Cold Smoke

It’s cold outside, but this doesn't seem to shake her. The blistering wind and slight drizzle is not enough to stop her emotional whim. She’s not a smoker, never has been, but on days like these when her thoughts run away from her, she turns to the poisonous cloud of clarity. It’s a love hate relationship that she has fostered for many years.  She finds an unhealthy solace in drawing on the tip of the yellow stub from time to time. But why in the cold she asks herself, why not wait until a place of secret warmth is nearby. She starts to ponder the answer and arguably denies her dependency. It is not a physical desire but rather emotional. She feels that when she stands in the natural elements, whether belting hot or icy cool, her innate bodily reaction to acknowledge the external forces summon her to a place of introspection. At first she feels the cold; her vulnerable skin greets the consequences until she can no longer respond to them. Her teeth start to shake and her thoughts start to freeze. It is in this place now that she can merely be, nowhere else. The only questions that raise their hands are the ones that ask why? Why are you here, why are you doing this? Is something wrong? Usually she could ignore such questions, but today, in the cold, she must face them. Behaviour that has deviated from status quo must be seen too she diligently, yet apathetically thinks. But she realises it is such behaviour that, in utter contradiction, reinstates the status quo, thereby defeating the interrogation, because it is in this state that she is at peace. There is no anxiety, only that which will follow. She puts out the cigarette, shakes hands with imminent remorse and reaches for the bottle of perfume that is designed to cover up the lie she has just told herself. 

To put it simply

It is a new season, and a new season offers new possibilities. The darkness of winter is over and it’s time to dance in the light.
My new season is one that sees me living simpler. I want to abandon the complex because it interferes with the beauty of the present. I want to eat simply, walk simply, write simply and smile simply. I don’t want to dissect the intricacies of my mind or this world, for the beauty itself is in the intangible intricacy. It is that which cannot be explained. It is an unfathomable algorithm that loses its innate charm when constantly poked.

I look back at the things I’ve said, written and done and I can almost hear my annoying, cynical and childish words scraping my mind like fingers on a chalkboard. There was nothing simple about them.  I don’t even know now what I was trying to say. I used to think we needed to analyse and problem solve, like the world was one big algebra sum. Well I’ve since learnt that it is indeed ourselves who conjure up these improbable equations.  If we look around us, there is more simplicity than problems. We need to learn to invite this simplicity into our lives and stop creating our own amateur commentary of distorted psychology.

I’m not sure what it means yet to live simply, but I’m going to give it a try. I sense a profound liberty in doing this.

In too deep





 

                                         The Elephant in the Water

It was still dark outside when I woke up this morning to the incessant ringing of my punctual alarm clock. I’m not dilly, but yes I am that person who gets up earlier than most to slog it at the gym.

This morning, being a cardio day, was my swim day. Sounds daunting, but once you’re in the heated pool in the fancy Virgin Active Gym; you are suddenly overcome by a very Chad Le clos seriousness. People who are up at that hour are not there to muck about and blow bubbles. This is dedicated training time! These people eat protein bars and drink tasteless powder shakes.  (I don’t do that….Yugh).

I began swimming about a month ago due to an injury, and although I’m not a fantastic swimmer, I manage not to drown.  I still hit my head on the wall sometimes and have regular fits of hysteria from swallowing water, but I pull it off like a pro. Well at least I thought I did anyway, until today, when an unexpected visitor actually made me think about pool etiquette for the very first time. Let me tell you why.

I was on about my 147^th lap…… okay, it was more like my 4^th haul through the bottomless water well, when I suddenly saw a beautiful human form standing at the end of my lane.  He was a god like creature who resembled a young and straight Ricky Martin.  I couldn't believe my luck. My cheap goggles began to steam up almost instantly, so I swam faster to get a closer look.  When I reached the end of my lane, or at that point I thought the end of my life as I knew it, I caught the light from the sparkling pool tiles reflecting off what I can only assume was his Italian or Portuguese olive skin. Yes, I had not been fooled by my fading eye sight; this young man was an aesthetic jackpot!

I looked up and smiled nervously. He gave me the generic "what's up" head nod while he sat down to wait for a free lane. It didn’t take me long to see the work of the Gods here as I pounced on the opportunity to offer him my lane to share. I figured this way, our skins could accidently touch, and he’d be forced to feel what I was feeling.  He probably had more sense than to share a lane with a crazy gym lady who gets up at 5am and wears pink lumo goggles, because he politely turned down my offer. As disappointed as I was to miss my chance at playing a little Marco Polo, I figured I would just have to impress him with my ultra-athletic ability. This would mean tumble turns, good timing, and speed.

I started out  gliding through the water like a real champ, with good form and stamina, and I was even remembering some of the things my old school swimming coach taught me ( focus on your kicking, push down the water, come up after every 3 strokes to breathe etc.) About less than half way into my surreptitious plan, my not so fit body was running out of energy, and rather conspicuously too.  My kicking got slower and I began to breathe after every 2 strokes.  Failing miserably, I was forced to re-think my mission. If I wasn’t going to win him over with my “athletic” ability, I was going to have to use my grace. Yes, it was decided, I was going to swim like a lady; a well put together and poised lady who could just as well be swimming at her local country club. I could definitely pull this off!

So what does swimming like a lady mean? Don’t worry, I didn’t know either, I was just going to wing it; one can’t pass at the chance of true love when they’re already in this deep. I wracked my brain for anything that would come to me and all I could come up with was to point my toes. At this stage he was in the lane next to me, and was certain to catch a look from under the surface. Pointing toes during breastroke, although not a text book swimming technique, would surely imply I was sophisticated. Coupled with elegant dolphin dives and Yasmine Bleeth hair tosses, I’d be meeting his parents by sunset. Although in hindsight, the hair tossing must have looked rather strange seeing as I had a one size fits all swimming cap on and no hair to toss.  Regardless, through all my zealous endeavours, I really thought I had him pinned.  But I think I lost him when he saw me doing butterfly. I looked like a caterpillar at a matric rage; lumo goggles and all.

Sadly by this point, my time was up; apart from busting out with some contorted imitation of synchronised swimming, I had run out of ideas. I contemplated writing my phone number on his flipper that was lying on the bench, but thought I had probably given the guy more than enough creep for the day. So I got out the pool, sucked in my stomach and focussed intensely on walking to the change room without slipping.

Unfortunately, I had not been successful at my mission, and was just going to have to settle for a bowl of Kellogg’s for breakfast. No new love interest, or potential forever and ever. This mornings’ experience was merely meant to be something I would giggle about with friends. But one thing's for sure…I’m defintiely buying new goggles!

 

My soul can see you, hear you and feel you. That has to be enough.

A little piece I wrote for my Mom's Fitness blog

http://gone4alongrun.wordpress.com/2012/08/05/the-fitness-blues/comment-page-1/#comment-26

The Durban International Film Festival- Love (Amour)

Last night I attended the official opening of the Durban International Film festival’s French Focus with a screening of Michael Haneke’s Love –Amour; a story about a married couple in their eighties, who, after Anne has a stroke, are faced with the trying reality of living through the perennial struggles of each day.

The gradual decline of Anne’s health is portrayed in painful perfection as her crippling demise pierces your empathetic heart.  You watch as her merciful husband George becomes her sole care taker, seeing to her every mundane demand, both physically and emotionally.

What was inspiring to see was that despite Anne’s constant needs and pleading cries, the couple continued to share an inexplicable love, enduring an unbreakable bond and understanding that persisted in and amongst the flagrant misery.

This blatant love was not the only imprint made in the hearts of the viewers, but also the blinding realisation of the sometimes unkind truth of aging. The stark contrast as you grow old rests somewhere in between the plethora of memories that once formed the landscape to your full life, and the resentful levy you are sometimes forced to pay for that life.

In addition to the heart felt story, a testament to the phenomenal cinematography of this film can be supported by the tendency to get lost in the visuals rather than reading the English subtitles. That being said, the authentic dialogue between the two protagonists exuded a raw precision with intervals of charming wit.

A true eye opener that although leaves you emotionally shuffled, is told in a way that brings moments of distinct clarity.

The Wayward Weirdness

I woke up this morning with the intention of total and utter self-deserved relaxation.   Not just physical relaxation, but mental rest too. Today, I thought, I would let the world address its own ordeals and endeavour to engage in all and anything that called for a complete state of inertia and cognitive harmony.

So I greeted the morning with glee and rose to make myself some scrumptious chocolate chip and banana syrup flapjacks; accompanied of course by a steaming cup of not your average Joe.  I proceeded to begin reading a book, which after only 2 pages, was forced to surrender to my somewhat lingering lethargic state and decided to close my lids for one more round of shut eye.  I lay their comfortably anticipating a sedative REM cycle to guide me gently to another place.  I thought to myself, I will not entertain a single thought that surfaces and instead blatantly ignore said thoughts with total and obnoxious disregard. I managed to achieve this goal for approximately 7 ½ minutes, until one such idea was able to astutely out manoeuvre my carefully crafted plan. I politely greeted it with absolutely no intention of inviting any further conversation, until its agenda cleverly over powered any will or mental strength I could contest.

The thought had given birth, and it was simple. The people in this world are weird. Not an esoteric concept to dissect on this Sunday morning, just a plain and clear observation. I shall elaborate.

There are certain expectations and common norms that should or once did connect us. There was an underlying decency and mutual intuition that was unspoken. Not outright noticed, but still there, like buttons on a coat. Buttons which lately serve no purpose.

There seems to be a rather dismissive approach adopted by people today to practice any care or consideration for others around them. We have become so conditioned by a capitalist and individualistic paradigm, that certain core gestures that in respect should be considered common place, have slowly started to disintegrate.  

What happened to things like saying thank you, not with today’s instant messaging but with a phone call or a small gift delivered in person? What happened to honouring our commitments and sticking to plans made? Has life become that busy and schedules that erratic that respecting another person’s time is no priority? Or have we instead become that complaisant with last minute let downs that in turn we no longer respect ourselves?  What about thinking in advance, so that others are considered, or even caring about the past and the pieces your behaviour has left behind.  We are too selfishly engrossed in our “own today” which we somewhere along the line have forgotten does not only belong to us.

What happened to boys asking for girl’s phone numbers and then using them to CALL their subject of interest instead of hiding behind social and instant networks of thumb wars?  What happened to taking pride in the impressions you made on others? Instead we squabble about with a “take it or leave it” attitude, which in essence has its place, however should not be used to mask ones lack of esteem to interact  with reverence to those and what is going on around them. There is a balance needed here, and that line of balance is sadly being dispensed in a way that is tainting our social fabric.

What I’m trying to say bluntly, is that things have gotten weird. People have gotten weirder. And the only conclusion I can draw is that our isolated existences, ironically in an era of abundant social connectivity, have somewhat started to unstitch the once collective structure we knew as the norm, neglecting a very prudent principle called consideration.  We are entering a new era of “norms” which are being written as we speak. Perhaps it is this transition period that is provoking an unwanted anxiety, which naturally, the generation to come should accept with ease.  Or… perhaps I should revert to my initial plan of relaxation and let this one live another day.  

Politically salted Popcorn

I know I say this often, but I really do enjoy sitting back and watching the “political theatre” that plays out right before us. Our very own show every day. And it’s for free! Well, not really, considering the hard earned taxes that contribute to the salaries of these political actors and their over scripted shenanigans.

Let’s have a look at the current blockbusters that are making headlines shall we…..mmm popcorn..

I will start with a country outside of my own, much more fun. You’re all waiting for me to say the Euro crisis, see you love it too. Not the debt and its untold ramifications of course, but the mystery behind the salvation of this crippling nation.

With Greece close to forming a new coalition government after the New democracy party’s victory early last week, a much needed respite prevailed. A temporary burst of progress of course, but still progress none the less.  While Greece continues to fight its battles,  which now belong to the rest of the world, England dishes out a buffet of frivolous issues concerning the lashing out between the oh so entertaining Tories and the labour party. Cammy’s not raking in the confident votes, and Milibands (with his punch me face I might add) drolls on about pro-immigration policies and preserving his city as a multi ethnic safe hub for those who seek a better future. C’mon Ed, your  “scrupulous” attempt to plead such “progressive” thinking is in fact a transparent effort to mask the stark chaos provoked by the” free for all” mentality that was so hastily adopted by your country.  Still in England, Blair’s landed himself in chains being questioned for his safeguarded relationships with the media monopolies. Of course one can understand, pissing off the media is never clever, just ask our own Malema (you bloody agent!)

Moving onto France, I applaud the new socialist party. First time in years! They say change isn’t always good, but this time maybe they’re wrong. The French seem to have warmed to the Hollande sauce, however having said that, I think they were so desperate to get rid of the infamous Sarkozy, that a good stinky cheese would have sufficed.  So what does this mean for France? Well, we will have to dip our cinema popcorn in low fat melted butter and watch in eager anticipation. Good luck to you France! You’re one of my favourites!

Whilst still in Europe, the word of the day everyday seems to be austerity. I’m inclined to think the general population are their own worst enemies. It’s very easy to point sticky fingers at the government and their ill fiscal management, but have we forgotten that our very own consumption contributes to all means of regulation.  Swallowing 8 spiders a year whilst sleeping? A fallacy compared to the amount of other crap we are capable of swallowing in our sleep. Credit….Yes, we practically swallow the stuff.  How about swallowing a bit of pride for a change and taking accountability for succumbing to economic push pull strategies time and time again. Enter simple explanation- Government’s loosen credit acts to stimulate consumer spending- Consumption propels to proportions far beyond the consumers financial management skill or inherent ability to access self-control.

Speaking of self-control. I commend the New York mayor’s recent proposal to down size the serving cups for american soft drinks. Targeting the rise in obesity, the NY mayor outright won’t stand for it anymore.  The struggle with obesity, or as now dubbed in England, diabesity, which is the name given to the potential of type 2 diabetes developing from over eating, continues to threaten in a world of irritating awareness campaigns and on-going intervention. It seems we are constantly inventing things to fix things that are quite easily avoidable. This “I’m going to have that extra cheese on my chips with a side order of chocolate cookie dough” is a direct translation for "someone can fix this by stapling my stomach." Oh, and one of the reasons that the obesity rate is rapidly growing by the minute, is in fact a direct ramification of a conspiracy of political interference. But I’ll save that for another day. Some food for thought. ..

Now the US, not sure why obesity made me think of the US…. I must admit that as much blood on their hands as this country has, I find myself secretly or not so secretly standing on the side-lines in support of its salvage. It has endured as much harm as it has dished out.  This may be due to my own personal history with the good ol apple baked pie nation.  I follow the presidential race with avid eagerness and find Mr Obama’s PR to be phenomenal.  With Santorium out and Romney chasing dragons with the renowned charlatan Mr Donald Trump, it’s getting very interesting.  The tit for tat in these morally eroding pigeon races produces theatre even Andrew Lloyd Weber can appreciate.  The recent painting of an ill imaged Romney by the crats, was met quite timeously with a probe into Barracks birth status followed by a scathing attack on his political stance insinuating he’s no socialist. Very clever republicans, but the dems always have the fact that “Romney doesn’t care about the very poor.” I’m sure Mitt can still taste his foot after that one!

It gets better, now I see that the US, together with other world leaders are contemplating granting Russia clemency over the Syrian devastation; this being a carefully crafted strategy to gain Putin’s co-operation in ending the dire destruction in their African counterpart.  Rewarding bad behaviour to keep the peace closely resembles the “give the kid a candy bar so he'll shut up” syndrome that so many parents adopt as a primary method of discipline. This presents a rather short sighted approach promising only temporary relief, because we all know the kids already got his hand back in the cookie jar.

Not so short sighted or perhaps extremely so, was the recent donation by our South African government of a generous 16 billion rand to the IMF. The public are up in arms of course, whilst I find myself still sitting uncomfortably on the fence with this one. Zuma called this an investment for our future, and although I can see how this is so, as the money will be used to not only secure our place on the global map, but to help alleviate an export crisis bought upon by Europe’s vulnerability, I’m sure the money may be needed more here on the home ground.  According to the labour movement, the IMF is responsible for untold suffering and is not always cast in the light in which they profess to parade.

The announcement of SA’s donation came at a time when the government is practically pleading poverty and unwilling to negotiate in the current wage contention.  With all this in mind, I’m of the opinion that our focus is faltered. The power heads appear seduced and distracted by global image and securing futuristic growth prospects with international alliances, whilst the problems at grass roots  are neglected (Education, housing, land reform etc.). This reminds us that there is no division in the relationship between political organisation and economic policies. According to one analyst, political transformation is the horse that must be put before the cart of economic policy. We will see now how many horses are needed in the anticipated ANC second transition document (a document opposed by COSATU of course, because let’s be honest, what would be the fun in watching Vavi eat with his mouth closed...what a noisy man! alas at times for a good cause)

I’m itching to hear Zille’s remarks on this second transition! It’s unlike the DA opposition party to not complain about anything, so I’m looking forward to hearing what Zille's stewing. (Although she may be too busy tied up with the public protector punching out audit requests and probing investigations)  I just hope she doesn’t do the dance. Please don’t dance Helen; you are a white girl who does not possess the well admired African rhythm. Don’t do it. P.s Good job on the recent youth wage march! That took balls!

Before I go, one more thing. Prisoner to President!! This just proves the power of theatre. Opposition fighter Mohamed Mursi, who was put in jail years ago by the over thrown Mubarak, is celebrating the victory of leading Egypt’s t first freely elected administration.  What a stellar representation of a plot twist!

My popcorns finished, and I’m sure by the time you’re done reading this, it’s all old news anyway….but fear not, I am sure our fellow actors are putting on their make-up and costumes as we speak to enthral us with yet another captivating production of political theatre!

Feeding my Flame

"My spine is ablaze, felling any foe with my gaze. And just in time in the right place, suddenly emerging with grace." Words inspired by Blue Foundation

Stick to blogging Burgess

On my Soap Box -The Daily News published my ameteur rant-April 2012

I am writing in response to the article titled Happiness may be overrated, which I find preposterous and lacking in supporting evidence.  The article states that a number of studies disprove the perception that a lot of happiness is good for us.  Firstly it says that too much happiness can make you gullible.  Do they mean too open minded and less cynical? How typical a thing to say in a world where cynicism is a staple diet.  The article then proceeds to list behaviours provoked by too much happiness namely risk taking, excessive alcohol and drug consumption and binge eating. Where do you draw the line, when every other research study is listing the very same behaviour above as signs of severe depression? The contradiction is bewildering and frankly socially irresponsible.  It then mentions that an analysis revealed that those who reported a higher level of happiness in their early lives later reported lower income, and those who felt less happy in their youth, later earned a higher income.  The psychologist “suggests” that people who do not experience much sadness or anxiety are rarely dissatisfied with their jobs and consequently are less motivated to do better. This statement is therefore based solely on the premise that higher income makes you happier?  So if you choose to cultivate relationships over slaving it at the office, you’re assumed unhappy and a subject of psychological analysis. The one that really makes me laugh is the claim that sad people are attentive to details while happy people tend to make snap judgements. This backward sentence offers no substance, and is too open to interpretation to profess to be anything of a concrete psychology find.

This type of unsubstantiated psychobabble wastes time and ink, and definitely makes you think twice about believing everything you read.

Noted

If God were an Instrument, he would be a violin.

Let your love be free

Once upon a time, there was a bird. He was adorned with two perfect wings and with glossy, colourful, marvellous feathers. In short, he was as creature made to fly about freely in the sky, bringing joy to everyone who saw him.

One day, a woman saw this bird and fell in love with him. She watched his flight, her mouth wide in amazement, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with excitement. She invited the bird to fly with her, and the two travelled across the sky in perfect harmony. She admired and venerated and celebrated the bird.

But then she thought: He might want to visit far off mountains! And she was afraid that she would never feel the same way about any other bird. And she felt envy, envy for the bird's ability to fly. And she felt alone.

And so she thought: "I'm going to set a trap. The next time the bird appears, he will never leave again," The bird, who was also in love, returned the following day, fell into the trap, and was put in a cage.

She looked at the bird every day. There he was, the object of her passion, and she showed him to her friends who said "Now you have everything you could possibly want." However, a strange transformation began to take place: now that she had the bird and no longer needed to woo him, she began to lose interest.

The bird, unable to fly and express the true meaning of his life, began to waste away and his feathers to lose their gloss; he grew ugly; and the woman no longer paid him any attention, except feeding him and cleaning out his cage.

One day, the bird died. The woman felt terribly sad and spent all of ther time thinking about him. But she did not remember the cage, she thought only of the day she had seen him for the first time, flying contentedly amongst the clouds. If she looked more deeply into herself, she would have realised that what had thrilled her about the bird was his freedom, the energy of his wings in motion, not his physical body.

Without the bird, her life too lost all meaning, and death came knocking at her door. " Why have you come?" she asked death. " So that you can fly once more with him across the sky." Death replied. "If you had allowed him to come and go, you would have loved and admired him even more; alas, you now need me in order to find him again."

Paulo Coelho- Taken from Eleven Minutes

The journey begins

The beautiful girl who restored in me the light that dwells within all of us. Her path has recently led her to the USA. I could not be happier for this bright young lady who holds more magic in her finger tips than she is likely to ever know. It's been enlightening to watch you grow, question, and dance with the universe. May your journey only reveal more grace, more  light, and more love.  All the best LK x

Splashy Fen 2012

              My very first Splashy, and certainly not my last! 2 and 1/2 days of Nirvana!

Two and a Half minutes you're never going to get back.

I felt like writing something today. But about what, I can’t tell you. I still can’t tell you, so I’m going to make it up as I go along.

What is it that people want to read about? Other people’s thoughts and opinions on the world? Really? Can’t you think for yourself.  It’s funny how many read the views of others and automatically adopt these self-righteous rants as insightful truths. To be honest, the crap I write about is just a way of organising the perennial pile up of mental murkiness that accumulates in the dusty corners of my mind. It serves no actual veritable purpose. I think the same can be said for many other literary bursts that clog up the internet. Ha, literary, really, I used that word like I have the right to.

I now find myself, still uncertain as to what this post is about, so I’m going to tell you what I think about the colour yellow. It’s insipid. It’s the kind of colour that you just can’t get right.  It’s either too bright, too dull, off looking, or provokes the lurking memory of nursery school when they forced you to eat spinach and take childish naps on puke brown pillows that smelt like feet. Yeah I went to a dodgy nursery school.  But enough about yellow, I want to talk about arm pit hair. It’s an on-going chore for the female species to have to groom the tiny hair that grows in the dark cave that is your arm pit. What an ugly word, arm pit! It’s like your mouth fills up with sweat just saying it.  Back to my point, I don’t have one.

Shall I move onto love? Readers always want to hear about love don’t they? Looking desperately for someone to dish out a generous helping of hope in this unfair world of tragedy and infidelity. Well, here’s my advice, stop reading shit on the internet about how Mr or Mrs Right is just around the corner. You are the problem! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and learn to practice a little bit of introspection. Love is abundant, but it starts with you, you sad, melancholy worm eating Muppet.

Work. Something we are told we have to do. If we don’t work, we can’t live. What a warped and twisted ideology that we have bestowed upon ourselves. Working is important, for the right reasons ofcourse. It instils a sense of discipline, achievement, ultimately perpetuating an esteemed self-worth.  Sadly this is not why we work. We no longer even work for money. Instead we work for greed. Think about it.

I’ve covered  yellow, armpits, love, and work, all in order of importance, which really only leaves one more thing to talk about.  Politics.  I love it! Don’t roll your eyes. It’s an on-going goose chase of power and ego. Its conspicuous nature embroils the public in a real live comedy action drama that you just can’t find in Hollywood.  To watch as the heads of this and the ministers of that battle it out for glory in the name of financial, economic and social "welfare" humours me. To struggle day after day to manage an unruly nation that has now far surpassed the days of ignorance and suppression.  Enter buttery salty popcorn here *

Right, I suppose I should get back to work since I really haven’t contributed anything of any intellectual substance to this post. I just wanted to write something without thinking, like most bloggers, who poison your mind with their so called worthy opinions.  I hope this inspires you to really think about what you want to read in future, whilst remembering your own opinions. But don’t think too hard, or else you’ll never visit my blog again.  

All things being Equal

I write this entry as I feel rather strongly about a subject that has and will continue to haunt me. If you could kindly refrain from rolling your eyes when I mention the word equality, as I’m sure your first thought will be…oh great another hippie on her soap box preaching peace and love, peace and love.

Although peace and love encompasses a lot of what I stand for, I find there's something missing from this well-known adage. It’s all very well to love open heartedly and seek peace amongst all, but what we fail to realise is that in order to achieve this blissful state of long desired utopia, we need to abandon almost everything we know and adopt the fundamental state of acceptance. A word not easily digested, as it requires the daunting task of facing our personal, political, social, religious and historical issues.

When I say the word equality, it’s always very quick to jump to social and economic equality, however what I’m arguing is another notion altogether.  Social and economic equality continue to be contentious matters that spark perennial debate the world over, and I dont' think that much resolution will be reached for some time to come. So I do not propose to bore you with long verbose rambles in effort to try and figure it all out. For one, I don’t have the intellect to even attempt to attack this complex condition, and secondly this has already been done repeatedly, by the likes of some of the greatest philosophers of our time. Karl Marx, being a well-known example, devoted every hour of his life to vindicating communism and open living societies, discovering amoungst other things, a rapid overgrowth in ideology. His works span countless efforts to support the inevitable over throw of capitalism, blaming the “bourgeoisie” or upper middle class for sewing self-gratifying division.

Now I can appreciate the cause and effect principal relating to social and economic inequality, as well as the psychology behind it. Contrary to Marxism theory, some believe we are too far gone, so it’s pointless to even begin to fathom social refrom. But what I can’t understand is the disregard for the simple humane element. The equality of blood; the life force that we share as mutual mortals who all seek love and purpose.  I don’t understand the blatant hate, the intolerance, ignorance and abuse.  Higher social classes have no right to demand entitlement and superiority, as it is merely a privilege and a blessing.  Just as poverty, lower social status, sexual orientation, age etc should not be affiliated with inferiority. It is these labels which we impose upon ourselves that begin to cease the human in all of us.

Of course the human rights bills that have been passed in favour of protecting social liberties such as sexual preference, gender issues etc, must be commended, and are at times a blaze of burning light at the end of the dark and dreaded tunnel. Sadly though, I think despite all the hope and empowerment that these acts stand for, they are simply a fleeting sense of false security. We can’t rely on governments and politcal bodies to do all the work for us. It’s a decision we all need to make, and the work begins with each of us.

So I go back to the state of acceptance (accepting everything and everyone); a soul searching notion that asks more of us than the tax man. Accepting that we are all in this together, regardless of our place on the social hieracrchy, is too real a concept for us cowards. It’s far easier to create superficial boundaries that stroke our sprouting ego’s and offer fake solace in this cold and dubious place.

I’m not sure if we’ll ever really love thy neighbour, as this may just break down our freshly painted walls that we’ve all worked so hard for!

This being said, and all things being equal....Peace, love, and acceptance my friends!