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Everywhere I turn today is depressing/negative/heartbreaking/rude/ugly/incogitant stuff.
I'm just sitting in it. Not falling into it and not jumping out of it. Just looking it over. Waiting for the insight.
We are in a bad phase of the Mayan Calendar right now. I guess if this mad world is what they meant by it we only have a few days before we slip into the next phase and, judging by all the appalling stuff coming at me from the depths of cyberspace today, that's a good thing.
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Some tortured animal has taken to posting incoherent blather on my blog today. May keep it up or may tire of it, but please just ignore it because I will be deleting it if it carries on in this vein.
It reminds me a lot of when I would be feeling so outraged and appalled and betrayed by the world, the one I'd been raised to think was my world, that I would get with a typewriter or a pen and paper and try to write and write and write all my mental chaos out of my head. It never worked. My body just had to cycle out of it and I was helpless against it until it did. I would go back and try to read the stuff I'd written and couldn't make any sense of it myself. I think nowadays the tortured animals do this online.
Some of them are convinced that lashing out at others is the cure. That was never my idea of a remedy, no matter how intense the cognitive dissonance became. In fact, it was one of the first things about the world that I found inexcusable. People taking out their own pain on anyone else. People afraid to fight their real foes fighting less threatening beings instead. Like that's going to even the score. Like that's going to solve Thing One. It's SO pea-brained and SO prevalent. Even after a long life of it doing the Watusi all around me, learning to understand it in its minutest aspects, I still can't quite get over how utterly opaque this is to so very many humans, that they can't see themselves doing it.
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I think being in the FIFTH NIGHT OF THE NINTH WAVE of the Mayan Calendar means we each best be meditating hard on getting to the space inside where we know because there is concerted effort to sew chaos in our minds, and the sequela, the multifarious ways each bit of cognitive dissonance is sewn, amplify the chaos. They don't quell it. They don't arc toward justice. They don't arc toward freedom. They are all versions of the incoherent babble I would feverishly put to paper while battling the demons leaping in my own head, even when they seem lucid. No. You've had enough of being told things. Enough of the events of the day being processed for you and you getting to pick which processing is most appealing and joining that club.
Each of us is all of us, and we aren't doing ourselves any favors by excusing the ugliness of those whose work we find attractive. Time and again I find people who are on my subjects and feel that relief for company, only to realize that company is not what the buddhas call "right effort". You think, oh, well, now, so what if this guy's more into popularity than the justice he claims to seek for sentient beings! He's providing a venue for justice. He's providing a space to discuss it! That can't be bad.
Actually, yes it can. Because it only looks on the surface that justice is his aim. Popularity is his aim and every little glancing eyeprint on his stuff moves in the direction of his popularity, NOT justice. Just insert whatever word you like where I've put the generic "justice". We really, really, really need to become masters at seeing all the way into this matter. It is literally a matter of life and death. We are used to thinking our little individual gigs, even if misguided, are not lethal. We think that because that lovely excuse for denying responsibility is dangling in front of us like cotton candy cobwebs in a haunted mansion from the git. Who resists the offer to feel innocent? Maybe masochists. Right? Right.
It's wrong and it's turning our minds to mush. It's incarcerating us. It's strangling us.
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