the prosperity of re-birth in the afterlife or the gravitational transcendence into the colourful field of space and time the objective of my existance, or is this just a long and abruptly ending broadway musical where the creator only wants to see me dance?
It used to be a dauntingly heavy question I only really felt the courage to ask in fleeting moments of ecstacy, or agony.
I used to focus my sights on the far ground, blinkered with blackened scarlett pain or blurred with the soft vignette of pleasure. Each misstep between here and death became negateable, knowing that for so that as long as my heart stayed beating I would reach the horizon and witness the end, unable to turn back and do it again. Would I live forever afterwards with the fear of being right, or with the joy of being wrong?
When an animal is wounded, frightened or spooked it will bolt away from danger to a place of safety where it will rest, regenerate its exerted energy and then carry on doing whatever it was doing. There is no relish or relief for escaping death, for death has no context to an animal. Whenever I take an animals life, or relieve it of its suffering, I always imagine their life-force passing through the same tunnel of light that I will one day pass through, to the same place mine we all go, because we are all born in the same place.
How ridiculous are our lives when compared to an animal with no department for concepts, fairness and doctrine? When I crane my neck to look down, I see what we have become in our 10th year of social media. The meme that created itself. The answers I see are written all over the walls of this great nation, the internet.
The deranged and illiterate knife-fight craziniess in the comments section of a policitically or morally challenging news article or video featuring fanatical hard or ultra leaning believers on both sides of every argument. We have all come to know a 60-something year old who has just discovered Facebook and TYPES AT SNOWFLAKES EVERYTHING LIKE THIS!!.! when they find a fellow caricature of the human race such as the over-priveliged victim, laying on the social media train tracks agonised and dishevelled by the fact that some people like shooting guns at cardboard on their weekends. The angry steaming frieght train of pro-gun advocates, crashing head-on with the parents of children killed in school mass-shootings. Anti-abortion male feminists against pro-abortion female alphas against the ever expanding encyclopedia of self-identities queing up to be special and recognised. Battle flags and standards representing collective beliefs fly high on the battleground where everything will be hacked and ripped apart with the weapons of misrepresentation, doxing and shaming for the entertainment of the roiling masses of trolls, social justice warriors, and otherwise voiceless people who can’t sit down for a shit without throwing their hopes into the same bowl, praying for the world to get better without their help. In every single direction of every single argument stands another person screaming, demanding justice. Some for the greater good, some for the petty sake of being right. We are a beyond butt-hurt race, and we will never, all be right.
Justice is the pursuit of authority, the administrative power of control that keeps us in line, where what is earned, is bestowed. We give each other authority because it is essential to our survival. We do not need to kill each other to survive any more because we are biologically gifted with reason and judgement doomed with the knowledge it will never always be so. It is the legal construct and architecture of morals that makes up the fulcrum of control for how we interact as a people.
There is a truth that exists outside of every argument- we all want to be right in the interest of what is just and what is fair. We all want prosperity and happy lives with love and family and self-defined abundance. We just take it too far some times, wanting to be right and wanting to know how it ends. I know that amidst the chaos and the self-destruction there is an equal or greater amount of love, connectivity and harmony… I just need to look up from my phone to see it.
It’s the feeling of the first cold breath in the morning, or the last one as the black veil of night slips over my eyes where I take comfort in knowing that in the end it is the fleeting moments of living that matter, not the certainty of death.