Beware of choice. Due to its nature, we’ve all played Caesar and crossed the Rubicon. Sometimes there’s no rolling back our decisions, no undoing our actions. We can carve out a path that cannot be unmade, and this might cause tremendous regret. Regret motivates us to fix the situation. Though it’s insane trying to mend broken glass with our hands. The glass shards cut, our frenetic hands bleed, and the glass cannot be unshattered. Our familiar days will fade in memory. The ramifications alone compel us to make sure we’ve chosen right, to make certain we’ve broken the glass for good reasons. As the glass cannot be pieced together, we must accept the consequences no matter how dire and sorrowful and prepare ourselves for the next series of choices. Even declining the offer to choose is a choice. Even committing to the safest choice can spawn a whole host of troubles. Not all choices can redesign, rebuild, or demolish our life as we know it but as we press on, be warned. The doors from our past may become permanently sealed shut.
Authentic love is selflessness; it is also mindfulness. A true act of love demonstrates loyalty, honesty, and integrity. It is not our drug. It is not our shopping list nor our parachute as we fall further out of grace. The more selfish we become, the further we fall. If others cannot meet our stringent demands, are they really to blame? Once our happiness depends on others complying with our wishes, we corrupt love. We sabotage it by ensnaring it and owning it like a pet. This universal feeling is not here for our amusement. What matters is not our end of the bargain, our precious minerals we extract from the mine of relationships. What matters is our compassion. Life offers us a critical choice, which tests our character. No one can make the choice for us. Will the world attest that our hearts are good?
Most of us seal our sight in darkness. The depravity is there, but can we see it? Can we really see? Are we ready to see the desert? If we’re ready, we’d cut the stitches from our eyelids. We’d no longer lose ourselves in pathetic skirmishes for status and possessions. As we recalibrate for a moment, we’d see the wasteland sprawled out before us. We’d instantly know the desert. The desert is spiritual death. It is the void lacking moral sustenance, and the swallowing spiral of cheap, fleeting pleasure. It is the grim aftermath of ignorance, materialism, and needless suffering. There is nothing to drink here. There is nothing to eat but before we lament, we must remind ourselves of the truth. We’ve created this barren, God forsaken land. No one forced us. No one did this for us. It was us who did not inhabit fertile plots of land. We neglected to till the soil within our souls and as in the literal desert, the truth shines so intensely we crave the shade under the canopy. This is the truth that scorches and tortures. In order to learn our lesson, we must stoically endure. Karma unleashes consequences in return for our poor choices. Unabashedly, we allow our poison to spread into others’ lives. Our collective depravity can tear at society, and it is our government’s infamous revolving door that leads it to ruin.
To be truly alive is to turn toward death without cowering. This means locking eyes with the abyss without fleeing. For sense’s sake, where do we think we’re going to go? There’s no secret escape hatch. There’s no bright exit sign. There’s France, Egypt, Tibet—these places might invigorate us. Foreign countries can impart the culture we’re so eager to experience but in the end, does it ever satisfy? So pretentious are we when we immerse ourselves into unfamiliar environments. As I’ve mentioned before, there is only one God, one story, one place to be. There’s nothing new here. The inviting, exotic lands only fully captivate the ignorant. The pretentious traveler answers the song of the beckoning sirens. You answer that call, and you’ll find yourself wandering in the desert.
There is nothing interesting left to vocalize is there? Every spoken word is a rotten platitude and every sound, a loop of wailing infants. We like to play the role of the enlightened master. We like to talk about ourselves. We share details of where we’re from, how we earn money, and where we’re going. We say all this as if it matters. We delve into the sordid details from others’ lives. We use the details to weave an intriguing story, shattering the monotony tugging at our core. The consumer drones cried out for an adventure and willed it into existence. The universe acquiesced to our wishes. Now we have our credit, debt, and usury. Now we have our streaming images to catatonically stare at. We press power on our devices to lose our power. By pushing play, those images stole stealthily our souls. This is our story; do we want to abandon it or help write it?
Is humanity thoroughly satisfied? Can we now relax and place our trust in authority? After all, we don’t like to be inconvenienced. We indiscriminately eat what corporations sell us and indiscriminately consume what corporations present to us. Many of us don’t like saying, “No.” Many of us tolerate the tyranny. We give airlines, which shamelessly irradiate us, regular business. We don’t check our food for the genetic engineering label, and we’ve lost too much ground already. The war is not over. The war began before all of us were born and will stretch past the innumerable generations that follow. This is also a multifront war. Offensive attacks waged by the oligarchs originate from all directions, and the tactics employed by them typically contain more than one purpose. Nonetheless, the end game never changes. The powers that shouldn’t be want precise control over every facet of our lives, and our fertility is under attack.
They told us that the field we studied didn’t matter. As long as we earned our bachelor’s degree, they said, we’d be economically secure. They hinted that trade schools, which taught practical skills, conflicted with our high social status. They were the media, and we believed them. We anticipated employers to echo the lies the media blared onto the public but in the end, we discovered that we weren’t as great as we were told. This higher education sham parallels the feminist lie, which promises you the entire world. The feminists unrealistically expected a husband who cooks and cleans and earns significantly more money. The feminists unrealistically expected children who are happy with their moms being unavailable due to their illustrious, high status, high paying, and highly rewarding career. They thought they could have it all, along with red carpet, a gold crown for the queen and an immaculate throne tidied up, of course, by their docile man servant. Our teachers and our parents might have been oblivious to how the real world works. If that was the case, it was only a barrage of unintentional lies. Regarding the irresponsible media, promoting the university degree as a cure all for economic woes leads one to believe that they’re in on the racket. The media pundits lied about education, and the public should have lost faith in their credibility ages ago.
I have written that we achieve success through Christ consciousness, but I seem to have been mistaken. The general idea was fitting, but that specific phrase is all wrong. Christ consciousness carries a stench of arrogance; it emanates excessive self-interest. The phrase nauseates. Also, the two words might stand as our central barrier to any real understanding. When the wise teacher shows us the way, we don’t seek to replace the teacher. Mutiny against the wise sharply veers off the correct path. If we allow the oligarchs to press forward with the misguided dreams of godhood, then humans will not only fail in achieving divine status but will irrevocably exterminate the species along the way. All will be doomed. Considering the possibility of straggling survivors, time travel might become our last prayer to reverse the damage. Supposing we could correct our history of errors, the invaluable lessons will eventually dissipate anyway, as history follows the same pattern. Generations that follow lose the wisdom of their ancestors. We would be caught in a never ending cycle of relearning what our ancestors had to learn the hard way. As finite, imperfect humans, we don’t become Jesus. We don’t strive to emulate Him. We try to understand Him.