A Quip About Possible Worlds
Stifling of spirit, suffocating of imagination, desperately short of human breath. Untapped innate positive potential, the true fuel of healthy human interaction, is demanded if we are to restore a right human spirit and rise renewed from the smoldering rancid rubble of men's vacuous dreams, blind ambitions, failed stratagems. It's possible we might just neutralize profiting from hate.
Can the human spirit once enlightened, still dimly squinted at in collective memory, be revivified in its own right, on its own ground of being? Or are the streets, neighborhoods and cities of postmodern society so poisoned, stained with the love of money embodied by the wraiths of commerce, that we now completely forget how?
It is never enough to criticize. Step toward a solution: Do less. Consume less. Turn off your media feeds for at least two weeks. Listen for your own voice uninterrupted. Search out a safe quiet listening chamber, your undisclosed auditorium, where you can collect and store your private unspoken thoughts. Listen until you hear your own voice. Even if your voice is nothing more than a whisper. You needn't announce it to the world, your world. Just do it. See what comes.
If you hear the aching silence of your vital breath, abide within it until sense and reason return. This is not a group activity; it encompasses one person at a time. There is no success in thinking it can be broadcast and the masses will declare "you were right" all along. Rewards of this discipline become available to but one mind, one heart, one essence at a time, in the same way they were stolen.
Search out others who hear their own idiosyncratic voices with the same ingenuousness. Talk together about the labor required when impaled by your inmost substance; remain in that hushed realm. Encourage one another without judgment to pursue truth. Remember, if you never hear your own voice, your death will be utterly empty. You will have missed the moment. Your moment.
And get it out of your head that your voice will somehow make you great, famous, rich, or lovable. The hills and skies of this life are not about you, even though every one of us can only experience all from our inmost ground of being, our all-seeing point of consciousness, the Ego. Ego is a fact, but this world - society's countless souls - is still not about you. So negate the knee-jerk ambition reflex your culture hammered into your soft grey tissue.
Once you regain your senses and sensibilities, then you may ask, fingers crossed, along with others you have found, with a dim hope of discovering a legitimate substantive answer: how now to go about making a new world where no one loses, how you can possibly cure the deepening sickness gripping our shared epoch, and bring change without presumption, without blame. It is possible.