“Kindness and compassion towards all living things is a mark of a civilized society. Conversely, cruelty, whether it is directed against human beings or against animals, is not the exclusive province of any one culture or community of people. ”
This is not going to be like my other posts, there are no intricate sentences weaving dreamlike thoughts of life, this post just is.
I have always held the belief that a society should be judged on how they treat their innocents, children and animals, two beings almost completely at our mercy – physically as well as many times mentally, spiritually and emotionally.
Lately, more and more cases of child abuse, rape and murder have been reported, and the number of cases of sick animal abuse and exploitation have shot up. Is our society rotting from the core? What can be done to stop, or at least help? Why is this happening?
The following pictures and videos may disturb you, I know they disturb me. Though, this is the truth of animal abuse. This cannot be sugar coated, this is a cancer of our society that must be cut out. (I focus on animal abuse mainly in the post simply for the fact animals strongly resonate with my heart)
Cicadas screech in the humid air, across the horizon the city brushes the heavens, in the corner of my room bags sit, half packed. The setting sun filters through the silk drapes, illuminating the room in its life. I gaze at the bags, they are in some ways my safety net. All my belongings can fit in to them, easily dragged behind me through the sprawling airports across the globe.
“Personal growth has its price, and she was paying it without complaint.” – Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides to Die
Cicadas screech in the humid air, jolting me back to existence. Footprints of my journey cast into the white sands, the gentle tides washes them away. I am at a point in my life where there is great change, new beginnings and a universe of lessons.
Many of my days are spent floating in and out of conciousness, at times the black hole of the city swallows me whole.
“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.” ― Albert Einstein
Pink clouds stretch across a deep orange sky as the sun set, in that moment all simply is. Trees gently sway in the whispering breeze, crickets welcome the oncoming night. I look to the skies above and sigh.
What is reality?
Since I can remember I have felt this strange sensation; am I really awake? What if I was simply in a deep sleep and woke realising this, my whole life was a dream. What if time, was an illusion and your life as you perceive it was a carefully constructed and intricate lie?
It can be difficult to speak about such things in words, as the truth just is, it is speechless, its felt rather than heard and known rather than learnt. Yet something that can be said as well as felt; our perception of time is speeding up, people are ‘awakening’, asking questions and allowing their essence to be heard. More and more people are tuning in to their conciousness, to their vibration, or whatever else you know it as.
Yet many people are like ants, carrying out functions unknown to them in a daze of reality and a haze of city fumes, their essence in a deep slumber, their own mind blinding them.
Now stars cover the dark ink sky like a mosaic, cicadas sing in the humid air and bats screech. Another night will pass, escaping our grasp.
“The Greek word for “return” is nostos. Algos means “suffering.” So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return.” – Milan Kundera
As the city lights glimmer a mosaic of stars scatter across the dark sky, rain hits the pavements whilst people take cover under umbrellas and soggy newspapers. The moon is almost full and its hypnotic energy seduces the bustling streets.
My heels pound against the wet cobblestone road, my eyes follow passing travellers, I search for the rich smell of coffee and the meaning behind all that is life.
Some nights the collective force of every person seems to haunt the nights sky, a lighting bolt of energy pulsing through my veins, holding a nostalgic memory or a feeling that is universal. I yearn to return to wherever it is where I am from, no matter what country or city my body wonders, I yearn for something just slightly out of reach.
Thunder jolts me back to the physical reality, people jump with fright and smile, the drizzling rain continues.
Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.
“You aren’t a bad person.” she says looking at me, taking a puff of the cigarette in hand, beyond the cafe balcony traffic thundered past, and the thick, humid air hung over the passing people like a blanket.
“My actions where wrong though, its not even the action – it’s the thought process” I reply, my eyes glancing over the cocktail menu, things had progressed quickly from coffee to cocktail jars.
Chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, the walls painted in a deep red that flaked of age, music seduced the dimly lit rooms.
“I just don’t think you’re a bad person” she shrugged to me as she faced the waiter to order. “Everyone is capable of being a bad person … it’s about acknowledging it” I answer, handing my menu back to him.
I light another cigarette and look to the bustling streets below. “I have seen violence so much growing up.. Maybe I’m just used to it, that’s why I resort to it when things get too much”. Her eyes examine my face “I don’t think you are like that. Not everyone becomes what they came from”.