THE POWER OF ONE – LIVE LONG & PROSPER

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I have seen over my years at the macro level governments and authorities pass on their terror to the populace. To instill in them the belief that the individual is of no importance and has no power.

I have witnessed at the micro level people act in fear and become themselves terrorists of the heart and mind because of the terror inflicted upon them by others.

In that fear they do the most terrible things but it remains the same. An expression of their own sense of powerlessness and self worthless – their refusal to believe not in themselves but to use their ego to build a facade in which they give away their own power as they fall back on flawed crutches of habit.

They make the ‘mistake’ of thinking that to hit back, get revenge, destroy another perceived cause of their hurt, is a manifestation of power. When in reality it is an extension of their own self loathing and lack of belief in self.

It is understandable. Some time people can experience a level of terror that is truly hellish. As they undertake experiences the human psyche was never meant to cope with.

Sometimes coping means doing anything the monsters commands. Even if means devouring one’s own soul. The very thing that make us human.

The very thing that without it means we loose our empathy our logical sense of moral right and wrong.

Sometime fear is a ‘soul’ killer that creates  sociopathic zombies.

The walking dead who once bitten seek in their unsatiable hunger, for the ‘soul’ they were robbed of, bite and infect others. For a minute minority it is a case of just far too gone and those are the one that I cry the deepest for.

Others shatter and compartmentalize. So that when ‘glued’ back together things seem okay on the outside. Just don’t ask that person to look too deep into themselves, or their past and building real futures becomes a fantasy, as the sheer effort of living becomes all consuming. Again this is true of nations as it is true of individuals. You simply have to look at Israel/Palestine to see how true that metaphor is.

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I have experienced it first hand and when it comes at you from the ones you love, whose well being you care about the most, it is a gut wrenching thing and truly terrifying. For nothing is scarier than coming face to face with the monster that lurks in us all.

I have swum with sharks, dodged falling helicopters, I have been shot at, bombed, menaced by a variety monsters in all shape and sizes, in the course of my career and life’s adventures. Yet nothing comes close to invoking that sense of fear in me.

The kind of fear that makes you want to just lash out and say and do the most cruelest of action from the share sense of having your power taken from you by those you trusted the most.

Me being me I take those high octane emotions and take them to my key board. At which point I pound the living shit out of it like I’m doing work out on a punching bag.

I seek at my key board to find meaning to distil and crytalise those emotions into logical thought.

At which point the offended parties reach out and go – that terrible!!

How could you write such things (‘oddly Captain their critic is not that it is its untrue but I dare expose their failings to the masses. Or worse make them come face to face with their own demons). At which point I feel bad and pause to consider have I too become a terrorist of the heart.

Am I simply seeking revenge misusing my power to abuse and mind bomb.

No.

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Withstanding that I never write to make one party individually identifiable (an yet oddly they react to what they spot as true and thus assume my writing must be about them). I’m not seeking revenge or retribution. Their is no gain in that EVER!!

I am just being me and I have a duty and right to express who I am and to voice my truth (and that’s all it is) as I perceive it. It was why I was born and it is and always will be my destiny.

Some people do this in song, others in poetry, some paint, some garden it out and yet others express it their food. I write and I will always draw upon my surrounding world for lessons and inspiration as the very fire wood for my creative bonfire. If this scares you then don’t come and play in my world – don’t engage me. These words are true for my mum, my mates, most certainly my prime sinister.

For it is my quest and I ask no man, or women, to walk with me or at my pace but I shall not deviate from my journey for any power great or small. These are my rules and I hand then to my allies as I hand them to my obstacles.

I write to share with others, on the understanding, I write not the TRUTH but I write a perception of truth, simply as I see it. If my truth strikes resonance in some that is awesome and I hope in my egotistical moments it even inspires.

Yet as someone who has written on the subject of terror, for over three decades and witnessed at so many levels, the insidious infection of fear, what I really desire to do with my words is heal.

The truth is I would say what I have written in person face to face, were I permitted, not out of anger or retribution, but because I perceive it to be true and want the other parties to hear me. Because I care and I seek no gain but the reward of resolution.

Yet in being denied the chance to communicate directly, to dissolve conflict, whether it is by my government or my interpersonal relationships, it does me a great favour (as a writer at less), in the sense it allows me to remove my self from the raw emotions of the heated moment, to find a logical voice in which my mind melds in harmony with my heart.

I am able to take that destruction and morph it into something creative.

To take a toxin an make it an antidote.

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I would love dearly to share this gift with those who become poisoned with fear.

Those who fear what I write and allow that fear to become a hissing spitting ball of hate that wishes nothing more than the earth to open up and swallow me slowly and painfully. But I wont allow my self to be silenced or to buy into their fear.

I really love your show as the saying goes but it really is not my circus and those are not my monkeys Mr Clown.

No one can hurt my feelings.

Only I can hurt my heart.

Only I can make myself feel angery, only I can make my self feel belittled, only I can make myself feel cheated, jealous, or worthless. Only I can give away my power.

Again I get why for some having being through what they have being through these words may seem hallow, trickery and such a hard ask. A trespass that on its own right invokes terrible anger as the frightening flashbacks rare their neighing fire breathing heads.

Yet they are my truth and I say it with hands down palms open -scorch me if you well.

If I feel any sense of heart break and vulnerability and Oh Boy how I do feel that, 
in so many ways, at so many levels, it is the share grief of having wanted to have brought something good into others life and “failed”. Then having had to watch in frustration as through fear and self hate the parties involved have denied themselves an opportunity.

Face your demons they will become your angels but no one said it would be a cake walk. Especially when it means a journey back to hell (and who wants to go there) and for many it easier to fall back on our wants (have another drink, have another cigarette, have another chocolate bar, watch some unreality TV etc etc etc), instead of working your butt off to get your needs, to heal ones ‘soul’ and reclaim what is your rightful inheritance – your own power.

The anguish of watching that fear become a poison which makes constructive communication impossible and is used to justify atrocious actions, to goad oneself into self destructive maelstrom and destroy the positive, in an out come that inevitably is loose loose for all parties even the ‘Winner’.

The heart break of knowing what they have being through, to hurt so deeply.

To realise, in that moment you experience your self being hoisted on the end of poison coated rusty barbed spear twisted and then turned, that no matter the level of anger thrown at you it is nothing to the levels of self hurt they feel themselves. In that moment you just want hug them and suck the poison out and then have to face the grief of knowing their is no point. For in their self loathing it will just be rejected out of self spite and self hate, as bitter as the old roots of wormwood.

And I have being guilty of that myself, in that moment of the spear being turned, of falling for the trap and reacting in kind out of my own hurt.

And that moment of emotional, all too very human, self gratification has left be bitterly regretting my lack of restraint discipline and logical detachment.

Not because of what I have lost but how in doing so I just denied myself the gift of giving.

I have found myself in the most frustrating of torturous multi-level of hells being denied the chance to fight for those who I would call my “captain my captain”. Those who if they asked I would follow to the end of the universe such is my belief in them. Exiled and denied to serve even as the lowest of rankings on the outer city walls, those who I love the deepest at both the micro and at the macro level.

Yet my words allow me to channel that grief in to a healing tonic and re-find my own power.

The power of one. In which if nothing else I can forge the most powerful of swords to create magic vorpal blades ,which I call kindness, compassion, tolerance, acceptance and lastly, the smallest but most potent of them all, a tiny but super potent sting, which I keep for my self which I simply call my ‘truth’.

LIVE LONG & PROSPER

LIVE LONG & PROSPER

I would love for those whom I sword smith to take up those blades in the spirit they were conjured.

Yet that is not my call to make nor my journey and all I can do is present those blades on this page bow solemnly and with greatest gratitude and sincerity say;

‘Thank you if I could do more for you I would.

It seems unfair you have given me so much and I would reward you every day if I could. And if I have any greed, in my devotion, it is to get the joy of seeing the smile on your face and to know I brought good into your life. Yet I am denied this selfish pleasure – the toughest and most valuable lesson one I am still struggling to learn in this life time – So I leave you these humble words made but from the power of my ‘soul’. You will not let me fight for you but I will make no attempt to destroy you, or harm your house and all that live in it, no matter what blows you or your proxys land on me. For you are me and I am you and what is to be gained from fear and anger but to destroy oneself. This is not logical my captain my captain’.

This world is us and we are one.

Every time we deny that truth we deny ourselves and in doing so we take not just from this world but we alone rob ourselves of experiencing the power of one – our true power. That which makes us most human.

Your loving and loyal friend always in all weather seasons and terrain.

Live Long and Prosper or as that other great prophet once said nanu nanu shazbot.

For Pixie, Flower, Sam V, the Little Girl in the Red Coat and to all those who have taught and inspired me – Thank You – thank you for the music you introduce me to, thank you to the books you lent me, thank you for the experiences we shared, thank you for the lesson you taught me (good painful enduring), but most of all thank you for being you.

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Because were all just common people just trying to work out the final frontier the space within.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ainyK6fXku0

 

THE POWER OF ONE – LIVE LONG & PROSPER

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