SLOSH

If my cells didn’t have walls to contain and separate their 60% water content, I would slosh to the detriment of any precision dexterity my clumsiness now enjoys. Humans are cells in the living body of Earth, the civilized of whom are being continually convinced that solidarity of belief in the myth of our stewardly ownership of Earth’s material property granted us by its creator serves us better than we can serve ourselves as separate, self-responsible entities free to behave spontaneously as the variety of our experience and instincts contribute to evolving wisdom.

The notion that “might makes right” guiding imperialism throughout history has been translated to “quantity dictates quality,” by modern society’s attempt to appear more reasonable than those other barbarians when getting one’s way. Thus we have worldwide recruitment, drafting, colonization and occupation of adherents of this religious faith or that political certainty to amass the quantity required to dictate the quality of life for all.

Such aggregations slosh rather than function with any detailed concern for local precision. Breaking up such groups, so large no one knows everyone, into tribal communities of kindred spirits capable of survival alone would be like trading in a waterbed for one with a million innersprings keeping local disruptions local; each lending stability with its independent flexibility rather than the destructive momentum of closed minds in solidarity unable to stop the slosh of obvious corruption.

My favorite wishful thinking is about the day in each person’s life when it occurs to him/her that the billion dollars for wars on other countries and bonuses on wall street are the candy spun by corrupt leveraging, hedging and theft of the essential value in his/her own labor being paid too poorly, spent too dearly, and decides to go to work for themselves, grow their own food, consume no products of exploitive corporations, form internetworks of kindred spirits living off the map and out of the system without a revolution — the paradigm shift of a good idea independently recognized and enacted without disruption of the bad idea — just withdrawal of a hope fiend from the habit of the hope filled. Sisyphus Shrugged.