Why should teenagers want to carry on our visions? Why should they even like us? At least, for a while. They have inherited our uncertainties, our vices, our apprehension, our lust, our hypocrisy. Our teens are riding the Life Line into the Unknown, drinking an expensive bottle of Sure Thing. Hissing, fanged, jaded beyond words with old world problems loaded in their teeth and calcified in their glands. They have wrestled the vampires from our worst nightmares and hung them out to dry before they were out of diapers. Our children have grounded, encapsulated and innoculated us with poisons from our fear, parasites of our lazy revelations. They said, "Fuck evolution. It is too fucking slow and everything you believed is wrong. Possibly."
Now, there are holes between their angel hearts and their grandpa's lungs. If in their sobriety, they embrace an imperfect ideal, they may become posessed by the ancestors who require a humble entry point. Stamping their feet, moshing in a euphoric mania starched strangers find disturbing, they turn up their noses to our scars, because they don't pray to armies. They too, can keep their compassion under wraps and well hid. Our children don't want to be our drug buddies. They don't want to inject, smoke or snort illusions to combat other illusions. Use a crutch to find a new crutch. Teens won't rely on us to be the conscientious objectors, because look at the endless global war. We are still responsible. We are naturally at fault. Like children they need us to be true heroes, and like children, we want to be true heroes too, somehow.
Our children will put their heads further into the lion's mouth than we did, than our grands did, than our grand grands did. Sacrifising secrets, fears, family treasures, hopes, amulets, and charms at the Holy Temple to make their own way, and burn back the shadows that created cages. They are further out on the limb, because they want to see faith in our eyes, trust too. They want permission to know themselves, in still water. What if they never fully believe they deserve to be on Mount Olympus? Living their dreams? What if they are talentless schmucks, hacks, who don't deserve half a chance at wordly success? What if they want to be passed up, over, drop out? What if they want to be an anonymous face in the crowd? Children are our best teachers.
The best alchemy lies on the path of least resistance, however, anything worth fighting for is an uphill battle, playing chicken with your fear. People aren't naturally inclined to resist challenges. This is good, because dynamic growth requires a love of that which challenges and stretches. If it doesn't feel unfathomable, you aren't changing and you aren't giving birth. If you are not living and breathing dynamic tension, you aren't living wide awake, surrounded by angels. If you aren't living in an authentic way, you are truly witholding both your divine and your commonplace. Who can trust you, if you are not living as Spirit or as Animal?
Pain begot from righteous pursuits is never futile or in vain. If your will is unflinching in strength and your mind is made up, you don't know the way. Although, some may mistake you for a hero. If your soul is vital and your heart is pure, you will always take pause to question your path. Although, some may mistake you for a fool. Some may confuse purity for ignorance or unconflicted. But those people are so busy hiding their odors, busting false moves and gossiping from the back of their heads, they depend on false signs to ridicule the landscape of their own inner demons, of their own intestinal flora.
If you can't be at peace with your own metabolic waste, how can you accept someone else's? If you can't be reasonably at peace in your own skin, whose skin can you be at peace in? If you can't see strangers as angels, soulmates, house cats, shamans, sages...you aren't letting your imagination open up to reality. Reality is not taught in schools. It is not experienced by the body in conventional space and time in 3rd dimension. Standardization, rules, passivity, fitting in, compartmentalizing, living in a rigid objective physical plane is no longer apropos, and it is downright counterintuitive and counterproductive to surviving the times in which we live.
If the non tangibles, the parables, the spiritual context, is missing...play chicken with your fear. If the sacredness of absurdity is obfuscated by melodrama, there aren't enough characters in your play. You've got to reach for something bigger than yourself, parashoots made of plastic fail on the tempestuous winds of climate change.
If the machinations of suffering are comical and comedy makes you weep, your ego and spirit can play together and find happiness. Or, more specifically, a cocktail of emotions that all evens out to a diversified emotional portfolio that transcends human experience and relishes it, deeply, humbly, and with appropriate apprehension. You are not the only god on Mount Olympus afterall.
If you balance your will, ego, heart and soul, you will always choose rightly. No matter how many barking dogs or boogie monsters beguile the commonly trusted senses, you will walk off the cliff with a goofy grin, knowing you are in good hands. Mercurial. Part angel. 50 yards above a roaring river and a greek chorus of naysayers that want you to eat it.
Consensus is an individual thing. Consensus of the highest mind will unite consciousness and save the world.
If we can get over our addictions, our stories, our plays, jealousy, winning over instead of along with, owning stuff, sex even.
Afterall, beneath every human mask is timeless limitless genderless soul in jazz shoes and black jeggings.
Inside every body is a naked screaming skull, making punk rock Flipper clicks in sonar to Mojo Nixon rockabilly, waiting to do areal tricks and paint the galaxy red tide.
No comments:
Post a Comment