Finding the Essence of Truth
Finding Truth The Facts of Life Tabula Rasa! That is how everyone begins - with no concept of ideologies, likes or dislikes, beliefs or disbeliefs, prejudices, - no knowledge of right and wrong, - legally or morally - no understanding of beginnings or endings, heaven or hell, purgatory or limbo, where it all came from or where it all goes in the end.
He just knows he exists and not even why.
The embryonic stage establishes norms, behaviors, templates -- forms bases for opinions and begins a databank of useful info and some not-so-necessary stuff that just seems to linger for no good reason.
It is just there, like some dreams that recur and mean nothing obvious.
Somehow, the enforcement agency that controls the behavior of the populace has to be neutral and impartial.
It must have a computer-like conscience which is unmoved by emotions and cannot be swayed by rhetoric or tears in the name of pure, unadulterated justice.
It cannot like or be liked; nor can it hate or be hated.
There can be no sensitivity or subjectivity to influence a just conclusion - just a silicon chip mentality without reservation not much unlike the fictional Robocop in his ideal mode.
The theme of this posture permeated throughout all of society and became the mean by which social cohesiveness was measured and determined.
The child came into the world squeezed between the lips to which he would eventually return (in another venue), under great pressure, and would have the knot tied that loosens him from dependency in a literal sense to become a new statistical individual of protoplasmic composites that in some way would shape either a small part (or all) of the world.
His mind is a virtual tabula rasa, until such time that proof of intelligent existence in the womb is verified, and from that moment is susceptible to blatant and subtle expressions, impressions, depressions, suppressions and any other noun-formations that may exist in the world descending upon him like a torrential flood, unstoppable and irreversible.
Such is the nature of time.
His first tears and primal screams are instinctive, a sort of "Hello, I'm here and I'm not so sure I really want to be," a physical and emotional reaction to entering the first light (and a bright one at that) and a cool, lighter breeze than the sloshing fluid environment to which he was for so long accustomed.
There were many hands that were supportive, strong, delicate, firm, and safe.
The uterine constraints are gone, the kicks un-repelled, and sucking lungs gasp for air in bulk, a rhythmic continuum perpetuated ad aeternam or until death stops it.
What, after all, is right or wrong? Who is the judge? What are the penalties and who has the right or obligation to execute them? Society imposes its will on its members whimsically and implores some eternal entity through fear of the unknown to ratify its imposition.
Like a sponge, the first one to two years, the child absorbs the sights and sounds and senses the depth of his surroundings, gathering the data with which his foundation will be based.
It is a silent accumulation, like an overnight blizzard, that piles layer upon layer of information, uncategorized but filed for future reference.
He bonds himself irrevocably to the genetic parentage and finds refuge in the arms and breasts of the mother that feeds and nurtures him and the father who offers strength and security in the safety of his protective custody.
The world continues its revolutions and "revolutions" amidst its billions of once innocent and harmless children all grown up.
They come and go generation upon generation each with its own set of standards, expectations, philosophies, attitudes and perspectives in a life and death struggle that ends inevitably in the grave as silent as it was before the being ever existed.
And the children continue to grow.
Meanwhile, those who made them try to fit together like the chunks from different puzzles - close, but never a perfect fit.
That is a fact of life - shave a bit off here and a portion there to force the pieces together, or ignore the differences and make believe they belong together anyway.
Mix the cultures up a bit more and a wider gap exists because of language and traditional expectations that are not only in different orbs but light-years apart.
But, I digress.
The knight in shining armor, LOVE, comes to the rescue of the beleaguered ones.
But, THAT is another story.
He just knows he exists and not even why.
The embryonic stage establishes norms, behaviors, templates -- forms bases for opinions and begins a databank of useful info and some not-so-necessary stuff that just seems to linger for no good reason.
It is just there, like some dreams that recur and mean nothing obvious.
Somehow, the enforcement agency that controls the behavior of the populace has to be neutral and impartial.
It must have a computer-like conscience which is unmoved by emotions and cannot be swayed by rhetoric or tears in the name of pure, unadulterated justice.
It cannot like or be liked; nor can it hate or be hated.
There can be no sensitivity or subjectivity to influence a just conclusion - just a silicon chip mentality without reservation not much unlike the fictional Robocop in his ideal mode.
The theme of this posture permeated throughout all of society and became the mean by which social cohesiveness was measured and determined.
The child came into the world squeezed between the lips to which he would eventually return (in another venue), under great pressure, and would have the knot tied that loosens him from dependency in a literal sense to become a new statistical individual of protoplasmic composites that in some way would shape either a small part (or all) of the world.
His mind is a virtual tabula rasa, until such time that proof of intelligent existence in the womb is verified, and from that moment is susceptible to blatant and subtle expressions, impressions, depressions, suppressions and any other noun-formations that may exist in the world descending upon him like a torrential flood, unstoppable and irreversible.
Such is the nature of time.
His first tears and primal screams are instinctive, a sort of "Hello, I'm here and I'm not so sure I really want to be," a physical and emotional reaction to entering the first light (and a bright one at that) and a cool, lighter breeze than the sloshing fluid environment to which he was for so long accustomed.
There were many hands that were supportive, strong, delicate, firm, and safe.
The uterine constraints are gone, the kicks un-repelled, and sucking lungs gasp for air in bulk, a rhythmic continuum perpetuated ad aeternam or until death stops it.
What, after all, is right or wrong? Who is the judge? What are the penalties and who has the right or obligation to execute them? Society imposes its will on its members whimsically and implores some eternal entity through fear of the unknown to ratify its imposition.
Like a sponge, the first one to two years, the child absorbs the sights and sounds and senses the depth of his surroundings, gathering the data with which his foundation will be based.
It is a silent accumulation, like an overnight blizzard, that piles layer upon layer of information, uncategorized but filed for future reference.
He bonds himself irrevocably to the genetic parentage and finds refuge in the arms and breasts of the mother that feeds and nurtures him and the father who offers strength and security in the safety of his protective custody.
The world continues its revolutions and "revolutions" amidst its billions of once innocent and harmless children all grown up.
They come and go generation upon generation each with its own set of standards, expectations, philosophies, attitudes and perspectives in a life and death struggle that ends inevitably in the grave as silent as it was before the being ever existed.
And the children continue to grow.
Meanwhile, those who made them try to fit together like the chunks from different puzzles - close, but never a perfect fit.
That is a fact of life - shave a bit off here and a portion there to force the pieces together, or ignore the differences and make believe they belong together anyway.
Mix the cultures up a bit more and a wider gap exists because of language and traditional expectations that are not only in different orbs but light-years apart.
But, I digress.
The knight in shining armor, LOVE, comes to the rescue of the beleaguered ones.
But, THAT is another story.
Source...