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Monthly Archives: December 2011

Imagine watching a National Geographic type program where multitudes of Wildebeest are trekking across the savannah in their great annual migration. The high drama unfolds as predators stalk and attack the seemingly defenseless prey at key points along their perilous journey. We sit and watch with mouths agape as the life and death struggle unfolds before our eyes.

However, can we imagine that on this occasion something unexpected and strange occurs. Right in front of our eyes amidst the terrible life and death struggle the Wildebeest suddenly start turning on each other at the same time as the fierce predators are picking them off one by one? As the predators are ripping into the herd the Wildebeest masses start biting each other and tearing strips of flesh from each others bodies as they run frantically attempting to avoid being devoured by the predators themselves? Living hide is ripped off the living of their own kind. Blood sprays out like cheap Hollywood special effects as one Wildebeest with huge gaping jaws snarls and grips another Wildebeests flesh and with once herbivorous grinding molars now flays and devours the flesh of their own kind.

Maybe this might seem like a Stephen King novel or a little Freddy Kruger happening to you? However, to me this looks almost exactly like a regular day on my Facebook wall.

Strangely we, the multitudes, whilst suffering under the unrelenting pounding force of a gluttonous industrial predatory monster that herds us and sets us up for ambush and which is clearly hell-bent on extracting every micro particle of life, specifically in the shape and form of revenue are in the same movie.  Relentlessly they bombard us with more and more maliciously manipulated and strategically packaged, useless consumer items that never really better our lives or ever make us well but instead makes us sick and even kill us.  And now, we the hapless prey are confronted by our own fellow victims who tear at us with equal ferocity.  The prey has turned predator.

I am a musician and in my little circle of influence on the ‘social’ network I see ‘friends’ and colleagues, fellow sufferers and even the walking wounded turning on each other like ravenous predators.  Most of the time I’m quite overwhelmed by so many advertising their gigs, new CD’s, projects, products.

“Come support me”, “buy my CD”, “come to my show…”

Not only the musicians mind you.  All manner of product movers stalk (perhaps unwittingly) like predators trying to sell themselves, their products, anything… to anyone they can, anyone whose attention they can grab for a fleeting second…

They say from social research findings that the vast majority of children who have been sexually molested or physically or emotionally abused in some way end up being sexual molesters or abusive parents or adults themselves when they grow up.

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it would be nice

…but I can’t

 

the questions outweigh the answers

the answers steadily ask for more

 

to doubt

only increases faith

for doubt asks for more

and doesn’t pretend

 

to search is the only way to find

and to seek is the only way to obtain

 

as horizons stretch out further

frustration strains the eyes

fuel for the restless

energy for the mind

 

to explore is to learn

but wouldn’t it be nice

just to pretend

…but I can’t

And the wise teacher looked and saw all the oppression that was taking place.

He heard the cries and saw the tears of the oppressed.

He saw that they had no comforter.

 

And he saw that power was on the side of the oppressors.

 

And the wise teacher looked at the oppressors and he saw that they too had no comforter.

 

So he sat down and he asked, “Whom should we comfort first?”

to live above the noisy dust

the frantic rushing herd

a world of hype

and smoke and mirrors

where reality is absurd

 

where everyone is trying to sell

something, someone

especially themselves

 

making as much noise as possible

screaming for attention in the market place

bustling

bumping for centre stage

 

to get the attention

to get the deal

to turn the squeaking wheel

squeaking for oil

as we all run dry

 

we shout louder to believe in ourselves

because we don’t

so we make believe that we believe

we believe in belief

and believe we believe

that we have what we have not

that we have a place when we don’t

 

so we shout even louder

look at me!

look at me!!

 

for I cannot bear to see myself

as I really am

Happy Xmas?

 

Today is the day of reconciliation in my country

It’s a joke

Also on this same day the people cry, “Merry Xmas”

It’s a joke

 

We preach a materialist gospel

To the glory of ourselves

shameless neocolonialism

 

We live in captivity and celebrate liberty

Like the blind admiring the sunrise

 

Who are the real fools?

Those who say there is no God

Or those who say they worship a God

who is no God at all?

 

By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept
when we remembered Zion.
There on the poplars
we hung our harps,
for there our captors asked us for songs,
our tormentors demanded songs of joy;
they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

How can we sing the songs of the LORD
while in a foreign land?
If I forget you, Jerusalem,
may my right hand forget its skill.
May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth
if I do not remember you,
if I do not consider Jerusalem
my highest joy. …….

psalm 137:1-6

my country stumbles on

from one blunder to the next

deeper and deeper into darkness

everyone speaking, no one listening

falling, stumbling

I wonder what sound it will make when we hit the bottom?

or if we’ll even hear it

 

Watching the River Flow
Artist(Band):Bob Dylan

What’s the matter with me,
I don’t have much to say,
Daylight sneakin’ through the window
And I’m still in this all-night cafe.
Walkin’ to and fro beneath the moon
Out to where the trucks are rollin’ slow,
To sit down on this bank of sand
And watch the river flow.

Wish I was back in the city
Instead of this old bank of sand,
With the sun beating down over the chimney tops
And the one I love so close at hand.
If I had wings and I could fly,
I know where I would go.
But right now I’ll just sit here so contentedly
And watch the river flow.

People disagreeing on all just about everything, yeah,
Makes you stop and all wonder why.
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
Who just couldn’t help but cry.
Oh, this ol’ river keeps on rollin’, though,
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow,
And as long as it does I’ll just sit here
And watch the river flow.

People disagreeing everywhere you look,
Makes you wanna stop and read a book.
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
That was really shook.
But this ol’ river keeps on rollin’, though,
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow,
And as long as it does I’ll just sit here
And watch the river flow.

Watch the river flow,
Watchin’ the river flow,
Watchin’ the river flow,
But I’ll sit down on this bank of sand
And watch the river flow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6k3HdkNGEc&feature=fvst

 

Many can quite easily agree that when God met with Moses in the desert it was a huge occasion.  A pivotal point had been reached and in hind sight one can see that the plan required a very strategic turn at a very strategic time and a very strategic person was needed and engaged to run with it.

The ensuing events as recorded revealed a very detailed process and procedure which was handed down and followed for generations.

I can’t help thinking that if I were to hand down such a strategic communication to a very educated person (like Moses was) and ensure that the whole thing not be placed at risk of being misunderstood I would have been very much more specific and detailed right from the very beginning.

Yet God grabs Moses’ attention by burning a fire in a desert bush?

Why all the vague symbolism?

Why run the risk of using such a sensual attention grabbing device?

After this Moses spends great amounts of time alone up a mountain gathering data and eventually comes down and delivers a plan of exacting detail and inflexible adherence.

Quite a significant shift from the original symbolic encounter he first had when he saw the burning bush in the desert and heard the call of God to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.

Was that the plan all along?

Or maybe Moses just got a bit carried away and all the detail we inherited was something from his fertile imagination and his own psycho-pathology?

Who was the God of the burning bush?

Simply a process of thought – do symbols carry any symbolism in and of themselves?

And do signs cease to be when the destination is reached?

And what kind of folly breaks out when a sign becomes a destination?

“Sign’s and wonders”

Signs are symbols, pointers, directives towards and of another thing, of something else… they are not the thing itself…

Wonders are things that provoke inquisitive exploration .. they bring a sense of wonder, intrigue.

If something is ‘wonderful’ it doesn’t necessarily mean it is good, but that it makes one wonder, be amazed, challenged.

Wonders introduce mystery and mystery again makes us wonder

To seek wonder for the sake of its presence … is this not merely fanciful folly?

And is not the mystery and the momentum of the wonder then robbed of its inherent power?

The wonders of signs

The significance of wonder