It’s in those rare moments of realization that we see nothing will remain the same. The terror and excitement are rolled together to create either euphoria or desolation. When the reality we have built up is shattered will we see danger, design, or both? Danger, in that the shards of what’s shattered are sharp and difficult to clean, let alone repair. Design, in that we see the beauty in the remnants of what was to become the tinder for what can be. Both, in that can something be beautiful – filled with untapped potential- yet perilous because that beauty is unfamiliar and equivocal.
Regardless, it is the interpreter that is the decisive factor not the illusion that is society. It is the person that is the X factor, the independent variable, in the equation. Society and its laws are the dependent variable. But why? Why does it seem so true yet so false simultaneously? True in that society’s equivalent to the atom is people. False in that society manipulates people in more ways than we like to admit. Furthermore, aren’t we social beings seeking to become One with each other? A fascinating conundrum indeed.
We are animals that need other humans to function properly. A human forced into isolation leads to the rule of supreme insanity. That is why solitary confinement is considered a form of torture. Humans are animals that not only like but need the herd. The herd is the only way for the individual to be heard. We wish to have our words, hopes and dreams not bounce off the walls eternally echoing, we want to know they have a home to return to. It doesn’t matter so much how our thoughts are received as long as we know they have been received. Much like a child, starved of attention, cares less about the type of attention they get as long as they simply get attention. It is better to get something from the herd than nothing. And if the child grows up unaccepted, they usually only leave their community to attempt to be accepted by another community. It is less about the communication and more about the unity; the Oneness.
That is why the rebel always tries to communicate with the herd. The rebel tries to communicate their truth for the betterment of the herd. Not every rebel is right, hence it being their truth. But admittedly, I would like to think, in these trying times, the rebel is speaking of a truth undeniable. The rebel sees the alarm bells and wants to protect the herd from itself. The rebel loves the herd because she’s of the herd; it is the foundational instinct of human nature. The road of the rebel always starts from a place of love. There is no guarantee the rebel ends their journey with love still intact, but whether they realize it or not, love is what forges the rebel.
Yet to be a rebel, to walk the path of truth, leads to a homeless journey. Dedication to the truth is painful and hurts. It will lead the rebel to be greeted with palms over eyes, mouths, and hears. It leads to anger and resentment. If undeterred, it leads to the abandonment of bonds because the herd won’t bare that pain. Yet, the truth is the truth. The true rebel cannot relent. To live a life worth anything the truth, the type that is felt deep in the bones and scorches the heart with the flames of defiance, must be honored. To not be righteous, to ignore it, means to deny yourself your existence, because without your truth you’re nothing but their lie.
Lies, more often than not, are preferred over truth. Most say they don’t like liars, but what else can you expect a liar to do? Most of the herd are liars, they who betray their truth, so the agreement never spoken, but implicitly understood, is to tell the ‘white’ lies. That phrase speaking volumes of American culture. White lies are lies for the good of society; what we need. The truth is said to be unbearable, when they really mean to say undesirable. It is why the liar, unlike the truth teller, is so miserable in their day to day interactions. There is so much they construct into their false reality they can’t handle it anymore. They complain about everything because they cannot accept that they lied to themselves in the first place. They sold their soul, their truth, so long ago they forget that transaction even happened.
That is why the truth leads down a lonely path that tends to leave the rebel homeless. The liar can’t bare the truth just as much as the truth teller can’t bare the lie. It’s this standoff that, at best, leads to exile of the truth teller. At worst, well, you already know but like to lie yourself into innocence.
I hate that I love you. Deep down in the darkness I can’t stand you. You ignore the warnings, the facts, i.e. reality. You bitch, moan and complain there’s no hope while hoping something or one will save you. You want to be saved from yourself, while not having to admit you want to save your self from yourself.
But the second the truth teller comes to you, reaching her hand out to help you, you instinctively take it. The impulse to drink from the fountain of truth and love is human nature. Yet deep down in the darkness you can’t stand it. It isn’t something you’d like to admit or may even be conscious of, but it is the truth. The ego makes you despise the helpful hand you yourself hoped and prayed for. It leads to that fateful moment right at the middle. It happens right at the moment when you can gain your footing while she is still vulnerable; when she is unbalanced from attempting to pull up the deadweight; the burden that is you. It is that moment in which you yank her down, using the momentum to propel yourself up, to get back on your feet. You watch her tumble to the ground and see—not shock—but the disappointment in her eyes. Eyes that ask “why can’t you see?” That emotion, that rare realization of truth, is too much for you to bare so you walk away. You cannot bare the truth of what you have done, but what’s worse is you hate that your excuse has been taken from you. You have been forced to see that it is a choice to wallow in self-pity and blame everything on everyone else. It is a choice to think you have no choice. You crave hope in a vain attempt to fill the void created by fatalism. Even more perplexing, you hate receiving the help when it does come because it isn’t the help you want. You want to be healed while keeping the lie intact. That is why, when you are able to, you destroy the hand that chose to love you. She chose to share the truth, which is the only way to help you, and you betrayed her. This is the nature of those unable to give up the lie and embrace Agape.
What usually happens, when the truth becomes so vital to sustaining the lie, they co-op the lie. The herd always does this. They destroy the rebel and admit some of the truth. They don’t admit the rebel helped them or at best they downplay the rebel as much as possible. No, the herd decides they were the one who came up with it; they were the one who saw the errors of their ways. They decided it was time to change. They take the credit in order to tell the truth so that it can fit inside the lie. They lie even when speaking of the truth, and they die passing on their dysfunction as the truth, when all they really have done is make a better lie.
They manipulate the truth so that they never have to admit how pathetic they are. That is the culmination of American history. Why we are told to believe in the American dream, as a hope to be had by yourself, designed to keep each new generation of rebels isolated from the herd. We hold on the to the sliver of hope fed to us. We latch on to the adage of the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know. Can a dream become reality? Sure, anything is possible. But most dreams are lies we tell ourselves to bear with the bleak existence we live in. We tell ourselves the truths that only fit into the lies we want to be true. Just because we want something to be true doesn’t mean it will, or ever can, be true. Can you finally see what the rebel sees? Or will you live in the lie?