||[Dec. 20th, 2014|11:24 am]
So: I saw this story:|
I realized there was another way to imagine it. I felt I could describe it, but decided to try writing it instead.
You can't understand this. I mean that literally - you can't. I'm only giving you words.
I think I'm the last. I hope I'm the last. I know I'm the weakest because I could still fall - fall far enough to remember how it used to be.
It was crazy how we did it. We found GOD. See? We really did, we actually found *GOD*. I suppose you'd say we found Satan, or Ultimate Evil and those are good, really good, they feel good. They are as close as you might get when you're stuck with these - crutches? Iron lungs? Pus-maker,snot-creator,excrement-expellers?
There's no prosthesis that is an adequate analogy - you're stuck with words. That's why you can't get it. But the notion of evil is close.
That's what got us. Not the disease. I mean, it was the disease and the disease came from evil, but... damn it!
Look. Evil isn't here. GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKER GET OF A SYPHILLITIC SHITKICKER AND COCKCHOMPING...
Damn it. The words are coming back too fast. I have to hurry.
You can't see me gesturing, so when I say "evil isn't here" you can't tell that I'm gesturing like evil is a defined area. I'd forgotten that. But it's true. It's like, evil is everywhere, it's all around, it's like entropy, you need energy to fight it. You need to prevent it! Entropy isn't evil, though, it just marches on, happening mindlessly. Evil isn't mindless. It isn't mindful either. It's... evil.
That's the problem.
The disease wiped out language. Compeletly. It was supposed to be limited, and we were all inoculated, but once the change started in us, the disease changed too, with the force of destiny.
"But we need language!" you say. Yes, and no. It's our barrier. It's what keeps us from the truth. We say that a puppy is cute, without an overwhelming, literally mind-blowing sense of the deep and abiding love for life, for living, for infancy, for beauty. All of those things are deeply present in that little cute puppy, but "that's a really cute puppy" is bearable because we're hidden so deeply in the burrow of our words.
We stripped away the barriers. We needed to reach out, to understand, without the oh-so-comfortable blanket of "words" protecting us. And we did.
Those Buddhists - Gautama - they... oh, god. And...
Compassion was the first word to go - and so was light. Fish - fish who stay under the water don't talk about the water. They might say it's warm, silty, clear, fresh, but they don't say that about the water, they say that about their corner of the world!
But we were at war. There was an actual active war going on. There were men and women who had seen, or performed, disembowelments - and not just in self-defense. War breaks people, and I don't mean bodies. There were people who'd hacked away with shovels, or the butts of empty rifles, watching the awful mess spraying before them, and only now truly appreciating what that was, what they had done, and what it had meant.
And we'd all become so entrenched in the war that we huddled to our leaders first. It was stupid, in retrospect, but it was instinct. Something horrible and scary was happening, so we turned to those who kept us safe.
If we hadn't, maybe we could have ridden it out. Because we were all dirty, and some of us were filthy, filthy beyond imagining, dirty, filthy, awful, ugly... it's fading. The idea, the sense... I have to hurry.
What killed us - the coup de grace - was the trials for treason. We'd started executing the leaders of the movements to end the war, to reach out, to make peace. We'd brought back hanging. Short drop hanging. You know how long a man or woman can hang by the neck until dead? You don't want to. But we had betting pools, up until the one guy refused the blindfold and stared right into the TV camera, for 15 minutes. That's when they stopped televising them, because of "terrorism", calling it "asymmetrical warfare".
Our leaders... we could have forgiven them. They could have forgiven themselves. But they started the line, the wave, the power, that we simply weren't ready for.
The closest translation - and it's hideously inadequate and tainted by culture - is that they would not let the "dirty fucking hippies" be right. So God went to war with Godself, because it had elevated to godhood out of hatred, and far before it had developed the readiness.
We could see the other - gods? aspects? parts of a greater us?
We could see things just outside our perceptions. Just before our internal war destroyed us all. Some of us decided it was hate and that raised the power, the energy, the warfare, to an even more intense state.
But I realized, as I dropped from the heavens, that it wasn't anything like that. It was compassion and grief, far beyond what any one of you - or me, now - can imagine. Gods rendered impotent, yet unable - literally unable, not merely unwilling - to look away, to stop seeing, to stop feeling... to stop *living* - the tragedy before them.