Awakening this morning to the blare of popular music interspersed with the blare of humans mouthing popular sentiments - unthought out, unconsidered, unconscious offerings from the semi-somnolent - I feel the old resentment rising in me that I am, as ever, surrounded by the Marching Morons of humanity.
At work, on the road, listening to the radio - all I see and hear, with very rare exception,is the tromp-tromp-tromp of those mechanical feet as they trudge their way through this incarnation, never wondering, never caring. Never knowing who they really are.
Feeling as sorry for myself as I have since I was a child, much in the vein of the protagonist in Heinlein's They, who sees through the veil for an instant, and whose life is wrecked forever after as a consequence.
Ah, but I'm not all that alone, after all.
Oddly, the persons who seem to be the most awake, the most fully conscious are those I only know through the good services of the internet.
Braxie is one,Bruce Duensing another. Hecate. Kay. Michael. Anne. Pax Thorn. Mary. You Know Who You Are.
I'm not particularly angry or depressed -in fact, I feel on the verge of laughter most of the time this morning. I found Bruce's words to be as close as they come to articulation of this Intangible Materiality we play our Selves out against:
This experiment always costs us dearly, unless we have nothing to lose but that is more a desire in of itself rather than a cogent reality poised against perhaps thousands of them
That is exactly the way it appears in my thoughts and my feelings - this experiment which we have undertaken willingly, however much it costs us.
And among the human beings, all of whom I Love deeply, I am not so much alone, as awake and shambling through the sleeping, dreaming dormitory of this incarnation, greeting a fellow insomniac as we pass among the rows and rows of the slumbering.