We are now so very attached to our State, still imagining ideals, so-called democracy. In my dream state sometimes still I fall in love. Sometimes still I mistake my dream other according to airbrushed machine love, but it is never the act which gets the dream going, it is always the upwelling of so-called love. I am distressed by youth and blond whiteness. What does this tell of my essential self?
Our state has now been hijacked by someone who will say what the Everyman wants to hear. He is white and apparently blond. He looks some part, but more angry than the Avatars we accepted once upon a time. These came across more benign. There is menace in the air, and it remains somewhat less than human. My essential self.
The state is meant to render up the best of us. Assiduous attempts to create a psychometric model for human behavior according to what we check out on screens renders up click bait without truth value. Now in place of the best of us, we render up lowest common denominator and call it leadership because our constitution says we must. And there is ever decreasing truth value to that which we click upward.
Believers in the Christ pray and take the Word before the fact, knowing that all men are sinners and to expect a good man to know the Word would be like expecting God to be Man, which happens only once in history. And then we're done.
And yet if they are black, we do not accept redemption as a possibility, no matter the grounds for their upbringing. Those others, those others. They still seem so much less than I do.
God is other to me, but no less real for that. There will be no more words, there will be simulated reality and it will render up the worst of us, redundantly and apparently, and this time for keeps. Done.
There is audacity in hope.
But radical hope is counter cultural and my cultural conditioning still gives me blond dreams and I would be done with these.
There is audacity in love.
Love is a cosmic value, no matter how many times we can improve on our physical approximations of universal and eternal. No matter how the maths evolve, they will not stand-in for some ideal world, perfectly formed and without love forevermore.
There is no universal constant but for love, fantasies of control recede, fantasies of domination overcome us so attached are we to universals but a reflection of our fallen selves.
Ideal was magnet to future as fantasy I know my future now as love which is never ideal and only real.
May we say Amen?
We shall reinvent the state and we shall prevail. There is good in them thar masses.