The Micro-macro Cosmic Rap Flow

Posted: October 18, 2011 in D-Wolf's Daily, Sklang!

Manifest Judo as an instance of the micro-macro cosmic rap flow – accept the highly plausible notion that more will happen tomorrow than in entire eons. People thinking about people, living around people, engaging with sophisticated technology and unsophisticated ideas; smothering a relatively large and relatively round Earth with their confused intentions. Accept that from the Ocean of Humanity we seldom land upon a beach, a coast or seaside bluff and yet we are everywhere a tide – lonely froth bubbling upon the sand.

More will happen tomorrow than geological eons because emotions somehow carry weight. Despite ongoing massacres and accidental genocides we still live on a Planet of Large-ish Beasts. Beasts that cry and howl as they throw themselves together and apart part together and in two parts of a whole double or halve their weight: breaking or balancing the scales. For thousands of Megaannums Earth bled lava, fracturing and forming itself as it tumbled about the stars. Incredibly massive change occuring incredibly slowly has become the once-a-month relfection within the nano second information delivery and relay ordiance system known as consciousness. More will happen tomorrow than in eons because we are the animals, not the vegetables or the minerals.

Accept that we are the billion monkeys with a billion typewriters but we got Shakespeare when the world’s population was about half that (plus no typewriter, or even a ballpoint). We look backward into the depths of the Past: “Where all may bathe but none may drown, wallow as they might”. We are the billion historians with a billion wikis, a billion books and a billion gluttonous folders of illustrated, photographic, electronic evidence. Come the future and all is regurgitated into a shallow sea we know not where. Its probable evaporation is ignored as all eyes turn toward the awesome void of uncut time – the barest fraction of a glance is enough – then terrified, scramble back into the cave.  We can escape reality a billion different ways but what headline reads: “Person Seized and Arrested by Reality”? We are the billion prophets but too often the first thing to enter the future is a closed fist. At that moment we are the billion fists, punching our way out of one egg only to bunch our way back into another. Accept that smashed eggs make poor shelters.

Accept that more will happen tomorrow than in eons because in this garden we wear the most extravagant and cleverly constructed fig leaves over our genitals. The ongoing celebration of Lust’s crushing weight upon the consciousness continues. The time has come to buy someone who happens to be close a bicycle.   We are the billion wheels.


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