Of Monsters And Men

by | JBE, Volume 1

  • Be extremely present.
  • Set inspiring music.
  • Set a positive intention. (“This is what I want to experience.”)
    • I will appreciate that we all share one reality together.
    • We all want happiness.
  • To relax, you may try to:
    • Listen to the music beforehand.
    • Meditate or do breathwork.
    • Observe nature.

What fortunate devils we are if we avoid a child’s question to explain war… If, in return, it has avoided us. War appears on the edge of vision. In a neighboring village. We read about it in newspapers. Overhear a frightful chatter. War lurks as a shadow, trailing suffering.

We fear to look behind. An intangible thought appears farther than the reality. Our ignorance leads to fear – and fear begets ignorance. What a responsibility we all have when a skinny abraded child finally knocks on our door. To tell the truth, not to just give in to deception.

Their slyness sputters, and their serpent voice strikes:

“Tell me, human, why do we fight?”

Before clock strikes twelve, we are faced with a serious question. We have too little time to think of pleasant justifications. We feel disoriented and debilitated, in a sudden blackout. Darkness sieges us. If only we listened to our body; would not the truth be the simplest answer?

The child’s popped eyes and their smeared face trigger a waterfall in us. We ask ourselves now too, with a clasped heart, why does humanity fight? The immediate answer forms from within. We brace up. We respond to the child with deep conviction our wars are not holy. Yet their voice persists like a resounding echo in a cave; like a midnight which endlessly loops until we have an epiphany:

“Tell me, human, for whom do we fight?”

For whom?

For whom… It echoes recedingly until it disappears into a mist. Into a web of thoughts. This innocence has yet to taste suffering, right? No. Our heart quickly deflects this corrupted fantasy. Sincerity commands us to proclaim otherwise: That our wars are unholy and nameless. After all, it seems that the child’s purity is far from naive. Yet the voice persists:

“For whom, then, if not for a single name?”

We think of our mothers and fathers – and their dreadful deeds in the past – and remember how in the meantime we have forgotten our own names. Dead men tell no tales. They very well beget ones.

The music is gorgeously guiding you. Surrender to it.

“We fight because…” but the sentence goes unfinished. Ignorance drips from our shoulders. We squirm like devils. The truth about warfare must not leak out. How dare a child dissects our innermost fabrications!

Yet our heart strikes again. We remember the dream that was once Earth. You could only graze it. Anything more than a graze, and the vase would break, it was so fragile. On Earth lived beings stuck between heaven and hell. They mercilessly fought over the vase. Because of ancestry, or religion, or race, or color. The harder they tried to grab it, the harder it cracked.

From a bird’s-eye view, what men convey as holy seems insignificant. Yet the child’s voice persists:

“Tell me, human, what have you unlearned?”

Unlearned? grimaces the devil inside. We have learned to praise our country above the rest. We have become masters of dealing with enemies. But in the process, we have forgotten how to forge fellowships. It strikes us: Learning is not the correct word. Rather… We have been programmed to artificially separate our unity. How? With races, borders, nations. We have grown ideologies. They root in our subconscious, devouring the child like cancer.

When we pick just one butterfly, the rest dies out. The garden goes extinct. One’s theories would render us wiser, but after thousands of years, we still spend most of our existence in Dante’s conception of hell. We become harmed by our very desire to live. Wars cause the most devilish types of killings, as they are approved by the ruling people with complete calm and forethought. With sufficient time to grant armistice.

“Tell me, human, why do soldiers follow orders?”

There is no pressing desire in a newborn’s brain. Not to follow a general into the fray, at least. What does this mean from an evolutionary standpoint? Why should a grown-up adult entertain a different worldview? A malignant tumor has convinced society to train killing machines out of innocent souls. We arm them with guns and a righteous codex. We treat them like dogs while imprisoning them in synthetically forged ethics. We are the psychopaths. We are the killers. We are all equally responsible for pulling each trigger. For murdering gullible souls who tread the orchards of battlefield.

“Tell me, human, do you fear peace?”

I do, acknowledges the mind without our consent. Because that is how we live our lives. We behave on warped emotions. Preferable justifications for what we do come later.

“Tell me, human, when have you cut me loose?”

Indeed, we think, who gave the devil the word? Who stole it from the child? The leash has long been loosed. We realize a mouse skipped our view. It bit through the cord. We have abandoned the child in debris, yet here they are. Purposefully shredding our concepts of reality. We cannot help but laugh at our sheer incompetence to answer candidly. We evade truthful answers because they hurt like fire. The self-created limbo must loop. The child is not lacking answers but strives we reflect on our own. Yes, what a revelation! Eureka!

In the wind of the sudden awakening, we throw up. The bitter devil is leaving our body. The notion of talking to a physical being disappears. The child is within us, ever-present. Their voice cannot be muffled. It does not fear the devil’s wrath.

Pause and awake! This exact line is written for you with love. Breathe… Notice how the writing equates to raw reality. We are not laying down abstract concepts here. The music guides you. These lines are perceived by your eyes. They exist now, in this eternal moment. They are your consciousness. These letters are leading you to wisdom and enlightenment, for they care about you. This text is a fully autonomous live creature. Are you willing to succumb to its message? A storm beclouds your mind. Let it mercifully pass. Find yourself on a tranquil sea.

Acknowledge the intrinsic nature of the child. One that resides in yourself. Thereby begins the foundation of rebuilding a bridge. On scorched plains that reign on Earth, we learn forgiveness. Understanding that humanly actions stem out of ignorance brings us a step closer to enlightenment. We learn to forgive humans, for they are doing their best to do good, but given their limited understanding of life and their limited capabilities, the result hurts others around. Knowing that whatever people do to hurt us – perhaps they lie, they manipulate the unsuspecting, they stand off from a compromise, and perhaps they mischief to attain their goals through devilish means – they do out of weakness and fear; that develops a compassion. Lament for Peace follows this continuum.

Wars are fought because we are desperate for love. We desire it. Deep down we lack love. We have the technological power to end combat overnight. But we lack the intellectual capacity to lay down weapons and feed the hungry. Fortunately, an opening is in our reach:

Love dissolves our sociopolitical boundaries which encircle our neurotic way of living. It endangers the very foundation upon which the early twenty first century is built. To sustain our society requires we derive amity from ignorance.

Therefore, the child’s voice is being crucified. Burned at the stake. Trampled for one’s pleasure. Reduced to particles. Viewed as something pathetic. The child is forced to sleep outside the door. But though we fear to open, it still loves us. It knows no hatred. Nor can it die – for it rests within us. Instead it yowls like a dog left in the rain; a neglected part of our identity.

A sly serpent, we meanwhile deem the child to be.

One beautiful proverb says fire can be a good servant but also a bad master. And the same can be said about a serpent. While he appears cunning, the very cunningness evokes the serpent’s vigor… His understanding… His clever and purposeful temper.

Besides, to claim the child is a serpent is nothing but an egoistic bulwark to begin with. It is a method of protection from an unwelcomed truth. See, a truth stings the devil. To open the door would undermine our logic. It would defy our flawed beliefs. Almost anything can be defended by logic. Our civilization’s survival rests on false assumptions and ignorance. However, a society would have to dissolve into nothingness in front of the child’s purity. We resist that.

Fortunately, peace was never dead. It is waiting for us. Where? Not where. Not anywhere. It reveals itself when you wake up from this dream. When all is over, the truth is realized: The child is a Nameless Lover.