Time yields another dead genius, innovator, revolutionary thinker. Another white wizard fallen into shadow. I mourn our loss.
His gift was one of excitement in the world and the conscious construction of our collective future fantasy, which has its roots in Hope. When we push and pull our world into separate corners and create boundaries to help us identify our separateness, we need inspiration to keep us motivated. Clear signs of evolution are welcomed enthusiastically, our excitement over possibilities uniting us in brief epiphany. Each time a boundary is broken, we remember that there is a world outside of the limits that we've made for ourselves. We are still prospectors and settlers, having moved our explorations multi-dimensionally. Having spent the past thousand years dissecting, mapping, and personalizing our terrestrial environment, we now reach farther into space, inner and outer, digging deep inside of and out around the spacial bodies that build the fabric of the universe.
Each expedition is driven by the passion of individuals. Our leaders offer themselves to us and we choose whether or not to follow them. We commend them while their work suits us and then vilify them when we've had enough. The only true face save is death. Perhaps it's the weight of all those heavy stares anticipating receipt of greatness that eventually crushes those that volunteer to bear it. Perhaps it's a consequence of the responsibility of being made a mogul. We choose our exceptional citizens as contemporary human sacrifices, an offering to collective conscious human evolution. Theirs is a life's work spent moving elephants up mountains.
And then I hear Khaddaffy is dead. Some drone or navy seal strike or secret ninja assassin squad got him. His ruin is smote, and the world rejoices with fireworks and balloons. They get drunk and scream, working themselves up with the adrenaline rush of patriotism, in barbaric bloodthirsty chest-thumping. Our instinct toward tribalism diverts our attention from the very deep and real threat of our entire system crumbling beneath us. Perhaps we just need to be having more dinner parties. We all need to remember the ancient ritual of group feasting and dissolve this hysteria.
Each day that passes only affirms my drive to inspire, for inspiration is what will keep us lovingly moving toward our purpose. With the classes Occupying their financial institutions, our government assassin squad choosing new targets each time one is put down, and our increasing paranoia and fear of each-other, we need color, light and love. We need to wine and dine, dance and be merry. We need to make really funny jokes and build our life’s work.
We must keep it light. Stay light and stay flexible under this increasingly momentous gravity. You are a light ninja with a heart and a brain, and there’s nothing you can’t do.
