The book of Hin the book of Du; the book of Mor, M, and On; the book of Chris with the last initial T, the book of Go and D; the way of T, A, and O; the way to Nirv and Ana; which craft is arc kraft, do you know’a ark? The weigh side or the rite side? Rot whey is not white? Pray I “x” hell before the sleeper dubs me a good knight.
Rivers flow, winds blow, and mountains of sand move. Water banks shift, beaches shrink – the Earth has her own groove. But here we are with retaining walls, homes of stone and streets paved in concrete. Man-made canals and walls to damn because we think it’s our own land. With great convictions we invent restrictions to imprison her bountiful bodies. We happily wave her old currents goodbye as we create her new ebbs and tides, ones that used to flourish now only malnourish and we wonder why. Committed and convicted are her handlers who defeat all her damsel-like defenses. With dozers and dynamite they do their will under a falsified right; tearing, blasting, deconstructing and dividing with fences… his, hers, yours, and mine… taking, giving, raping, and selling – prostituting and looting her most valuable pieces. Like plaster on walls, we silence her pulsing beats with our seemingly prosperous feats.
If we all go where one goes, who will know where we went?
If I see you and you see me, how can we see I to I?
He wanted to escape things that he did not want or need. Society as he knew it was sick and consisted of false security, material excesses, judgment, and control, all distractions that kept people from the truth of existence. Money and power was an illusion. Careerism and money seemed only to embolden blindness. His over indulgence in personal desires to find truth enticed him, with swift decision, to sever all current ties just as precisely and deliberately as a newborn infant is cut from its umbilical cord.
For nearly two years Christopher Johnson McCandless, AKA Alexander Super Tramp, lived a footloose life. He had escaped to absolute freedom. He reveled in his newfound ability to get by without depending on much of anything. His days were more exciting when hew as penniless. This was not an aimless journey for Alex however, what he wanted more than anything, “… than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness…” he sought truth. To him “it is important in life, not necessarily to be strong, but to feel strong. To measure yourself at least once; to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing the blind death stone alone with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head.” This belief may explain why he never attempted to contact his family during his journey. His strong need to do this completely on his own kept him isolated from those who would undoubtedly, and forcefully, lend a helping a hand. And that in itself was the last thing he wanted.
Away from the falseness of society Alexander Super Tramp greatly contributed to the society he so despised, probably without even realizing it. Along his road to the wild he encountered several people who truly benefited from meeting him. While he disowned his own family and his own name, he was a surrogate son and brother to others who had also been separated from their loved ones. His momentary presence in their lives brought to them joy and forgiveness. Perhaps Alexander Super Tramp was so blinded by his own quest to save himself that he was unable to see he was a savior to many along the way.
Do the pressures to comply with irrational traditions have you feeling a bit crazy? Watch “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. This film was most certainly adeptly written and directed to, in a nutshell, portray the absurdly, blatant hypocrisy of conformity and how the relentless obsession to be in the position of control can cause one to not only fly over the Cuckoo’s nest but directly into a thick pane of glass. This story is undoubtedly relevant today. And for so long as we humans insist on having control and power over one another, manipulating or forcing upon the masses arbitrary rules of conformity, the story will remain relevant.
By voicing his own opinions, Randal Patrick Murphy frustrated his superiors. Due to his lack of willingness to conform to the flock and fly in an orderly fashion, he was labeled “belligerent”. He was sent for a mental evaluation simply because he “talked when not authorized, [had a] resentful attitude towards work and in general, [for being] lazy”. During his evaluation period he attempted to coexist with the set rules; he tried exercising his democratic rights that were granted, but to no avail. His sane trials of compromise repeatedly met unabated resistance. His continuous display of sanity devoid of obedience ultimately led to his mental demise. Those in control were unable to sway his mind into agreeable conformity. Rather than acknowledge their inability to control, they plundered his mind and irrevocably rendered him forever flightless.
The movie is a truthful predicative tale of how those who are self-willed can be wing-clipped, caged, and successfully suppressed in ways that are most detrimental to the human spirit. The sad fable even demonstrates that even democracy, at its simplest ideal, cannot be upheld if those in power disagree. The sane, which do not conform, can easily be deemed crazy or tagged dangerous; thus pigeonholed into a role of a person in need of help. What a sad realization it is to connect this entertaining Hollywood movie to the simple, basic plight of man’s ongoing desire to be individualistic and free.
Frustrated from conditional restraint,
Constitution says you are free but you ain’t.
What good are words for when no one listens?
The day our stand prevails our freedom glistens.
Emotions are free to flow through our veins,
Now in words our desires spread like flames.
Beware of the freedom and for what it entails,
Imminently your words may lead you to jails.
With purity of cause and rights of voice,
Peacefully we stand for the rights of choice.
“To get our rights we’ll have to shout” (Mandel)
Know your truth and let it out!
“A self which does not transcend itself is dead” (Boyle)
Choose your own direction and don’t be led.
Tomorrow’s path is still unknown,
Poets’ prose of past to us they have shown,
“Poetry is for the people and it should represent the people” (Boyle)
Therefore, summon upon the spitfire found deep in your essence,
Let your voice be heard for it solidifies your presence.