Modernity is High on Itself: Visions from an Airplane

Now above the earth, hurtling through the sky, all too fast for my own ancient soul's ability to keep up, I look down at my Mother and see more clearly how we have insidiously imposed ourselves upon her sacred Body. As Boston gets pulled beneath me like a tablecloth leaving only dirty plates and silverware, I see the glut of houses and building, the endless scab of highway and avenue, the cutting wounds of an adolescent and unwell society carved painfully into her deity.  I see the networks of electrical firestorm that so recently turned the indigenous spirit night of peace into a constant blaring din of constantly hungered day. 

From this lost and lofty place, I can see the, I can feel the, I can smell the shitstorm of body refuse, industrial disease and anti-cultural soulid waste coursing its way through toxic veins back to the oceanic heart of the world about to arrest us off the face of Her.  It, this modern endeavor, looks so inert, but feels so overdone, so wrongly complex (like a bad website!), so powerfully arrogated. Why does everything a thoroughly modern human makes look so very much like it doesn't belong in the world of sacred life?  What happened here? And why am I so high in the air, going so fast?  Really, why?  Since when was how fast you moved through space and time the trump card to how well you moved through space and time?

Clouds smoothly step in to obscure my view of the scene of the crime, carrying the peace of Kuon, the purification of Sapla, spirits of water humbly teaching me, reminding, again, reflecting, again, the proximity of the energetic cure.  Water is the baptism from the addiction to fire...still constantly burning globe, cultural sovereignty, land,  forest, tree, grasses green, the easy possibility of hope.

Modernity is high on itself.

We have harmed Home, our home, our mother, The Mother...

....but her beauty will remain, will reflower, even after we walk silently off the precipice of industrio-digital ascendancy. Modernity seems to like high places. It's where it perceives its uber-mind to be, its G-O-Ds, its wrongly conceived as untouchable patriarchal and racial privilege.  It's how we know modernity is sophomorically upside down as those two embedded philosophical pathologies are exactly what, in part, will bury it soon far under the ground...unluckily for the Great Mother to have to accept the invasion of that last toxic gasp of man's worst faux-glittering, faux-shimmering, faux-sane, faux-sure anti-social escapade, now then far from yon dizzying heights of, flights of fancy.

Never leave Home...not when Home is Earth...and you are human.

I didn't say don't fly.  Just don't leave Earth.

(written November 2013)