I’ve always believed that some people are so beyond our comprehension of fucked up, that they don’t deserve to be classified as homosapiens, lest they earn the right.
Let’s call them the homoapiens, not wise enough to be ape, not honourable enough to be human.
The homoapien species comprise approximately 1% of our world’s population. They can be recognised through very obvious and easily spotted behaviour.
They wear expensive watches, exploit human labour, and have trust funds with no plans for world repair. They have massive mansions, with a tiny cage for their dogs. They lock up the gifted, and call them mad, because they do not want the world awoken from this collective dream that favours their wallets and their sense of power.
We do not want to let go of our religious doctrine, in fear that it may rob us of our spirituality. It’s silly business, because your spirit has always been in you, and we merely project it onto a superhuman we call the godhead, or any singular entity we see fit to be holy. This is not our fault. It is scrupulosity – the guilt of being. We do not see ourselves fit enough to be holy, and we cannot see beyond the face value of ritualistic worship.
You can kneel on a mat in a temple, a mosque, or a church, and really, you are speaking to the same collective wisdom that disseminates its messages in selective batches to all. The world gives us what we need to hear, when we need to hear it, and now the world has this to say: We are all the same, every single one of us. Whether your scarf touches your scalp, or your hair touches your waist, we are exactly the same. In beards and in pubic hair, we are all exactly the same.
The marriage of freedom of religion, to freedom of thought is an absolute necessity. I may not agree with your beliefs about god, but I respect your right to your beliefs. My right to extend my fist ends where your nose begins. You can call god any name you’d like, as long as at the end of the day, we all agree that roses are beautiful. There are not enough roses in the world, and the paradigm has shifted to the art of creation over the hate of destruction.
Every single one of our deadly sins are but omissions – blindness to the beauty that not only surrounds us, but is also us. My godfather always said this: People are the art. It is quite funny that we walk around scowling at each other, when we are living miracles, the proof of an impossible LifeTM.
Go ahead, give your money to a good cause. You’ll feel better, and you’ll be helping an unimaginable sum of people. You get tax deductions, it’s great PR, and most of all, you’ll be able to have sweet dreams at night. Little is known of the fairyland that truly exists in our subconscious mind, that comes out to play when we go to bed. You do not have the access pass to fairyland, because your actions have been corrupted by the erroneous guidance of the generations above you; trust funds with no conscience.
Your actions repel me, but it is not your fault. Neither is it the fault of your father, or your great-great grandfather. If you really want a culprit, I’d examine the bones of Richard III.
Let it go, let it go, can’t hide it anymore. Happy birthday to all of you, you are born and you are free.