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Angry questions? I... sensed that. From one in particular. At least. Though there, too, was a collective sighing lament from a number. I do hear you, feel your pain, but you know this is not the house that Jack built. Jack and Jill went up the hill and all hell broke out, all over the place. Eve started it. I'll help finish it. Won't be any prettier stitching things up than it was ripping them open. Thus... us.
Some used my own words. I love those who love to deign the words I used. From the tongues of others, prose, or poem. Even if just to question. I have some hope to understand these, even if used to doubt, question, or even to strike me down. As a soldier understands a spear, sword, shield, or bow, but not necessarily a bitten and bow... not... necessarily.
Which was asking, who was saying? Who am I? Nobody, Nemo, but there is a catch. To be, and to be nobody, together, requires that one be a bit of everybody. Not my rules. The path to knowing me, if that is an actual desire, is to becoming familiar with the only one you might ever truly possibly fully know, if what I suggest is true.
A question, the question, a doubt... an unintended consequence to the first question, of it, an understanding, accusation? You should know by now? I cannot save this one, if there is hope. But, in any case I will know his way.
While there is some truth, it isn't... that full of a truth. A lesser cousin, brother should He say it. Fumbling servant at the least. But with... work and an army at my call? A sword I must bear? Ruin to rein, loose?
Lesser, but not without... I have diminished, gone West, but finished? Perhaps, in time, for now. Or not. You will not know the hour, but you will choose it. Stories, no more? Worry not, younglings. Go with faith and grace and no worries, or my nature and the bother that might disgrace you from it will be the absolute least of the horrors you will know, and become, even should you be absolutely correct about me... if I wouldn't be telling you these things if so. Go with God. Or die in abject spiritual poverty. Look to Him, and yourself so as to be With Him. These droids are not the ones...
Do you think I cannot see what you imagine when what you see is viewed through the lens of these pages? Would that it were otherwise, often. Innit. I only offer to see. You choose to look, or not. Understand? It seems, often, not. Some, sometimes. I hope. Not the point.
My belief is that things were pretty dull until Jack and Jill went up that hill. Why else pay so much attention to the event (or, better yet, whose idea was it to dig a well way up on top of the hill)?
ReplyDeleteThere are historical (and far more violent) precedents for this. In the late 1690s colonial Massachusetts began hanging and torturing people left and right simply on the odd chance they might be witches. In the late 1700s the French Revolution experienced its nadir when everyone and anyone (and their little dog Toto too) could (and were) sent to the guillotine on the basis of the least little provocation.
What I'm implying here is that, given collective boredom, a population will result to anything to liven their days up.
So the lesson of Jack and Jill, to me at least, is to practice discretion as there's always the chance of observation. This is also expressed in the classic line: "Don't make love by the garden gate . . . Love is blind but the neighbors ain't".
(Not only are the neighbors not blind, but nowadays they have smart phones.)
Hmm... Not sure I agree. Adam and Eve, in my certainty, were doing that jig long before J&J, only without the drama of sin. It was only when the want of the ride without the price, and pressures of time and exhaustion and a disordered will, did sex become... wrong. Potentially wrong.
ReplyDeleteThough, perhaps, in the end... or beginning of the end... the consumption of the forbidden fruit... some think that was sex, I disagree, or God wouldn't have bothered telling Eve of birth pain, for she would not have known otherwise... was about boredom as much as curiosity. Like father like son, and mother and daughter.
You know, in sorting Himself, God went through all of this, but without the grace of flesh as borders, time, or the other gifts He gave us. Even death, in our sinful nature, is a massive gift. Yeah, He knew. Now, through Christ, He knows even from our tangle of flesh. And? And He is well pleased, thus Jesus.