Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Ah, ramble on.
Define the hope that keeps those who see the world from the margins of the earth as it meets both darkness and the light. What keeps the heart's drum beating when it seems that the secrets the idle withhold fortunes from those who would work with all of their hearts for the common good?
It is sheer labor enough to push on, often into the blinding incandescence of a billion egos shoving back, singing the songs of themselves at a feverpitch. Dreams can come true, but they are more likely to flourish if they follow the grain of popular society and those who seek justification. Remember the Mahatma; he did more than only a very few for the rest of us, yet he still died thinking that he had failed in the greater part of his labors. His path was higher than most can ever hope to aspire to, even in fantasy. The aspirations of the great are the seeds that might become oaks centuries from today, and that is why the greatest often feel more lowly than they are perceived by others.
Remember the dreams of the Buddha, the hopes of Mohammad, the aspirations of Jesus, and the ideals of Lao-Tsu. These weren't always lauded, often were spat upon, found themselves exiled, or worse, given death as payment for their works.
Prophets aren't recognized as such by those who aren't in synch with their hearts. That's why they are cast out, seen as antisocial, uncooperative or at worst, unfit to co mingle with the rest of polite society. Not all prophets have found their views canonized in scripture or justified through later reflection. Most, I'll posit, simply died or were slowly killed by societal pressures, seeing themselves as misunderstood, or worse, as untouchable failures.
I have known a few of these, and more than a couple have already met their ends at the hands of misunderstanding or irreconcilable differences with society at large. They always fight hard against what they see as unjust or unwholesome behavior and treatment, and often try to show others the way to healing or change. They do great things, they exhibit strength and beauty through unconventional means, and leave the world a little better. They are most often seen by conventional or unfamiliar others as deserving of their pain or of punishment handed out by life and institutions, even when those institutions might have been seeded by people as unconventional or visionary as the persecuted soul being condemned.
Love is more than a pejorative, ethereal, or trite cliche. Love is the ideal sought after by idealists and seekers everywhere, it is the hope that keeps even the most jaded materialist seeking God or spiritual comfort at the end.
Hope is more than mere faith, it is the flame that is imagined as both warmth and the quenching waters of life. It is the promise that souls cling to, the birthright of all who claim to have felt a closeness to something unseen.
Hope is the light that touches the earth at the margins, illuminating the envelope that is our body, that which is, at this moment, our shared lives in this shared world.


Lost Coyote said...

...love is just a word... from The Matrix...

Ruahines said...

Kia ora Adam,
I wish I was sitting in a mountain hut, on a night such as tonight, cold and dark with the hut illuminated by a couple of candle stubs and the glow of the wood stove. I wish I was sitting there with you and the Coyote in silence contemplating your words.

Lost Coyote said...

Let's plan on that Robb, let's do it...

adam said...

You're possibly the only person who can make me think right positively about switching seasons to winter in order to enjoy your company and ideas. Seriously.