Wednesday, 15 June 2011

Check the Blame at the Door - Sunday Features 5/06/2011

Oh, we all clothe ourselves in condemnation too often, or we shift to the other side of the spectrum, losing sleep unless the moonlight shines its spotlight in the other direction (away from our own reflection). And this primal urge has ancient roots stemming all the way back to the Garden of Eden. So why do we continue the tradition of beating ourselves and everyone within reach up over every spec on the radar? Isn’t it about time to check that blame at the door?
We begin our journey like any good journey: at the root. How different would all of humanity be if perception had begun the evolution process from a different angle?

I Heard It Was the Tree’s Fault © by Carol Stocki

Your black and white just might be my shades of grey, which just might turn out to be the next person’s muted blue. Who’s most qualified to decipher all of the shades in between?

not always so © by Alenka Co
don’t tell me it’s all black and white
there’s black, there’s white
and all the shades there in between
before we even bring colour in
what is black today will another day be white
what is white-clear now will become yet another delusion
don’t tell me one is good, another evil,
there’s good, there’s evil
but no-one all evil, no-one all good
don’t tell me it’s the intention that counts
that you intend good so it doesn’t matter if it turns out bad
ask the recipient of your “good intention” how they feel about that
the road to hell on earth is paved with good intentions
you tell me you are right, the others wrong
there’s right, there’s wrong,
and you are wrong if you think you have a monopoly on right
I searched for truth
listened to those who said they’d found it
their truths were cast in stone,
written on pages in black and white
spoken with the righteousness of the “neverwrong’”
grasped by the self-deluded
and then I heard a humble man say
“not always so”
and there’s the truth, my friend

All the blame and entitlement surrounding which rights trump which wrongs amounts to nothing more than a tapestry of terminology needing further translation.

Just a Blanket of Terms Now © by Christina Rodriguez

Condemnation, guilt, worldly ideals, preconceived perceptions… we’ve not only clothed ourselves in them and tried to force others to follow suit, we’ve become paper cut-outs — a papier-mâché monument party favour.

Beauty Pageant, 2011 © by Thelma Van Rensburg

Anything that causes division within the sisterhood must be cut out before it rips apart the unity and unravels the heart in the process.

Woman in Four Quarters © by eoconnor

Imagine the ceremonial celebrations that would span the globe while we all let our hair down and shed those cumbersome garments.

When the Gloves Come off © by singerchick
Today I shed the extra layers
Dancing joyfully out of these discouragements
Whirling and twirling barefoot with the dust I’ve stirred
Sliding disappointments down my wrists and flinging them asunder
Caring not where they land
Exchanging this weighty garland of woe for a lovely one of blossoms
I shrug my shoulders free from their armor; I am unobstructed and exposed
Yet not unprotected.
With raised arms I set my jubilant hair free of infirmity, to whirl and twirl with my feet and the dust
Limbs, dust, hair, and flowers nimbly spiraling into infinity
“…Yet not unprotected…” For safety is vital at such a vulnerable moment of surrender.

If I take down my MASK … will you PROTECT me with your SHELL © by jaqleen

Philosophy plus over-analysis of boundaries and reestablishing them might prove a difficult pill to swallow.

Mind Melting Matters © by limirick
I swear we live in a magical world.
I swear it on my own certain grave.
I wonder about the boundaries and untapped potentials, synchronicity and
philosophy, time and the movement through it…
while I drink my coffee.
I watch the flashing cursor. It is mocking me as I am suddenly at a loss for words..
overwhelmed by the enormity of it all
and yet, compelled
to know it all.
Thus far,
I have made some heavy in-roads into thought and it’s processes.
But I have spiritual hiccups
and they hurt my chest..
Bless Me.
Over time,
my gag reflux has been thoroughly tested.
I have wanted to spew but
I have not yet choked
on Truth.

Too many have become a casualty of the blame game, castrated along the way and driven into the internal pits of silent torment.

Mute © by agent7

Yet no matter which side of the spectrum one sits on, for everything under the sun there is a reason beyond comprehension.

People Trap Me © by unique-mystique
People trap me
When all I’m wanting is out
Can’t seem to be able to escape
All the red tape
Damages are done
My seam hasn’t torn
My eyes have shed many tears
But the coldness inside of me
It’ll all disappear
Can’t seem to work all this out
It’s like a merry-go-round
It just doesn’t stop
And I’m reverting like in shock
Clear dreams
Those tender words
You used to say
Things were better then when you promised to stay
Everything has a reason
The rights are not always wrong
Lyrics to our future song
Wishing you love and light, so long

Sometimes the only way to bypass the stronghold of a destructive mindset is to surgically remove it.

Surgery © by Karo (caroline) Evans

All the refining and redefining in the universe cannot recover what has been done. Sometimes, in an expired season, one must simply let (it) go.

Seasons © by Sybille Sterk
The skins we shed
With the seasons
Of our heart
Tattered remnants
Waving to and fro in the
High winds
Of the storms
We weather
We submit
To tidal waves
Washing over us
With salty tears
And deep vein blood
Striking not
Not twice
But often
Holding on
We are
We shed
Another skin
Grow another
Faust’s credo
Beating the drum
Letting go

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