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The Garden of My Mind 3

Posted by Dr. D , 02 September 2012 · 228 views

A thumbnail moon leans against the darkness.  Crickets complain with constant chatter.  The elf owl repeats his eternal question from somewhere in the stand of eucalyptus trees.  It is night, the time I choose to write.  The valley his hushed beneath the canopy of night and it is time for thoughts to take form and feelings to demand to be heard.

Night is when humanity rests from all the damages it has done to itself.  The needless rush because clock hands turn.  Days governed by gadgets demanding obedience: walk, wait, stop, go, warning, stand behind the line, no parking.  Time cards, lunch hours, work breaks, pink slips . . . . each part of that demented arena of corporate lions and martyrs destined for obscurity.

Night is the lengthy recess from classes and study.  It is there that regimen is taught to the clamor of bells, assigned seats and roll calls; lunch hour, recess and homework.  It is the place where children are taught what others think they should know.  It is the place where the goal is for everyone to know the same thing, nothing more, nothing less.  With enough study a document can hang on the wall proving that a student met the norm, but does not prove he is educated.  Instead, he is prepared.  He will now conform well to walk, wait, stop, go, warning, stand behind the line, no parking.  Time cards, lunch hours, work breaks, pink slips . . . .  He has learned that if he conforms, everyone will like him, except himself.

Night is where reality walks in camouflage, laughing with the thought of tomorrow’s lunacy.  The woman sipping coffee in the house behind the weary lawn.  Pack lunches, wash dishes, do the laundry, iron, drive to school, buy groceries, cook . . . . There is no escape from the madness, not even in the refuge of your own home.

Who developed this all-consuming network of demands that constructs societies?  Did it give us more than it took?  Are we a better people because of it?  Do we depend on it more than it depends on us?  Could it all be simpler, more basic, providing for survival instead of supremacy?  Would we be happier without it?  Should the concept of shelter demand 30 years of life?  Should transportation be a necessity at $3.84 a gallon?  Should a profession be sold at $12,000 a semester?  The illusion of necessity consumes those who believe it.  The cost of conformity is simply that we sacrifice who we are.

Night is the only reprieve.  It returns humanity to the elements of life, sleep, breathe, dream.  They awake to an artificial reality where people die for green pieces of paper and where they are possessed by their possessions.

Night is a time of sanity but it is fleeting and ignored in the dark chamber of slumber.