A Notion Of Ideas

A piece i am writing on the failings of society.

1.

It is said that Steven Hawking was in pursuit of one equation to explain everything, Taking a hyper critical view, in turn it would have to explain itself. The question is what would we see if we sought to explain life in one compacted moment; silence. Nothing. There has and will always be something before us and something after us. We are a moment in and of ourselves. The highs and lows of life, however varied cancel out and we are left with nothing but existence, we lose what makes us Human; experiences.

 

The idea of explaining everything in a moment must begin with explaining each individual moment. A moment cannot be explained with an equation, we see technicalities not beauty, we see precision not perfect imperfections. To explain a moment without losing the atmosphere of any event is to reflect on the moment itself. Its personal, one man couldn't begin to understand another's pain of a lost loved one, yet we lie to appease ourselves. "I understand how you feel." is an evil conjuration of a greedy mind. While the consoling man means well and may have some grasp of the general feelings of the other, it's an unbearable feeling of awkwardness and uncomfortably that prompts him to console. He will never know the minutia of their interactions, what they meant, who they are, the quirky yet beautiful idiosyncrasies between them. Until we all have met, talked and shared life together we will never grasp how to console, we will never be consoled.

When walking through a crowd, we do not stop to try to fathom the extensiveness of the lives around us. The network of experiences embedded in the minds of the unnoticed. As a race we attempt to convince ourselves we demonstrate positive actions for the sake of being good people. This is merely a display, a performance in attempt to get the desired response. 

Rarely has one in our society performed a selfless act and been fully satisfied without thanks or reward. There are a few like this yet just seen as another imperfection to those on their high horses of corporation who look down at the rest of us like we are some ant on their shoe of power, the grasp is so deep that even the metaphor is flawed. What makes your life more important than an ants, they work, they create. Just because you deem yourself as a being of higher importance than they does not make it so. Can you lift fifty times your body weight; obviously not. Which in the eye of the ant, who you were so willing to kill for pathetic reasons of self entitlement, may think you are rather weak.

This is the nature of humans, to be generally dark and evil with only appreciation for self. However there is always a light, a soul beautiful in its own right just like the rest of us but a soul that seems to have the ability to never require conformation or approval. These souls are like a shooting star, the moment we see them for what they are, they vanish just as fast; caught in the net of societal influence. Backing away from the grip only to trapped in the corner. This is the inevitable as we try to promote a message, we have to use the paths already laid out, contributing to the machine we tried so hard to not become. As with all of the world they too have their escapes; art, literature, music. 

Poetry is one of these releases yet itself is as flawed as the rest of the circle of society, it  is a self depreciating cycle, at least in the current phase of society we appear to be fixed to. The idea in a simplistic sense is beautiful, a collection of free flowing ideals and thoughts transcribed by minds capable of performing acts unheard of, the ability to convey through text; feeling. The current state of poetry has lost this beauty as is with all previously free ideas as society tightens the vice. This is no fault of the poet. As with the rest of us, there is a requirement for funds to do any said thing in this age. The issue is lost beauty, with little remedy foreseeable. A poet writing his best work may take years to produce something ground breaking, a poet working for a quick dime by writing slightly above par verses will quickly outrun the previous in monetary value, sacrificing the craft, the hours of practice, the learning, part of them. Yet we see them as more successful, we cannot blame them as they board the ship of society, it takes them where they want to go for a price; pride, experience, dignity. The list is extensive and itself doubles as another creation of those who wish to keep us in line; requirements.

Why is it we are required to fulfil anyone's expectations the minute we are born. We are funnelled like live stock into paths so well trodden we scarcely notice the less travelled. We are told this is right, this is wrong. You are good, you are bad. It all goes back to perspective. Why does the judge get to become the judge, who gave man power to waste another life and throw away the key. It's too black and white. Innocent, guilty, well what about circumstance? We could wager, that in a different moment the circumstance could change and the man so distraught by his life sentence for something he didn't do, would be free. Yet as he leaves the court, his isn't truly free. This isn't about write or wrong, black or white or who you know; this is about control. The man drives home in his car he hasn't paid off yet, having missed work for his court hearing he struggles to find any idea of how his kids will come to find a meal on the table at the end of the day. In anger he shouts out, distracted he rear ends another car. He is now in court again, was this his fault or just poor circumstance. 

This isn't about whether we would be better or worse off not deciding each others fate. For all we know it could be the end of the world, for all we know it could be the beginning of another one. A world where you choose what you do, your choice, freedom. In reality we don't want freedom, we are lazy and if we just pay a few bills, go to work for these self entitled slave masters we convince ourselves that wasting this life is a worthy price for a moment of happiness.

This brings to the first of many conundrums that roam the mind, am i better than him who understands this is the inevitable and takes his content and moves along, when i still refuse to join him, stubborn with a hope of paradise. We are not the first to be stubborn but doesn't that make us the same. A painful repetition of those who came before. 

2.

Music is the perfectly imperfect remedy for failed explanations of moments. One note, five notes, ten notes all can take us back in time to a place that matches how it makes us feel. We can laugh, we can cry. Music understands the feelings we as a people have drastically failed to put in to our primitive and ugly lexicon. Some could say by using music to relive the feeling of a past moment we are unable to duplicate it, on the contrary we are creating another moment of true beauty, another time to be reflected on in darker days. To put yourself back in a time of bliss is to have drive to experience that again. This drive, when rooted in a original moment of pure positivity can do nothing but produce positivity in the future. What the future brings is tainted with a positive tinge, not guaranteed; just lucky.

It has been said love i s the pursuit of a fool, we overlook the fact that this is a statement directed to us by society. Money is the root of the negativity, if we took a guess of which scenario would create more income for the cold leaders out of a happy couple without flaw for each other or a resentful pair so past love divorce is the only solution. This attitude of society to ignore the hundreds of happy celebrity couples yet to report and harass the ones which struggle, draining them of their ability to heal together. So surrounded are they buy naive foresight that they become merely actors acting out a pre-laid path.

For a couple to commit to each other they have to learn to love the idiosyncrasies of the other, for they become the aspects of the soulmate they come to treasure the most. The beauty is the uniqueness of that individual because deep down through all the social norms and conformity we all desire our perfect slice of paradise; to find love. Society can not conquer love and pray it never does for that would not be a world of the living, it would be sad existence.

Love is still, regardless of how hard the vice of society squeezes, the most beauty life can offer. Without the hardships of the journey we take with another we can not comprehend what the feeling will be when we look back on how far we have come. A partner not just in life but in experience because that's what makes us human.