Shouts From Down Under

Pixels of lies in the shape, and colour, of truth

What if I set up this blog entry by hitting enter a bunch of times until it extended the entry to a couple of pages, and then stated that I'd changed the text colour to white.
Thus, I've written the blog entry, it's here (I claim to everyone) and it's not my problem if your eyes and brain are not able to differentiate, unable to interpret white characters against a white background.

So the end result is that you can't really say if I made any blog entry, or not.

Well, this might be possible, but would it be honest? And even if I had made the entry, and written it in white text on white background, and the entry made sense, is it a legitimate entry?

My point is, unless it's readable, unless I've gone to efforts to extend this form of communication towards you, towards the reader, and unless you can read it, understand it, and can think about what I've expressed, unless these conditions are met, then I have written in vain.

Blogs. Are they about ourselves alone? Are we writing these entries so that we can read our own stuff, and just think about it ourselves, by ourselves?

After a fascinating conversation with a stranger in a cafe today, I thought on what he said, and his alternative view of life. This is something we should all feel strong enough to be able to do, without feeling threatened or that we will have our own views somehow compromised by taking in, or listening to another's.

He said something that harmonised in a sustained manner with my own ponderings of life, the universe, humans, the state of the world, and how we might change that status.

The state of the world, in case anyone doesn't get it yet, is not all that good. Perhaps it's not quite so bad as the media and some minority groups would lead us to believe.
But it's still not the best, that's for sure.

The thing he said was that we all lack communication. Effective communication. We (not everyone but a lot) sit in front of a box, in our houses that are boxes. This prevents communication on that level, with one another, and with our neighbors.
He said, then there are the worse ones. The boxes on wheels. People drive somewhere instead of walking. The same isolation from communication. People in boxes don't communicate with anyone except by shaking their fist in road rage. Some may take a huge risk, and be those quirky few who see freedom as non conformity, and actually SMILE at someone else in the traffic.

So, this is the view of the stranger I met in the cafe. He has a whole philosophy to go along with it all, of course, and an alternative lifestyle to match.
I personally have nothing against that. People like him are the ones who make discoveries with world changing results.

And I'm not that different to him. I think, like to think I do anyway, outside the square. I like to feel that I'm a non conformist. I like to think I'm not one of the blind masses that just plod along with everyone else, and don't like to risk friendships or status by disagreeing, or thinking, expressing, or living a different point of view.

This brings me to feeling like an imposter.

Amalie Cantor - We Got This! talks about the Imposter Syndrome, in her blog entry, "Invalid Entry"  when you feel as if you don't deserve any credit for your accomplishments in life, even when there is plenty of external evidence to the contrary.

Well, feeling like an imposter is one thing. But what about if we were, or are, a cheat? A Liar? I'm not talking about mistakes or mistaken views. These are not lies. And some lies are ignorant lies. We can even lie on purpose sometimes and not realise we were pressured, manipulated into lying.

Then when we realise fully what has occurred, it takes some guts so to speak, to own up to it, overcome pride and whatever else that is pathetic, and come clean. Admit to the lie, apologise and move on. Forgiveness may not happen, and that's just how it is.

People don't owe us forgiveness. The world doesn't owe us anything. (However, I personally believe it won't be a healthy place to be in the shoes of someone who doesn't forgive, when our lives are over)

Cheats. Those that act dishonestly or unfairly to gain an advantage.

How far do we take this? Would this apply to slightly rushing in order to beat someone to the empty checkout at the supermarket?

Is it driving a little fast to get through an orange traffic light?

Is it in serving up a meal and putting a superior portion on my own plate, and not on others?

Well, we could just get ridiculous with this. I think it's more simple than that.

I think we generally know for certain when it is that we've cheated about something to the extent where its WRONG.

Yes, I believe in WRONG and RIGHT. Some things we do may not seem wrong. Just unwise. However, I think there is something in every single human that knows the difference between what is acceptable on the surface, and what is wrong in a deeper sense.

Do we know deep inside when we have cheated at something? Yes, I think we do know. And the feeling that comes with it is a strange thing. It's a feeling that people don't understand and try to block out with whatever numbness they can find or invent, of whatever form is available.

This feeling after we've cheated, and done wrong, is self injury folks. We have injured our own self. By hurting another person, even in secret, and no one knows except us, and even we ourselves only just grasp it sometimes, but the hurt is there.

We have hurt someone else, and by doing so, have in turn hurt ourselves. That is what I believe very strongly.

Sometimes though, I will acknowledge, there is a feeling that wells up, whereby we would like to hurt another quickly, efficiently and probably violently.

That's when they tell us through a review that we are an imposter. Their 100% critical review shouts FRAUD. That, people, is when I feel that I could hurt someone, and so what about the consequences of self injury to humanity

But I know it's not that bad.

Consider though, with all this in mind, you know, caring for our own human brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, daughters and sons all over the globe, consider then how ridiculous and childish wars are, where human groups stand on opposing sides killing each other. Does anything justify this? Who gives the order to begin, the command to continue, and the instruction to cease?

Well, that's enough for today. I'll finish solving the world's problems in another blog some other day.


Sparky

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