The Fire Pit
giving you a clear vision of the desired outcome.
I am lately reminded of a book I read by a famous German writer, Ernst Junger, long dead, about his experiences in the 1st world war. He was walking through a battlefield after combat. The field was strewn with bodies of men and horses rotting in the sun, the putrefaction overpowering, detritus scattered everywhere, paper, food supplies, shoes, letters, pictures. He experienced a loss of meaning. There was no essence to anything. He was an alien in a nonsensical world, a very frightening moment.
At this point I would say that the US is trying to hold on to meaning, to essence, because the country is descending into meaninglessness. What is real, what is of value, truth, ethics, honor, children? The elites have never looked so despicable, so self-serving and the mainstream so ignorant, sycophantic and immature.
The country is bombarded on a daily basis with one conspiracy theory after another, the Russians, the Clintons, Ivanka, Jared, Bannon, Priebus. The leaks of top secret information coming out of Washington guarantees that foreign countries can give their secret service agencies a holiday because such information is being disclosed daily by the NY Times or the Washington Post.
What's happening is that the players have become more important than the rules. No one batted an eye when it was discovered that Clinton was given the questions that were to be asked in the primary debate. She was more important than the primary she was participating in, a very telling moment. I'm not trying to single her out as "the" culprit, but rather that the country was allowing this to occur without condemnation.
Nobody questions why Trump was elected, nor do they acknowledge how unpalatable both candidates were. We are in the era of the movie star. The star rules; whatever the star says, is. Our society has become so toxic that no one is spared, and can be held up to ridicule, to be accused of fabricated offenses, to be charged of nonexistent crimes.
The Second Coming poem by William Butler Yeats written in the aftermath of the 1st world war seems apropos:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity . . .
The favorite this past month was Life's Perp Walk