future-thoughts

There is a huge difference between playing the blame game and pointing out the truth.

The blame game is blaming apartheid for current problems and the truth is saying our politicians are corrupt, therefore the man on the street is worse off than they have ever been.

Being a realist does not mean being positive and bursting fruit flavours because it’s PC to do so. Sorry, the mark of a man is standing up and being counted for something that they believe in, not sitting meekly by because its easier.

If you think that this country is in good shape then I urge you to do some reading on what an democracy is supposed to be and also to have a hard think about the kind of country that you would like to leave to your children.

I doubt you would find much to be happy about if you did and, if you are anything like me, you’d be embarrassed to say to your kids ‘this is the best I could do for you, sorry’.

Somewhere it has happened, somehow in this vast crazy world of thoughts and drums and beats and tears and hearts pounding and heads screaming and manic monkey Mondays throwing their lungs and ears and eyes at the sky.

Madness, sadness joy and wonder, there in the midst of the mayhem, when I breathe and see and sparkle and shine the light of life that I was born with, I feel at home.

Home safe, in the body and skin and blood and tears and sweat and pain and ease and joy and comfort of the comforty blanket that a reconnection has reminded me of.

Home to me, the me I am, have always been and always will be now, no matter what, i am reminded of the real the apparent the obvious the good the bad and ugly and beautiful and sad starry sky eyes lighting up the never and always land that is me.

Madness for sadness for forget-me-not forgetables discarded by the roadside after a picnic spot has run out of time. The joy-filled centre of merriment bleak and lonely again by the roadside, white table and concrete chairs, awaiting a return of family and food and fun and fantasy on a saturday afternoon ride from the city.

Alas it waits until the return and then it can know no other time thn this.

Children carry the memory of fish and chips and hot coffee buring lips and warming weak insides, tumbled by hours swaying and turning, churning the miles between home and family, distant still but warm and scented on the wind.

Sunny days of picnics and white tables and chairs, etched forever until the last blood surges and the last breath pops, hiss, crack, badoom ba------dom.

No coffee to warm these lips, not hot chips, wrapped in grease and paper serving delights of near adventure and rumble tumble times so long fogotten.

And tables and white chairs sit still, not whispering a word about the intimate moments shared that sunny spring day long ago.

Nirvana: the extinction of illusion

Nirvana is 'heaven' in Buddist philosophy. Therefore Heaven is the extinction of illusion.

We can therefore interpret this to mean we are indeed living in the Matrix, and reality lies beyond the illusion of this world.

This is not reality, this is merely the dreamstate between reality, the place where the soul sleeps. We therefore do manifest our own reality in this world, no other such thing can be true.

And indeed as a construct of the Matrix, we are, by default, all connected. 

This allows the understanding of Dark Matter and Dark energy in simple terms, they exist, like circuit boards on a computer, outside our realm of knowing - the OS is not aware of the hardware but can infer it's existence through the very fact that the OS is constructed.

What a beautiful world, what a great dream.

Thank you