Archive for March, 2010

Paradox is the engine of the universe. It is the fuel for the fire at the heart of the Oneverse that keeps all the pistons pumping and all the wheels turning.

Paradox is the measure by which you know you have found the heart of any matter.

In the argument between humanists  (those who think that the rights of the many outweigh the rights of the one) and the individualists (those believers in the ‘pull yourself up by your boot straps’ ethic; who believe the needs of the many be damned if it infringes on the rights of the individual) there is a middle ground, a serene and calm center in the heart of all that passion.

The truth of the matter is that the only way a family, a village, a community, a society, a civilization, a planet, a universe, a Oneverse can take form and survive and thrive is if each unit, each member, every cog in the machine, every sentient being, down to the last little Who in Whoville, strives towards being Whole.

A Whole being is a being in love with itself. In the list of priorities, “me” is at the top of the list. (Not even god is at the top of this list. If you are whole, you are a manifestation of the divine, therefore, god, in the form of you, is at the top of the list. Head hurt yet?) In the list of things to do everyday “make me better, happier, more skilled, more aware, more serene, more informed, more content, more connected, more engaged, more in love with myself and the places where I walk each day” is the only thing on the list.

A funny thing happens when you become Whole. You automatically merge and meld with your groups. Community becomes more than a word we pay lip service to. Rules and laws cease to have meaning or purpose. A Whole person acts in communion with the larger Whole instinctively, automatically, without anyone reminding them to do so. Service to the group ceases to be a duty or a chore and more an act of self love.

Self love is a deep well full of clean, pure water in the center of your being. It nourishes you and flows out to any that you love. People will come to drink from your well and stay because they love you but the value of who you are is not contingent upon their love. Do you begin to understand the depth of this paradox?

Another funny thing about the paradox of self love is that if we are Whole, we are better able to grant everyone else the autonomy of being uniquely themselves. We embrace diversity because we recognize its value to ourselves and to the greater Whole.  In loving our self, we come to love others for being “not us”, different, a difference that reinforces our love of ourselves for being uniquely us. Think of it as Uber-narcissism taken to its highest level. Everyone becomes a mirror. In the Narcissus myth, if we were to tell it correctly, he would have fallen in love with his mirror and thanked it daily for pointing out his True Nature.

Thus we turn full circle and embrace the paradox of organized communities powered by the dynamic interaction of all the unique bits inside it.

Think of it this way. What if a human body suddenly ceased to have bone cells or skin cells or blood cells? What if, all of a sudden, every cell became identical? What if some crazy god decreed that all the units under his domain be the same, operate under the same rules, follow the same laws and snapped his fingers to make it so. Not only would the human body collapse into an amorphous blob, it would also flow like water, having no enveloping skin to contain it. What kind of world would that be? Puddles running together, not knowing where one person began and another ended?

Even in the infinite Oneverse we all access through our right brain, the levels of energy must be accessed like the the peeling of an onion. Even in the amorphous whole of the mind of the Oneverse, there is order and logic and a sentience called the OnePattern. If you can trust in this, if you can trust that all will be as it should be and things will happen in their own time within this pattern, you will be set free of the burden of trying to alter the world around you, set free of the need to change the people in it. Thus freed,  you can concentrate on the thing that really matters. You.


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I true dream. It is one of the tools I use to problem solve. Whenever I encounter an illogical, crazy and/or destructive behavior or situation in my studies of the universe, the planet or the human condition my brain goes into a delighted fugue. Yay, Another puzzle! When I discover a puzzle, I do the right brain equivalent of getting out of the car and walking around it to kick the tires and look under the hood. Then I sleep on it. I have amazing dreams.

The problem with trying to understand the human condition is that we are one big ball of convoluted, obfuscated, and just plain wrong headed beliefs that are based on an incomplete understanding of the nature of life, death, and creation and for the most part, very few of us have figured out where we fit in the big picture. In the world of puzzle solving, trying to understand the nature of being human is the equivalent of trying to untie the Gorgon Knot.

Oh, I did not start out with such a lofty goal. Who was I to solve the problems of humanity? I couldn’t even balance my check book. No, I started out small. I wanted what everyone wants when they first begin to understand that something about their life might be irreparable broken. I tried to solve the puzzle of me. I walked into the heart of my chaos and dared the universe and the powers that be to show me what I needed to know. (Do not try this at home, children. It’s akin to sticking your finger in a light socket: a whole lot of information blasts through your brain looking for someplace to call home.) Pandora, upon opening her box, could not have been any more surprised than I. After I managed to control the crazy, I began the almost insurmountable task of translating that information into language.

My life, like every other living thing on this planet and in this reality well, is part of the greater whole and if I am to solve the puzzle of my life, I must solve the greater puzzle. Using the Gorgon Knot analogy: every life is a rope that stretches from the beginning of time to the end of time; the Present, the moment in time that you perceive with your left brain as being Now, is the Knot into which all space/time is compressed; trying to untangle one rope means you must untangle all of them. (Alexander the Great supposedly solved his knotty problem by hacking the knot apart with his sword, a clever cheat if one is not above total annihilation as a means of problem solving. I would hope our mental acumen has become a little more subtle in 2300 years.)

My quest to unravel my relationships with my family had morphed into something bigger and was now somehow directly linked to the inception of life on this planet. Der? Imagine coming out of a meditation with that answer. It made as much sense as the Ultimate Answer in Douglas Adam’s ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’. Oh, great, I thought, phreakin 42. Now, what was the Ultimate Question?

Not long after this, I had my dream about the Cow-eared Boy.

A farmer was giving me a tour of his calf barn. He wanted to show me his newest calves, products of his intensive breeding program to better the species for milk production. But instead of bottle feeding calves, he fed things that were half human, baby cows with arms and hands. The babies wanted to reach out and help hold the bottle but the farmer kept slapping their hands away. The farmer wanted his calves to act like calves, but the calves had become something else, something more, and they were as equally intent on exploring the limits of their new bodies as the farmer was in preventing it.

I questioned his brutal methods. He took me out into the pasture where he kept the mothers and fathers and older calves. Imagine cows with sharp teeth and sharp hooves. The cattle were locked in pitch battles, male against male, mother against father, waging mindless violence against themselves, a life and death struggle that ravaged their numbers and crushed their children to death under its weight.

One could not fault the farmer for wanting to breed out the violence. Neither could one fault his belief that no matter what the breeding, the cows came from wild stock and would always be a brutal and vicious species and that one should not encourage human like skills in the herd.

What was the solution? I could not return the mutated herd to the wild. The farmer had altered them too much. They would never survive, being half human and half cow.

In the dream, I took one of the calves into the farmhouse and gave it a bottle, rocking it in my arms like a real child. It became a human baby…except for those pesky ears. We would to have to do something about those cow ears eventually.

In all the debate about evolution, human evolution in particular, no one bothers to interview the farmers and the breeders who have been practicing the art of selective breeding for ten thousand years. They will tell you that in the space of two generations you can irrevocably alter the nature of any species, including the human species. Humans do not perceive the change in themselves because we have created intricate civilizations to insulated our physical selves from the forces of nature, thus relieving our bodies of the exhausting need to accommodate environmental change. That does not mean we are protected from change. As any anthropologist will tell you, we have changed radically since the dawn of history. What are the forces that alter us? We have always been our own worst enemy. The history of human violence can also be a road map of the subtle shift in human awareness. It is not our bodies that are evolving, after all, it is our brains. We are all reaching for that brass ring called sentience.

The question is, will we be able to make the final leap into full sentience or will our cow ears betray us in the end, taking us down the path of the dodo, the mammoth and every other species who ultimately failed to change enough to survive?

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In the evolutionary arms race, in the violent dynamic of the soup of life here on Planet Earth, in the ever present dance between hunter and hunted, the human body has developed an extraordinary ability to listen. The hyper-awareness of being a predator and the hyper-vigilance of being prey has combined after a billion plus years of evolution into an organism that is first and foremost an antennae. As the human dynamic of predator and prey has become more subtle, the size of our brains has swollen to accommodate the complexities of our society, our civilization, our very lives.

There have been cursory studies in the field of music that are beginning to support the idea of the human antennae. When we are in the presence of live music, the brain not only listens to what is happening with the ear and the auditory cortex, it listens with all the nerve endings, internal and external, and conveys all that information back to the entire brain, thereby giving the listener a sensual, almost sexual enjoyment of mathematically complex sound. Music uses all the brain, even the 90% everyone likes to claim lies dormant, (an antiquated and simplistic result of early brain studies, embraced wholeheartedly by the proponents of lobotomy and electroshock therapy and still embraced by the pharmaceutical companies who produce drugs that deaden and dumb down the constant flow of information our brain gives us at any one moment. Trust me. A billion plus years of evolution does not produce disposable body parts. Even the appendix has a purpose, according to recent studies. Doctors who are quick to rip out organs and cut off pieces of your body have not progressed much beyond the barbers of old who would cut your hair, pull out a tooth or drain your blood to get rid of the bad humors.)

Listening to music is similar to what we do when we listen to the song of the Oneverse only better and more. The right brain is in constant connection with the Universal Mind and when we turn off the busy chatter of the left brain we can hear it. We hear it in our guts. When we open ourselves to it, we feel the energy of it spiraling inward and outward simultaneously through the core of our bodies. All that stimulus travels back to our holistic brain and every synapse in your brain becomes active. Your brain gets lit up like a Christmas tree.

Better than sex. Better than drugs. Bliss distilled down to its purest form.

When we engage our left brain in the process and begin to play with this energy, our left hand, an extension of our holistic right brain, reaches out to touch the invisible, channeling energy in while our left brain interprets the song and sends it on, sending it rushing out our right hand. And if you get really good, you can stay connected no matter what you do. It is like walking around with the song of the Oneverse playing in your head, as if you were the star of your own movie and this was the song that was playing on the soundtrack every time you were on screen.

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Do you find yourself looking back on the days of the dinosaurs with nostalgia? Ah, those were the good ol’ days. You could be a T. Rex, roaring and rampaging and biting anything that moved without the hindrance of a pesky guilty conscience, untroubled by morals or rules of law. Or if you chose the other side and played the game as a Hadrosaur or a Stegosaurus, you got to play hide and seek with the things with big teeth, running about in the steaming swamps, ducking for cover and giggling under your breath as the bad guys stomped by, clueless. Remember? Not like the time when we lived in the oceans. Gah, all those teeth and nowhere to hide. I mean, really, how crazy does it have to get before a body goes looking for greener pastures?

Remember hunting mammoth and saber tooth with only your wits and a sharp stick? Gawd, that was fun. You had to be light on your toes, that was for sure. That was a game that separated the fierce from the foolish.

Or the Peloponnesian Wars. Remember those times? You got to choose a side, Athens or Sparta, and practice world domination. Right against might. Democracy versus Oligarchy. Beating each other to bloody bits on the battle fields. Too bad we broke our toy.  War, it seems, is not good for the economy. Who knew.

The whole world domination thing was too fun to ignore, though. We played with oligarchy a little more, following Alexander all the way to China, perfecting the art of war in Persia. That was a blast. Alex knew how to party. It was fun while it lasted. That’s the thing about world domination. Things don’t want to stay dominated.

We played Romans and Barbarians for a while. We merged the politics of the game into an oligarchic democracy and  expanded our empire building skills. We were so proud. Our first corporate empire run by power drunk CEO’s. Death became an art form, entertainment for the masses. The rules of the game became a little more complex, a little more subtle. Unfortunately, the game ended when we ran out of things to kill. Pathetic, really.

Remember Cowboys and Indians? Allies versus the Nazis? The T. Rex guys kept getting meaner and more clever. The Stegosaurus guys learned how to build The Bomb, using it as the ultimate subtle armor. The Hadrosaur guys got really good at hiding, trusting in the herd’s ability to survive the attrition through sheer numbers.

Now, in the world dominated by battling corporate empires, the T. Rex and the Hadrosaur players are like a ball of sardines and a whale shark. Attrition from the other predators like sharks and dolphins and tuna, has reduce the sardines down to a bait ball big enough for the shark come on scene and swallow in one enormous mouthful. In the end, there will be no more sardines and the predators will starve to death in a few short weeks. Sigh. We keep breaking our toys.

Where are the Stegosaurus guys, you wonder? They are down in the muck, shedding their armor and growing feet. I mean, really, how crazy does it have to get before a body goes looking for greener pastures?

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(Evil: morally bad, wicked)(moral: goodness and badness, right and wrong outside of the realm of law)

The concept of evil has always puzzled me. Perhaps my confusion stems from the common media portrayal of evil, that larger than life guy, the remorseless manipulator of people and power, living in a fortress lair surrounded by minions, ala Tolkien’s Saruman or Shelly’s Frankenstein and much parodied in the form of Batman’s The Riddler or Phineaus and Ferb’s Doctor Doofenschmirtz. They are the guys we love to hate because they are so despicable. Darth Vader in Episode IV before they watered him down and made him whiny. Scorpius from Farscape, evil in all its glorious camp. (I am purposefully excluding Tolkien’s Sauron from this list because he/she/it was not really human but more of an Elemental, being less an agent of evil and more a force of nature or an agent of Chaos, whose effects caused immense damage to the well ordered realms of the more evolved species. One could argue that the forces of destruction must exist in a balanced universe in order to control the forces of life. One could also argue that by definition, to be evil, one must understand the difference between right and wrong. Can we call the hurricane evil because we don’t like the damage done? No. Of course not. Things of the Elemental nature exist outside the realm of morality.)

In real life, in the ordinary day to day workings of human life, it is hard to see evil. There is no sign post pointing the way to Frankenstein’s castle or Saruman’s tower. Bad people do not wear Vader helmets or implant cooling rods into their heads to maintain their evil body temperature. Bad people can’t pretend to be good people, as it is ever so hard to blend into a crowd when you are dressed in neon green spandex with an enormous question mark on your chest.

Theism invents bad guys. They likes to make evil remote and disconnected. They create demons and devils; something outside that manipulates you into making the wrong choices. Muslims go so far as to mark a place in Mecca where one can go and throw shoes at the devil, that they might deny him access to their lives. Christians invented a story of temptation so that their deity might be shown successfully vanquishing Satan. Evil becomes a fall guy. Someone to blame other than ourselves.  (see Midichlorian Fall Guy, below)

The truth is that every human, at around the age of seven, reaches a state of brain development where the understanding of right and wrong overwrites all the rules beaten into their heads by their parents up until that point. The little hungry chick moves from survival mode, where they are in constant fear of dying and must therefore manipulate everyone in their surroundings to get their needs met, to a more evolved state of sentience in which they perceive that the world is populated by beings just like itself and that those beings deserve and require as much respect as they do. It is at this point that all children become secure in their understanding of their own godhood and are comforted by the fact that despite all appearances to the contrary, the universe is a well ordered mathematical construct whose rules never change. Nowhere, in all this glorious Oneness, does evil exist.

What then, is evil? Forget everything you have ever been taught. Our current environment is toxic with false labels of good and bad, right and wrong, moral and amoral. Go back to that place and time when you still remembered what it was like to be connected with all of creation and know that you belonged there, that you were part of it and it was a part of you and that all that infinite power was yours to do with as you pleased as long as you stayed in harmony with the order and pattern that resides there.

Evil is anything that takes the certainty of that knowing away from you.

Do you still need sign posts? Evil cannot affect you unless you allow it. Fear and hate kills your connection; do not listen to those who would tell you to do so . Logic and intuition must be equal partners in your decision process. Guide your life not by steering clear of that which you repudiate but by embracing that which you love. Do not allow anyone to have power over your life, no matter how benign their appearance. Let your heart be the final arbiter and let your instincts guide your feet. You are not defined by this planet or the avatar you animate, but by the being that resides inside.

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Humanism. There are a thousand definitions from a thousand groups who claim to embrace the philosophy, yet the one thing about humanism that is perfectly clear is not what they believe in but what they don’t believe in. They reject the idea of God. What god, I am not sure. Is it the ancient animistic gods? Is it the pantheon of Mount Olympus? Is it the gods defined by the various and sundry bibles? Is it theism? If so, then every twenty something is a temporary humanist, while they reject the religious beliefs of their parents and endeavor to establish a belief system of their own. Is it deism, itself? Do they reject the idea of things more complex than themselves? Do they assume that human’s are the culmination of evolution and that the only thing that need be admired is that which they can perceive with their five senses? Ah, I wish that this lay at the heart of most modern humanists. I fear they have rejected even the evidence of their senses and now rely almost exclusively on those 6 square inches of brain matter we call the left frontal cortex.

Poor little humanists, stuck in their sterile little boxes while the rest of us are out gallivanting across the universes and making mischief around corners into other dimensions.

Humanists profess that they embrace the art of being human but I do not think they know what that word means.

Human: 1. of or consisting of the species to which men and women belong. 2. having the qualities that distinguish mankind, not divine or animal or mechanical.

Definition 1 is troublesomely vague. If we are talking about the genetic make up, the DNA, of the current pool of bipedal humans who walk about on planet Earth, of the physical bodies we animate, then to be human is to be animated meat. What exists now has suffered under the attention of this planet. The species has been on the brink of extinction at least once, perhaps more. The genome that survived is flawed and broken and subject to mutation. We have systematically culled certain DNA pools from our collective group using genocide and war. The body that we call human, now, is not the same as the thing we inhabited 10,000 years ago, nor will it be the same as that which we will be using 10,000 years in the future. Evolutionary forces insist that all things must change to survive. Using that logic, one could say that, per Definition 1, to be human is to be in a state of constant flux. I am human, therefore I inhabit the current breed of human meat. In terms of quantum physics, if one can only study the particle or the motion, but never both simultaneously, the meat is the particle. It’s the dead thing pressed between slides under the glare of the microscope of our attention.

But, humans are more than the physical body, one might argue. The amputee or the paraplegic is not any less human for having less body function. Is it our minds? But, there are functioning humans walking about with only a fraction of the healthy brain mandated by our genome. What of the mentally impaired? Can we exclude them from our human club? What then? Emotions? Laughter? Tool creation? Logic and puzzle solving? Art? We share all of these things with other members of the animal kingdom? What then, defines us as human? Our complex DNA sequence? Plants have us beat by a factor of 3.

Definition 2 defines us by what we are not. Animal, machine or supernatural. But we have blurred the boundaries between us and animals in our study of the human genome. Machines have become extensions of our conscious cognitive brain and have become so integral to our modern existence that one could argue the species would fail without them.

Is it that we are self aware? Oh, oh. Be careful.  If we must define being human by defining awareness, the “I am” of each of us, then you begin to walk dangerously close to the edge of deism, because the act of perceiving the “I am” is the act of understanding your own godhood in the face of a greater and more complex awareness that inhabits the energy system of the greater whole of existence. There is godhood and then there is the greater collective Godhood. The universe is a gloriously subtle thing.

Perhaps the philosophical dissoluteness of our present times can be laid at the feet of our current conundrum, the conundrum of defining what it is to be human. We stand in front of the mirror and strip away all our false masks one by one until we get to the true face of our collective being, but, alas, if we refuse to acknowledge the supernatural, then when the final mask comes down, we of course, will see Nothing.

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There is a lot of opinion and analysis written about why George Lucas wrote Star Wars Episodes I, II, & III, thereby eviscerating the story of the first three movies and ripping their iconic magic to shreds before our collective eyes. The critiques could literally fill volumes. Here is a recently published rant about the sheer wrongheadedness behind the invention of the concept of midichlorians. link

To sum up the argument, the Force went from a universally understood concept laid out in Episode IV with a few succinct lines of dialogue, (“It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.” ) to stupid and unexplainable wharrgarbl (microscopic life-forms inside the cells of all living things. Little go-betweens used by those who wish to manipulate the Force.)

Some say he wrote in the concept of midichlorians after he cast the part of young Anakin Skywalker (or miscast, if you will; I cannot help but think this choice was made in a room full of marketing executives intent on maximizing the profit of the toy sales. The actor was a jarringly too young kid of six or seven, forced to say dialogue obviously written for an adolescent or at least a pre-teen) and then had to justify the kid’s rejection by the Jedi council as being too old through the use of the midichlorian argument.

Is it possible that George was trying to rip off Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, hoping he could write Anikin as an Ender clone, brilliant, calculating, pragmatically ruthless, who believes the ends justify the means, bent on surviving at all costs? An unfortunate choice, if this was his source, as the reader of Ender’s Game can overlook Ender as a killer and still love him because Card puts you inside his mind so that you understand his unassailable innocence and know intimately how torn and conflicted Ender becomes, a thing almost impossible to communicate using the media of cinema  and using young actors unable to portray the subtleties of that particular kind of angst effectively

It is hard to understand the source of the whole excruciatingly ill-conceived script of Episode I. The midichlorian concept stands out amidst all the other dreck as a sign post pointing down the track to the impending train wreck to come. Personally, I think it came about because George was faced with a truly daunting task. He had invented the ultimate bad guy in Darth Vader, bad to the bone, embracer of the Darkside, dealer of death without remorse, quintessentially evil in the beginning but watered down later to become repentant in the end, redeemed and restored to the Lightside by the love of his son. With Episodes I thru III,  he needed to give Darth a backstory in which the audience could connect with the character of the young Anikin and care enough to sit through three movies knowing at the end he would be seduced by the Darkside and lose his soul.

Perhaps he couldn’t do it. I can imagine the writer’s block. George, sitting there in front of a blank screen, trying to imagine what kind of accident of luck or what series of bad choices would lead a child, firmly entrenched in the innocence of childhood, safe and secure in the Lightside, to go to a place so Dark that the Force could become a tool of death. Oh, mind you, it is not hard to imagine, because we see it every day on the nightly news, but remember, he had to keep the content innocuous enough for a PG rating.

On the other hand, perhaps the words flowed like water out of his fingertips but what ended up on paper was too close to home. Perhaps he wrote about the seduction of power and wealth and the almost sexual pleasure one got from holding people hostage with that power. It is a heady thing, having the power of life and death over those in need of one’s beneficence. George need only write about his own ascent into the halls of the powered elite of Hollywood, place a thin veil of scifi over its bones and he would have had a viable script. I am sure everything he wrote became painfully autobiographical.

Oh, it is not like the Darkside got George all at once. I am sure he could not point to any one decision and say, yeah, that was a mistake, that is when the Darkside won. In the beginning, after the original Star Wars movie, he fought to maintain his autonomy tooth and nail. He succeeded for a while. His only mistake might have been that he thought he could play with the big dogs of the Darkside and not walk away with their dung stuck to the bottom of his shoes.

Poor George. His alter ego, Luke Skywalker, never resolved the paradox, never understanding that the Lightside and the Darkside are two sides of the same coin and that one cannot exist without the other, that death is just as seductive as life, and that to truly own great power one must embrace both without reservation.  Perhaps that is why Luke comes back from Jedi training with an almost sinister arrogance that George must excise with the loss of a hand. Even George could not imagine someone with all that power not being corrupted by it.

Perhaps, as he wrote Episode I, he looked in the mirror and did not like what he saw. He needed to come up with an idea that would justify what he perceived as his own failures.  He needed something that would buffer him from the responsibility of his own actions. He needed a fall guy, something he could point at and say, hey, it wasn’t my fault, it was all those pesky things that I could not control. He invented a middle man. He invented the midichlorians.

With a single brush stroke, George Lucas transformed the Star Wars world from a magical place where anyone could embrace his own godhood to a universe where only the special few might control all the power, those few being the ones who were genetically endowed with the ‘right stuff’ in the shape of these unseen midichlorians.  A universe full the haves and the have-nots in which the haves had justification for any abuse that might follow. Hitler would have been proud.

There is a place in Hell for those kinds of beings who justify their actions with the argument: ‘If the universe didn’t want me to do it, it would not have given me the power to do so’. Ask any man with power, why he abuses it and the universal response will be “Because I can”.

Do you not think that the purveyors of death, destruction, famine, and poverty, on some subconscious level, blame the people who are their victims? If only they had not opened the door and invited the apocalyptic horseman in, thereby becoming co-conspirators in their own demise, then I would not have needed to destroy them, they think. Is it not the common cop-out of any conman as they declaim their innocence, that one cannot con an honest man? Do you not think that Hitler, if he had lived to come to trial, would have tried to turn the tables on his victims, blaming the Jews for allowing themselves to be herded into the gas chambers?

The only time George Lucas is comfortable with portraying power is in the writing of the elder Obi Wan Kenobi in Episode IV. There he was, living out in the wastelands of Tatooine, as far from temptation as possible, using the power of the Force to open an occasional pickle jar but not much more. Powerful yet having no compunction to use that power, innately aware of the subtleties of shifting the whole universe with a thought, yet content to do nothing.

See. It is easy to think of a thing being good when its exists in a vacuum.  Why do you think monks who take vows of celibacy and/or silence shut themselves up behind the cold austere walls of monasteries, far from temptation? Because the minute your will meets the will of another, conflict arises. People are like stars. We come into existence by consuming the stuff that birthed us, and then immediately set up housekeeping by clearing our personal space and organizing all the crap around us into planets and orbits and belts of debris. The violent act of will that births us sets up a series of consequences that  ripple out through the Oneverse like waves in an infinite sea, rewriting the history of everything. Being alive is an act of ruthless will. There is nothing kind and gentle about it. Neither is it wrong or evil.

Perhaps it is time we as a species stopped apologizing for our inherent nature, stopped hiding behind the midichlorian veil of false innocence, and owned up to the fact that we are powerful beings whose very existence causes collateral damage. The only difference between the Lightside and the Darkside is that the Lightside owns up to the responsibilities that go with being powerful beings in a powerful universe and the Darkside invents midichlorians so they might pretend at innocence and blamelessness.

Maybe that is why we think of it as the Darkside. Where as the Lightside lives their lives in open, honest introspection, the Light of the Oneverse passing through them unhindered, those of the  Darkside must operate in shadows and subterfuge, lest they look into the depths of their own souls and are destroyed by what they find there.

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