These days one can measure thoughts and intent, through the result of actions assumption. But one can fail this social experiment in the same context too. Am I an angel? Hardly, or did I just expect too much?
Whilst in the paddock, in the growing of and running of the bulls. Each bull and obviously the calves, grew and strengthened themselves by their own measure and limitations. Giving sight to what he thought was immeasurable. Or so he thought, it has only come to our attention recently, that the cows have been measured by their own scale of intent and thought processes. That some things are definitely accounted for.
As a symptom of my own regressive thoughts and patterns in dealing with trauma inherited through life, there was a stage where I would crave physical contact, gentil nurturing. It grounds me in a way that no other form of support can. Be it from reasons, “issues” they are but my own deep sitting. I know sometimes I need to be hugged. Not for assurance as some would have you believe but for reminding. Of where I stand today. Within the sphere of my own universe.
Now in this same way, I stand half the man I was yesterday. Without bonds, without anyone to hold me in my need for contentment. As if to mock me, the universe’s law of to receive, one must give equal too, or more than what he wants. Now having been weighed by the universe, I have allowed it to take everything I hold, because of a feeble attempt to ask for consideration. Ask to be heard.
Whilst in the paddock the younger bulls cry out to stake their claim, to inform the alpha male that they are here. The brave and fortunate favour their confidence and charge headstrong into the alpha. Lesser to them, the cowards drop their head and accept a defeat that signals a demise of which no blood will be spilled, nor procreated. But one bull, looks around, measures both cow and bull, his limitations and fortune. He sees a patch of grass that few have splendidly chewed on. And traverses across, claiming foresight as his means to negotiate cows who may or may not, want to choose for themselves. For it is still, a paddock of free wills.
Through my experiences and thoughts, emotional feelings growing within, exchanged through community confidence and sorrow, the only way I can explain how I became the drop of a head to a community? The man stood on my head. Some cultures and often groups, have common perceptions of self care. Others in individual thought, forge ahead with their own life choices and mello-dramas reaching to the believers to capture immortality. That man and I sang once together, and through misconception, became enemies.
Whilst in the paddock, the new and younger strong alpha, turns and charges in directions to state his place and space within the herd. Selecting his prize cow and harem followers he was born to enjoy. His future determined by the meer lust of blood that is his and to those conceived calves from his own loins. The bull who had chosen the grass, now miranda's through and in between the cows who have willingly wandered across to see grass or bull? Louder and louder that bull lets out his voice to thank the paddock for its measure of arbitrary reward. Though I hardly think survival of the fittest won there.
True knowledge is power, though how to explain its words and paint, often escapes so many. Maybe we should leave it to the song writers? And make a mixtape of songs to pass on messages of what we meant, standing in the way of control.
The magician walks out onto the stage and before his attentive audience, announces that this trick is such and the magic is here. The audience opened eyed and fully attentive, searching themselves for that spot of marvel. As the magic unfolds, they believe that what they have seen and felt is true, for seeing is believing.
They go out into the world the next day after a night of dreamt amusement. And speak the truth.
It is only some months later, after analysing each movement, that a captive audient begins to decipher the act. And it is not till years later when another magician has the reveal show that the original becomes the old.