Part-is-sin Poly-tics

Politics. It’s hidden right in the word, isn’t it? Poly – meaning many – and tics: bloodsucking parasites. Politics means Many Bloodsucking Parasites. Obscured in plain sight from the masses forever, we have been duped into thinking that politics are something altogether different: something worthy of our attention, our love, our life savings.

Many Bloodsucking Parasites.

Our political system has been coursing through our veins for so long, we aren’t even aware of our Patriotic Lyme Disease. We think the Bloodsucking Parasites will fix everything for us: better education, better jobs, more freedom. But folks, how can the platitude of Bloodsucking Parasites accomplish this feat? Is progress possible in the current design?

Surely our government needs an overhaul, but as long as the parties remain intact – an essential element of the parasitic life – we will never achieve what Our Country deserves: Freedom and Responsibility.

Right now the Parasites are ensuring that our freedoms are not impinged upon. They feed us toxic rhetoric, and suck out the marrows of our backbone. We believe in the parasitic scam. It is unpatriotic to deny the value of that which gets it’s life from our blood.

Many people would die for this country. The sad thing is, Our Country is currently killing us with poly-tics. Our entire Poly-tic-(all) system is based on polarization. We are taught to pick sides, but only those who choose a side ever lose. The problem isn’t ‘part-is-sin’. We are told the ‘part’ just needs to be changed – like the alternator in our car – to correct the impropriety of the other ‘party’. There is a line out the door just to pay for all that bunting.

For a time, we feel the good about change. Then the love affair wears off. I firmly believe if you are still happy with any President 2 years after taking office, you simply aren’t paying attention. Besides, discourse is the addicting part of Patriotic Lyme disease. To keep things moving, alliances must be formed: If you show your leanings, you show your ignorance. If you change your leanings, you show your pliability. Either way, the system is going to take advantage of you. It doesn’t matter which side you choose, you are a cog in the ‘divide and conquer’ governmental spin.

There is no room for those who aren’t passion-ate about their Poly-tics. The dis-ease is in your blood the moment you choose a side. The Poly-tic-all System doesn’t allow for partial participants. It thrives on venom. Polarity grows out of venom like weeds. The weeds feed on the soil which formerly fertilized the food we used to eat.

If you are pissed off, you have every right to be. So go ahead: pick a side, then get involved.

Our involvement creates a vital instrument for the system. Our tennis-elbow voting arms are subsequently used to shame anyone who prefers ‘Lifetime’ to lever-pulling. The registration of our political leanings are used to create pride in being part of Our Great American Heritage: Divide and conquer. Ironically, the wheels of Our Government only turn when citizens remain polarized.

This is, after all, a noble cause. It is The American Way.

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Compulsion Rules:

1.) It has to happen.

2.) There isn’t any option.

3.) Compulsion rules.

4.) Writing rules the compulsion.

Too bad the writing isn’t compelling.

Perhaps any compulsion is compelling, as compulsion propels the actions. The study of compulsion is compelling, even if the compulsion itself is not.

Take the hand-washing obsessionist. This isn’t a very compelling compulsion, though the fact that he washes his hands – to free the dirt which was picked up from the towel he used to dry his hands after washing them – is rather compelling. But writing is different. Writing is supposed to have meaning. Even those who write for no specific reason must find there is a meaning in putting it down. Otherwise, why would they bother?

I have read some really fascinating stuff recently. Much of it was from people who were inspired by Yaweh, while some was from the Good Book itself.

Parables are used in the holiest of places, and they touch all our lives. Still, I am left to wonder how a story extracts itself from parablism. Seemingly, every story contains a parable. Star Wars is a classic story of good and evil. It is a parable, is it not? Is it the complexity of a tale which wrests a story from potential Parable genreality?

The writing flies out of me, at times. Sometimes I am driving down the road at 70 miles an hour and I feel the compulsion to stop, find a coffee shop, pull out my journal and jog down the thoughts. They are always different once situated, but if they were strong enough, a skewed version bleeds out from the pen.

There is so much happening – right now – it seems. I am unaware of whether there is a shift in the makeup of the world at large, or whether my perspective is shifting, which is opening up possibilities all around me. One way or another things are great, and getting better all the time.

Have I have been distancing myself from the news that much?

I have been formulating a perspective paradigm, and trying it out in the real world. So far, it seems to be proving itself. Not that there is any other possibility. The premise is simple, and easily translatable to your life: Personal experience trumps information gleaned from any other source. It doesn’t matter what the source is, or how reliable you believe it to be.

Think about it. How often do you hear information from a newspaper, television or radio which compels your opinion? Your opinion gets filtered by external sources, then your experience is compelled to match that which you already believe. But what if you believed a certain thing, then tried to find sources which matched them, and discarded those that didn’t? While most people tend to keep pushing the buttons of information they favor, they fail to grasp the most critical part of this relationship:

The sources – not yourself – control your life perspective!

Taryn and I went to a Seventh Day Adventist Church a couple of weeks ago. There was a bible study, followed by the service. 4 and a half hours later we emerged. Wow.

This church felt very spiritual. We met many loving people who believe in God. Taryn and I are merely Christians. We have practiced our various ‘religions’, but we believe in essentially the same thing. She was brought up Baptist. I am a recovering Catholic. While we can engage in heated debate over The Word – it’s meaning and literary literality – we still fall under the jurisdiction of Christ. When you read The Book, you discover multifaceted, heavily documented discourse. There are wars. There is anger, pain and deceit.

Ultimately, there is love.

Yaweh is Spirit. The Spirit is Love. Jesus is Love Incarnate. The spirit of Jesus is in our blood. It goes round and round like that forever. (Hold onto your seat: here it comes again.)

When we pulled into the parking lot of the Adventist Church, there was a disheveled, middle aged man who appeared to be holding a joint. He asked if we had a bible, and Taryn handed him the one in her hand. I thought: This should be an interesting experience. I’ve never know anyone to get stoned and get high on Jesus. I had always separated them in my own life, but that is me. Jesus doesn’t make this divide.

He thanked us profusely, walked away with the bible, and lit up his hand-rolled cigarette. Taryn and I probably own a half-dozen bibles. I said to Taryn: “If we give away all of our bibles, I will keep buying them. It is well worth the money.”

The price of a bible is the antithesis of it’s value.

Having sought to write about the compulsion of writing itself, today I was compelled to write about God. As a missed assignment, it still gets credit. That is the beauty of writing. It all counts, no matter what happens. I am not dismayed over the divergence in direction. The fork has brought me here, and by that criteria alone, this is where I need to be.

I need to write more than I do, even though I write more than anyone I know. It is bursting out, now. There is my journal, my book, and my blog. Then there is all the meandering thoughts which still haven’t made their way onto the page, pushing to get out. They are incubations waiting for me to give them life. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by them all, but living Christianity puts things into focus. When love is the overriding message, the energy can be a bit much at times. These are the times you know it is real, so you can’t ignore the feeling. Why would you? So you share it, pass it on.

Here’s the bible, dude.