Indeed...it is Monday. I just finished a heart-wrenching entry I was working on for several hours, and with the push of an erroneous button--it was lost. This Monday is certainly living up to its "Monday" reputation.
The lost entry was all about my maternal grandmother, Mary, and her life. She's now in hospice care on "comfort measures" but the end of a person's life is so far from the entirety of the whole. And I wanted very badly to share some of that whole with you.
Unfortunately, my time has dwindled and I will have to try again tomorrow. When something like this happens, I believe there is a purpose. I do not defer to coincidence. To think that things randomly happen is to be a fool in the face of an even grander illusion. The connections I always refer to are proof that coincidence is just a convenient distraction from the truth.
No, instead of retelling my grandmother's life story in the sorry-space of this blog, I will instead tell you about one of the most selfish, heartless people I've ever known. I will not share names or places--but I will tell you how this person, through independent accord, disrupted a life well-lived and than perverted that life after it had expired. How? By denying the last wishes of a wonderful person who only cared about one thing: Family. It is as if this soul-less, selfish individual used total and complete deliberation when conspiring, as that is what happened, to unravel as many of the life-efforts of the one who passed as possible. In revenge? In resentment? Maybe in both....
As humans, we have the capacity to do GREAT good and also GREAT evil--it is our right, in some sense. But to stand on the shoulders of all those brilliant minds who have come before us and IGNORE the social progress we have made in order to fulfill what can only be described as primitive, base needs, is a sign of utter stupidity. People like that, of whom there appear to be many in this world, always end up ALONE. And so will you, the selfish, soul-less person I speak of here; you, who would deny others what is their very right to have, simply to entertain yourself, simply because...you want to. How dare you...how dare you. Shame upon you, though shame means little in our guilt society.
You are guilty of many crimes, murder, theft, slander--the list is long and your innocence, short.
My condemnation here is meaningless and so is my judgement. I cannot act against this person in a way that will effect change or bring about justice to the wronged--all I may do is write this entry, and have you, dear readers, KNOW what has happened. Even if it is in the vaguest of ways, your collective acknowledgement brings some justice where none else shall ever be served.
And who am I to say such things? I am That, That which loved and lost; mine eyes looked upon a living corpse and yet called it natural. My heart mewed sweetly to this most unnatural of beings, believing there was yet a beating heart in the husk that was its body...but no such heart exists. I am as blind as Tiresias, bound by my blindness to yet be a fool for such husks of humanity.
Literary anger...hmmm. And an agent recently told me, "Real people don't talk that way...." Well, last time I checked, I was real. Not ordinary, not by a long shot--but definitely REAL.
It's just more betrayal in a never-ending string of betrayals. Joseph Campbell said that "Life is pain..." and it is. But life is SO much more. In many ways, I feel pity for this pitiless soul I've referred to here. The misery one must feel to commit such crimes is very deep indeed. However, the more thoughtful in society can use emotional intelligence to reign in their more, well, less-becoming traits. Buddhism speaks of compassionate wisdom, and this is who that compassion is for. And I have it, to some extent. What I don't have is further patience. What I don't have is the further ability to endure abhorent acts.
Chaucer spoke about how all truth lies within the artist's scope...and certainly, my moment of what is essentially a complaint against an individual for committing social crimes, is part of that scope--I color it with my diction, with my intonation, with my authorial intent. We are living in a postmodern world that acknowledges and accepts individual positionalities...even those who are soul-less, selfish human-husks. More's the shame...except that shame matters no more.
To thine own self be true--read your Shakespeare; follow his words of wisdom! Because I'm here to tell you that there are always people out there willing and eager and READY to steal you from yourself. Don't let them.
The lost entry was all about my maternal grandmother, Mary, and her life. She's now in hospice care on "comfort measures" but the end of a person's life is so far from the entirety of the whole. And I wanted very badly to share some of that whole with you.
Unfortunately, my time has dwindled and I will have to try again tomorrow. When something like this happens, I believe there is a purpose. I do not defer to coincidence. To think that things randomly happen is to be a fool in the face of an even grander illusion. The connections I always refer to are proof that coincidence is just a convenient distraction from the truth.
No, instead of retelling my grandmother's life story in the sorry-space of this blog, I will instead tell you about one of the most selfish, heartless people I've ever known. I will not share names or places--but I will tell you how this person, through independent accord, disrupted a life well-lived and than perverted that life after it had expired. How? By denying the last wishes of a wonderful person who only cared about one thing: Family. It is as if this soul-less, selfish individual used total and complete deliberation when conspiring, as that is what happened, to unravel as many of the life-efforts of the one who passed as possible. In revenge? In resentment? Maybe in both....
As humans, we have the capacity to do GREAT good and also GREAT evil--it is our right, in some sense. But to stand on the shoulders of all those brilliant minds who have come before us and IGNORE the social progress we have made in order to fulfill what can only be described as primitive, base needs, is a sign of utter stupidity. People like that, of whom there appear to be many in this world, always end up ALONE. And so will you, the selfish, soul-less person I speak of here; you, who would deny others what is their very right to have, simply to entertain yourself, simply because...you want to. How dare you...how dare you. Shame upon you, though shame means little in our guilt society.
You are guilty of many crimes, murder, theft, slander--the list is long and your innocence, short.
My condemnation here is meaningless and so is my judgement. I cannot act against this person in a way that will effect change or bring about justice to the wronged--all I may do is write this entry, and have you, dear readers, KNOW what has happened. Even if it is in the vaguest of ways, your collective acknowledgement brings some justice where none else shall ever be served.
And who am I to say such things? I am That, That which loved and lost; mine eyes looked upon a living corpse and yet called it natural. My heart mewed sweetly to this most unnatural of beings, believing there was yet a beating heart in the husk that was its body...but no such heart exists. I am as blind as Tiresias, bound by my blindness to yet be a fool for such husks of humanity.
Literary anger...hmmm. And an agent recently told me, "Real people don't talk that way...." Well, last time I checked, I was real. Not ordinary, not by a long shot--but definitely REAL.
It's just more betrayal in a never-ending string of betrayals. Joseph Campbell said that "Life is pain..." and it is. But life is SO much more. In many ways, I feel pity for this pitiless soul I've referred to here. The misery one must feel to commit such crimes is very deep indeed. However, the more thoughtful in society can use emotional intelligence to reign in their more, well, less-becoming traits. Buddhism speaks of compassionate wisdom, and this is who that compassion is for. And I have it, to some extent. What I don't have is further patience. What I don't have is the further ability to endure abhorent acts.
Chaucer spoke about how all truth lies within the artist's scope...and certainly, my moment of what is essentially a complaint against an individual for committing social crimes, is part of that scope--I color it with my diction, with my intonation, with my authorial intent. We are living in a postmodern world that acknowledges and accepts individual positionalities...even those who are soul-less, selfish human-husks. More's the shame...except that shame matters no more.
To thine own self be true--read your Shakespeare; follow his words of wisdom! Because I'm here to tell you that there are always people out there willing and eager and READY to steal you from yourself. Don't let them.
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