On knowing ourselves (conscientious ranting)

Let's talk about fog. Or, as is one of the benefit of this medium, I'll talk, and you'll listen. Let us center our minds now, on the aspects of our identity that lie in obscuring shade. The funky smells we don't let ourselves detect, the irritating buzz we pretend to not hear. All metaphorically speaking, though. We are all soap cented clean, and we have long since forsaken silence. Herein lies the problem.

We nest, here, upon our tower of souls, where the foul things are supressed to a minimum, for comfortable denial. Denial of the harsh truth. We do not know ourselves. We are chaos. And outward the glistening facade is playing the rock, showing ease, showing wisdom. A shell, this facade is, a forcefield sealing the world off from the black holes that our unsearched souls really are. An our souls remain unsearched, because they are contained within this field, never being alowed to freely reflect themselves, because we see ourselves from the outside.

Any and all reflection is strictly policed. By religion. By dogma and tradition, and more recently fashion. Our consumer habits, and the way they are encouraged by even greater consumers is real confirmation. There is an easy, prefabricated answer on offer for every concievable question. It's almost as if we have given up on the goal of stilling our hunger, and settled for satiation. The modern meaning of the word identity has become the mix of brands you're wearing, the car you're driving and how you earned the money to buy it. We replace it as often as we can. Get the newest model. Why?

There is an easy answer why. Idle time. In idle moments we might come to think about the black hole that's pulling at us. About all the things that are bothering us. Irritations we live with, suppress and battle against. It is a battle no one can win, so we escape the field, and bury ourselves under dozens of fabricated needs that require satisfying. Then we tell ourselves that is why we're here. To live forever with stuffed bellies and hungry mouths. Satiation is the compromise.

One of many compromises, come to think of it. Another is the various agendas on the global political stage. We seem torn between two conflicting driving forces, needing the boost of both, but struggling with their inevitable conflict every day. The paradox is that without the harsh and unjust trade laws that send most of the profit our way, we would not be able to police the world and maintain the fragile peace that is near breaking many places across the globe. Our good deeds are funded by our bad deeds. Our good deeds are needed because of our bad deeds. So instead of peace we go for eternal truce, continously bargained for. But who can bargain with such leverage? So we meet again, said the hammer to the anvil...

Then there's the careful and onerous trivialization and disarming of the facts, that we all hide behind. It is conducted with great skill and care, this process, and the aim is to justify our conduct, our turning want to need so recklessly. Feeding the void, delaying the inevitable confrontation with the big black holes in the deepest cores of our personalities. In truth it is not a hole at all, and certainly not black. It's more like uncharted territory. Wisdom carried through the generations unheeded, and now, because of satiation, unsought...