UFO UpDates Mailing List
From: Alfred Lehmberg <Lehmberg@snowhill.com>
Date: Thu, 11 Dec 1997 07:34:00 -0600
Fwd Date: Thu, 11 Dec 1997 22:11:51 -0500
Subject: Re: Alfred's Odd Ode #203
Apology to MW #203 (For December 11, 1997)
Be it Earthlike in space as I travel vast distance? Can I breath
the Earth's sweetness in transit t'wixt stars. Can I live in a
can that retreats from the sun, or in rings that we built from
collections of jars? The answer is yes, is my own learnt opinion.
The answer is yes, in all ways, shapes, and forms. The answer is
yes; even frat boys are grudging, as they plan in their
businesses, proud churches, and dorms.
We could push to light speed, or close to it anyway. We could
slow the time down to a whimpering crawl. We could do in a moment
what aeons were taking, and we'd seed the local galaxy with an
Earth life, after all.
It's all in the living the joys of continuance. It's all in a
place where you stand safe and watch. It's finding and knowing,
and beating the nightmare that nibbles at your never mind, then
bites hard on your haunch.
What's past grows small in a rear view screen. It's retreating
with the sun. All you need is with you in your city on the run.
Not running from a consequence, or running on the lam, but
running to new futures where one gives a tinker's damn.
A city's where you're living, then. It's travel spans the stars.
The Earth is carried with you; Earth you've coaxed into your
jars. All the people you have with you, that you'll ever see
again, 'cause time erased those left behind, rather like they'd
never been.
But a thousand years then passed on Earth, and they had found a
way (!) to hot wire the reality that we endure today. Less is
more, they had discovered, and they could travel in a wink what
your ship in space had traveled while your eye does less than
blink.
They meet you at your journey's end, they visit on the way. They
upgrade all your hardware, but they never judge or weigh. They
don't peer down lofty noses =85 don't insist upon new prayers. It's
rather like you meet nice folks on a stellar flight of stairs.
You can go or you can stay; you can have it either way, either
one has heaven's promise -- satisfaction.
No one pays so you can play, you make it work, you save the day!
But for you the works are rusted to distraction.
Return then to the night of dreams where nestled in the stars,
are the fruits these satisfactions can provide in cosmic jars. I
metaphor ideas, we then take our precious breath, and we live
among the stars to cheat a grinning, leering death.
Lehmberg@snowhill.com
Regarding relevance, I contend that the battle must be fought on
all the fronts at the same time, by some one <g>.
You won't be engaging your garden variety anomaly while children
starve _anywhere_ in complacent neglect. UFO's will never be
accounted for when billions of your dollars are poured into the
greedy coffers of non accounting black shops. A handle on the
abduction phenomenon will remain forever elusive until we can put
to rest who the man really is, and understand the mechanisms of
his disrespectful manipulation held over, as it happens, from an
arbitrary and absolutist time of the divine rights of priests and
kings! A suggested alien presence will not treat with us on any
level we'd appreciate as long as we environmentally foul our bed
clothes, and then throw the dirty sheets into the faces of a
hapless lot of ever increasing *never-haves*.
All the fronts are tied together into this heaving mass of almost
was, and could have been. It is composed of part and parcel,
nuance, and suggestion. The seemingly understood is filled with
surprise, and deepening mystery is no surprise at all. But,
though composed of all these form defying portions and
components, it is still a _whole_ that is greater than the sum of
all of its parts. It must be seen _eventually_ as this *whole* as
it is very easy to become lost into an infinity of contested
compendium, hashing and rehashing these moot details until they
have lost all meaning, relevance, and objectivity.
The imposition into our consciousness by this *paranormal/UFO
thing* is a manipulation of the whole. We have to believe that
there is something _more_ to our aggregate reality than sifting
conflicting minutia, following *rules*, paying taxes, and dying.
We are fed a thin gruel of religion, work ethic, incomplete
character assessment, and gross and prevaricating sexual
titillation from a learned media that is clearly a tool of some
shadowy control body. We don't get the real deal, just a
distorted mist -- a lie in the fog. Cop to that, and the mist
begins to dissipate, the lie becomes impossible to tell, and WE
stand revealed.
~~~
Explore the Alien View?
http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/arecibo/46/
"I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see
from afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, while
burning at the fundamentalist's stake, and now traveling between
the stars.
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