We're always dichotomizing the world: good guys, bad guys.
At a time when everyone was eulogizing Nelson Mandela, someone on the other side of the aisle reported that he'd been a monster: he had innocent people murdered, he ordered gasoline-filled tires to be put around their necks before setting them on fire.
Everyone you know belongs to one of your myths, the ones you mostly keep to yourself, the ones in which you're a hero.
Tracy Chapman's song, "Telling Stories" conveys a pitiful truth, that we hardly ever connect with one another, and that all our statements are fictions of one sort or another, not certainties. There is a theory in psychology that all our thoughts arise spontaneously from the unconscious, and our egos decide whether or not to own them. Our egos are so egoistic that they assimilate these thoughts and defend them as if they were created by them, not dredged from the vast underground river dubbed by Carl Jung as the collective unconscious. I
The stories we tell come from that murky, watery place too. We tell them as though they're based in the material world, but our minds have been usurped by other forces
"There is fiction in the space between you and me," I say to the prosecutors, the whistleblower, the jury, the judge.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vHsPaUP4MM
At a time when everyone was eulogizing Nelson Mandela, someone on the other side of the aisle reported that he'd been a monster: he had innocent people murdered, he ordered gasoline-filled tires to be put around their necks before setting them on fire.
Everyone you know belongs to one of your myths, the ones you mostly keep to yourself, the ones in which you're a hero.
Tracy Chapman's song, "Telling Stories" conveys a pitiful truth, that we hardly ever connect with one another, and that all our statements are fictions of one sort or another, not certainties. There is a theory in psychology that all our thoughts arise spontaneously from the unconscious, and our egos decide whether or not to own them. Our egos are so egoistic that they assimilate these thoughts and defend them as if they were created by them, not dredged from the vast underground river dubbed by Carl Jung as the collective unconscious. I
The stories we tell come from that murky, watery place too. We tell them as though they're based in the material world, but our minds have been usurped by other forces
"There is fiction in the space between you and me," I say to the prosecutors, the whistleblower, the jury, the judge.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vHsPaUP4MM
I am sorry you have suffered such injustice. You have been in our thoughts and prayers, but Richard has passed away, so now at night I do think of you and your fate. Injustice stole 8 years of our lives but after 3 trips to the Court of Appeals and finally to the US Supreme Court, we did win our case against the city for violating our civil rights for condemning our house.
ReplyDeleteI couldn't read Gainesville article so I do not know how many years or where you are serving it. I am glad you can post on your blog again.