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Darlin if it’s shit came out

Disaster is not a thing one can approach. It cannot tempt you, nor can you flirt with it.  Disaster, like death, is with us from conception.  From the moment of birth our each and every breath contains the possibility of unspeakable horrors.  The development of an individual’s first memory proves that it is not until we discover the use of words that our imaginings begin to take shape.  Speech gives us the untold power of creating the world around us.  Alas, we are taught this power without understanding its true nature.  While things like good and evil may exist, the power of “the word” is not inherently moral.  Like any totem of mythical power, language cares nothing for how it is used or the effect it has on the one who wields it.

Name a thing and you have power over it.  Name a thing and you are actively exerting dominion over it.  Name a thing, the ancient Egyptians believed, and you have called it into existence.  And, like tyrants, this is what we do.  We create stereotypes, by referring to the “black vote” as if it is an established fact.  We create pain, by naming whether a relationship is going well, or poorly.  We have created seventy million slaves in this country alone, by naming mental illness.

I could enumerate countless disasters, each day created by the expunged breath of we seven billion humans that call this planet home, but what use in that?  It is too late to prevent them.  If we approach every problem as a unique incident, a failing, if you will, in the inherent beauty of nature, we have done nothing but build the foundation of our own demise. It is time to realize that we are not a part of nature. The natural world has order, beauty, and above all balance. I have been struggling since my first breath to find any semblance of balance in life. Beauty, peace, balance exist all around me, yet I rarely find them in myself.

It is time to redefine disaster. The English word disaster comes from the Latin word disastro, meaning “ill-stared.” For generations we have treated disasters as if they are just that, ill fate. I posit that disaster comes not from some predetermined or accidental event, but from what we allow to be true. In this technological world it has become too easy to disdain the written and spoken word. People are content to communicate by pictures, meaningless symbols, and abbreviated phrases. No wonder my generation feels as if it has lost control of the world around it.


Then I suppose that it’s shit went in