Drawing by Yatoy Soss
murder (n.) —“unlawful killing of another human being by a person of sound mind with premeditated malice,” c. 1300, murdre, earlier morþer, from Old English morðor (plural morþras) “secret killing of a person, unlawful killing,” also “mortal sin, crime; punishment, torment, misery,” from Proto-Germanic *murthran (source also of Goth maurþr, and, from a variant form of the same root, Old Saxon morth, Old Frisian morth, Old Norse morð, Middle Dutch moort, Dutch moord, German Mord “murder”), from suffixed form of PIE root *mer- “to rub away, harm” (also “to die” and forming words referring to death and to being subject to death).
In Old Norse, custom distinguished morð “secret slaughter” from vig “slaying.” The former involved concealment, or slaying a man by night or when asleep, and was a heinous crime. The latter was not a disgrace, if the killer acknowledged his deed, but he was subject to vengeance or demand for compensation.
“The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.” —Antonio Gramsci 1924
I can’t take credit for first calling the slaughter taking place in Palestine, the Ukraine, Lebanon, and elsewhere around the world; murder. When hearing this word used for the first time, in place of the now usual genocide, meat grinder, or slaughter, it lodged in my consciousness. We are so relentlessly fed words through the virtual screen that they began to lose meaning; we toss them around in our speech and writing—the people so accustomed to hearing them no longer react. Virtually our world is now accepted as a place of great evil where terror reigns unchecked.
It’s no secret that we are in a time when monsters rule, no longer hidden in the dark chambers underground they gleefully celebrate the blood running in the streets. The question that looms in the minds of all people must be; where is justice? We look on in varying states of disbelief and abject horror—as humans we struggle to comprehend the extent and reasons behind these heinous acts. We look behind the curtain of history’s millions of lies, we peel back the veneer from the agencies and foundations claiming to have peace, freedom, or health as their mission. We’ve gone down the seemingly endless rabbit holes of previous crimes against humanity, from the assassination of JFK to 9/11 to the never-ending slew of false flags. These investigations have proven over and over that the narrative of officialdom is false. The truth stands out, there are undeniable facts, yet something is eluding us.
“Till the false is seen as false,
truth is not.”
— Jiddu Krishnamurti
Her name is Justice, she seems no where to be found with a near hopeless despair that truth will ever be served. With a philosophical perspective, it is possible to grasp that justice is not the human’s to mete out, for we are not perfect in our view of the totality of existence. Of course I wrestle with this as a concept just as do most of the truth pundits on the inter-webs. Any inner conflict can only be resolved through long and deep contemplation.
Some people call this reality a simulation, a video game, a charade, a dream, in other words, not real. But it feels real, it has real repercussions in our daily lives—multiple decisions are made every day which effect outcomes of a perceived or real freedom that a soul, whether aware of soul or not, seeks to fulfill. Along the requirement to bear witness and give testimony for thousands of souls who don’t even have a shred of freedom left, nor any choice at all. Bodies of children, women, and men being blown to pieces with nowhere to run. How do we internalize this great paradox to a place of inner comprehension?
My writing a reflection of the inner churning of my soul. In moments of acute awareness, there are packages of information downloaded, this is recognized, though it often takes weeks if not months to decipher them into words. Being one tiny spark of the Divine, there are limits imposed by the very real physical presence immersed in this layer of reality.
Inside my vessel worlds play out and collide—at times creating a whirlwind effect of emotional longing as old beliefs that were once foundational fall by the wayside. One can feel stripped down, bare, and even irrelevant to the maelstrom of malice as the storm thickens. This is where the inner single point of consciousness, the void at the center of one’s energetic toroidal field must be strengthened and centered within.
At other times truth must be spoken without concern for reputation or place in civil society. Confrontation with false beliefs along with a gentle nudging at the subtle lies we tell ourselves or hear others speak must be called out into the open. Anger is often the spark that lights the inner fire, though always keeping in mind that fiery anger must be tempered with compassion and love for it to hit its mark.
Alchemy is the burning away of the dross, crossing beyond the veil with a connection to the ALL that permeates everything from our human form to the stars in the heavens and beyond. We are part and parcel to this great cosmic play, yet so many miss this in daily existence. Often drowned out from the preoccupation of living in an upside-down reality where underlying fears can find their way to the surface. How often do we acknowledge this? Being mostly in a rather zen state of mind I know I don’t, though recently something gnawing at the edge of my consciousness has surfaced and challenged my world view. This morning while in the half-awake state I experienced many aspects of my Being playing out, feeling that even “masters” and “teachers” are not outside these influences when inhabiting the human form. What came afterward was the knowing of the necessity to embrace this as part of a living experience—to not turn away from the discomfort became a crystal-clear focus. Trusting that during whatever process is occurring, that there is real gold on the other side can at times take everything I contain.
Justice will be served, this is written by Universal Truth. Indeed when observed from outside the confines of space and time it is already served. For all the murderous extremes we are experiencing, we are part of the transfiguration taking place. Perhaps my greatest fear is to not be up to the task at hand, for there are many snares and traps laid for those who would dare for the door of freedom.
I close my eyes to look inwardly, exposed and bare to the unknown, I rest.
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