We'll Rob Them Blind, M'Lord!

This is a first-thing-comes-to-mind writing exercise, something I enjoy so much that most of my writings are so. I hope it's as good as it is in your eyes as it is in my headspace, right now. Welcome, journeyer, and I recommend some classical music as you read this, since I'm listening to classical music as I write this.

It seems to me that most commands are the Thou shall nots rather than the Thou shalls, and the commanding voice that rings requires you to not only obey its demands, but also wholeheartedly believe these to be just and good. Commandments of don't touch, don't see, don't say, don't hear, and of general not doing inherently promise secret rewards and nirvanas for abstaining from touching seeing saying and general doing, especially so for those listeners who heed these commands with blind awe. Indeed, authority, whether real or imagined, needs the inaction of its followers more than their action. One obvious action this authority forbids is to think, and to think greedily. Of course, a ban on mind takes many bans on the body first, and this internalizing of rules and regulations is the result of many lashings and beatings, isolations and embargoes, and a trick and treat here and there to get to us, the moderns. I like to think that I have morals that I was born with, or at least the capacity for morality. I point to my feelings of guilt and call it my conscience, and I point to my feelings of pity and call it altruism. But when I think, something I am not allowed to do, unlike pointing and feeling, I remember a lifehood of petty crimes and unwarranted punishment. I realize that morality is another's will imposed on mine, and not something of my will. I grow tired of life's little power games, of winning and losing each other's favors, of clamoring for that very rarest of resources, attention. So I think instead, under surveillance. I think of dreaming butterflies and sakura and rosemary. I think thoughts and shelve them away, only to rediscover them in tomorrow's yesterdays. I am greedy when I think, because I want to think thoughts that are not mine, those that I am not privy to. I pretend and roleplay, and sing songs that are not mine. But I still can't call this freedom. And with so much food in the tray, who would ever want to fly away?  

The End

0 comments about this exercise Feed