It is all exciting, this new year. 2019. Sarcasm fills me when I think of it. This calendar. The organisation of time. My time. My own sacred marking of days on another mans calendar.
It seems arbitrary to me that January 1st marks the new year. Months named after rulers and kings and deities that are not mine. That the last personal thing is managed and taken from me by the ticking of a clock. A flea snipping at the my flesh. A flea not mine. Even “ticking clocks” are by-the-way.
The un-natural overlay of this modern calendar upon the lives of humanity – used to manage us. To keep us “in line”. Managed. Holidays and remembrances that are not mine. That belong to dead soldiers of wars that I did not fight in; slaughters of humans best forgotten, not revered in the memories of present day drones.
“Heed these words, You who wish to probe the depths of nature: If you do not find within yourself that which you seek, neither will you find it outside. If you ignore the wonders of your own house, how do you expect to find other wonders? In you is hidden the treasure of treasures. Know Thyself and you will know the Universe and the Gods.”