QUIET MAN
Silence would be rule #22 of the Dokkodo, if premier sword handler senpai Miyamoto was alive today. Respect the quiet. As a brute fact, silence is magic. Considering the culture of Japan, while he was alive, unprovable coincidence would be elemental truth so much so it affected this countries political history.
If there is an unexplainable essence in the mysticism of Yoga, it is to be found within the secret of respecting the ability of calming your mind. In the time where the sword guarded the doors of influence in all of the civilized world, there was less frequency the mind had to contend with. One has to wonder, what the sensation of feeling the pulse waves of pure intention, does to a persons sensibilities.
But if you are of the type of mind that believes the world will be saved in the laboratories using the scientific method, truth suppressed by governments with the treat of cut funding, and the rest of the capital supplied but pharmaceutical companies, enacting laws to absolve them of consequence, when rushing new, initiative engineering, designed to ensnared within the sequences of your cellular make up, your genes, with the precursors to technologies like CRISPR well, silence is important to this kind of mind also.
Books fostered a specific style of imagination. By forcing one to envision surroundings being described, the look and sound of the characters leading us through their adventures, in the mind's eye that doesn't register certain colours within the light spectrum, an invisible universe explodes with the expansion of neurons accepting a new space time for reckoning and reasoning, that contagiously fostered the classic stories telling we all know today.
This had a unique affect on the culture which followed printing press technology. Film and its invention, altered how some creative minds represented their existence, by distorting the natural world they portrayed in whatever medium. I wonder if they were predicting future chaos on canvas, of the creations our big brains would divine in the pandemonium of the future, blended with the fear of loosing resources?
As photographs started to splice into moving pictures, there was also a slicing of a certain creativity. The kind of in mind imaging, that created the electric motor. A new culture of distraction was conceived. I noticed a change in the children who started to got to bed without being read a bed time story. More and more, these children would grow silent behind vacant eyes, refusing to accept the idea of any kind of fantasy. Most of them parroting 'I prefer reality'. An idea I don't understand considering the level of immersion within the best of these fantasy video games, and how they can have a profound affect on the subconscious.
I can pinpoint the sand line drawn, in the years surrounding the y2k technocratic invented epidemic. A farce I concluded, as I took no precaution in stopping the end of times in 1999 and my computer continued to work fine into the millennium. You have to remember this was a time before forced updates, when you had a little bit of control of what you own. The idea of farce ruled this New Years eve, as all industry started to enact strategic missions based on lies. The dot com boom fleeced thousands out of millions gambling on websites that didn't create a product or provide a service.
As the clock rounded midnight, the boom bubble busted to destitute the sum of many only to endow a select few. Leading some fat cats into believing they were onto something. Within a ten second count down, realizations were made and think tanks collected, under the ravenous intention of vampire rapacity and the empathy of a scull cracked zombie, ushering us all down the road we run today.
There was a creative flourish within the heart of the internet, but this idea of grift remained in the psyche of some code writers. Due to the millions exchanging hands on this swindle, the internet became a dangerous place or investment and business interest. Leaving a certain kind of individual free to thrive. Stayed animated loving a cult of ingenuity. Baptized horny, mouse envisaging the possibility of a beautiful, bright future. What happened?
What changed since the time William S. Buroughs, the surreal thinking geezer, embracing the way of the future, wrote his last words folded within HTML code, as the majority of these crazy people fostered a positive community based on sharing and critical thinking? Every new frontier is a new battle ground. Every new innovation a chance to flex the compulsion to weaponize everything. I can't help think of the uncharted war zone of space. I have a big imagination, it was nurtured when I was a child, ideas sidetracking thoughts to ribosome swimming in cytosol.
If with some miraculous quantum microscope that could shrink infinite, would we find a limit? Why is it that telescopes don't expand to scale? If possible, I think this would be a revelation. Rather considering the sum of parts, to use the analogy of western medicine vs a Chinese tradition of the body as one entire system interdependent, to discover the ground we walk on is a portion of something larger than ourselves? Have you ever tried to hold the whole world in your hands man, the fuckers heavy. I can't help but think, are we still stuck on thinking it is the center of the universe?
What form will cosmic killer cells take, in defending the cellular make up of the unknown, when flying monkeys break the hydrogen wall? The universe is running in cycles. Repeating patterns into infinity. Is it insane to contemplate what we can't see? I don't think it matters much, creativity was doomed to take another hit, as the few remaining innovators held fast in preservation of their selfish ideas.
The world's intelligence agencies, investing prospects in recognizance. With all of the new and not so new technology, all of the innovation diviners competing to find out first, how does an entity make money on the world wide web. I don't know why, we are always surprised when answers are supplied by perverted intent, considering the worlds oldest profession. What is your number one motivational force? Is it love or money?
Rule number one of the Dokkotto: Accept everything the way it is.
As you take the box you love out of your back pocket, to see if every word is the same as the Japanese translation, as it's camera lens is analyzing the reflection it captures, the truth I fear is, we are being robbed of our ability to consider the dangers, of what our big brains conjure. Is our hand head window to everything, severing our ability to close our eyes and count how many members of the thirteenth letter, of our alphabet, reside in the word Mississippi.
Silence is magic for the scientific mind also. It needs to problem solve. All brains evolved, in different ways, to contenting with mother natures blood lust. The answers to the unknown can not be found on Google. They live in the stratosphere that is ruled electrically, squeezing chemicals that coax discomfort, to foster root shoots in mind, to raise a solutions. One time, the new mothers I knew, expressed the sorrow they felt in their little ones not knowing the answers to a thing. “I feel bad, she get so frustrated.”
With the assistance of our undeniably helpful, little tools, I come to find this processing is just part of the route to learning new sentiment. Get upset. Stop take a few minutes to regard the realities. Continue with the difficulty task we are engaged with. This is how the mind shocks solutions in to existence. It is the way we learn. But we live in a time where our senses are constantly stimulated with the sound to sell something.
One needs to STOP(habits). DROP(the phone in hand). AND OPEN UP SHOP(doors) of your skull, to be alone with all the thoughts racing. Let them be your only distraction. Breathe, and try to capture the sound of your bodies electrical potential. Try and hold it for as long as you can, as your mind does the job it was designed for. Categorizing the bullshit from the sensible. It is no accident we are being smashed with nothing but fear, contradiction and ridiculousness. It's all just a Machiavellian maneuver for control. Is it any wonder, all our software is designed to fix you to constant clicks? Old school wants to remain head of class.
You have to distance yourself from the injected ideas of other's intent, that seep to you through the phone you refuse to speak to. Magic can be found, distancing yourself from outside influence, and realizing the intentions that come from within. Molding of a mind begins with the nurturing of your ideas. Capturing them is one thing. They need time to incubate and develop. Accept the notion of stop stuffing in more, and process your personal struggles.
I can accept the attempt of manufactured disability forming, in the new minds of the future, that are only just learning to fall into distress due to sprouting dendrite. They need to sell drugs. The regression of thinking critical in exchange for learning only to react, I can accept, is the reality of the beginning of the 21st century. What is the quickest, meanest statement one can say before anyone else, to get likes? You sarcasm is holding no favour, as we are trained to be reactionary at every turn and to all things. It makes one quick and easy into manipulation, and festers only hostility. When you react they will chain you.
Falls in line with the rules and regulations they have a boner for erecting, corporate and government in unison, with the mission to imprison your mind and hand it over to advertisers, and if you argue? You are no patriot 2.0. The dissemination of many mind's Creative animations crushed, when Apple decided flash sucked. Kill it dead. Never considering it could happen to them. Empires ever invincible, or so they think. Now everything looks the same in HTML5. Homogenized view of the world they display for you. But I am and always have been a hard rocking negro who love's guitars, despite what they tell you. I am and never was alone.
Personal experience has never known a time without the sound of commercials interrupting plot's twist. And I can't help but wonder, what kind of person I would have become if I more time, alone to think? Away from tampon commercials, and libido enhancements. A bicycle was the saving grace, saving from stagnancy of a dull head. From age of six, and for the next six years, cranking peddles would command most of my time. I went postal. Rain, shine, wind and snow.
Two wheels furnished me with superior cardiovascular apparatus and most importantly, stealing my brain matter that feels the rush of air, away from the hypnotic glow of the television. Loads of time rocking eyes, looking out for careless drivers, with nothing to do but push and consider within the panoramic view. Silly things like, what is this bacteria living in the saline, that would flood if I was fighting a breeze, and why can't I catch them in sight, and keep the still for closer inspection?
This contraption, that has caused a mysterious phantom leg humping, persistent even after six years without it sitting in pocket, has advised they are biome defenders of ocular health. I accept the fact that bicycle riding, has blossomed my brain into a unique processing machine. I accept that, the cell phone is under attack of the old reigning overlord's scramble. To regain control of all deliberation. I accept the fact that I have to fight, because I am sick of screaming,
“FOR FUCK SAKE STOP KILLING THE CHILDREN OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ALL OVER THE WORLD.”
This means learning how to insight the sentiment in the idea of the COMMON HERITAGE OF HUMANITY, within all of us.
It is the global, adult responsibility, to nurture and insure the abundance of natural resource, for the lives of the future.
To do this I have to knock on the doors that open the subconscious, in the flavour of the old guard, but leaving the autonomy, in your hands to make your own mind.
The final point of advice in the Dokkodo, the one I struggle with most is: Never stray from the way.
Lowering the electric potential of the brain from its alpha default state, whether limbic imprinting locked you into vigilance or not, aligning one's walking personality to the Schumann oscillations, the velocity mother earth is believed to vibrates at, to access the secondary conscious within you, for as long as you can hold onto, will help you gain control of a worried, rushing mind.
The mind is attracted to hypnotic suggestion, like the tongue's lust for sugar. That mind, that takes over when you or a friend genuinely grab your genitals. The mind that flashes strange faces to you, if you hold the quiet long enough, on the eye behind retina cells. Honouring the calm will combat the repeated suggestions, our technologies allow to enter into considering, only to arguing with the ideals we all have been conditioned with, as children.
Why? We don't know. Have we answered the question of personality? Are you conscious? If so, is that significant or random? What is it that actualized who are you? Can you perceive the healthy you in the future? Meditation is the secret, to the strange ether that has baffled both saint and sinner from the beginning of time, be you stoic or mystic. If you know how to pray answers will come to you observing quiet. Whether you like the reply or not, the question is are you ready?
Respect the silence.