Notes From Gordon 250308: Tales of the Observer

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TRUE CONFESSIONS: Mea culpa!

Tales of the Observer

Dear Ones,

I sense that some of you may have been discomfited by my latest series on the recurring—and looming once again—obliteration of civilization.

Perhaps I have been uncivilized in thinking that this was purely an educational exercise.

If I have upset you, I apologize. And I understand. It’s just that I’ve been an Observer for so long that I find myself inured to the follies of mankind.

This is not to say that I am indifferent to the sufferings of my fellow man, both real and imagined.

It’s simply that, when you stand back far enough to take it all in, you come to realize that everything does happen for a purpose—which purpose is to evolve, both individually and collectively, to a higher state of conscious such that the suffering of both the individual and the collective as a whole can be mollified and at best, eliminated.

I once read of a deep sea flounder that begins its life swimming horizontally, with both eyes located on top of its head. As it matures, one eye socket migrates to the other side of its head and it eventually ends up swimming vertically like a “normal” fish.

During this transition period it remains vulnerable to predators since it doesn’t know whether to swim sideways, up-and-down, or maybe just hide?

This was me as a teenager. Troubled to the max by everything around me and unable to make sense of it.

Everyone I knew, including the members of my own family, seemed fine with it all as they went about the usual daily tasks of exchanging labor for something called money; of wasting precious hours of their lives in vacuous amusement in front of the TV; of attending church each Sunday and apparently learning little about true love and compassion as evidenced by their dealings with each other during the rest of the week.

I eventually came to the tortuous realization that I was living on the other side of some kind of invisible divider that separated me from most of society.

I do not mean to say this in judgment, or to imply that I hold myself as better than or above anyone else.

Simply that I was somehow psychologically—one might even say, existentially—removed from the swirling, anxiety-filled maelstrom of politics, economics, religion, etc., that constitutes what we call civilization.

By the time I reached my 40s I found myself questioning literally everything.

Why had I gotten married? No piece of paper issued by the state can keep two souls together who do not wish to be together. It’s nothing more than a social contract dealing with the disposition of property, post-union.

Why did I have a drivers license? Didn’t the roads belong to the public? How was I supposed to get to a meeting where I could exercise my constitutionally protected First Amendment right of assembly in redress of grievance if I needed the state’s permission to travel there?

Why was I using these green coupons called “dollars” when their sole purpose is to enslave society in a Ponzi scheme of usury and debt?

As for politics, was I really a conservative? Why? Weren’t conservatives just the go-slower flavor of socialism?

As for voting, why would I choose one presidential candidate over another when they were just two hand-picked peas under the cups of the same political shell game?

Was I really a Christian? Would Christ himself have identified as a Christian? Did Christ even exist prior to the last Ice Age? Very possibly, but surely not by that same name or human manifestation.

Was I really a taxpayer? Why? My research informs me that Americans have never owed a dime of tax on domestic sources of income. So what had I been paying all these years? Tribute?

As for being an American… really? Why? Because I happened to be born on a continent called America that has been in the continuous control of an ever changing complement of thugs and thieves since its founding?

Or maybe I was none of these things.

Maybe I was just a conscious being who resides on a small, blue, mostly water world that was birthed billions of years ago by a rather small central star when it burped and blew all of the planets out into the same horizontal plane.

Maybe my sole purpose in life is to ignore all of the angst and confusion of what we call modern culture and just do what I can to help the other beings who live on this planet with me.

Maybe if enough of us helped each other, we could make this planet a much better place.

Psssst…. those of you who are planning to bequeath most of your net worth to various charities, how about leaving a good chunk of it to the homeless instead? They could sure use a helping hand.

Maybe next time around, after the coming reset of civilization when the sun burps again, we could advance enough as a species to leave this planet altogether and travel “out there” to visit our neighbors.

We might even get to meet God—whom I have no doubt has a tremendous sense of humor—and get some real answers.

Like the answer to the ultimate question which, as we learn in The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, is apparently 42.