Minds on a loop

“A lot of times when you go through a very traumatic situation and it's emotionally difficult to deal with you come back spiritually stronger. It changes you in a way.”

~Elvis Stojko

Mirages of devastated histories flooding open minds like the Bangladeshi horrors. The Homo sapiens brave (or rather mad) enough to knowingly entertain the reality behind the reporter’s echoing voice are few and far between. They do however exist in dingy corners and dark shadows; the only places suited to the vicious insanity twisting their brains.

james nachtwey

These people I so daringly mention are people who choose to be connected to the earth and her communities. These beings will be entrapped in the suffering of the poverty stricken to the point that even sleep without heart mutilating nightmares becomes a far off memory. These beings will be forever demented in a modern world. These beings will not know a life like you and I might.

If I were to deliberately explain this theory, I would tackle it with a simple yet effective metaphor. Every heart existing in our universe is one of two things; a thorn or a rose. I mean this in an emotional approach to dissecting one’s personality. I.E: A thorn would be a person with a rough exterior and a rose would oppose that in being openly gentler. The unfortunate souls trapped in cages of putrid images would be neither one nor the other but both. They feel the true possibilities of life and portray that by the beauty of the rose and yet they would be harsh in reference to the flashes in their heads.

I am not for one second encouraging people to throw their happiness to the wind and torment themselves like the poor trapped souls. I am merely questioning how people can just shut out truth and create a perfect bubble for themselves. How can the rich men in ties strut past tramps without a trace of sorrow? Let’s picture an American housewife tucking her angelic offspring in at night and put her next to a retired Red Cross nurse (who shoots herself with tranquilisers to numb her ruptured mind). To be frank, it’s almost as if the only open eyes belong to the blind.

What has brought me to this spluttering rage of opinion was in reality a really small realisation. Outside a private school I came across a skip holding a collection of twenty-odd footballs, fairly normal by average standards. Except of course that there was nothing wrong with the equipment, and it could have easily been sent to a bunch of kids who would appreciate them like the land does the sun.

This small event made me wonder why such methods of thinking haven’t become a part of the social curriculum, training young minds to think in a generous and compassionate way.

The above brings me front and centre back to those self-poisoning souls who would have relished a chance to live in they had been taught how to find a way to do their part. Education is key, this has been preached for centuries, so why have we not practiced the simple step by step to give our future the equilibrium they require to be the greatest they can possibly be for one another.