Slivers From Glass Houses

“There are no private lives. This a most important aspect of modern life. One of the biggest transformations we have seen in our society is the diminution of the sphere of the private. We must reasonably now all regard the fact that there are no secrets and nothing is private. Everything is public.”
― Philip K. Dick

 

Would this really be true and privacy not a possibility than we would be on our way to being telepathic? How much effort do we put into our secrets, whether they be secret thoughts or resentments we don’t even want those closest to us to know or things we do that we’re ashamed of? In a world where privacy was truly lost, forgiveness would grow. How could we stand naked, all of our foibles extant and not forgive those of our neighbour? Yet still it seems with the fiction of privacy we all throw brick missiles from our glass towers, perhaps feeling in our primate way the need to find sins and secrets somehow worse than our own. This, then is the era of privacy diminished and shattered glass and many slivers will we each get before we lose shame and learn compassion. Perhaps we need to start clearing the fields now, live openly so that what is lost will never be missed.
Blessings, G

 

Click on images to see full-sized:

 

Red Star LatticeRed Star Lattice by G A Rosenberg

 

Spreading the Multicoloured WordSpreading the Multicoloured Word by G A Rosenberg

 

Quote of the Day February 19 2012

” All people are born potentially telepathic—but that if we’re ever going to get any message-traffic capacity, we must first shovel the shit out of the Communications Room.”
— Spider Robinson

An interesting thread came up today in a couple of FB groups I was in. Something a friend had posted reminded me of a story by Spider Robinson that I read.

“I know, son, I know. The Second Commandment of Leary: ‘Thou shalt not alter thy brother’s consciousness without his consent.’ So how about retroactive consent?”

“Say again.”

“The aftereffects. I’ve administered the drug to blind volunteers. They knew only that they were sampling a new psychedelic of unknown effect. In each case I gave a preliminary ‘attitude survey’ questionnaire with a few buried questions. In fourteen cases I satisfied myself that the subject would probably not have taken the drug if he or she had known its effect. In about three-quarters of them I damn well knew it. The effects were the same for all but one. All fourteen of them experienced major life upheaval—usually irreversible and quite against their will—while under the effects of the drug. They all became violently angry at me after they came down. Then all fourteen stormed off to try and put their lives back together. Thirteen of them were back within a week, asking me to lay another hit on them.”

Zack’s eyes widened. “Addictive on a single hit. Jesus.”

“No, no!” George said exasperatedly. “It’s not the drug that’s addictive, dammit. It’s the truth that’s addictive. Every one of those people came back for, like, three-four hits, and then they stopped coming by. I checked up on the ones I was in a position to. They had just simply rearranged their lives on solid principles of truth and honesty and begun to live that way all the time. They didn’t need the drug anymore. Every damn one of them thanked me. One of them fucked me, sweetly and lovingly—at my age.”

– From “Satan’s Children” by Spider Robinson.

Something I heard a while back;

A few years ago, a friend of mine asked me the question “If you could have two wishes granted by an all-powerful, all good, all knowing genie, what would they be?”

I thought for a few seconds and then answered “I don’t need two wishes. I only need one.”

My friend argued with me briefly that, based on a complex logical analysis, I really did need two wishes, the first of which was to set up the conditions for the second one.

I repeated, “I don’t need two wishes. I only need one.”

He replied, “Okay, what is it?”

“I would wish for what is best.”

He continued to try to find reasons why his analysis was superior to mine. To each of these I replied “Would the results of your wish be better than the results of mine?”

“Yes. And here’s why…”

I patiently explained that the results of his wish could not possibly be better than mine, because I wished only for what was best. By definition, nothing could be better than what is best.

He countered that with “But what if what is best isn’t what is best for me?”

That was a little bit more difficult than the original question of what to wish for in the first place, but I shortly realized the answer wasn’t much more complicated: “Then you should change so that what is best is best for you.”

I believe this is within the reach of each of us, and if we accept the challenge, the world will be a different and better place.
From Vajrah Krishna, Possibility Magazine:

The story and the quote have been circling around inside. I reread the story and it occurred to me that what the first person asked for was not HIS best but THE best, an objective utopia if you please.
When his friend asks what if the objective best is not his personal best, he is told to change to that objective standard.

When I realized that various debates started to take place in my head all about the sovereignty of the individual vs the collective will etc (all the usual suspects) when it occurred to me that that argument in this case is without substance. Oh it would be true, if it was one person or a group of being’s view of what was best or even if it was the genii’s idea of what was best but that is not what the wish was, it was what was Best. Objective.
Then I started wondering what that objective best would look like. What qualities would people have, what would the basis of the society be (more specifically than just those two words)

Then I remembered the story Satan’s Children by Spider Robinson and I thought he was onto something. At the very least THE best of all Possible worlds would be one where honesty reigned not only between people but self-honesty (total).
Could poverty or inequality happen in a world where honesty reigned? Not that I could see. With honesty comes justice.

With honesty also to my mind comes empathy. From my experience, empathy is a natural element of the human psyche and it takes a lot of self-talk and interference to turn it off. (school systems and commercial TV have worked years on it)
Along with empathy, let’s add other elements that seem to be repressed by most modern societies. Curiosity and Spirituality among them

What do you think?
Blessings, G

Click on images to see full-size

Cosmic Mandala by G A Rosenberg

Eye of The Storm

Quote of the Day – February 14 2012

“That’s the right way to get telepathic:
walking on eggshells, with the awareness that a mistake could put a knot on your own skull. It’s dark in there. So what ends up happening half the time is, people with sensitive areas they don’t want to talk about get so tired of watching people back away from them on eggshells that they say the hell with it, and cut loose of whatever hangup it was. The other half of the time, at least nobody ends up feeling violated.”
–Spider Robinson

In another quote that unfortunately I couldn’t find tonight, Spider suggests that the way to become telepathic is first to shovel all the shit out of the communication room and then crank empathy up as far as it can go. I can understand some fear arising for people at the thought of becoming telepathic of having your minds and hearts open books that anyone can read. Would it shake up relationships, business practices, ways of life, yeah but each of us would also shed a whole bunch of coiled up anxiety all at once. Not only would we be saying we love each other, we’d be meaning it. I don’t believe it is possible to hate a person once you’ve been inside their heads and their hearts. Seems to me a whole lot of forgiveness would be happening. I see a lot of self-forgiveness happening to. Little by little I’ve been working hard at making my head a nice place to hang out in. After all I’m hoping for guests one day. You’re all invited. 🙂 Love, G

CLick on image to see full-size

Strange Night by Gary A Rosenberg