Discipline – A Difficult Act in a Hard World

A few paragraphs from my soon to be published book ‘Twenty Though’s Two’

Discipline – A Difficult Act in a Hard World

After writing there comes a time when the ideas are re-read.  Within the re-reading I learn about myself and on occasion have changed the way I think about certain subjects. No doubt my opinions are hard, callous, caustic. Being part of an inhuman race has made me this way. Its not that I do not see good in some people.  There seems to be a meanness in the majority. I’ve been duped more than a few times, misjudged many who I thought were nice and turned out to be frauds.  Nothing more than consummate actors playing the illusion of life to perfection.  I’ve seen the fraudulent ways of these devils and I find it difficult to trust without really getting to know someone. Indeed I feel its often not worth the effort to bring new people into my life. I am frustrated with the sycophantic nature of the human condition. Deception runs deep in societies hierarchy. It is this intentional deception, used to empower those at the top of the poison ivy which concerns me and the ability of so many to follow them and their lies leads me to mistrust those I do not know. The evidence is the voter knows the politician lies and deceives and still votes for them! The lack in discipline and weakness of the majority of humans is the paradox. Believing they are free within their slavery. And voting for false promises prove their ineptitude to make sensible choices.

Forgiveness is not a piece in the jigsaw puzzle of my character.  Be clear, my contempt for illusionist deceivers is so deep there is no desire understand them or forgive them. In truth they are greedy, evil and contemptuous, I see through these fraudsters, I wish I could have done so in my earlier years.  Anyone who has hurt me, even if I am the source of the hurt, will never be forgiven for the pain and damage done to my emotions.  Once I would have said I was damaged, hurt and angry.  Now I have no concern for any other than myself.  I ask for nothing and I’ll give nothing. My previous generosity was seen as weakness and I know I was once laughing stock.  My remaining years are built on a fortress of hard earned wisdom and make no mistake I would pour boiling oil on any who attempt to impinge upon my wellbeing. Strange thing is ‘silence’ is the scalding defence.

It’s the way of many a human living the lie.  The illusion is the need to be seen as nice, good, thoughtful, good parent, hard worker, savvy with money, building for the future, social conformist.  I accept these ideals will work for many families and individuals as long as they are within the ‘dream’.  Yes, people say ‘I’m living the dream’. If it’s a dream it’s unreal.  What of the failures? And there are many of them. What cost?  The broken relationships, children running wild, turning feral, adultery, bigotry, lies, theft, smugness, greed, pain, cruelty, tears, these examples and what they represent are hidden behind some facades of happiness.  The hammer of experience continues to strike the anvil of life and it will break or mould the human.  Conform the human.  Beat the human into the requirements of the social system. Or will the human’s metal fracture under the process?

If I’d known why and how malicious and dangerous the human being can be when I was younger and not seen only the good in man, my life would have been a heaven, not the hell once lived in.  Friendships and relationships, were sinking ships, people walked all over me, took advantage with a Fagin smile.  If I’d known the truth, the real truth, I would have worked in bars, travelled the world, taken pictures and written books.  Marriage, relationships, family?  No, these are contracts I should not have signed or become part of.  Commitment to people is not one of my greatest strengths. I am cynic and now trust very few people.  Those who were part of my past are of no consequence to me today.  Many of them stole from me and I write not of money, their thefts made me pauper and in my poverty I became thief.  I describe my past this way…

Circles, wheels slowly turning, time passing and returning to the same stagnant time, the clock stops, overwound, anger, breakdown, hatred and being hated, thoughts of suicide.  No discipline, nothing. 

This essay is titled  Discipline – A Difficult Act in a Hard World. And what would the last four paragraphs have to do with the title?  Discipline is one of the many keys needed to live a comfortable life. A disciplined mind will follow a set path to a goal and is able to deal with slight deviations as the journey progress’s.

I’m a traveller and soon I will be on a journey which should have begun years ago.  And even though age is a draw back, technology has made the future easy.  MacBook, Canon camera, a voice recorder will enable me to wander Earth, record my thoughts, write my madness, angers, loves and frustrations. This is my time to write whatever I like, in whatever way I wish. A free-flow of words taking me from one paragraph to the next. Thats how I want to live.  One episode to the next, see where it takes me and I have the disciple to do it.

Man is a pilgrim on the road to the cathedral of ‘success’.  This is the route many fall by the wayside.  Birth – Education – Application – Success and Failure – Accumulation – A time for rest – And Death.  Many believe this to be the perfect formula or religion to happiness.  Living within the control of the ‘Establishment’ and still believing themselves to be free.  Looking at the success of their families and saying ‘I did this, their success is down to ME’.  For me it’s boring, mundane, pointless. The writer should study his fellow humans and he will discover his or her truth.  Do not think, I wish I were rich, famous or genius, this ‘chase’ seems a long odds gamble.  I spent some time in Hollywood and Burbank last year and watched thousands of tourists looking at the film studios, stars homes and the walk of fame.  I was bored with the glitz interested in the tourists. A Visit to the large and beautifully tended grave yards high above Los Angeles with the deer wandering through the trees was fascinating.  Small headstone epitaphs of once famous stars, just a name, no flowers. I asked a young man ‘Do you know George Raft was?’ I already knew ‘NO’ would be the answer.  If the famous are forgotten what hope have the minions?   You may argue ‘They’re remembered in their films’.   I’ll answer ‘Thats entertainment! Not life’.