The last of the human freedoms: to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not you become the plaything to circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity.
Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Ultimate Meaning
Recently, I felt weighted down by noticing how quickly the world around me is departing further and further away from Truth. In all ways: so many are sick, bodies hanging on a thin thread, yet blind and numbed out. So many are stuck and struggling yet refuse to get out of the prison they built around them. It reminds me of those at Auschwitz that, on the day of their release, did not want to leave the camp, could not. Choosing to remain seemed easier. Helplessness. Hopelessness. I am weighed down by seeing how those with some good in their hearts are so easily pulled towards evil agendas in the name of Good and Right. A world becoming anaesthetised to truth, medicated up to its neck and too deeply asleep.
* * *
The moment you decide to live a life of Truth, the life you have built around you begins to deconstruct. Numb lovemaking, stale relationships, meaningless jobs that serve a subtle disguised evil, the empty laughter with friends, those to whom you are disposable and easily replaced if needed – these all seemingly fall apart.
You’re never still: silence is uncomfortable. Silence will bring up the longing of your heart up inside your small ears and you refuse to hear, you cannot, you choose numbness and distraction instead. It’s easier in a world of pain to feel nothing at all.
The moment you bring a deep soulful honesty to Every Single Particle of your inner and outer life, Every Thing will fall apart – only to make space, instead, for building a life of meaning.
They have poisoned ideas of holiness and prayers, poisoned the mystical and tainted the divine. Those with darkness in their hearts masquerade as saints, healers with broken hands, witches worshipping desire and denying any gods.
Despite their frivolous attempts, they can never poison what is sacred. They will die with their endless greed for power, starved and empty.
To them, We are insane for believe any different.
They may be many, and us few.
God always wins.
***
I named you many times
differently.
Dark and holy thing of great proportions.
I’m holding your absence
in this world’s heart – almost
no one looks for you anymore. A sad affair.
You move me and
in daily prayer I find you again.
Floating on shallow water, they are
frightened of the depths you bring.
***
The title is inspired by the amazing and necessary lines from a Dylan Thomas poem:
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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