Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Take Gently Her Hope Away

It is rude to steal hope from a little girl. When a child builds her own convictions, they are frail and delicate. Like a teddy bear. If you come up and say something like: “you are the projection of your brain” or “our existence is the hallucination of a socio-cultural machinery connected to your nervous system”, you are precisely a cruel monster. You are stealing a teddy bear from a little girl. Shame on you!

Hope is important. But step by step, you have the coup d'etate of hope. Hope becomes a nightmare, the nightmare. Your little girl brain starts to project. With her teddy bear as lieutenant, he's launching himself in grandiose building ventures. He builds bridge to a place called future, the scaffolds his imagination with new development. Always for tomorrow, always towards the place that is not here.
It's good to escape the brutality of desperation. When your flesh is burning in torment, it's good to thrown your tortured body somewhere else, pouring some fresh illusion on the smoking wounds. That's good. Nonetheless, your place is here. Hope makes you dreaming away. I love dreaming. I love drinking. I love hoping. Yet it's not hope you need. It's presence. Your brain is here. You are here. Is it a hell? Come on! I don't believe that. You need bridges for nowhere. Is it really a hell???

Ok. A demon is pitchforking your guts? The body is a endless moan of pain? That's the easy. Your presence to yourself is the sublime illusion. Take away the mind from the pain and the pain will fade away. It must do it. It's a pure nonsense, that your consciousness disappear and only the pain stays.

No. The real problem is the big emptiness. Every man will accept forever pain, if it's really forever. Nothingness. This is hell. That your love, your memory, your meanings, your values, your body, your arm, your eye. Everything. Disappeared. Nothing. Not even crumbs. And hope is planting the idea, that with good bridges, bridges very soundly built, somehow, you can escape. Maybe only crumbs. Maybe only a ghost. But something! If only the Big Toe, could manage to climb on the Hopeful Bridges. Maybe later he could drag the rest. Maybe.
That's hell.

The hope that the Big Toe, somehow will rescue from emptiness. That's insurance. And it's cheating. Because they are rich and you are poor. Don't trust insurance companies. Don't rely on the Big Toe of Hope. Hell is there. With an actuarian. It's the teddy bear.

Now, you are a monster if you take away hope from a little girl. But when you are the little girl, with more than a tendency for drinking, a bunch of friends in your head and no more clean underwear, that's the time to say goodbye to the teddy bear.

I didn't mean suicide! Suicide is the Lack of Hope. Same family, same company. They work together, they reinforce the same habit. Come back. Here is the place. Presence is heaven. Realize that you are the emptiness. That you are the centre of this vortex. The socio-cultural machinery plugged in your brain is giving you the show. You are the show! And it's empty! When you rely on hope, you give someone, somewhere else, the joy of the show. No man! The show is here. Were you expecting MUCH more? Who told you? Jesus? Stop listening the teddy bear:it's an acturian. He wants your signature, but hope is blinding you for the small writings. Small writings are your jail. Somewhere I fill my place. Wrong. Here. Be present to yourself. Stop giving hope a chance. Tomorrow is not different. Tomorrow is here. Hope is desperation with a wig. Be decent, put away the wig. Breathe. Desolation all around? Maybe. Let's crack a joke on the ruins. It's healthy to play tricks to the crows and to hyenas. Loads of laughs. Breathe, again. Be centred, be yourself, be here.

Being here is the thing.  

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