The Fool on the Hill

We live in a world where everyday we must wrap our heads around promises that are make-believe, ideas fed since childhood unbeknownst to us as marketing ploys for endless devotion to capitalism. When you realize you’ve been had, living up to these pitches for becoming a pawn all along, it’s entirely appropriate that questions about actual opportunities arise. You cross-examine what is worth your time and effort onward. 

You can’t help but wonder:  Have you spent too much effort on that which is entirely fictional? Do you even really want what you think you want? Are you even who you think you are at all? And in what ways have you been programmed to socialize, love, work, think, consume, exist?

When the schoolbooks no longer bind, we’re left to our own resources, treehouses of life skill libraries, re-learning it all. We become a mess when our boots step onto the cobblestones and the paupers and princes throw dice in the name of competition and greed. Their handsome profiles charm, their graces haughty with whiskey and reeling words, and sometimes their games make you feel their aims are of value to achieve. And yet they are just playing games for a world that’s not worth it. Where in Hades’ name is the courage to peel one’s face back, skin to skull, and let crimson blood drip out all over this stylishly complimented rotting facade?

Now we dream of Liberation. We are not standing in line to mold ourselves into something we are not. We try to relish in community and love despite the iron-clad complexes of corporations before us. We try to be open despite the empathic pangs that weigh heavy when we truly take in the damages oppressive structures have caused, despite that to believe in the wholesome, to heartily express, you often become the butt end of the joke. Would they laugh or call it bravery, or if not bravery, bravado, and if not bravado, would they choose cruelty? Because in truth, this world is cruel and sometimes it feels the only way to quiet such cruelty is to self-medicate, self-deprecate, and choose ignorance or distraction or delusion. 

It’s often the safe choice to say your dreams and your values are not important. When you refuse to fit in and also refuse to wear a heart bloody-pulpified on one’s sleeve, you become a bottle of emotions. And it gets lonely. On brittle days, when switchblades seem most divine, you attempt to stop waiting for the always scoffing or the entirely unresponsive to suddenly lift their busy and important heads and start speaking in a rhythm striking an uncanny similarity to your own brain waves. Lonesomeness, on the other hand, is a sexuality you grow into and possibly then forever stay in. But to admit it and mean it, whatever it is that you are and feel beneath the layers of anger and fear, to just SAY IT, is its own kind of Liberation. 

This Aries New Moon might be a time to come to terms with what is and what could be, with a dash of how to live authentically AND ethically. To face the facts and know maybe your mornings aren’t snuggled, and even if you may not cry or hate your situation, and aren’t particularly helpless, you’re definitely tired of trying to maintain the agenda of Old Guilds who believed in dominance and competition and perhaps want to damper everything by calling it “cringe”. The goo goo g’joob about “cringe” has gone completely cuckoo after all; it’s now applied to almost anyone making any honest effort. 

Sure, you can protect yourself by diminishing your desires and making yourself as small as possible. This is not a track to saying humility isn’t valuable. It’s not to say that some level of Hope isn’t delusional, too. And always good to keep in mind a bigger picture amongst a personal dirge. But it’s not very healthy to become a monster, a nay-sayer or a critic, now is it?

It takes a lion’s guts to even walk 1/2000th of this journey. Perhaps you’re not ready to reach out and say yes to anyone or anything, but you know it’s not right to watch one’s pithy life flushing down the drain. Things don’t change when you adopt hopelessness as a fate, like an abandoned kitten in an alleyway of the apocalypse. It would certainly make us meanies to leave such a defenseless creature in a creepy gutter like so. Freezing rain is not a home; best to build a shelter.

Is avoiding the fright of baring it all, without destruction, without proving an impression or tactless turmoil, worth being miserable after all? Ask for what you need, know what you truly want. Honesty is the best policy.