TECHNOLOGY IS THE OPIUM OF THE PEOPLE

TECHNOLOGY IS THE OPIUM OF THE PEOPLE.

YOU WILL MEET JESUS

I saw the above on the back window of a car today.  It was obviously meant as a threat.  But looking at it, I couldn’t help thinking I wouldn’t mind meeting Jesus.

I’ve often imagined how Jesus might be treated if he were to show up in a very large, upscale church.  A long-haired, dark-skinned man with a beard.  His clothing would be very plain and practical–perhaps somewhat ragged.  And he would not likely smell as fresh as the other churchgoers.  He wouldn’t understand English, and the other folks certainly wouldn’t understand his language–Aramaic.  I can so easily imagine an usher quietly, condescendingly escorting this strange man out the door–perhaps pointing toward some mission somewhere–having no idea this man is Jesus.

Nevermind what Jesus would do.  What would you do if you really met Jesus?  How would you treat him?

Just something to consider.

STATE OF A UNION ENDANGERED BY ITSELF

I didn’t listen to Obama’s State of the Union Address–words mean nothing from a politician.  I did see, however that the now-Republican-majority Congress invited Netanyahu to address it, without consulting the President first.  I helped vote-in this now-Republican-majority.  Because the Democratic Party was getting dangerously out of control.  Yet look at the stunts this now-Republican-majority Congress is already pulling.  It wants to allow Canada to use the United States simply as a thoroughfare for an oil pipeline that would go straight to the Gulf of Mexico–so that the oil could be shipped directly to Communist China.  This is not in America’s interest–and I hope Obama vetoes this proposed bill, as he promises to do.  On the other hand, Obama proposes a tax break for the middle class, and a tax hike for the ultra-rich–a proposal that would definitely be in America’s interest.  Of course the Republican Congress opposes this–so it probably won’t be enacted.  And, as indicated, the Republican Congress is already courting the Zionist Nazi Netanyahu–obviously to gain favor of Zionist Christians in the United States (the so-called Religious Right).  Then on the other hand again, Alabama, my home state, is the latest casualty in the Federal Government’s war on the states–the latest state to have a federal judge strike down its residents-voted-in affirmation of marriage as being a union between members of opposite sexes only.  This is definitely the Democrats’ doing–almost certainly coming from the Obama Administration.

I have already begun, as best I can, to emphasize to my fellow Americans, the urgent need for an independent President of the United States–not a Republican, not a Democrat, not even a member of a third party–an independent President (no party affiliation whatsoever).  Only an independent President can temper this extremism in different directions by both the Republican and Democratic Parties–two sides of the same diabolical coin.  And I have been told this will never happen–that Americans will never stop choosing between two diabolical political parties, and start thinking outside the box.

And it won’t happen, as long as Americans continue to think it will never happen–and vote either Republican or Democrat, simply out of fear.  If we keep thinking an independent can’t win, an independent can’t win.  Because we will continue to vote according to this defeatist thinking.  But if we start realizing an independent can win if enough of us vote for him (or her), an independent will win.  If enough Americans would have voted for Ross Perot in 1992, he would have been become our nation’s second independent President (Washington was the first).

The Republican Party couldn’t care less about the Unites States–the Republican Party only cares about itself.  The Democratic Party couldn’t care less about the United States–the Democratic Party only cares about itself.

ISIS claims to care about Islam.  It doesn’t–it only cares about itself.  Al-Qaida claims to care about Islam.  It doesn’t–it only cares about itself.  Boko Haram claims to care about Islam.  It doesn’t–it only cares about itself.  We all know these three entities are totally self-serving.

But when are we going to realize that the two political parties that control our government are essentially no different from the above terrorist groups?  No, the Republican Party is not a terrorist group–but it is totally self-serving.  And no, the Democratic Party is not a terrorist group–but it is totally self-serving.  What is the difference, in the end?

Both the Republican and Democratic Parties have taken our government away from us.  And the only way we can begin to take it back is to elect an independent President in 2016.

ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI?

Norman Rockwell (1894-1978), "Freedom of Worship," 1943

DON’T LOOK HERE AND THERE IN THE HOUSE

We are a little crazier now, and less sober, and some joy has risen out of us . . . it was so glad to be gone . . .

When it noticed the sober watcher no longer was holding its leg, it flew–

It is not in the mountains nor the marshes, it has sent itself to be with the Holy One who is alone.

Don’t look here and there in the house, it belongs to air, it is made of air, and it has gone into air.

This joy is a white hawk that belongs to Gawain’s master; it belongs to him and has gone to him.

Robert Bly

(based on poetry of Rumi)

IF ONLY THEY’D BEEN AWAKE . . . IF ONLY WE WERE AWAKE . . .

This gem is from PAUL HARVEY’S THE REST OF THE STORY, by Paul Aurandt:

Futility

Best-selling books, big box office, and bombshell television specials are hitting us over the head with a new club.

Fact.

The once-popular strictly fiction format is gradually yielding to history, phasing out in favor of truth.

Example:  Roots.  ABC’s twelve-hour, sure-fire winner.  It held you . . . because it happened.

Here’s another novel of historical significance: Futility.  That’s the name of the book, Futility, and you say you’ve not heard of it?

You’ll wonder why you haven’t, when I tell you THE REST OF THE STORY.

The novel Futility is about the maiden voyage of a fabulous ocean liner, a ship far larger than any previously built, labeled “unsinkable.”

The vessel sets sail for New York from Southampton with a cargo of complacent passengers, strikes an iceberg en route, goes down.

And the ship was called . . . the Titan.

So why didn’t author Morgan Robertson come right out and say it?  His Titan . . . is obviously the Titanic.

Both liners were touted as the biggest, the grandest, the most luxurious . . . and foolproof.

Both struck icebergs on their maiden voyages between Southampton and New York.

Both were inadequately stocked with lifeboats, resulting in heavy casualties.  And both sank at exactly the same spot in the North Atlantic, each on a cold April night.

It would seem clear that the real-life ship Titanic is the setting for the novel Futility, so why would the author have allowed for such minor discrepancies as these?

The Titanic was eight hundred eighty-two and one half feet long; Robertson rounded off his ship to eight hundred feet in length.

Even the apparent abbreviation of the name Titanic to Titan seems hardly worth the use of literary license.

After all, both liners were triple-screw, could travel up to twenty-five knots, could carry up to three thousand people.

All of the specific similarities were there, and yet author Morgan Robertson did not call it history.

Why?

In the first place, Robertson’s characters, the passengers aboard the Titan, were purely fictional. Their personal interactions, problems, fears, were examined closely, and at last the ship sank.  Hence the novel’s title, Futility.

But there was another type of “futility” demonstrated in Robertson’s book . . . a hopelessness that not even the author himself could have recognized.

For the novel that so accurately described an authentic disaster in the Atlantic, the book that charted an invisible course through the water to an appointment with death . . . owned up to its title beyond the wildest dreams of its readers.

For the literature that in every way seemed to recount . . . in reality foretold.

In 1898.

Fourteen years before the real-life Titanic set sail!

 

And this one is from MORE OF PAUL HARVEY’S THE REST OF THE STORY, also by Paul Aurandt:

The Light Show

On the night of April 14, the ocean liner Californian has progressed to within fifteen hundred miles of her destination, Boston Harbor.

Midnight.

Second Officer Herbert Stone is due for watch on the bridge.

Reporting for duty, Stone finds his apprentice seaman glued to a pair of binoculars, staring toward the black horizon.

He, the apprentice, has sighted a steamer in the distance.

He can make out the ship’s masthead light, her red light, and a glare of white lights on her afterdeck.

Stone asks the apprentice to try for communication by means of the Californian‘s Morse lamp.

A bright beacon signal is flashed.

No answer from the steamer.

“Will that be all, sir?”

Stone nods; the apprentice leaves to make record in the patent log.

Now Second Officer Stone is alone on the bridge.

Glancing idly over the water, a white flash catches his eye–a white flash of light in the direction of the distant steamer.

Stone scratches his head, picks up the binoculars.  Four more white flashes, like skyrockets bursting in the heavens.

Stone notifies the ship’s captain.

Over the voice pipe, the captain asks if the flashes appeared to be company signals.

Stone cannot say for sure.

The captain then requests further communication attempt through the Morse lamp.

By now Stone’s apprentice has returned to the bridge.  The beacon signal is employed once more.

Still no answer from the steamer.

Lifting the binoculars to his eyes once more, Stone observes three more flashes in the continuing light show, but now his attention is drawn to the steamer’s cabin lights.

They seem to be disappearing, as though the steamer were sailing away.

At 1:40 A.M., Stone sees the eighth and last white flash in the night sky.

In one hour, all the steamer’s lights have vanished into the blackness.

It is not until 4:00 A.M. that anyone on board the liner Californian learns THE REST OF THE STORY.

Neither the Captain nor the Second Officer aboard the Californian had interpreted the white skyrocket flashes as cause for alarm.

It was a matter of coincidence that they had been seen in the first place.  For earlier that night–the night of April 14–the Californian had reversed engines and parked as a precautionary measure, halted in her course by an immense field of oceanic ice.

That unscheduled stop in the middle of the sea had provided the Californian a ringside seat for an unimaginable drama.

The distant steamer had intended those rocket flares as distress signals, and the Californian–only nine miles away–might have rushed to her aid.

Except for one thing.  The steamer was sending other distress calls–by radio.  And the Californian was well within range of those messages.

But her radio operator was asleep.

The Californian‘s fledgling radio operator–fresh from training school–was fast asleep in his cabin.  And that night the ship’s Second Officer, from his vantage point on the bridge, unwittingly watched the sinking . . . of the Titanic.

MIND (AND SPIRIT) OVER MATTER

I have never been in such poor physical health as I am now.  And I need to do something about it, for whatever remains of my life in this hell world.

Nevertheless, I realize, as do millions of other human beings all over the world, that physical fitness is ultimately of little to no importance.  There are at least two reasons why:

Physical growth is achieved during, or just after one’s adolescence.  All one has to do after that is maintain his/her physical health.  In other words, physical growth is achieved before death.  At a certain point–in this life–one has arrived, physically.  But one has never arrived intellectually or spiritually, until death–if even then.  Intellectual and spiritual growth never end, in this life.  While the development of one’s body is complete, at a certain point in this life, the development of one’s mind and spirit is never complete–there is always room for more growth, intellectually and spiritually.

Yet there is another reason, of even more significance:  We do not know that the mind and spirit transcend death.  But we do know, with absolute certainty, that the body does not transcend death.  Simply put, no matter how healthy and well-maintained your body is, it will cease to exist, soon if not immediately after your death.  However, your mind and your spirit may not cease to exist–they may continue into the next universe (the hereafter).  Thus intellectual and spiritual growth best be far above physical fitness on your priority list–no matter how young you are. Because death can come at any moment for anyone–and death will  come for everyone.

IN SIMPLICITY DO WE UNITE WITH THE SIMPLE ONE

GORAKHNATH asks Kabir:

“Tell me, O Kabir, when did your vocation begin?  Where did your love have its rise?”  

Kabir answers:

“When He whose forms are manifold had not begun His play:  when there was no Guru, and no disciple:  when the world was not spread out:  when the Supreme One was alone–

Then I became an ascetic; then, O Gorakh, my love was drawn to Brahma.

Brahma did not hold the crown on his head; the god Vishnu was not anointed as king; the power of Shiva was still unborn; when I was instructed in Yoga.

 

“I became suddenly revealed in Benares, and Ramananda illumined me;

I brought with me the thirst for the Infinite, and I have come for the meeting with Him.

In simplicity will I unite with the Simple One; my love will surge up.

O Gorakh, march thou with His music!”

 

Kabir

(translated by Rabindranath Tagore)

BOTH CANDLE, AND THE MOTH CRAZY AROUND IT

I am dust particles in sunlight.

I am the round sun.

 

To the bits of dust I say, “Stay.”

To the sun, “Keep moving.”

 

I am morning mist,

and the breathing of evening.

 

I am wind in the top of a grove,

and surf on the cliff.

 

Mast, rudder, helmsman, and keel,

I am also the coral reef they founder on.

 

I am a tree with a trained parrot in its branches.

Silence, thought, and voice.

 

The musical air coming through a flute,

a spark of a stone, a flickering

 

in metal.  Both candle,

and the moth crazy around it.  

 

Rose, and the nightingale

lost in the fragrance.

 

I am all orders of being, the circling galaxy,

the evolutionary intelligence, the lift,

 

and the falling away.  What is,

and what isn’t.  You who know

 

Jelaluddin, You the one

in all, say who

 

I am.  Say I

am You.

 

Rumi

(translated by Coleman Barks, et alia)

I MET HER IN THE NIGHT GALLERY

Actress Mora Gray


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