lies
my father had a scar on the back of his head where the hair had stopped growing. he would tell me that it was from his previous life, where he had been a chinese soldier who was dealt his deathblow with an axe to the head so hard, he could still feel it in his next life. this ignited my young imagination.
today, i imagine i was a bhuddist monk, whose contemplations on life, love and truth were so profound, simple and clear that i can still access them in this next life.
thus there were many things i knew without knowing growing up, such as that we are victims of our own lies - because no one can lie to us without us lying to ourselves first. and so much misery comes from this error...
i knew, even as i lied to myself, that there is no moral high ground; and that morality is yet another well meaning but flawed social construct that has fallen prey to capitalist tendencies. i knew that to also capitalise on morality i had to convince myself of the truth of my imagined moral high ground, then use fear, anger and guilt to bully people into buying into my moral high ground. people are then forced to lie to me and themselves to avoid the wrath of my divine morality.
and i must say, i got pretty good at it. i was subtle to the point where i could hardly catch myself doing it. in fact, i suspect i might be doing it even now...
love
is the reason why i must lay waste to the land and rebuild it in my image. i am addicted. afflicted. as we all are from day one.
and escapist tendencies
perhaps if i write a blog about it? perhaps if i understand it all, and display my understanding to all and sundry? perhaps eloquence can help me get naked without fear of people cringing or laughing?
but i know i must get away. i must get away from this cycle of lovely lies.
