Most people are too lethargic to break away from the "heard". It isn't just your fellow citizens. Hiding behind customs and opinions is the easier way. Introspective knowledge is always harder to obtain. With modern life being so engaging and hectic, people hardly have time to form opinions away from the media, "hear say" (a.k.a " the heard") and cultural beliefs (a.k.a the herd).
In many cases people have in fact started to "believe in believing" rather than letting the belief convince them. Transubstantiation in Christianity is one such instance that I can think of in the west . It's moral relativism at work really; that is to say that a persons morality is relative to their surrounding. It is rarer that people recognize the nature of morals and come out slightly more informed about why people act like ignoramuses.
A lot of people imagine that it is impossible and impractical to be a relativist- but this is short sighted- it is in fact easier than being a "preference utilitarian"( a moral position that considers all things pleasurable to the self worth cherishing and all else worth diminishing). Relativism is by default our morality. Especially since according to relativism there are no right or wrong morals but simply relative ones; making all other moral beliefs sub-moral.
Colorless
ReplyDeleteWho am i?
the narrator of a story searching a conclusion;
a man who seems to be free yet possessed
of his own possessions, of a rhetoric bound
by process of which, might myself feel enriched
swaying in the consciousness of the complete
engulfed in the parameters of flesh and blood
of such skin so temporary and such life, might I,
sail through a sea of thoughts, scheming
possessions my possessions find me possessed
to the secure castle of my own, I must
narrate a story of time and its inconsideration
towards a budding little flower in a storm
I must
Find security of my thoughtfulness in the story
Of the despair of a blooming flower in the storm
Creations! I must speak to myself of which
I survive
Who am I?
A humble narrator to the questions of life
A couscous bloke, experiencing through a tint
Of glass that must help form a story
Of situations must I realize my place
My sympathies, what an unfortunate state
So who might I be?
The one behind, in centre or a product of
A story worthily told to secure the egotism
Of the temporary circus staged skillfully
By temporary thoughts for a temporary self
Must I be such a narrator oblivious to my own self
Be a possessive partner of the very self
I create
Longing for misery to motivate the arrogance
of an apprehensive oaf
in apprehension of himself projecting and screening
Through tinted glass for a view so myopic
that must identify a self separate, cornered, singled
alone
Of such narration my friends who must I be?
A craft fully designed centre piece
of an over crowded room of thoughts, eagerly calculating
the worth of temporary possessions
what must an experience be for such lousy limitation?
Of the objectification of an ever changing process
And its beauty of spirited motion
I realize I am
Not much, but a possession myself
I realize I am
An accumulation of
A picture of..
A narration of..
Objectified in..
Limited with..
A mere thing..
Lustfully my own
I realize I am
Pale, yellow, white
I realize I am, colorless