musings on the ends and the means
occasioned by my virtual introduction to horse237
a child of the last century, i saw the war when i was very young....
died in it over & over & over & over, excruciatingly well-defined high-resolution first-person point-of-view, i would sense something & think, 'hey, what...' & turn suddenly toward the window & be immolated. vague sense of having been there before: 'sh*t, you looked.' woke drenched in cold sharp stark inconsolable fear. sometimes as often as three times a week. brought on by asking what nuclear bombs were, when i was three, & paying very close attention to the answer. i remember i had to ask a couple more adults, just to make sure. i remember concluding in horror that these people were insane, & then the nightmares began.
the difference is now i have come to believe that this is not the case. my fellow man is not insane. most people are not insane. i am not condemned to insanity, by virtue of being human. it is only the people who will not admit that what they do will affect them directly, who cannot see themselves in everyone they see, who do not recognize all beings as equally important & perfect & vital as themselves.
it is only the sociopaths who are insane. they are the ones running things: they are the ones sick enough to have engineered the sickness, to be perpetuating it, knowingly, for their own profit. as if profit could ever have been said to have been had from any war. as if profit was ever a fruit that could be said to have been 'yielded,' in the final analysis, by the unimaginable war that approaches. stopping it ... is the only thing.
think peace, speak peace, act peace...
...by any means necessary.
Be seeing you.