I owe life an apology. I am not sure if it would indulge an explanation?
Here is our life.
It’s analogous with our heartbeat.
It’s reliable, dependable and ready for anything every day.
But we are not.
Caught up in who knows how many schemes that whirl around in our head, do we give thought to life at all? We live life and accept it as necessary, abstract, but not really like this (magic) force of energy or a separate entity who/that actually has something to say for our benefit?
Are we the hedonistically narcissticating kind, the soul of the middle or grovelling the survival path? Be honest. It doesn’t matter but it makes you think. And while thinking :
When —, really —, do I e v e r listen to life? If life goes by the name of Google or Wiki, then yes, quite often. ...and maybe life is knowledge and data (too)? ...and maybe life is me without the I, but the us? ...but then, along came I... ...and my confident, convinced action drowned any voice of caution or direction.
Life, this weird inexplicable thing that keeps (me) going come what may.
Is life perhaps G_od unvenerated?
We use life like a wheelbarrow.
It’s there; it’s convenient; it makes life easier and you can dump anything into it.
Case of beers, junk and yuck stuff.
Occasionally we clean it up with a hose only to let it rust in a corner and then moan when the wheel squeals after weeks of neglect.
Wtf are we doing with life?
It seems there is life and then there is us.
Split existentiality in a race with split personality.
Initially, we are homogenized, but then, along comes the mind and drives a wedge to create the famous lifelong schizo-split, the beginning of the ‘don’t tell me, I will tell you’ kind of relationship.
“I, the great sage are (because I am many in my head) now in charge.”
Often, even if not verbalised this bluntly means:
“f…off life, there is more important stuff in my life.”
Another puff, shroom, swig or prick or whatever shit.
Life’s now become like a car.
It’s inconceivable that a wheel might be flat one day and we should become stranded.
“Where is the spare?
OmG. Call 911.”
“911, what is your emergency?” “My wheel is gone.” “Your wheel Sir/Ma’am, —?—.” “Fkcu yes my wheel, damn!” “Sir/Ma’am we are not roadside assistance.” “The wheel is my life.” “Oh, uhh, hold on please…”
A life later… as soon as that wheel is back, Voilà, ta-da, lots of smoke, full steam and ‘mindfully’ ahead.
Now life has become that pickup truck.
Big load bed and serious oomph between the …, oo-err, under the bonnet.
The wheels are now supergrabbers, they’re all on but sometime later you run out of gas.
Found deadish on the road going nowhere, load and all, and no life.
Now what? Stuck again?
I know I owe life an apology, badly, and then, as if scripted, I ask it the question:
"Life, what do you suggest right now?"
If I’d turn down my noise, I might just hear its voice.
*It’s been three years since I wrote the book ‘Intercourse with Life’.
– Seriously, I also got distracted in noise.
Most of the time stuff happens if you ask for it.
Perhaps you might not agree?
If we don’t say what we want, then, because we have never voiced a desire or blinked an eyelid and there was no mention of what we wanted, we don’t get what we want, — or didn’t want, if you know what I mean, — with the most assured and reliable guarantee aching towards tortured repetitiveness. We will get nothing we wanted in all its many facets. Getting what we didn’t want, because we never said we wanted it not (what we didn’t want) or having expressed what we wanted.
So we get zilch of what we really want (’cause how can it be known if we don’t vocalise it) and we get everything random else.
But, I have wanted badly, and have made it known.
Sometimes I wanted so passionately and intensely that I think I chased what I wanted away in fear, — with my ruthless burning wanting, and I was then left severely wanting and crushed.
But, when I did want in a more moderate matter of fact way, that what I wanted also approached me. Often telling me in some way or another that I should want stuff that is a bit closer to home. In a way saying that I can have a Porsche but at least the driveway should be fixed first so I don’t scrape it and parking should be available.
I know because it has happened with stuff. Not that I have a Porsche though, because, well, I wanted a girl and an aeroplane more. There seems to be a system of ranking priorities. Girl, aeroplane, Porsche … Some worldly logic would want to dictate the reverse: Aeroplane, Porsche, then girl, but it ain’t like that.
I have wanted to win the Lotto.
Bold and recurring, winning the Lotto has appeared on my ‘want list’ for decades.
It would make life a lot easier, a breeze in fact, and there are volumes of pleasures to be explored too.
I know this is drenched in hedonism and honesty, but so what, anything wrong with that?
Often I have gotten what I wanted, and, mysteriously, this included lots of shite too.
I thought I didn’t want shite, but it came along like the ‘B’ side of a 7″ single vinyl record.
I wanted to win the Lotto, — and — within a few attempts, I won the Lotto.
This is as true as this writing.
The big money Lotteries like Euromillions, and Ithuba. I won them all.
I am a multiple Lotto winner, and it tickles me that I am ‘one of those’.
It’s irrefutable and obvious proof that something I am doing works.
Jeez, what more proof does anyone want but a win in a Lottery?
Of course, I plead poverty, haha, with the look of a millionaire, — but I am such a dead giveaway.
I am plainly unsuccessful at looking poor. Yeah.
That is why I win the Lotto. One could say by extra-genetic energy application make-up or some such fantasy.
Sometimes-often I’d really rather be invisible though, but not permanently, more like on and off when it suits me. When I don’t win for instance after a loud and wild prediction proclaiming thus.
You know when you have won the Lotto, because, when you win, the Lottery makes sure you get to know about it. They’ll find you.
Are you so and so? Yes? Well, guess what?
I am a multiple winner and I can cross my heart to that.
I got what I wanted many times.
I have undisputable success.
I am a recurring winner that could hypothetically have a pattern figured out that works.
If I’d be playing at a casino they would have refused me access by now on the grounds of ‘consistent winning’ that is not in accordance with the charter of said establishment.
And because I have been verifiably successful in the past, — the past literally being ‘just now’s now,’ — why should I not be able to do the same again this immediate moment now or now-now?
This time I will also be pedantically specific.
Yes, I want to continue to win the Lotto and this time the Jackpot too.
With my own numbers.
Now! But at the latest, as soon as possible.
When you think … — stop thinking
When you do … — stop doing
When you stop … — stop
When … — don’t
When not … — stop
When stopped … — think
Life is about sitting on an egg, — partially.
When you’re sitting on top of an egg,
– and be honest, I think we are all trying to hatch something, –
and nothing happens for too long,
there is something wrong with the egg you’re sitting on.
Nothing is wrong with you, — of course not.
You did your time and probably more than was necessary.
No bird sits on an egg longer than they intrinsically know they have to, and neither should we.
If you want to bring something about:
change your circumstance, change your beingness.
If nothing happens,
get off and find another egg.
If you water a seed or seedling and it doesn’t grow,
you don’t continue indefinitely, do you?
There must be a benefit; else, what are you doing it for?
Maybe herein lies the problem:
We are the egg and the hen.
Between being both we get side-tracked.
We hen around when we should also egg around.
And both hen and egg have a best before date too.
Or, perhaps our egg got swapped while we were inattentive or in cloud-cuckoo-land. We might be sitting on a dinosaur egg that takes epochs to hatch,
and we only have a human lifetime.
Another more sinister reason could be that there is no egg for us. A hiccup in nature, an oversight, or perhaps a deliberate message of:
“You are wasting your time here, you should be somewhere else, sorry (hu)man, internal error, – reboot.”
I don’t think sitting on an egg is that much fun,
especially when the dream of what that egg was supposed to become has lost its verve.
In the process of incubation and brooding, you have probably also attracted a severe bout of eggshaustion.
Rest is advised but time is limited because it is now already ‘time minus one egg’.
Time and eggs clearly have some agreement.
Maybe ten time units are one egg unit, or who knows?
And, you are entering into major guesswork as to how many time and egg units are available to you.
At this stage of disillusionment with reality and eggs, you might want to run away to an island and just hangout and relax.
When that escape starts feeling like another egg, is it now the right egg? There’s nobody really around that could answer that question. Eggvisors are few and far between, if not entirely mythical. And, other islanders egging it out don’t strike you as the right reference model.
It is not inconceivable that at this moment you might decide,
“WTF, I’ll just grab an egg that looks nice and sit on it and see.”
The point is that when that first egg doesn’t hatch
and we finally decide to move on to another egg,
unless some inbuilt direction finder kicks in
and sets our compass pointing north again in our life,
we could become abandoned eggs or hens without a head.
Now, the second (nth) time around,
we have to apply extra amped-up effort and employ every ounce of skill and wisdom to bring our life together and make sense of it,
— and not accept a watered-down make-believe or a shortlived fake brochure version, —
so we can find that satisfaction which is inherent when our right egg hatches.
like watered down milk…
– indifferently choreographed between white and grey
– tasting like soup with too much thickener and too little salt scooped from a burned pot
– conducted by a metronome seesaw clock stuck on one hour for half the day,
and then suddenly nothing happens, again, and it’s evening
of night aeons and darkness’s conquests and shadowy ghosts infesting my mind
– preserving its light in a heart-locket necklace in memoriam
– where Nothing sticks like clueless glitter lost on my forehead
– when angels were sought and found only in thought but never caught
– of skulls and crossbones destabilising sanity with orchestral irrationality
of X-rays beaming through my skeleton ignoring my transient flesh in their own celebration of reflection…
– where demons dismember my heart and grill the tendrils of my feelings
– of ego-tripping maniacs grinding me to dust with their mortar and pestle rhetoric
– when my ashes become the spice of the devil’s lust,
– when ‘burn his soul’ is chanted by the karmic choir at the tortured gates of reincarnation,
and the cosmic eraser is bigger than any of my dreams
A day where…
Angst is the fire and defiance the air…
– blood is the drug knocked back with a double shot of death
– the soil that I stand on cries louder than hell pronged on a pitchfork
– I am misplaced like a bee on the sea
– I am like a butterfly squashed in the cooler grill of an abandoned racing car
that none of us asked to be part of…
because it perforates and slices with its shrapnel,
it blinds and dumbs the mind with chaos,
it breaks every ethic and moral and belief,
fatally demanding life and remuneration through recurring vengeance,
this day of the feasting vultures of dismay
“Dozens of parents are being split from their children each day — the children labeled ‘unaccompanied minors’ and sent to government custody or foster care, the parents labeled criminals and sent to jail.
Between October 1, 2017 and May 31, 2018, at least 2,700 children have been split from their parents. 1,995 of them were separated over the last six weeks of that window — April 18 to May 31 — indicating that at present, an average of 45 children are being taken from their parents each day.”
Dara Lind email@example.com
“I was told to do so,” you will say,
“by some higher command in the chain,” — usually sourced in the seed bowl of the presidency of the country.
(There is of course still a supreme, often quoted, and almighty instance above that, but the buck of this blog stops before any deity.)
It is the duty of law enforcement, military, ambassadors, etc., to act out those commands. You could be inclined to believe that you have been absolved of any human responsibility because you are following an order from higher up.
“But, we all have a responsibility!?”
— “What responsibility?”
“To respect life.”
Maybe, most importantly, those who protect us and enforce the law and those who represent us should be allowed to let their hearts speak more often, unafraid, instead of having the shadow of the oath to the leader(s) and the country paint everything in black and white.
At this point, so that we have a common standard, I think it is appropriate that everyone reading this should (re-)acquaint themselves with the 30 basic human rights as proclaimed in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. (http://www.un.org/en/universal-declaration-human-rights/index.html)
A captain of an aircraft can exercise his right and decide in the last second if he should or shouldn’t do something, and so can each one of us.
In the last and final moment, when we are naked with our conscience, we can object and refuse. We can act differently when some clown above us makes a decision that goes against everything we as humans of the liberated world stand for.
Authoritarian superiors and leaders are frightening and inhibit our decision making. Of course, we need powerful leaders but then they too must show wisdom and compassion and act in a way appropriate to their leadership role in the 21st century AD. Expansionism and suppression might be befitting of the times of the Huns and Vikings but not today.
No one should be subjected to the whims of some lunatic, megalomanic, self-centred, self-worshipping despot and his disciples, — nowhere in the world.
As we grow up and learn to do as we are told, mostly without a second thought, because we could suffer tender consequences, we think those lessons will forever stay unquestionable.
In one part of the world, punishment is dealt to a whole nation and we think it is the oppressors G_d given right to do so. (I believed Apartheid died in 1994.)
In another part, a whole population group is expelled in the ugliest inhumane way.
– We sit and watch and comment with politically correct drivel. –
Whole countries and islands are annexed. Stadiums and airports are constructed in conditions of forced labour, — etc. etc., and the painful, abusive human saga seems endless.
Those who call a spade a spade are often silenced with a shovel.
Technology moved us ahead but humanity stayed behind unable to rid itself of its ‘conquer and destroy’ attitude.
We are on a rampage of total disregard as long as it benefits us.
And, in the ‘greatest’ country of the western world, we separate children from their parents, because of some ‘higher command’ who thinks every child is the instrument of a violent, criminal, drug trafficking mind wanting to overthrow law and order in the country.
Rulers and policymakers, with their own families, would never let such atrocities happen to their own, but have no qualm inflicting such on others in a display of robotic heartlessness and total disconnectedness of the unfolding reality.
The jewel of the western world with its brilliant minds and liberated population spoiled to the brim with endless funds allows this to happen. With uncaring, punchdrunk disinterest, probably caused by the confusion of the constant fomented vociferous fulmination from the lips of those justifying their actions, nobody seems to rise above this mess and take control.
We are so removed from all these facts that unless they bother us we don’t care and keep our head in the sand.
What totally baffles me is that this country of dreams and incredible war machines is unable to find any other solution but to tear families apart and destroy everything (including international relationships). Some bully without imagination, ethics and humanitarian values rules that roost of power-hungry, greedy, dispassionate and detached puppets who have been voted into power by a totally ignorant populous unaware of the destructive danger of their actions.
Good triumphs over evil, right?
The mind boggles, the stomach heaves, the heart breaks, eyes tear and children’s voices scream while parents wail. Those in power, from the executioners to the designers of this nightmare have become an artificial intelligence infected by a sick virus programmed by aliens from a frozen planet.
“Change, change, change.”
I do not promote insubordination but I do call upon the definition(Wikipedia):
Insubordination is the act of willfully disobeying an order of one’s superior. Refusing to perform an action that is unethical or illegal is not insubordination; neither is refusing to perform an action that is not within the scope of authority of the person issuing the order.
Is it not true that: No man can separate what G_d has brought together?
Let us not become robots but remain humans with compassion and respect for each other.
My heart screams. My brain finds no rest.
I have to speak out, and simultaneously I condemn any ridiculous arguments that attempt to justify harming even ONE human being in the process.
(i.e. It is absurd to assume that everyone nearing the fence in the Gaza strip is a Hamas terrorist?)
I see mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters and loved ones in hellish agony. All of this has found echo in my head. Images of the affected in this progressive hate saga between Israelis & Palestinians continually interrupt my whole stream of consciousness when awake and asleep.
The future is for the young first, and only then it is for the rest of us. Alas, there is no future in this case. There is only hate and pain and segregation. Known also as Apartheid, this system forcefully singles out a group of people in the most demeaning, derogatory, insensitive, insulting and inhumane way. As is proven once more here, such systems are upheld by the powerful and the victims are depicted as the villains, who one has to be protected from at all cost, even by murder.
The world is mostly ruled by the old and stubborn who don’t waver from their stance and who continually garner support for what they think is the rightful cause, bending the ear of those who elected them.
When rulers bring war and destruction and hate instead of wisdom, love and peace, then you know they are the wrong leaders.
My roots reach deep into two countries: South Africa and Germany. Both have experienced the worst of humanity. The rainbow also doesn’t shine every day in our rainbow nation but the rainbow will forever be in our minds when we remember the atrocities of the past.
An answer can never be found in war, fences, concentration camps and human abuse.
Also, no answers are found when these leaders sit together because they will never agree as long as they insist on playing chess.
The solution lies with the young and innocent and the dreamers, thinkers and innovators.
They have to sit together and define what they want because the world belongs to them, and not to the warring, dead of conscience fanatics tainted with the brush of history, self-righteousness and other ills.
Analysing history, as we are known to do, should teach us how to deal with the future. Why don’t we get it?
All naysayers out there have a closer look at the miraculous, peaceful transformation of South Africa.
Where there is a will there is a way!
What is immediately required is a human bridge, an influx of support from all nations to stand with the oppressed, confused and petrified.
“Bring the future back to those who have lost it.”
I call on all in the world, young and old, to do this for those who suffer.
The promise of life only exists if you have a future.
“A denied future is dead life.”
Could any conscience live with such a thought any longer than a moment, let alone decades?
Let there be a human curtain made out of every living fabric that says: ‘Stop and change.’
Dismantle the barricades, the obstructions, the walls and fences and melt the ice of the frozen.
The time to forcefully exclude and deny has no space in the 21st century.
Here is an appeal to the big operators, profit-machines, life-changers, innovators and altruists and philanthropists, to dedicate a paragraph in a chapter of their book in their life to aid in solving this human catastrophe now. The affected parties can’t solve it: the UN can’t, and other nations can’t but the people of the world can. Some things are beyond governing bodies; they are in the individual hands of humanity across all and any divide.
This is an appeal to all the young and spirited and compassionate, — who cannot sleep another night just like I at 0230 this morning, — to create a tsunami, an avalanche, an eruption of change through their presence and their voice.
Let the airlines offer free tickets for this human cause. Let the food companies and all industries that make huge profits provide shelter and food for those heeding the cause.
Let it be a humanitarian evolution. Call it the Sunrise of Humanity. Let all nations congregate where weapons currently decide human fate. Let the flags of 190+ nations stare down any aggression from either side.
Will you shoot my flag?
May every soldier with a weapon become aware not only of the responsibility to his country/people but also the responsibility to humanity.
Could you bear the burden for the rest of your life of being a traitor to any one of them?
Let us be part of this movement lest we want to be judged for non-action when our conscience faces its last breath.
Do something. Anything. Everybody, do it. Make music, write, paint, go there…,we have to roll that drama over and bring those, who had the unimaginable happen in the life of their ancestors, to the realization of their inhumane actions. History is wagging a very irritated finger.
My old Zulu friend Jameson ‘Umkuhlu’ Mthembu speaks from deep within his wise soul when he says,
“Don’t put a fridge by your heart,”
…not for longer than a few hours or at most a day or two.
“Everyone: your time is up,”
that is quite obvious to all and yourself.
One of the critical human lessons and actions towards progress is that you have to put ‘stuff’ behind you in order to move forward. — Do it!
It is time to defrost.
*Picture from AFP on http://www.spiegel.de
I mean you read a lot. A hell of a lot.
One copy of yourself should be dedicated to reading 24-hours a day and provide feedback to yourself. It should then populate that infinite dormant memory in your head, indexing everything and getting on with it, ploughing through all that is readable and available, at thought-speed, — forget about sluggish light-speed, we have very (much) surpassed that.
You see a lot too. Maybe even more than you read. But, don’t underestimate the written word. With reading also comes seeing.
There is so much out there that you actually don’t have to think ever again. It’s all been said and it’s all been thought. And what remains, surely, is in a pipeline somewhere to be revealed shortly (on Netflix or some blog or in a pub).
And, the more I read and see, truly I feel, the dumber I get. Why? Because in some way by having all this input I don’t have any output anymore. I do, but it’s others’ thoughts, words and ideas.
I clearly know that I have to extend my 24-hour day. I have to create parallel days and still manage everything even if it is four-fold now. But, I don’t want to be a manager. No, shit no! I want to be involved in every little bit of those multiple 24-hour days, and I also want to get on with other stuff that interests me. I want to spend hours flying, soaring in the air, 3k feet above the ground, or landing in my neighbor farmers backyard on a penny for a cup of Wienermischung Arabica coffee. I want to immerse myself in music and play it and compose. I want to travel to every remote and beautiful corner of this magnificent continent called Africa in my Land Cruiser. I have a love affair with Africa and another one with another one. I have to create, split, multiply and slice the time I have available.
I literally have to drag myself away from the latest doing, reading and seeing, — which I am blatantly honest about, is all extremely enjoyable, — back into my chambers, close the door behind me and open the one in front of me. The one that opens into my world from my mind. You see, here goes another 24-hour day.
My function in life, — having come to this astounding realization of the ninety-six hour day requirement, — is not to write more initially. We have agreed that there is too much already for the twenty-four hour limited human being.
We have to find ways to condense time, expand time, multiply time, fornicate time, forget time, — ignore it, any which way, — and get more done in the moment of life we have so we can absorb, digest, create more and become infinitely more of ourself.
What other point could there conceivably be to continue with life once such a revelation has shone upon us, but to invent new methods and aspire to hitherto unknown heights of accomplishing the impossible?
Do you really want to slip back into your twenty-four hour drudge-day which practically gives you perhaps two hours to do your stuff, instead of figuring out some multi-parallel reality?
Fine, go for it. You won’t find me in that asylum.
Yes, there are schools of thought that we should do one thing and one thing only at a time in order to do them properly. (utter rubbish loser talk) Admittely, I have tried and I have made a mess of it. My first novel, a fictional memoir called ‘beyond Cloudia,’ touches on the subject. And, there are always those ‘I told you so’ encouraging cheer leaders. Instead of getting multiple things done, nothing was finished, except the bottle of red wine or the J, in the end. That however is no sentence not to try again, more evolved, and with better or more Jwine. I don’t smoke so there is no J in my wine.
The current steam locomotive of progress has become terribly, frustratingly slow and this has watered the seed for further exploration into the matter of parallel 24-hour days, or, at least one ninty-six hour day to start with.
Very few things, if any, have ever worked the first time around. How many rockets have gone up in smoke? Right. We have to start somewhere.
I think we have to be blind movers sometimes, believing that our movement gets us there, although we can’t see it, or explain the logic behind our (absurd) behavior .