SIGNIFICANCE

PERSONAL SIGNIFICANCE

 We all want our lives to count for something. We would love to have personal PERSONAL SIGNIFICANCE. The alternative is not encouraging. Personal Anonymity, or to be personally insignificant. It sounds like a curse and who wants to live a cursed life?

My scandal of the particular, as my mystic friend calls it, are words. Particular words. They were labelled by the Press and the State as ‘toxic’ words from a toxic poet.

Words matter, but actions matter more. There is no sense in thinking of yourself as ‘Light’ if your words are not published. You can pose in the mirror of your ego as an activist, but that doesn’t make you ‘radical’. And if your activism is born out of reactionary violence, then there is no real substance to your life. Just an image seen through the distorting glass of your ego. You are, after all, still unconscious; you are sleepwalking through life.

In the change through violence model, there can be no reconciliation, only revenge and revenge never ends its cycle of human degradation. The injustice in society merely continues under a different flag or despot, or a cunningly phrased, catch-all national or religious motto. SOURCE: Paul O. Hasard

HUMAN DEGRADATION

Human degradation. Body parts strewn across a market square in Jerusalem. A heart still beating as it left the body, was then ripped apart by unforgiving shrapnel. We leave blood trails as broken humanity crawls away, in the hope of being rescued.

All of this in the name of justice, in the name of some hellish cause or other. We are attracted to violence for a quick resolution, but the cycle never ends; revenge is a dish, best served…never.

Violence is a sign of unbelief. The violence of the perpetrator never makes a Saint, it only reveals a demon-driven life. As a building cascades to the ground, the next impulse is war. Military might replaces the wisdom of reconciliation. When there is no reconciliation, all that is left is despair.

Why would you build a life on despair?

…and call it hope…

delusional thinking leads

to a world of haunted shadows. SOURCE: Paul O. Hasard

THE MIRROR OF THE EGO

The mirror of the ego is rooted in the mind and projected onto an illusional world, with ‘me’ at the centre.

The mirror of the soul is rooted in the heart and connects us to our True Self, through which we are connected to the world.

A true activist is not someone who follows a popular path for the sake of accolades, something that is ‘en vogue’. It certainly isn’t radical to follow the masses. What you are part of is a show, a theatre performance where you have barred, silenced, the critics and you allow only sycophants into that ‘theater en vogue’; people who are locked into the tragedy of self-importance.

 Writing, in those days, of my activism, is now a legacy that I left to Strix. To be considered toxic, a poet with toxicity was a badge of honour, that brought trials and tribulations with it. My radical stance wasn’t as a poseur, the affect of radicality without the heart-fruit.

RADIX

Radix. – the axe is taken to the root of the tree, no? My radical, toxic poetry, my axe, was taken to the root of Statism; the mistaken belief that the State holds the ultimate power over life and death; and in Strix’s day, the power over life, death and resurrection. Such were the mythic pretensions of the powermongers.

Statism is a delusionary force that captivates people in its thrall; by acting like it is exercising that power, people begin to believe it.

My belief in poetry is that the poet’s, that is the conscious poet’s work, is a matter of Divine dictation. Not in the human sense of dictating a letter to a secretary, but in being a channel, a person who will surrender their ego for a far greater cause.

Love.

The Cause

The cause

is the Truth,

the Truth that

Statism is

a lie, a fraud,

a grand delusion.

And the poet is here

to take their axe

(of words) to the

root of this

pernicious tree –

the Tree of Knowledge.

It is in this task

that we have SIGNIFICANCE.

The significance of

liberating others.

That is what Shula saw; love. But my pen couldn’t ‘draw’ her beauty; for her beauty was ineffable…the best kind, beyond the obvious and centred in the nuance of the mystic.

Lib-e-ra-me!

Jack Stanza