Road Sassy

If you haven’t read Ligneus’s post on Adam Smith, do so. If men like that governed today in America, we wouldn’t have to deal with pompous pretenders like Obama or McCain. In the comments I remarked as follows:

“Must be the redneck in me, but i could never have conceived that so many would willingly throw down freedom”.

Indeed, it’s the fact that so many Americans are willing to allow the government to control their lives that has me flabbergasted. I have no answers for it, but “Just Another Richard” left an eloquent response, reproduced below.

Ah but zee, you fail to see the human capacity for self delusion, together with its ever faithful companion slothfulness. With a choice between a hard road and the easy way out, people will always rationalize the easy way…its so much simpler, after all, what’s to think about…be happy

The fact that, in the burdensome chores of struggle and endeavor, can be found our own redemption, where the sense of accomplishment can give meaning to existence, where the heavy load of actually thinking for yourself trains the mind to become self sufficient, to be an instrument of its own creation. To free the mind from the irrationality of conspiring minds and petty spiteful dogmas.

Now this does not always result in setting one’s self upon the right path, indeed, many an intellectual’s personal biography can attest to the wasted path to hedonism. But the mind, cautioned by reason and human dignity, aware of its own limitations in a cosmos of such vast and incomprehensible possibilities, does not flee from its own inconsequence, but embraces its own insignificance, for this in truth is what we are; to do otherwise is to rage against our very being, which as you can see, has such devastating and deleterious consequences, crushing aspiration and leaving shattered lives. Just look to those lost souls fleeing their very own lives in pursuit of a release by means of the excessive use of drink or drugs. There is nothing wrong in inconsequence, it is the natural state of being, IT IS LIFE. Those foolish ghosts, forever chasing the ephemeral illusion of fame, celebrity, fortune and power, are the natural born destroyers of what is most sacred in this earthly realm … LIFE.

Like many another, I too struggled in this life to find my meaning, to find my place, and just like most others, I too struggled with my fears, my failings and my doubts. But it was only when I reflected back upon my own soul, that I was able to discover myself. No outside bauble or trinket could satiate my hunger. No greater accumulation of wealth (hah…funny), no position of power in a hierarchy, could gain anything more than fleeting moments of respite from the longing. Only when I came to terms with myself, I cast off the goals of a shallow society, and recognized myself for what I was…just a simple individual, living out this tiny span, did I learn to accept myself on my terms and NOT someone else’s.

The fact that Marxism is a cult of death and destruction is obscured by the illusion that tomorrow we will be one step closer to Utopia if only we believe, is now indisputable and is the most cruel lie humanity could embrace. But for the mind that has cast aside all belief in any greater meaning, or indeed, any meaning, what is there left to do, for when such a mind looks inward it can be filled with nothing but fear and loathing, for there is nothing of substance to be found within; but to join in with the pack to create Utopia upon the hill tomorrow, gives meaning to an empty shell, a meaningless, and soul crushing existence, where that ultimate fear, greater even than the fear of death, must never be faced…the fear of facing one’s self.

I would only add that men cannot make the spiritual journey that Richard describes in a Marxist or Islamic society. The West grants men the freedom to find their way, or lose their way. Sadly, too many Americans are lost.

I’ll be brief. I’m gasping for air actually. I just got my internet connection back after a two day, unexpected, loss of service. Yikes! I am aghast that yet again my addictive personality has found yet another addiction to foster. I need to catch up with email and comments so ask your indulgence with yet another golden oldie.

It was a relief, in a way, to not read of the three pretenders to America’s throne, or about muslims seething, nor progressives chanting hosannas to their new born king. But, as mentioned earlier, I am putting up archives (in a helter skelter manner) and this old post only serves to summon forth the deeper anger I hold for those who are intent on slaughtering America’s spirit like an oxen offered up for sacrifice in a desperate attempt to allay the wrath of the gods.

I come from a family of wanderers and drivers. At 16 I stuck my thumb out and began a decade of crisscrossing this country, weaving America’s highways into my heart with every mile. As I have written elsewhere…

….from infancy, my heart became syncopated to the slick, sweet click of rubber tires bearing down on asphalt, the command of clutch changing gears, the sweet susurrous chortle of a purring engine. For a child translating her world on the basis of seeking escape, the apparent movement of a driver became a code etched into the walls of my soul.
I am, simply, to the road born.

I will never forgive those who are making it quite likely that my grandchildren will never know the ineluctable freedom of disappearing into the heart of America. It is from that place in me that i jotted out the following a few years back.

Back Then, In America

I am haunted by America. I am haunted by the raw power her past still commands. I look deep inside this picture and I can feel the thunder of her engines thrumming. Deep under the earth. They still sing.

This is a land that seems to have commanded audacious vision and reckless abandon in the lovers she would take to her bosom. Men who would look across the muted distances with hunger and purpose, and envision braids of weaving, tumbling roads to carry purpose and hunger west.

It took men who would build lonely buildings, dwarfed by the vastness of earth and sky, along miles of road, singing with empty winds and dark in all directions.
Coffee is hot. Pie is fresh.
Waiting for the one person. The lone traveler.
The one American driving west with technicolor dreams clutched in nervous hearts.
All they own in the world in the backseat of the car.
No forwarding address known.
You could disappear. Back then. In America.

A coffee. cheeseburger. apple pie. A smoke.
Will ya fill her up, mister?
Thanks, Mister.

Door slams shut, warm throttle of the engine as she winds away, cherry red taillights bobbing in the dips of the road, like a flimsy pair of glass hearts lost down the rapids of all roads going West.

Postcard courtesy of New Mexico Route 66 Association member Steven Rider

When Nobel Prize winner Isaac Rabi was asked to what he attributed his success, he said he always remembered that every day when he came home from school his mother would ask him, “Did you ask any good questions today?” What he imbibed was that we ultimately gain more from questions than answers. Answers bring a subject to a close; questions open us up to ever more profound and deeper understanding. That perhaps more than anything else may explain Jewish genius. From youth we explore the Torah, Talmud and commentaries with inquisitive minds encouraged to ask even when no clear response is in sight. To do otherwise would be to imply that our faith cannot withstand scrutiny, that our commitment to God is so tenuous that it is afraid of critical analysis.

from Aish.com

(emphasis mine)

Here is where Islam fails so miserably. Even if I knew nothing else about Islam, the Muslim’s fanatical objection to critiques would arouse my suspicions. But I only need to know one thing about Islam and that it is a creed that demands unquestioning submission. The God of the Jews and the Christians issues an invitation to follow Him. The Muslim god brooks no disputation. Love him or die. To me that is as pathetic as a rich man buying the attentions of a whore and pretending that he is the recipient of love and respect.

Why would I respect a god that is so small that he can’t tolerate my disrespect? Who demands that I prostrate myself before him five times a day? No thanks, I’ll take my chances with a god that gives me permission to kneel, or to walk away. My fate, if I should choose to do the latter, is on me.