Remember when I said ‘I smell victory‘? Others smelled it too. And they didn’t like that aroma. So, to prevent the serving of that just dessert, they had to turn up the heat to burn the cake before it could be taken from the pan. Unfortunately, the kitchen is now in flames. Along with the cake, and oh, by the way, the rest of the house too.
While fire can burn the cake, it can burn fingers too. Firemen and arsonists alike. We have to make sure we don’t join the arsonists, in the name of justice.
Have you ever had a bad trip? No, no, not that kind of trip. I’m talking about an Acid-trip. A bad one. A trip that started like all the others we took in the 60’s and 70’s, back in the Summer of Love. The Summer that turned into a bad Winter. Very bad, very quickly. We were left in the grip of our foolishness, wondering if this nightmare would ever end. Unfortunately, it ended badly for so many of us. Many friends succumbed to the insanity unleashed in our minds by the foreign element we had willingly ingested.
The key to understanding this insanity was right there in front of us. In the very name of our poison. LSD. Lysergic Synthetic Diethylamide.
The key word here is ‘synthetic’. As in, made by man. And not by God. A substance that would supposedly enhance our perception of life. And by extension, make the life God gave us better than the one He gave us. But when the dream-state turned into a nightmare, as it too often did, we had no anchor in reality. We were adrift on the stormy sea of altered perception that had no connection to reality. Many bad decisions were made while in the grip of our self-dosed insanity.
It was during these times of temporary insanity that I developed my means of survival. I should have focused on God, but my mind was too numbed and disturbed to contemplate such a vast yet simple idea. So I fell into my foxhole and repeated the mantra that saved me several (and too many) times. “Eight hours”, I would chant. Again and again, “Eight hours”. For I knew, in those few moments that I could focus, that there would be a physical end to this dosage of terror, if only I could last those eight hours.
Time moved like molasses in January, too. Excruciating slowness. Accompanied by a screaming desire to do something, anything, to end the madness. A synthetic, man-made madness. Perceptions, half of them false, raced through my mind. That’s the trouble with Acid. It speeds up your mind but slows down your clock, so that you can think of a million things in a 3-second span. And half of those thoughts were bad. Or at least despondent. Therein lay the danger. The danger of self-destruction. That is where we are at today.
We have to decide if we can outlast this madness. Can we outlast the physical dosage? The alternative is self-destruction. What is the mantra that can deliver us?
Let me tell you a little story. I was at the monastery, minding my own business, when I heard this Jewish woman (and her Methodist sidekick, same thing) yammering at the Prior, saying that Catholics were self-described cannibals. After all, they professed to eat the body and blood of another human, named Jesus. I was laughing to myself as I observed the Monk’s discomfort. No, he wasn’t at a loss for words, but she would have none of it. I could tell he (as any real man would) wanted to smack her, but marveled at his charitable restraint. Then the tables turned. The Prior said to her ‘Ianto will help you’, and he walked away.
I was thunderstruck at his brilliance! The moment of wonder lasted but an Acid-instant, and she turned on me with a vengeance. As she lit into me, I turned to her and said cannibals eat dead men, Christians eat a live One. This went entirely over her head, and she continued her attack. I finally interjected, ‘Look Toots, there’s only two religions. Either you eat The God, or the gods eat you’. She stopped cold, and turned and walked away.
What am I saying? Simple, brother. You need the right mantra for this Trip. One that can give you the focus, fragmentary as it is in these times of rapid-fire insanity, that allows you to recall that all of this man-made insanity can and will have an end. No, I am not speaking of the End Times. I’m speaking about now, which (I believe) is at least a hundred years from the end. There is time for hope. And therefore, time for a victory.
Here’s the drill, Private. The American version of Mao’s Chi-Coms are running wild, but only in Sector R (all you FireSign Theatre fans who will understand this allusion). Sector R is colored blue, if you haven’t noticed. If you’re trapped in the Blue Sector, there’s only one answer when they demand you kneel before their Black Flag. You have to tell them that only kneel before God. And God created all men. There’s only one race, the Human Race. And we’re all equally created before Him. If I were to bow before someone simply based on the difference in skin color, I would be saying there’s more than one race. My belief says that’s not true. And the name of this belief is ‘Catholic’. We’re not allowed to be willingly stupid. That’s called sin.
Catholic? Yeah, sure! You’re Catholic, too. Sure you are. You’ve been baptized, right? Well then, you’re Catholic, idiot. Don’t take offense, brother, most Catholics are idiots, too. Relax. Sure, you may see yourself as a Little ‘c’ Catholic, but that’s okay. If you’ve been baptized, we’re brothers. And Purgatory will cleanse us both (get ready, idiots). Me too. I’m an idiot as well. I’ve got plenty of my own baggage.
So, when the Blue Crew demands your allegiance, just point out that as a Catholic (capitalized or not), you are forbidden to be stupid. As in ‘racist’. You see every man as fallen, just like yourself. In need of forgiveness. And in search of the one who can give it. To all of us. And then, invite them to ask forgiveness of their sins.
Forget defense. Turn the tables. Play offense. Do the smart thing when you’re ahead. Run out the clock. Even if you have to take a few penalties.
How do we do that? Simple, brother. Repeat the mantra. The mantra that can get us past this period of imminent self-danger. The danger of doing something, anything, to break the fear gripping our minds. The fear that doing nothing is worse than anything we could actively do in the face of this madness. This is the danger—thinking that anything is better than nothing. But when you’re in a dream state, especially a bad dream state, nothing is the safest thing there is.
So we must think about nothing except awakening beyond the dream. And then remembering, and reconnecting, with reality. That is what the mantra does. It constantly reminds us that there is something beyond this state, and that it is inevitably approaching. Second by second. Minute by excruciating minute. But its arrival is certain. All you have to do is keep chanting this till it arrives.
What is the mantra for today? ‘Eight months’. That’s all we gotta last for the trip to end. Looking at my watch/calendar, I see that we’re almost half-way through it. So, we only have a little over 4 months to go, till November 3rd. My son’s birthday. I take comfort in that.
As we repeat his mantra, what do we do to occupy our racing minds? What do we do to keep ourselves distracted from our manic thoughts? Simple, friend. Think about what life used to be like (and can be again). Think about a time when we were a Nation, and not the Empire. That’s what this whole struggle is about, you know. At least, in the material world. Which is the only world our enemies perceive. That being the case, they are compelled to act to the utmost, here and now, to achieve their end. Which is their mastery of us. Slavery for all. Our kneeling will only hasten their win.
We must not dwell on that. That only leads to despair. Which can only let us to intemperate action, for its own sake. Instead, as I said, think back to a time when normal meant peace. When was that? It was the time before we took the last step towards Empire. The time between the Spanish-American War, and The Great War. That was America’s golden age, in my mind. An age when we were at peace with everyone abroad, and here as well.
Yes, it was also a time of great transition, physically. The auto existed alongside the horse. The electric lines had not fully supplanted the wind-chargers. For the many, wells still watered us, wood still warmed us, gardens still fed us. But the growing cities could now exist alongside the farmland, fed by water pipes, gas lines and canned food. Both enriched the other. And we were one. Because the vast majority all believed in God. The same God. And we all knew His commandments.
So am I being a Pollyanna here? Yes, I am. Unashamedly so. I am optimistic in the most American way. America the nation, that is. Click on the link, and see America in its most innocent way. An innocence that said it’s better to be glad with what you have (no matter what the circumstances of your life) than to have everything and still be unhappy. An innocence that envied no one, and sought to help all. In this case, it was the plight of the orphans (led by Pollyanna) that united the town. A town that included all of those elements, rural and urban, that I mentioned above. A town that overcame the temptations of wealth and pride. And regained the unity they had lost.
Look at us when we were one, before we were the Empire. Look at all the things we were, and which we have lost. Ask yourself how we can regain them. And remember that you must save yourself first. Love your neighbor as yourself. How can you truly love yourself? By regaining your sanity. By outlasting the madness that grips us all. Only then can you re-connect with our past, a past beyond The Empire.
That means the first step in this process is to realize the nightmare can end. And it will. All we have to do is repeat the mantra. And believe that the dawn is coming.
No, I’m not saying that these most recent scenes of madness will end, of themselves. They may appear to wane, but be assured, that in these next four months, they will be followed by new horrors. Like any movie, bad or good, scenes dissolve and are followed by another. As those who recoil from the thought of an imminent victory (for us) realize, they too have only four more months. They will re-double their efforts. Efforts that are designed, in their growing desperation, to spark further outrage and goad us into an equally violent reaction.
That’s the only card they have left. You’d better believe they will play it. Again and again, until November. And we must have only one response, as we silently repeat the mantra. The response? Sit back and take it. Take it like a man. Like He did, 2,000 years ago. It won’t last forever, you know. But with Him, we will.
We’re not there yet. We’ve got a lot more beatings to go. Beatings we must remember when this bad Acid wanes. There’s the key to the future. We have to remember, and in the meantime keep from repeating our past mistakes. And finally, to show up for the real battle. As Mark Steyn so pithily put it, “the future belongs to those who show up”. That’s what we have to do. But not until we have our hands on the only earthly weapon we are allowed. Our votes.
So, there you are. Stay low, for now. Keep saying the mantra, and as your mind clears, add your prayers. Ever more, every day. And remember all the horrors of the past four months. And then, Citizen, remember to remember, in November.
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