Being an American
I am standing above it all, looking out and from above, examining my life, every twist and turn of it. As with a river, I follow every meander with the clarity and purpose of a drone these days.
Many years have come and gone since I first saw myself coming to this place called America, actually, to experience it all. And then later, much later to report on it, in a way very much like a living artefact except that I must live it, feel it, smell it, even revel in it. And with this in mind I have come to understand that the present, the future and the past are all relative incidents of time, sometimes slipping seamlessly in and out of a single interchangeable conciousness.
But for the fact that I was born acknowledging the certainty that I am a universal soul I too, as so many many others would have been trapped in it, in this America, in one of these incidents of time, cocooned in a sort of self absorption and desperation—(I am thinking of Ancient Rome), unwilling fodder or triumphant gladiator.
We must never let ourselves forget that this America too has inevitably followed that singular linage out of Africa…it has contorted and morphed itself from the early African eras into and out of Mesopotamia and Egypt to the Greeks and the Romans and then from a consortium of the Portuguese, the British, the French, the Dutch and even the Germans…Now it is attempting to devour itself, bashing itself against the thorns it sowed along the road. And it goes about all this as if in a trance, in a dream, trapped.
But still there is hope—Yes it must wriggled and wrenched itself free from this nightmarish dream, It must leave behind the curses with which humanity is inherently afflicted…I speak of the sins of greed and hate, gluttony and pride.
The year now is 2024 and yes, indeed, as its forefathers had envisioned America is simply an experiment, trying to be better than its individual parts, an experiment about to face up to its ultimate test—does it live or does it die; does it retreat into the wretchedness of a tribal past or does it emerge into humanity’s promise of brotherhood of all mankind.
This America is now entering the wilderness of its own discontent and only after its transformation will it emerge to display its many colours…then and only then would it accept itself as a thing of beauty…but then those who frolics around and bow down to the “Golden Calf” would have by then died out in a wilderness of their own making, forbidden from crossing over into the promised land.
Those who have ears to hear let them hear.
