Elections in the US (no doubt other places) are such a farce, their only value is in the entertainment factor.
The same party won this time which won last time: Bigger Government Corporate Owned War Party. This party has two different uniforms, but it’s the same team. They do their best to persuade us there is some real difference, but it’s all about the money and the power. No one truly committed to truth and humanity cares much about money, and certainly wants no power over others. Merely entering your name on the ballot is a moral disqualification for any position.
As I noted elsewhere, the only thing in this world which will go out of it is people — some aspect of human consciousness will outlast this plane of existence. For Christians the proper phrase is “life after death.” What it means is the only thing in this world worth any real time and effort is people. All the rest is mere instrumentality. The madness of our world stands that on its head, expending people for something else. All that folderol about accomplishments and greatness is at best a very bad misreading of human need. You cannot approach any part of high achievement without senseless bloodshed, because it invariably means stepping on someone who needs something different.
This plane of existence is sorely broken. I maintain it cannot be fixed. Our only hope is riding out the storm and finding another plane of existence. Sanity is not getting entangled here, but reaching steadily for what comes after. In the process, you cannot avoid letting others see some of the affects of that other-worldly focus. How they respond is their own concern, but we cannot let anything deter us. We may see tactical and strategic need for changing our tack, but the goal does not move.
Sanity means full awareness of time, but not being ruled by it. That is, not allowing ourselves to be led into an artificial frame of reference with time as a commodity, something to be measured precisely and spent only reluctantly. Time will pass regardless of your struggle to meter and control its flow. And the one thing you cannot ever guarantee is that there will even be a next moment. The ancients did not schedule things; they viewed time as a matter of things coming to ripeness. What you expected didn’t always happen, but you seized what was before you until it ran its course. There was no pretense of steering events, but responding appropriately in the context. Our Western perception of time is utterly insane, a massive mythology.
The goal beyond is not accomplishing something. We do not become by our accomplishments. It is not a matter of being, for the simple reason none of can possibly know the essence of anything, only manifestations. The concept of essence is, at best, symbolic. Nor is it really so much a matter of doing, since we inevitably fail at various points. No, it’s a matter of desire. All we can claim as our own is our commitments. Even that is a matter of drilling down through the insanity of this world’s frame of reference, and seeing what our commitments demand of us regardless of fashion, reason and any external human wisdom. Something in the very nature of the cosmos calls us to something higher, something beyond, and it is this we need to seek within ourselves. There is a part of us which connects to that cosmic truth.
And you will see quickly nothing in our elections run in that direction. Lots of noise, and activity and sweat, and vast pools of resources — all wasted on fantasy. Even fantasy can serve a good purpose if it illustrates something which cannot be put in words, but this is empty fantasy, pointing only to what cannot ever be. Does anyone besides a few historians remember, say, Millard Fillmore? He worked so very hard and basically stumbled into the Presidency. The pinnacle of power? He’s all but forgotten. How long before the current crop of rich and powerful become mere footnotes? This election was of no importance at all; just another mile marker on the way to destruction. The big names will soon be less than footnotes, just as the big names in dead empires past.
