A preamble to decision making ahead of the lunar eclipse.

Prose/poetry/tide/ebb/flow/boundaries/borders

They are starting to be dangerously far removed from the world. Them. The people rushing around, removed from seasons, times, trees, and bogs, rivers and lakes. They bring their baggage to the ocean, and pick up the shells of the dead to remember they’ve been there. They don’t look up, they race to get this or that. Friday! The highway is less than ten miles away, there are things to buy. Buy! They are released from their fetters. Can you blame any of them for going a bit crazy? Crazy! But they ignore their fellow inmates in their desperation. Their desperate straits. Who can get there first? First! Who matters? You want to love them, these strange misguided children, who run down squirrels and who would correct you, given half the chance, with the metal fenders of their pretend tanks, hurtling down the small roads, pretending they are not at war. War! 

The moon is above, smiling. The face of the lunar goddess, pink tinged with the sunset, smiling. Only she knows what can happen under the full. The crows flew in formation, as did the geese. However much these distracted, deranged humans ruin the earth, its true denizens gather together and fulfill what they feel, feel what they know.

Unimagined possibilities – don’t call it new, reject the binary of old and new, that separates us from each other, that makes stealing and lying that much easier. Think of  – the strange and unexplored. All is not lost. In fact, it’s possible that the threshold is before us. Everyone has a line, a frontier to explore, a barrier against homogenizing invaders, a line that protects their thoughts – not their prejudices or borders. 

Leave the internet at these moments. The electronic wires are filled with the well-meaning hawking their wares. Copy this. Listen to me. Buy. Follow. Share. Like. Your emotions, played, then monetized.

Don’t. Or do. Your choice.

Today, the true voice of one who was traumatized by his lessons, tricked by his teachers, abandoned by his guides, emerged. “If you want to succeed, you just repeat everything they tell you.” He knew. Is that the truth of schooling – to make the obedient claim to be smart? A or naught? Nothing you have interests them. Is that how you teach? Blank slates seated before you, while you look in the mirror, hoping for followers?

They lie. And they hope you either follow or fail. Follow or fail. That’s all they can offer. 

When will you get it? What happens when you mix love with the marketplace? What happens when you mix spark with a quantitative judgement? If and when everything has a price tag, do you really believe it will be accurate?

How daring do you have to be to dare? Like the book said, it’s only the first step that is the hardest.