Tiny, unexpected things can change your life. They, for the lucky and those open to magic, come knocking when one least expects. Because in between the fireworks and festivities is the rote, the routine and the relentless passage of time. You know, our lives. In my experience this can be graphed as 99% work and 1% play. Or, as I blurted out with an astonishing lack of sensitivity the other day, 'ya work and suffer in silent desperation and then have an orgasm every once in a blue moon. Peaks and valleys like blips on the monitor. Flying high in April and shot down in May. Quoting both Pink Floyd and Frankie Blue Eyes in the same paragraph. If it’s all the same, even if that if is at a high level of success, eventually it will fail. Hollywood is chuck full of rags to riches stories, as well as the rags to riches to rags and the riches to rags to riches variations on the same theme. Everybody appreciates a calm sea but it is the tempest that pushes the ship at its highest speed. Or as they say, ships are safe at anchor, in harbor, but that is not what ships are for.
I open with this today because something took place yesterday that I find absolutely magical. And miraculous and wonderful. This is because I feel that to live life to its fullest one must occasionally break the rules. Rules are created as an artificial means of control. By their very nature they attempt to limit the things that provide happiness, joy and love. An easy example is our current legislation on abortion, gay rights, gender equality, and a thousand other laws basically limiting the amount of love we can demonstrate to our fellow man or share with our fellow woman. This my friends is the work of a sick society. A society trading racism and hypocrisy for control of women’s bodies and an assured white supremacist agenda is a society destined for doom.
This is where civil disobedience represents the breaking of rules. I do not expect, nor do I desire, my elected officials to spend even one minute of time with my tax contribution listening to lobbyists trying to push a controlling agenda that attempts to limit the amount of compassion, temperance and kindness I can create or participate with. Fix the infrastructure, save the whales, stop the corruption, declare a unilateral cease-fire, tear down the walls, teach the kids, and STFU about anything having to do with how or who I choose to love.
In a lengthy conversation Sunday with my sister, and educator working the inner city of DC, she mentioned that the general atmosphere in the national capitol has taken a turn for the positive lately.
Due to the gains and positive strides made by the impeachment hearings?
No because the Nationals are two games from the World Series.
We are a fickle people. We have real differences. Hate is a more common emotion that joy. The cult of ignorance is rampant and increasingly violent. Lying, cheating, scheming, hypocritical republicans are crawling out from under their slimy swamp rocks to blame everyone and everything for the situation that they themselves have created. They blame everyone but their insanely corrupted ring leader and every complicit traitor in the house and senate for this all-time low in national trust. And they have the nuclear codes? They carry the football? They get to say who we can and who we cannot love?
No. They do not. We do. We the people.
In a small and muted way a reminder of this reality came to me yesterday. It was like a lover unexpectedly dropping by for lunch.
We make the rules.
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