Definition Freedom the Average Person

Photo by Dhina

Video view editing and confirming is a firewall. [vision of this as a message on the computer screen taking up the entire screen]
The film documentary of Graduated Sense.
Lemmie tell you something about my life:
I forgive yah not being able to talk.
Some mature policy
I salt at the bottom of the ocean,
the highest man down.
That’s a circle reference,
guerrilla summery.
What’s the ID number?
I was going to be a mountain cause of things,
an Apache arrow shaft.

today’s muse (inner voice and vision)

Reminded Human Beings Aren’t Socially Protected

The divine right of kings I challenge: how we grasped the idea freedom and what stood in its way when we began looking upon our scene in relation to our little liberty in it, unable yet to grasp the root of the tyranny, get it by the horns. It’s not just a tyranny of rulers but of the average person, conformity to the group. You see, I’m in that most basic of conflicts, the individual at odds with their society, a person given a perpetual irrevocable outcast status, since by definition I’m not allowed in polite company. Although the sentence has not been handed down in my particular case, not at least yet, society states in its contemporary mores that a minor attracted person cannot be unsupervised around anyone under 18, alone out of the question entirely, not in every society on the globe, but the push is to make it so, and when that’s applied in human terms, you can only be around people under restricted conditions, no children present, or, if they are, everyone is watching you, and so you are for the most part and in most people’s eyes, an untouchable.

You are that not only because of the restrictions but also because you’re hated by everyone that knows you are a minor attracted person (who are not likewise hated), save for a handful of people. (I’ve discovered there actually are a few people that do have goodwill, for everybody, as occasionally I run across such a person, not usually the official part of any page; their kind consideration is left in a comment like someone leaves a rose.) Hatred’s a thing of degrees, not most times the red hot variety, and most often hatred is expressed by the method of making a ghost out of someone who’s done something wrong, not speaking to them, pretending not to see them when looking directly at them, a method developed by cavemen to deal with their outcasts, pointing out the primitiveness of such social behavior. A minor attracted person has a unique position in society: you’re the single kind of person it’s socially acceptable to hate, not to have to give the time of day to or even any consideration at all, not to have to view as a fellow human being with basic rights.

That hatred, combined with the restrictions placed on you, means you’re not even really allowed in humanity, or, if you are, it’s either by being incarcerated or incognito. It comes down to I have no right to even be. The conflict I have as an individual with my society is that most basic right, to exist, and other than the citizen society kills as a retribution for a crime committed, my conflict is about as enigmatic and problematic as it gets, understanding (a capacity few possess in regards to minor attracted people) that you don’t chose to be attracted to minors like you don’t choose to have autism (drawing an analogy and not making a connection between the disorders), and like autism, to learn to live with that attraction and be a fit and functioning member of society, society has to make it a point to let you in, and like the integrated autistic individual, the minor attracted person can make their disorder an order society can use, not a burden become but a blessing.

I’m trying to take this video into movie making itself, speaking figuratively of not only this present writing, but also of my life story, by it show what’s going on here, not only with me and my conflict, but get a glimpse maybe of the meaning of life itself, pasting it on the post of this outcast and all its gab and garb, in the body of the email, and my story would hit on so many social and errant notes it would tend to push open closed doors. I’m trying to explain what it is I’m filming (figuring) – a fall, a redemption, a demonstration of process, that of the soul when it is physician –, the camera I’m using my PC, creating by it poems, essays, short stories, songs, videos, letters, journals, comments, a play, and a memoir yet in progress, all of which are attempts to both make some sense out of life and record and explain the movie My Life and its guest starring in yours, the sparks that have flown off of our rubbing together, a friction often painful for the both of us, but it’s my hope that those sparks will start a fire that burns up our strife and mistrust.

A creative leap this, the form the form of the heroic, as opposed to the cowardly, where, mad at you, I either by gun, bomb, knife, car or whatever weapon I can get my hands on, try to kill as many of the representatives of you as I can, or I just stand up where you caught me at it or where I think you won’t catch me and tell you in language ugly that I’m going to be the unrepentant me regardless of how that hurts you, and to hell with you all. But I’m not bowing down to your vilification of me either, your condemnation, as, though I am wringing my hands before you, this is no grovel, since I’m standing up to you and your irrational hatred of me, standing up too to Law, convicting it of being made more for the brute than for man. I’m facing you with more than just my humanity; I’m facing you with my soul, showing it. In doing this I take my example from you, society, from that brightest, best, and beautiful in you we call art and literature, here from epic poetry, and I’m mirroring the heroine Savitri[i] of the poem of that name, who alone, by the light of her very own soul, squares off with Death and stands up to the universe, throws herself in the way of its driving wheels, and in so doing exceeds herself and changes forever the Eternal Laws. I’m not going postal I’m going Savitri, savvy?

That they are human laws I’m trying to change and neither divine nor eternal, it would seem my task the easier one, but I’m not a nectar cup of perfection as she, more the opposite actually, and I assure you when you throw in not only other people’s stubbornness to change but also your own, in human law you have an ignorance and arrogance that can maintain its own errant course it seems even in the face of divine will otherwise. It might’ve made Savitri look back over her shoulder and lose the man (her husband she follows into the afterlife) in trying to change human law and not the eternal ones she changes, but I’d have to make a distinction here between that epic poem itself changing those laws and it being a blueprint for change, a textbook I’m using to ‘go Savitri’ right here with you.

Yes try this one at home folks. You wait until comes tomorrow, and suddenly there will be a way to stand up and say your side of the story like no one has ever told their story, and maybe you’ll get a hearing with the world more on your terms than its, or at least on a more equal power-footing, since there’s nothing stopping it from sacking your home and stomping your life and liberty to death, nothing save, confronted with how the soul heals, a story that would make it stop, look, and listen, or, if it does surrender to its armed impulse born from its blind reaction to just stomp you in the ground, after the dust settles, and the light of reason shines in on the scene, the world would see its mistake, that part of it that does see reason. That’s the gamble, and you won’t know if your story has that weight until you take it, but if you do it by the light of your soul, you’re doing you own original work, a gamble unique to you that, win or lose, you’ve done what you’re supposed to do.

What would you say to someone that wanted you dead? Say it wasn’t someone but your society itself, and you got the why and wherefore of somebody going Savitri in everybody’s face that looks in their direction, sort of like putting a rose there unexpectedly, if you like beauty. This pretty’s homespun, got pretty by utility at home, changing ugliness into its higher counterpart beauty. In this storytelling you got mixed in how to change being told, how to do it, or let it do you I should say, since this is a process of soul and therefore of higher purpose, higher than human hands. The story’s trying to stay as close to truth as possible, an impossibility actually, not that there isn’t an objective sequence of events – there is –, but that there isn’t an objective observer telling the story (and we’ve have to add: re-telling, the version that got heard), something not possible among us at the present time nor at any in the past, and for the future, let’s hope one day it will be, else we don’t graduate from this public-private school of little selves too self-centered to see the whole, if you have gotten that clear and certain sense in life that graduation is possible, what we’re moving to even if the sense is absent. In this preschool  of souls I’m kind of ringing my hands and standing before you with this present writing and all I’ve created and will create trying to show you enough evidence of that soul and its conscious intervention in its person’s life, it and its divine, that most minds, save that of the mule-headed and fanatic, would hold that at least possible, if not even probable, something no one has done to any degree of satisfaction, and doing that never-been-done-before in a true story about the healing of a pedophile, this present writing his manifesto, the story standing behind informing it like my name stands for me and all I’ve done; likewise in the story behind this stands visible the bad in need of change, and there’s no other way it can stand if it’s to be changed – visible, what you have to make it, and dammit you’d have to.

Littul Kittons[ii] Now Man’s Consciousness

It’s precisely that we censor in whatever medium, the bad, the ugly, whether or not it actually happened in real life, the censorship based on revulsion and not on the rational observation of human living so to resolve its prblems, and so based it usually tends to have the opposite effect in a society: it compounds the problem a hundredfold. We censor it because we do not allow for error in society, and I’m speaking of the underlying attitude we hold towards it and most often address it in someone else, not the way we say we do. The attitude is most visible in law and the way we apply it to human life, law being the institution of the management of error in a social context. When the error is breaking a law, any law, and you get caught by the enforcers of it, you basically get the book thrown at you, prosecuted to the up-most extent of the law, not in every case, but in most, and the report that’s given to the public of your offense is usually a rebuke in the strongest possible terms, politically correct, though, for the clime and time, and we have another institution called the Press that does that public ‘stoning’ of the wrongdoer, that public humiliation, a means obviously society has developed to keep others from doing that, not one based on a rational reporting of the truth, that being what actually took place, outside and inside, but something told from a perspective based on that revulsion (count how many times the word shocking and other emotionally charged words get used). Depending on the degree of your error, the public, or society as a whole, judges you, for a moment or a lifetime, unfit, a judgment usually based more on the revulsion than you being unfit or not.

Yes I have been unfit, done wrong, and I started out with the same trust society places in any individual until they break that trust, but I did not become fit, end wrongdoing, could not, by society’s laws, by what it allows an individual in order to become trustworthy, its sole formula of crime and punishment based as it is not on healing, of the situation, the wrongdoer, or even the wronged, by the soul or otherwise, but on intolerance of error and of the wrongdoer, a basis which comes from the most fundamental error of both reasoning and vision upon which we operate as a society: human unity is not a clear and present fact of our social and individual existence but something we have to make up, a belief we have to adopt. Even without a spiritual vision, it’s an evident truth that we are a whole body, and when anything befalls a one of us, the lot of us must deal with the consequences on some level. In other words, I am me but also at the same time at a distance you, and to be able to see that unity it’s just like if I have sex with a child, and they’re consenting and into it, and despite the propaganda otherwise some kids are more complicated and actually really do like it, I need to be able to see past the present moment, the pleasure, see past the pleasure too if any physical pain is mixed into it, and in adult-child sex some often is, and see how that kid will feel about the sex in the future as an adult, how that sex stunted their growth towards what it is an individual is here to do in life, which is to exceed themselves, their pleasures, their pain.

Just like me having to see past appearances to see the harm I give to a child by giving a kid pleasure, see deeper than view, so too you have to look deeply to see the underlying unity not only between human beings, but of all the earth and sky and everything therein, a unity that becomes more and more self-evident the more conscious you become of your whole self, including your inner life, sleep and dream, which is where I discovered the harm I cause a child, saw it as plain as the nose on my face, though like the elephant in the room it took awhile to see (stubborn blindness another one of those fundamental errors among us). In short, I saw sex with a child as the unflushed toilet full of shit it is (how it’s often represented in dream). That is to say it’s ugly, foul, out of order, a cause of moral degradation and apathy in work, not however the irreparable unpardonable evil or impossible to recover from violation it’s made it out to be today. On the inside I saw the unity, of it all, the child as me, the ugliness grossly neglected beauty, bringing into view here the second most fundamental error in human society: being largely unconscious of a third or fourth of what we experience in a day. It is in the deepest keep of that experience I found my soul, discovered too, in sleep and dream, an intelligence so unboundedly creative and wise it’s what we mean to describe when we use words such as God or divine. Opening my eyes on the inside opened them to what I’d been looking at on the outside and not seeing: oneness, God, everywhere the basis of reality, so much so this bitter-sweet experience called life, even when it’s a holocaust of the human spirit, is only skin deep, cannot dismember the unity, cannot slay the soul.

A person wronged, be they a child or an adult, cannot heal by society harming in their name the one who harmed them, however much satisfaction it may give them to get revenge, and even a more restorative justice can’t if it forces a sacrifice upon the wrongdoer they are unwilling to make, harm an inherent part of the use of force, cannot because we are a whole and not isolated individuals as we appear on the surface, and the harm given to the wrongdoer is in essence the harm the wronged received, striping everything from harm save harm itself, and compounds the harm received, the very opposite of healing it, an impact that can be seen more readily on the inside than on the outside. That is where the wronged would need to look so to heal and as well the wrongdoer needs to look so to gain the will to make it right, taking responsibility in light of the whole a self-sacrifice and not a submission to punishment, the difference being what you see me doing here, standing up with my PC a creative writer on the net at about the most intolerant moment one such as I could do that, I’d bet.

Neither does society heal the situation, that one or all of that kind, by castigating or making an outcast of the wrongdoer, the one who caused harm, punishment a means useful for training animals and small children who have not yet developed the capacity to reason, when it is correction and not retribution, when it’s not a ‘reaction’ intent to hurt, vent, useful too, to a limited extent, in other situations not possible to generalize, understanding the dividing line between punishment as correction and as retribution is difficult to discern, but it is, I’d argue, what humanity used on its members in the dim days before reason became the leader of the life of the race, and to force that process forward perhaps, people by people, hence it’s regressive, born of the brute we were and not from what we mean to describe when we use the term man (what, I’d also argue, we have yet to fully become and can’t become by force of punishment).  Such harmful situations still plague us today despite the harshest punishments handed down, down through time. Punishment certainly doesn’t heal the wrongdoer, something nowadays not even on the table so intolerant we’ve become of human discrepancy, it becoming so visible as it’s becoming by the light of the computer and the smartphone, since society doesn’t punish someone to help them, however much it says it does, but to make them, by force of public humiliation, torture, imprisonment, or whatever means, regret hurting society.

Yes it’s true in most cases an individual won’t without society’s insistence stop hurting people, since it’s precisely the whole that needs to tell them to stop, the truth of things, the only thing that we’ll listen to if we’ll listen to anything when our nature is bent and we are hell bent on indulging it, but what form that insistence takes would have to be based on the unity and not on the erroneous view that the violator is an isolated individual that suffers alone being punished and/or made an outcast, would have to be based on healing, else we all suffer and will continue to suffer the harm of that and similar situations until we insist on healing, understanding, though, that you don’t take the attitude of Gandhi when he urged Great Britain to stop resisting the Nazis and let them occupy its beautiful buildings, since it wouldn’t have been just buildings they occupied, but they’d have tried to occupy the heart and mind of England itself, twisting it towards the evil the Nazi ideal tried to bend an occupied nation, towards totalitarianism, towards genocide.

Obviously, in such a relative sticky world as we walk upon, wearing flesh so easily torn, carrying bones so easily broken, having so many of us walking around tearing flesh and breaking bones, causing every kind of harm under the sun, you’d have to use force to get someone to stop harming others if they refuse to stop, but in using force you wouldn’t trust the hands of hatred to do the work of correction. The spirit of that force would have to be healing for it to be the kind of force the situation calls for applied in the appropriate measure. The spirit of self-defense alone would not be up to that task, having as it does its eyes on protecting the injured party and not also on protecting the whole, protecting also as part of that whole the offending party as much as the situation will allow, and in the stickiness of such situations sometimes it won’t allow much if any at all, but a unified will has to be there to try, else too much force gets used and the wrong kind, what usually happens in such situations. Of course not merely reacting is difficult to achieve, but what is it exactly that separates human society from other social animal species if not that we act by the light of reason and they by instinct and impulsive reaction?

It is here we live or die, in that very question of just what is the difference between human beings and other animal species that occupy this overcrowded planet, since, if we act like animals, we’ll end up making this globe uninhabitable not only for ourselves, but also for many if not most other animal species such is the power we as animals have to reproduce, exploit the environment, and conduct war. We have reason, and with that more is possible for us in terms of evolution, but we can employ our reason as animals would, for the greatening of their own band, or whatever grouping used to confront the world, which, with this current resurgence of nationalism and ethnocentrism, particularly in regards to religion and politics, we’re using it, or we can use it to exceed the animal that we are and become what reason can make us.

It is with reason that the search for the soul can begin, and once it’s found, reason, with the light of the soul shining on it, guiding it, governing it, a light of compassion and understanding, understands that each and every one of us are as important as the other, the adult as important as the child, the latter in need of protection, though not from the need to make mistakes, but from the stubbornness to never correct them, and protection not so much from danger, but being a fool in the face of it, the bad citizen as important as the good one, the former in need of corrective-healing, though not being made to deny their nature, but allowed to get it in harmony with Nature so it no longer causes harm, the good of it kept and the bad discarded, which not in every case would it be a correction society orchestrates, since, if the soul is found, and allowed to lead (the two movements for such a stubborn me were separate in time), all the individual needs is the flexibility to allow it, on the part of all, the space and the support to heal, and the suspension of disbelief so to do so (a de facto arrangement in my case, since I was thrown to the wolves, but they didn’t eat me, just gnawed on me a bit then cast me aside where I could do nothing save give my soul its head so to survive). The evidence of that process, what removes the doubt over whether it is indeed a process of soul and not your ugliness having its day is a creativity coming out of that a beauty that can change even ugliness pretty (if you’re not too stubborn to see it), the good brought out of it as it’s being, what has been coming out of mine these many years in Auroville’s[iii] exile, a slowly rising crescendo rising in import, from “what is this?” to “take a look at this,” the final cut you’re getting now, I as important as you, though we’d both need to see that for it to become the law of the land, for us all to become man.

I don’t think we really have the picture of how primitive we yet are, the human race itself in its totality, despite the humanitarian disaster we’re making of our world in our face daily, discussed ad infinitum. It is the quintessential elephant in the room. In part due to our intelligence reason has enhanced, making an ever advancing technology possible, in part also to our self-centeredness as a species, which makes us feel as if we are not a part of Nature but something ‘man-made’ that lives and moves upon it, either destroying or conserving it, we cannot seem to see even in our science we are indeed a social animal species not different in kind from other social animal species. The difference is found in degree, the degree we can consciously evolve to become with our very hands what (when we espouse our higher ideals) we think we are.

We ourselves are the problem, humanity as a whole, each and every one of us to a greater or lesser degree depending on factors we are largely ignorant of in the making of a person’s nature (how much Nature, how much nurture, and to what extent can an individual override either?), a measure we mistake for righteousness when it appears lesser, and it becomes self-righteousness, a cause of as much evil down through the ages as evil itself if the truth be told. In terms of evolution, we are yet brutes, with our eyes almost exclusively engaging the outer scene, our feeding range, largely unaware of our inner life, save for our bound rounds of thought, eyes on our neighbor’s sin and not on where we rub the world wrong, since if lesser, lesser is so hard to see looking at only the outer scene (your dreams will show you the you you’re not too keen to see, the one as bad in spirit as the worst of us), eyes almost completely blind to the soul within, save as a belief of what survives death to either be punished in a hell or rewarded in a heaven, not as something that can be found in the midst of life, inside and over us, something conscious, whole, what informs us with what we feel best in us even if we haven’t found our soul, what mates our hands with our higher ideals when we do, it leading, the evolutionary leap that will make us man, further steps thereafter if your vision isn’t limited by horizons.

It’s in our very vision the problem of us lies, the cancer eating at the heart of society: eyes that conceive ‘the other’ not as part of one another. Look at any one of us when hit in the quick of our stomach on things: reactionary, herd sour, and prejudiced against ‘the other’, social animals still in need of scapegoats to fortify the pack, give it venting avenues, a social need we also don’t fully see as a need in each one of us, and if you don’t believe me just look around and you’ll find your needed whipping boy, whoever it is that makes you mad the easiest, makes you react, and in your immediate environment it could be as beatable as the family dog, the point being it’s who you vent on, and in the pedophile, after searching down through history in race and religion and whatnot, society has found the foolproof universal scapegoat.

While it’s a natural part of being a functioning member of a social animal species, that we define ourselves by our society, or what’s really the case, that we allow it to define us, tell us who and what we are and what the world and life are and what we’re to do in them, it’s more animal than man in that we have reason, which makes it possible for us to study and know not only our outer scene, our territory, but also our inner scene, turn our eyes 180° from our survival and investigate and explore our self and in so doing find our own personal inner truth, either confirm or deny what society has told us we are and are to do. We are so wrapped up in the ready-made world we’re born into, so engrossed in our social selves, a self we define more in terms of what skin color we wear, sex we are, sexuality we have, nation we belong to, or religion we obey, than the fact that we’re first and foremost human beings, we hardly realize it’s not a world or self we’ve personally defined but have been taught and required to learn. To question the foundations of society, the terms of man, is to invite ridicule, and in some societies, most notably theocracies and communist states, persecution and imprisonment, but even in the democracies, if you publicly question the social paradigm, you come under surveillance and possible harassment so pervasive and intrusive is the ‘conforming eye’ becoming with the advance of our technology. So captured we are by the social construct we not only blindly define ourselves by it but also are almost totally ignorant of the possibility of basing our life upon our inner truth or even that we have such a basis for truth, an inner as opposed to an outer authority.

We’re Not Here For the Pack

The inner life of man deeper than thought and subconscious dream, a place few look or even know exists, is the next frontier, the new world to discover. How many of us, in what we call the ‘developed’ societies, when faced with a decision, look also to our inner life to make it, see what our dreams and visions show, or, if we are developed people, meaning in this sense self-developed, what a truly developed society would be, not technologically based but self-developmentally founded, aware of our inmost self as we are our outermost, hear or see the direction of our soul? Because in the shallows of the inner life there’s so much drift and bale, darkness even, what’s given rise time and time again to someone going crazy, or going off and killing everybody in the range of their weapon, or mesmerizing whole societies and turning them to organized madness, we fear the inside of us and do not encourage people to look in there, listen to those voices, believe in those visions, much less make the inner the guiding light of their life. But read my muse, listen to my music, and see the light shinning inside of us, a harmonizing light that doesn’t have you abrogate the social construct but help make you shine within it, show what more is possible for individuals and societies to be (if you’ve reached that formless ground of the human soul, the wholly other, what we call spirit because it is so other, gone all the way through dream, the entire symbolizing storytelling of the creative reflex, and not just stopped at some good story, but even a good story has the power to change the world).  It does that harmonizing because it’s the light of the whole, wholeness individually centered but grounded on oneness. Faced with such a disorder in the very heart of my social life, a genuine social disorder, an attraction to minors I did not create nor want, and with such hatred and misunderstanding from all quarters, you left me with no choice but to delve inside and dive deeply, discover the deepest reach in us. I found my soul. I’ve left record. Is it madness I’m showing you, or is it light? If there is indeed light shinning deep inside of us, our very ground, conscious even, world-aware and of more than worlds aware, bright enough to move and guide us to be more and better than we are, then we need not fear the darkness.

Just where it’d be on the scale of fundamental errors would be hard to pinpoint, since it’s as much of an obstacle to our growth as a species as not recognizing our unity, goes hand in hand with that fundamental ignorance as it does with that of our ignorance of our experience during sleep, of the possibility of finding our inner truth, but we seem to feel that any disturbance to the peace, comfort, and security of ‘our house’, our personal homes and the house of humanity itself, is an aberration to Nature, what should never happen, and we are so mortified and offended when it does. I have to tell you this is our house, this upheaval, this insecurity, this danger that continually besets it (at this half-animal stage of us at least). The other animals, who don’t have one foot stepping into what’s beyond the animal, that embodied evolved ideal we feel when we feel our humanity, do not know they are evolving, are ignorant they’re here for more than mere survival and enjoyment, but even those of us who do not believe in evolution know that we are here to do more than simply live and have a good time. That we have something to do here is in our very bones, atheists’ bones and theists’ alike, a purpose to do something, a drive to exceed our limitations, a need to overcome our obstacles.

I’m not saying we should invite calamity and misfortune into our homes, or that we shouldn’t protect our homes from that, but I am saying that these things are inherent in our house, part of its edifice, a corner stone even, what it is about life that challenges us to grow larger than we are, and when we deal with it as an animal would, react out of terror, hatred, outrage, the host of reactions coming out of our stomach, that lower reach of the animal in us, we don’t grow larger but smaller, and although we may, or may not, put a cap on the crisis, it has not been resolved and will come again either to our house in another form in the future or to the house next to us in kind, but it will come again, and again, and again.

It’s our challenge to learn to deal with calamity calmly with our humanity, not react in terror or outrage all up in arms. In doing what we must do to face it, rectify it, we have to learn to feel with our humanity the humanity of everyone involved, even that in the ones causing harm and chaos, do that calmly, self-gathered, else we act like animals, and else we don’t do what we’re here to do, both individually and as a whole: be human beings, not beasts. Gaining our composure and feeling our humanity in such situations is precisely the thing we want the people violating that to do and feel, what will make them stop harming, what will make them feel sorry, sorrow, and if we aren’t composed feeling ours when dealing with them, which means feeling their humanity regardless of how they’ve acted like beasts, then how can we expect them to get their act together and feel theirs? It might feel good to punish them, cheer their suffering, but you’re an animal feeling that, delighting in their pain, and not man. A sorrow that leaves room for hope, what the soul feels when faced with the sight of suffering, for those hurt as well as for those who caused it, taking whatever action we must take in insisting the hurting stop, which is an insistence on healing, of all those involved, would be feeling our humanity in such situations, understanding that when such situations call for a swift and violent response, even taking life (in a posture of self-defense, not one of executing the aggressor), it would be our very humanity that takes such action, not terror or hatred. It’s no miracle showing love and respect to your children; it’s one to give consideration to the person who violates them such is the over and beyond challenge we face, the top of the world mountain we climb. I assure you, it’s no less easy for the person who desires to violate them to gain their composure, overcome their desire, their animal nature, and not do so. You can’t ask them to climb their mountain unless you climb yours; society do you hear me?

A judgmental, self-righteous, and indignant attitude based not on the truth of things, or even on the change of things, but upon the very things we as a society are trying to keep from happening, harm to the harmonic, since that attitude is a guttural reaction intent to harm, in the form of punishment, not born of reason but, like the wrongdoer’s wrong, born from the brute from which we are trying to arise, the one that wants retribution, to extract it’s due, the animal, is what I’m standing here and facing, what I will to change. What makes my stand a Savitri and not a shooting or a bombing, or anything other than the utter truth of my soul, is that in myself I’m facing that tiger and willing it to change, sort of like the movie[iv] about the boy in the boat with the tiger Richard Parker, the act of the change, cutting in the quick of that connection between my society and I as it does, a change of both of us, since I cannot separate myself from you and what force of either love or hate you send my way. You’d just have to ask yourself, if faced with my story and either/or, would you want punishment given or change processed? How stubborn are you, more so than I?

It’s not with the reason we cross crime,
in my book –
in my dreams.
You soul out an emergency.
Say that at home.
You see the single father favored utility bills,
stuck it out in terms to oneness.

What did I dream?
Let’s say I didn’t.
I wouldn’t know them:
Cesspool TV,
the day I sunk so low.
I don’t have an excuse possibility of wildlife management.
Know little pity.
You know you’re mad?

White clock anytime.
I take my earring
and apologize.
I guarantee,
I’m lookin’ at you.
You’re talking about trustin’,
all the way across the country.
In India I’m here.

Take that
light bulb.
Everybody in compliments.
Someone’s drowning.
The kid was drowning.

A lot of people are
not going to forgive.
Here put me in shoes:
let me talk to you alone
Auroville,
my dream heart[v].

Gwen stop,
Gwen stop,
Gwen for goodness’ sakes,
You don’t know when to stop[vi]. [This I said in a dream-vision to my older sister who was in my living room forcefully tickling me under my arms, play-bullying me like older siblings do, and I was in that tickle-pain and helpless to stop her.]
How did you go?
I got on for 50 years,
10 years
in Auroville’s exile.
Can you say goodwill?
They don’t have a spirit there forgiveness.

What are we working here?
What is the country’s?
Here’s the bike,
(in parenthesis Donny Duke):
you’ve got to change.
There was such a wrong in your eyes.
Fault I’m tryin’ to tell yah.
I’m in a movie.
I’m the villain?

How is the shadow?
That’s the first time you’ve got just a little look at it.
Do you think my person is work?
This is whole army.
I’m what you mean to say when you say community.
I move other people.
I belong.

You have a scenario,
the love of God.
What do you have?
That’s my will.
Should we whip ‘im?
That won’t change it.
Eye witness
at exactly
the sacrifice.

If you’re going to join me,
I’ll be at the entrance to Auroville.
God is all deep in all.
It’s that that I really wanted to talk to you about. [A vision accompanying the line of clicking a stylish retractable pen a couple of times and clicking it closed.]

A soul a secretion of the manufacture brain?
There’s more to Miami than meets the eye.
It refer to the deployment bag.
Some mess are totally without meaning.
Kind of a traumatic
come out to the other eye in orbit.
In the eye in the storm
that’s your died.
There’s a referee in here.
Altogether soul
behind the heart.
Overall soul
overhead.
Write it down
to mate.
That would do the trick
(huge effort):
see past horizons.

Movement for man’s humanity to man,
a theoretical Tel Aviv tell collage.
In life paradise they aspire to go the generous way they want.
You don’t want it thrown out till the next will.
I’ve said it all,
making the pass,
a papple pass,
and into infinity.

---

[i] Savitri by Sri Aurobindo
[ii] A reference to the mad mink in the short story by Cordwainer Smith “Mother Hitton’s Littul Kittons”.
[iii] Auroville, India, an international township also called The City of Human Unity.
[iv] Life of Pi
[v] Although I was technically only a guest in Auroville, it was my destination after many years of travel as a vagabond pilgrim, was the place I came to live out the rest of my life, was and is the city I most dream about, literally the city of my dreams. On the inside, I am an Aurovillian.
[vi] She made me a ghost years ago, what the dream-vision is representing by painful tickling.