It is so intensely dark 5/21/15

Consciousness is a consuming radical prejudice. Once within it, we are all stalkers of the next moment. We are armed with all of the weapons of attention needed yet equipped amicably with feathery short attention spans. Reality is just a surveillance technique as the result of our perceptional styles. Topic is to be used as a prodding tool to maintain the leverage of indicting frames. Yet we are all addiction-prone to gather and face-feed in the name of the religion of entertainment. Financial concerns are the primary practical and customary ware of each person’s mental preoccupation. So what you get, from how you read, what you read into what you read, is the standard for the penitentiary boundaries of preoccupation imposed on everyday life. Justified menials for everyone are meant to be the fill of the day. The light at the end of the proverbial tunnel is really the pinholes for observation from the myopic paper bags over each of our heads. The vast space all around us is presumed to be vacantly filled with the rules and orders to follow that we then live to breathe.

Freedom, or really the search for freedom, is actually a daily secret internment camp activity. For every amount of consciousness that we are given, we are all obliged to tithe a certain amount of that to incompetence or impotence depending upon our natural aptitudes for either. Our basic habits and their carriage of us towards a meaningful life don’t actually repeat themselves, they just loose the luster of their origins, heritage and integrity in an eventual timely manner. In our capture of personal consciousness, we can never go away from what is immediately in front of us, no matter how it is essentially disguised to appear to be new and novel. We are presented with the options of self-determination as every next moment is filled with bit size choices in the ‘cafeteria of paying attention’, which never closes. For us, being in time gives us inspirational post cards that are clandestinely inwardly sent to each of us from the now that we may never ever visit first hand. Any place where you feel you that are not fully present provides the justifiable prison walls expressed in distance from that place by time or space or memory. Between every next thought is a feel for the self-imposed shackles, step after step going onward in any direction. All of our recognition is really reductionism re-absorbed. Every map of forever that we may come upon has a small but noticeable corner index indicating size to scale and a tiny little marker somewhere on that map stating graphically, ‘you are here’. For any next person recognizing him or herself there, it is so intensely dark right there, even in the light of day . . .