Rainbows, puppies, bleak realities.

May 25, 2011 § Leave a comment

I promised a post on education, and then I went silent for a good long time. Whenever I go silent, when too much is happening publicly and privately and I cannot both process and speak, when I am wordless because all individual bad happenings are actually systems and the systems are choking us because that is the plan, that is how they’re designed, I wonder how I’ll ever say the thing I need to say. All things I want to say really boil down to one thing, unsayable, and I am rendered and subject both to the systems that enmesh me and my own unsayable visions of a better world.

One of my earliest memories: I am three and struggling to narrate to Dad the story of the two girls and the dog and the rainbow. He told me stories, and I wanted to tell him mine.

Two girls, an adventure, a happy doggy.  It was glory. The girls were inside the rainbow and it was a happiness beyond measure. Narrative as experience: the rainbow which was a world, one much larger and warmer and safer and more joyful than ours.

In my memory, Dad writes down my words and they flatten into nothing like anything I envision. The dog is just a puppy. The girls are just girls. What is left unsaid is how all three of them are the most beautiful people (or puppies as the case may be) in this world just as everyone in the world is. Internally beautiful. Radiant in the core of the self. What the rainbow did was to make this manifest.

I am not naive – I understand that puppies cannot live in rainbows.

Actually I am naive because in my mind people are as beautiful as a puppy in a three-year-old’s rainbow. And this is true even as I despise the moral and social degenerates who live to take that last little bit of beautiful from those who already have next to nothing.

I hate the haterz ’cause they hate my rainbow.  Or puppy.  Or something.

This post is so far off-track it’s hard to believe there ever was a track. Or that drafts of it have been sitting around for weeks. And anyway, what about the bleak realities? The title of this post advertised bleak realities.

Here goes: my working thesis is that people who cannot remember a little naive joy and wonder are the ones who shut it all down. Sometimes I am that person too. But the whole point of telling individual stories is to connect us to one-another, thus connecting us to our own humanity, thus making us want a better world for all because we are all human (or puppies).

I hope this works, because for so many my God is the world a horror-show. What kind of degenerate wants it that way?

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