Religious Iconoclasm, Tribal Ancestral Loathings, Grave Digging, Belligerent Atheists and the Planned End to Your World

                     I know when I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth. (Colloquial expression for, "man who speaks with forked tongue.") Imagine being the only Secularist in your family of fundamentalists, whatever their religion. Not me, it might be you. Imagine knowing the place of healthy shared living spiritual fictions, when you yourself must remain mute. Imagine all humans aren't stupid, we simply aren't functioning. Function is relative. Language and culture are your functional legacy, not everyone has a culture or history. What is your history? Which language are you speaking? Is your history or language yours?

                     The disassembly of your world view is fastest under the threat of violence and forewarned abuse. My trite glibness is not an excuse for my healthy religious love of poverty. Rational discourse is always the first casualty of mocking censorship. But somehow we may still have a will to exist. For the sake of the fugitive, even survival is relative.

                     Can you remember the taste of the sweet dirt under your feet? Can we sometimes remember the names or faces of people we've once encountered? Do you feel a caressing breeze? Or the softness of her hand? We may remember each other fondly and may be edified. Will we ever get to raise our hands, to ask truly important questions? (Never a drop is spilled.)

                     "I" is only the mirror, held up with the judgements of others. The "I" is the living cultural medium, from which we are all living vital personal spiritual fictions. Words are merely the shared backdrop. Words are repetitious and redundant. Words and their cultures are replaceable, we are not. People are actively consuming your culture and the cultural byproducts on line. "There are things more important than life itself." Dreams can made to be memorable, signature, and quantifiably unique.  We are forever co-bound as individuals, sharing in this brief tableau in which we are placed. From all that has been destroyed, are there any remaining dreams still surviving? Hide your light my sweet children, don't hide your light.

                      Meaning is something that evades containment.