Even when the truth crushed me, like ever-creeping walls, closing in like some Indiana Jones scenario, and me without my party, and an invisible quiver I couldn’t even see, of arrows with fire that had burned out long ago, and my only shield was my ability to be scarier than than the fears I faced.
I have learned that if I don’t constantly, compassionately and patiently apply better standards, by forgiving those parts of me that had me convinced that I was not designed for more – like when I feel sorry for myself that I cannot join my fellow cardio level uppers – then wubbalubbadubdub…watch
The only enemy is that which is ignored (within the Self). The cells which hold memories like any dear innocent child, only wish to be heard and to hear a better story. Told not from the mind, but from the heart.
In the battle between free will human consciousness, and blind will parasitic a-consciousness, the battlefield is the mind of the host. And perhaps the deciding factor as to whether or not we will keep our free will, will depend entirely on how much we wish to keep it.
It was the perfect chance for a small group of people who said ‘they had no choice’, to prove that NO ONE CAN TAKE AWAY OUR CHOICE TO DO THE RIGHT THING. To stand up and declare that this kind of government intimidation will no longer be tolerated.
This fishing crusade is not for food. It is for thought. It is for our thoughts, our words, our actions.
This is what frightens me; what left a bad taste in my mouth before I was even born. What remains a problem to this day: We follow too easily. We forget too easily. We are too easily lured by pretty, empty promises.
We have chosen to create massive cities, filled with individual living spaces, designed to enhance personal space and independent living. For better or worse, it has allowed a new kind of breed to develop: The independent breed. A breed of hermits. Searchers. Explorers and adventurers. People who simply are not bound by the idea that dating and mating is the be all and end all of being alive.
When I look deeper, I see another symptom of class warfare. Why do I see this? Because even as I write this, I know that those who don’t take the bus probably don’t care about the situation. $2.25 is no different than $3.25 to some, but to others, it is the difference between being here or there.
With a heavy life decision in front of me, as I carefully consider my options, I am becoming clearer about the fact that it is not the outcome of my decision that I need to consider, but instead, the rather difficult reality that I have already made the decision; I just haven’t admitted it to myself yet.