Fallen From Grace…

What is Evil? In the Christian sense, it would most easily be defined as being without God. In Buddhism, it might be described by a dark karma. In Zen, it might be declared as having the taint of worldliness. But in the modern secular world we live in, the majority world in spite of Christian lip service, it is most closely associated with a lack of achievement. If nothing else, this defines one of the secular mortal sins. The attainment of wealth, power, or prestige are the graces of this new order (it is actually quite an ancient system, it just seems new as it rotates in and out of power and favor, dancing in, around, and sometimes amorally with morality based power systems). In this current paradigm, I have fallen from grace. I will never attain, and far from just sinning, I am in a static state of secular sin. I am, in essence, dead to the world, for it’s part.

There are many such as myself, if we are the vast minority. Cripples, of various sorts, that is what I am, of this I thusly write. There are few, however, with my capacity to think, my ability to see well that which is around me, the voice to speak of that which I think and see, and the means (financial support) such that I do not need to beg and live under a bridge, though that is becoming more difficult. Living under a bridge, or in my case, in a forest, is being brought on by an understanding that broken things are not welcome. Further, broken things which do not then bend to secular “truths” have become an abomination in current trends. If I am not strong enough to enact my will yet unwilling to bend, I will be attacked, in many ways, by what is left of society. Fortunately, I remain too strong to kill, outright, too cagey to be tricked or trapped, probably, and not really reachable by their other special case methods.

It would be nice to have a community. A community of the broken. Those who have been rag dolls in the storms of reality. A place for the beaten and torn, abused, misused, traumatized, and shamed. However, I could find that under the bridge. So, it really needs to be more. I guess I am looking for the other gothics. The artistic intelligent aware moral (if confused about morality, a tiny bit) individuals who have become what we are, not as a form of social disregard or counter-culture boutique, but because it is simply who we are. I do not think most of us just decided to go medieval retro, most of us were sensitive individuals who were given no space for that. I have known war and sex since before I was in school, yet this was not my nature, not my inner nature. The memory of having sex with a particular girl when I was six while thinking about infinity pops up in my mind, once in a while. Probably because the thing is so off. My flesh fit well in a brutal carnal world, a world I learned accidentally to transcend. It is coming back together, now. I no longer truly transcend, blind to the beast I inhabit and it’s tedious and potentially psychically torturous-to-me “wet works” de jour. Now it is more like a floaty thing. I am aware, but, mostly, inured and passive. I trust it to do it’s thing rightly and morally, it trusts me to not interfere and to be able to cope (finally, I’m am back at my own “big people’s table”), and life has become easier. Still, having friends who have some comprehension would be a kindness. Having friends who understand just a smidgen my way because of the road they have traveled. People I would not have to fear saying what I what I believe because of their shock or having something be so far out of their range they cannot go there, yet people who would not be against saying something I see or believe is indeed wrong, and discussing, perhaps agreeing to table unresolved, and yet speak again on the topic or others. People who, like me, are really looking at tearing down the lies (our own, the worlds, and the secrets that bind them), finding the real truths, and looking at things in a sophisticated yet childlike manner. A place to start living that gentler life I was by nature designed toward, with the understanding that that nature was terribly interrupted. Yes, there are the brutish hedonists, the occult lost, and the under-the-bridge crowd, but is there not a moral or moral seeking community of the lost? Can there not be one of these? Or, in absolute truth, have I completely fallen from the graces of a completely fallen world?

Hmmm, Doom’s Club for the Secular Damned? Doom’s Upper-Crust Drop-Outs? Doom’s Doomed Forever, and Damned (Mad About It)? Hey, I am not a poet! Nor a writer. I just play one on the internet.