Posts Tagged ‘Planet Earth’

Do you think, looking about, in this high-tech society, that the evils of old have been eradicated?

Do you think if the propaganda machines tell you that you are free often enough then it will automatically make it so?

Do you think you are not a slave subjugated by those who would seek to control you?

Lets compare.

A slave submits, going through the motions, doing only what is necessary, making no extra effort at the daily processes that keep a roof over their head and food on their table.

A free man understands that it is the journey and not the destination that makes the act of living on this planet worth living. Every step, every breath, every interaction with another human being is a reaffirmation of the original intent of inception into this reality well. Working, whether you be a street sweeper or a cubicle monkey, is a dance, not with your overlords, but with very fabric of space-time, and must be done with care and joy, as if you were making love to your soul mate for the very first time.

A slave sabotages the workings of the great mindless machine in which he is imprisoned, either through active acts of destruction or by passive acts of negligence. The phrase ‘It’s not my job’ becomes their shield and their sword.

A free man understands that it is all one thing, this little tiny blue ball whirling through a space full of stars, and that you don’t shit where you eat. Being a good roommate on the Planet Earth, a free man thinks ‘If not me, then who?’ and cleans up the messes and solves the problems as they present themselves.

A contented slave allows the system to infantilize him, never being proactive, always waiting patiently to be taken care of when things go wrong, becoming angry when that care does not materialize.

A free man recognizes the care given by the system for what it is, a blanket meant to smother, a drug to make you mindless, a carrot on a stick to make you go where you should not go.

A discontented slave seeks to destroy the system, making the first mistake of all slaves, allowing himself to be defined by his hates and not his loves.

A free man knows that destroying a system creates a vacuum in which other systems arise, but, since they rise out of the chaos of destruction, become far worse than the thing it replaces. A freeman does not wish to destroy the system. He merely wants no part of it, as he is busy building his own reality in which overlords have no power.

A slave, feeling powerless, creates rules based in fear that make him feel safer, thereby building more bars instead of opening up the cage door. Doing anything out of fear always turns out wrong. Always. Trust me on this.

A free man needs no rules or laws. His heart and his steps are guided by the OnePattern, the Oneverse, the tick tock heart of all reality. If one is viscerally connected to this, listening with all your being, all decisions become intuitive, unerring and right.

A slave thinks as he is told to think, letting his mind fall into the same trap that his body is imprisoned in, thoughts shackled like feet.

A free man knows his own truth and cannot be dissuaded from it. He understands that thoughts are free, to fly where they please and that even in the darkest of dungeons, in the most oppressive of thought-control societies,  a free man is still free.

A slave, well and truly seduced by the system overlords, actually believes that he too, if he works very hard and is a very good slave, will someday become an overlord. This is never the case. The best he can hope for is the role of overseer slave.

A free man wants nothing to do with a system that grinds the many into the ground in order to raise the few to unnecessary heights and he understands all too well that negative karma can only be postpones but never avoided.

A slave waits for freedom to be handed to him.

A free man knows that being free is hard work, harder than anything one can think to do and he works at it tirelessly, hidden, deep in the bowels of the machine.

Poor machine. It is about to get indigestion.


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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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