Reagan always said, ‘If you’re explaining, you’re losing,’ and this explains why those who oppress us explain nothing.  Individualism has its claims on human worship, but the greater fabric of a world together is a good way to imagine the mat of prayer.  It is not the point of view at the altar that matters, it is the commitment to virtue, which the new cathedrals profess to value so much, but not in the sense they would have the congregation believe.  Standards have a tendency to drop if not scrupulously monitored, and passion can turn sour if not granted passage to favourable climes.  I think “Technocracy’s Children” have proved this.  It was in their rising shadow that the field of society decayed and saw winter darken its hills.

The new age is rapidly aging.  Every day we are acquainted with the passions and concerns of generations at different stages, interacting.  No generation is bad, no generation is good; they all enjoy a complex joke.  As William Strauss said, “each cohort’s punchline is the next cohort’s set-up line.”  We celebrate ourselves, said the soldiers; I celebrate myself, said the hippie; I segregate myself, said the punk.

Society has been anxious about its fate for many decades; concerns and worries it has pushed to the back of its mind are asserting themselves; the collective heartrate is rising; and, as a result, it is striking out recklessly.  Society, then, is heading for a nervous breakdown.  Pray that the throned stay their finger above that button which unleashes fire and fury.  The great big ugly bird of discontent likes meat and it might be thrown.  But it does not have to be.  The beast can be tamed and reasoned with.  Get enough enlightened soldiers and generals together, and we might be able to win peace; a failure to band together could see us chewed and digested, to nourish that strongman, Nationalism, he who beats the drums of hatred and death with a sabre.

Penitentiaries are packed with promise-makers.  Let us not mindlessly march to war; instead, let us be a broker for peace; let us remember that love and compassion have the highest value; let us open life’s splendorous theme park to all.  The terms of this heaven are unconditional, only sophists and demagogues persuade us there are restrictions.  Think if a ticket were but issued to the world at large.  We, a planet together, can conquer the universe in one silent shot, if we but banish war from the great human globe, for it is a tyranny that makes our world incontinent.  A flag for the world does not have to mean global tyranny.  If we ask ourselves why our national anthem signifies—nothing, nothing other than loyalty to a woman vastly richer than us by birth, then we realise that we are not an enlightened civilisation.  Let us unite under a banner neither striped with party prejudice nor adorned with a royal seal, but one of techno-colour, a brighter philosophy embracing science and beauty as colours blended; a banner we can wear like a habit as we proceed across a new frontier.

Winter storms might rage, groove and flip the earth, but they cannot stunt the winter flower.  Let us be thankful that it is so.  Who was Christ, but a tortured youth, who saw a vision of the world, one of love and understanding, who saw money-changers in the temple as the devil manifest, and who made the very human error of believing himself a God above these corrupted structures?  We never fall over anything but man-made objects.  The great message has been misjudged and mistranslated.  We all have an unbound book in us.  If we could but discard the typewriter, we could author a better world with it, one which bounces across languages and rolls off tongues.

A conservative minority holds back our momentum.  Those we deem as the worst among us are in fact the products of an inhumane societal structure which favours the worst above us, the rich and all-powerful.  Let us present them with the key to our forgiveness and watch them as they look around at our humble possessions in wonderment.  Are there not literally billions of resources we can launch into the firmament as one rocket to seek an answer to the great questions?  The application of the word genius should not be restricted to intellects alone, let us collectively feel and calculate like a genius.  We should not make reality virtual, we should make it virtuous, by assembling a bible that is not a book, but a collective story.

If a mighty bloom alters the landscape, do you mourn the old view?  No, you admire it.  We are young, and we are marooned by an island, so forgive the ambitious zeal which seems like ingratitude or hubris.  Idealism at eighteen, you may smile at it, but it can break and mould on a grand scale.

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