Visible Origami | The Age of the Rage of the Iridescent Peacock Ego.

Dog Poet Transudating…….

“No one appreciates the very special genius of your conversation as the dog does.”

Seems like it is the age of the rage of the individual ego. There are a couple of motivators for this and we’ve already had ‘the me generation’, which was followed by the ‘even more me generation’ and most recently we had the, ‘it came from beneath the valley of the me generation’. So maybe this is actually the, ‘return to the valley of the me generation’. That’s neither here nor there, well… actually it’s there and we’re here and my reasoning, such as it is and imperfect as it is, is that, of course, Materialism is the first cause, because Materialism is that hot environment that inflames the ego, bringing it to the ‘tinder dry’ state. You throw in the press of near 7 billion souls all agitating for survival and a sense of self in the dense and cluttered press of all those bodies and plastic identities in search of a net worth persona and then… you factor in that this is the digital information age… toss in all that social networking and endless evolution of devices to that end and you got hundreds of millions of horny thumbs going at it like randy goats in search of high performance numbers and recognition points and you got what we now got in surround sound and panorama view. Ahrooooooooooo!

The most unfortunate aspect of this situation is the nature of the self that the theater of Materialism demands from the players. Even if you were initially of a spiritual inclination, the requirements for presentation have a tendency to distort and pervert original intent; should the original intent have been authentic which, most of the time, it ain’t… your chances, short of sincere Bhakti and perpetual surrender to the point where it is acknowledged… are not good. You got to put on some kind of outfit, whether it be ocher, other colored robes, or a white suit like you were the Tom Wolfe of the evangelical lecture circuit… with dreams of a Las Vegas invite to the international convention of snake oil professionals. You can enthral the crowd with your version of A Curse of Miracles and maybe not even have to be sexually aberrant or commit suicide as a denouement. Then again, you may have already dropped by one of those CIA Starbuck type franchises, where they hand out plagiarized systems of condensed and simplified philosophies that are tailor made for that growth industry that caters to whatever permutation of ‘ME’ phase we are passing through at the moment. If that’s the case then maybe you are now all dressed up with somewhere to go.

via Visible Origami | The Age of the Rage of the Iridescent Peacock Ego..


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