Unchanging

Everybody says they want change. Everybody says that they want to fix the problems. But once it comes down to something they've said, or something they need to change, or even something they can do something about, it is suddenly an issue. Suddenly something to be avoided. Something wrong.

We proud creatures seem to be gifted at talking about stuff, but acting on it is another matter completely. We will talk. We will say. But we won't move.

Intelligence, that odd beast, is not with us often enough. We float mindlessly through life. Wisdom, particularity when defined to be an understanding of when not to get pedantically caught up in nothingness, is a rare commodity. Thinking, then, is not something most people are actively involved in. In fact, they try very hard NOT to think about things. To avoid those things for which they don't like, or don't want or are just too confusing to them in some vague way. We are a society of willingly blind fools. One that just keeps hoping, beyond all reason, that somehow, in some-way, it will all work out.

And thus we don't get change. We don't get fixes. We don't get better. We just get the near-perfectly shallow existence that we traded our lives for. A chance to fill up our rec. rooms with another pile of plastic products. Stuff of unnecessary and unexceptionable quality. Junk, by any other name. It is our stuff. What we own, what we wear, what we use, and ever more increasingly, what we think. We are evaporating. Disappearing slowly, beneath a sea of mindless slaves that must always do what they are told. Hollowed out shells that no longer no why. That no longer care why. They seem -- at the surface at least -- perfectly content with just fiddling around with another stupid gadget, instead of finding real meaning or purpose in their lives. And so it goes.

Everybody says they want change.