-
- Once again we have refrains of Aristotle's crass remains,
and would RETURN to crystal spheres enclosed from our most strident fear
-- all to fool . . . convince ourselves that we must hold the highest shelves
of grace and strong integrity -- "creation's crown", alacrity.
TAKE ARISTOTLE AT HIS WORD, as churches did (Aquinas heard) and put your
woman at your heel to put her through your strange ordeal. Make her work
the lions share, but work for less (or be contraire!) and OWN a hundredth
for her boils as she reduces, makes, and toils. Take dominion of your Earth,
and treat her like a bitch you've cursed; beat her if she won't conform
to arbitrary wills and norms. Throw your filth upon her ground and foul
her face to mar, confound . . . to mess up all the weather patterns, raging
storms that flood and flatten. . . to drop that polar shelf of ice and
raise that wave of flood and fright -- washing Earth from pole to pole,
her healing facial harsh and cold!
-
- Depending on a moon, they say, or "just so far from
solar rays"; seasons placid, and "predictable", water, heat
and food -- some victual. All of this must come together, blessed by God
and *his* trite measure, plus some luck to mix right in -- to make that
spark for *smarter men*. Likely, "RARE!" they have construed!
"We're alone," they BALLYHOO (!), then, hustle on back to their
usual work of working too hard to be less than alert!
-
- UFO's are scorned, ignored, or shut behind their screens
and doors, and they can say that SCIENCE shows that our concern is indisposed.
"What you want's a waste of time," they're quick to say from
strident shrines, though we have paid, and dearly too, for what they hold
from me and you. Locked beyond the common pale (and stuffed to tunnel,
boom, and rail) there exists the covert record of the secrets kept -- collected.
Secrets signal strident change, and who gets hurt when rearranged? Power
settles as it wills, and change is rampant. Take your fill! This may be
what's kept from us -- that *they* lose power, might, and trust -- that
we could be as them, to find . . . that we're contrived, unbrave . . .
confined.
-
- Meanwhile, we're a laugh (God's treasure!), that we INSIST
we use OUR measure; holding to our hubris, meanly, so we can coddle fear
obscenely. We would dote on Aristotle, sucking on that tired bottle, living
at his charmless center he contrived to suit HIS temper, made SPECIAL when
he's alone (to be God's favorite in his home), a "crowning jewel in
cosmic crowns" of *loving gods* with angry frowns?
-
- We'd give space folk motivation, tell them how to DO
their mission -- paint their feelings, points of view, tell them how they'd
pick and choose? Then we'd dictate understanding, argue physics notwithstanding,
tell them what their form should be, and how they'd speak like you and
me? What a crock, this strained elan, we use to sing our centric song.
We'd dictate what we wished was true, forgetting what we always knew, that
what we know is likely wrong -- that we could sing more humble songs.
-
- We do these things, retreat from grace, and wallow in
our pride's disgrace. We forget the time and distance . . . expanding as
we speak -- for instance. We avoid the misty blackness, elude the depths
that lead to vastness, retreating to our shallow minds -- in ignorance's
grasp confined. We doom OURSELVES to crass perdition, and MAKE confusion
-- indecision. We won't see the bigger picture, look beyond a narrow measure,
or fund the courage we would need to validate our break-neck speed! We
don't look into the sky, except to plant the reason why that puts us at
the *point* of *things* -- the universe revolves and swings . . . around
*mankind* so proud and haughty, but like J. Prufrock a little dotty. And
like a Prufrock, our Aristotle figures in to short and throttle, forcing
us, yes, to a center we CONTRIVE, so are embittered.
-
- We won't know what futures bring if we insist and falsely
sing the jaundiced praises of a hubris . . . we've contrived to bathe and
soothe us. We don't make consistent rules, we shortchange all our children's
schools by feeding pap, a tasteless gruel that rots the gut and fouls the
stool. We won't make a lasting peace, we'll struggle where we're challenged
least, and let the BIG chance slip away if we allow this glad decay. Fail
not to search your sky for that which they'd let slip on by. Challenge
ALL your institutions, hold them close to constitutions. There is stuff
they won't explain, and this is why one MUST complain.
-
- Lehmberg@snowhill.com
-
- Believing you're alone's unbrave, and makes you just
a *tool* -- a slave.
-
- Restore John Ford.
-
-
- ~~Ö~~ EXPLORE Alfred Lehmberg's Alien View"
at his Fortunecity URL. http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/arecibo/46/
**<Updated 29 December**
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