The Cycle of the Day

by: S Jameson

Sometimes ponderous thoughts are so pronounced that in order to extricate them in any semblance of order it poses a most difficult task. Whether this address makes order or sense of nonsensical strings called thoughts it
is hard to say.  That would be up no doubt to the reader if he or she can follow such in a manner of speaking or if even the writer can make due with the print…

I have found in this life many things to be in awe of and to even wonder over.  I have found great beauty in the surroundings of nature.  With the presence of aSupreme Being in my mind it is obvious that the evidences have been placed.  Just witness such
dalliances in order to make order out of chaos. Whether it be the painted skies of endless summer days spreading a cadence of amber's, gold’s, reds and grays across the land or the genesis of twilight giving way to the brilliant lightening bugs of the gods of Zeus as they begin their display across the expanse of an evening sky. There is something bigger than I… yes there is. I, a part of this human’s race, am infinitesimal in this quagmire of evolving protoplasmic particles that amount to a paupers pence. Yes, I am worthless- yet ever hopeful.

The crow caws, the corn grows, the spider catches her prey, the horse neighs, the cow gives her milk and the rooster calls the golden disk to flower once again.  The cycle of a day.

I have found much grief in being robed in this flesh though.  The creation of what was seen as good marred by the switchblades of the pitchfork.  How heavy at times I feel the burden to be as the blood letting of my soul cries in the hours of darkness for relief from the oppression.

“Why” floods like crystal liquid drops of emotional torment that leak from the windows of my soul.  I do not understand so much and the need is a thirst that seems unquenchable- insatiable- and not attainable to anyone including the grandest of
lords and dignitaries to know.  It is not nature per se that I call upon in my struggles to comprehend though… it is my fellow man.  I think Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) said it best when he produced his long essay in 1901 called, “The United States of
Lyncherdom” and I quote; “man’s commonest weakness, his aversion to being unpleasantly conspicuous, pointed at, shunned, as being on the unpopular side.  Its other name is Moral Cowardice, and is the commanding feature of the make-up of 9,999 in the 10,000…”

Twain’s point in dark humor at times spells out a measure that is synonymous even in our day and age.  Sure “The United States of Lyncherdom” carries within its ever beating essay the disdain of the murder of African Americans by Caucasians but its
underlying message still carries within her these words exceptionally pronounced -M oral Cowardice-. Those who hide behind their mommies skirt tails and breathe the herd mentality of the lemmings.  What is it in human nature that calls itself faithful to the Creator yet it moves in droves of cowardice?  How much easier it is for the guilty to hide their true colors by blending in with those who call themselves righteous.  How much easier it is for the wolf to blend in and move with the herd of fluffy white lanolin. And how much easier it is for the herd not to deal or expel one of theirs.

It is easier to move the herd in continual unison and lynch those who do not
fit the standard zealotistic morbidity of the self-righteous who stretch the decorative edges of their garments as they sharpen their swift blades of piety upon those who do not fit the status quo.  How often do the immoral sit in comfort and pretend?  How often do the chieftains and pastors knowingly turn a blind eye so they do not have to see their own morose impression of who they are in the face of a fellow man?  Rally your troops Oh Chieftains and Pastors!  Cry out so that you may contain your own herd by brainwashing them into a cultism soiree.

For it is not the voice of the Creator you heed, it is your own.  Beware though for in your fixated state of self there will be those empty headed fools who will repeat what you have so ably established in your Shakespearean tragedy of folly.  Herds always follow their examples and as Mark Twain so rightly mentions the fool who jumps off the Brooklyn Bridge will soon have another to follow him.

We Homo sapient, a classification that belongs in the animal kingdom, are so different from the soulless bunch.  We cannot seem to help ourselves in that if others deem it true then it must be… and if others judge it to be untrue then it must be.  We have
been given the ability to reason, think and make choices yet we cannot seem to stand on our own merit.  We denounce our Creator and expel our own refuse upon someone else. Why do we need the approval sign of our chosen leaders, our friends, our dignitaries, our neighbors, our enemies or even ourselves? 

We were given moral sense, we have been given the Word, yet we have left it hiding somewhere in our coat closets.  Perhaps conveniently buried in with the rubbish of 

from excursions of our own skeletons.  The herd is puzzling as it runs to watch the lynching in horror, as it runs to watch the fist fight on the school grounds, as it watches the horror flicks of people being rendered and bludgeoned to death, as it crucifies others so we do not have deal with… ourselves.  We give the popular doctrine of the day our seal of approval by our condoning stamp of deaths endorsement and at the same time we shed a tear and will fight to save a child from the top of a two story burning building… if others believe it to be right.  We as the herd will only do what is called popular, what will get us notoriety, what will give us glory and what is approved upon by the minority as it swells into the majority of the group to overtake the blemished goat and devour it into oblivion. 

Mark Twain questioned the realm of religion on many levels and rightly so.  Whether he ultimately believed in God I do not know, for I never met the man to ask him.  However he has left us with immeasurable scribbles of satire that if we will allow it to we can see from whence he was coming and garner a bit of insight into our own hypocrisies.  At times I wonder if the scripture found in Matthew 7:5 would have been one of his favorites; “You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.” Perhaps if we removed our own blinding girder first and reconciled ourselves to that which is Perfect- then we would be able to in truth and love walk as the Son of God.  Helping one another in love unto salvation. Wouldn’t that be something… we may just have to actually see ourselves in full light. No longer a part of the herd but standing as individuals giving account solely for our own actions. Gone is the pretense of pretending we are more than we think we are and possibly mercy would reign.

(I would encourage all who read this to read Mark Twain’s essay “The United States of Lyncherdom” There are many different things to learn from the essay alone.  I took it my direction and I would love to h
ear your opinions.)