It's Not Your Fault

A Gnostic Song Story

“Life is what you make it!”

“What you resist, persists!”

“Manifest your reality!”

“Stop playing the victim!”

I think about a lot of things when I see these manifestos put out into the universe.

I think: well, good for them. They have escaped. Have I escaped?

I think of how life might indeed be this straightforward for a lot people, and — if so — it could be quite fun!

But yet… I think of how much we love the comfort of certainty and objectivity — of applying our own experiences to everyone else — and that “Manifest Your Reality” is not far removed from “Safe and Effective”.

I think of whether I still do the same thing, when I talk about the absoluteness of Natural Law and Free Will: when, in reality, nothing in our reality appears to be so predictable, or repeatable, or universal, or necessarily fair.

To make myself feel better, I think of those smug conservative white bois, who judge morality almost solely as the denial of the sexual impulse based on quotes from a 2000ish year old Middle Eastern book, telling “them” to Pray The Gay Away.

I think of people born into this world with such purity and trust that they are thrown from manipulator to manipulator, energy vampire after energy vampire, where the only remedy to their suffering seems to require them becoming quite literally the opposite of who they are… and I wonder about the intentions of a Creator/life planner who thought that would be a fun test.

I think of the acute agony of being an awake and empathetic Millennial, seeing so early the world for what it is, and feeling all of it at the same time, and what is required to numb those feelings.

I think about the rise of the NPC (Non-Player Character) concept, which — in its unique ability to excuse suffering and make compassion unnecessary — might be the most dangerous concept in the world.

I think of the young autistic man I support — who almost certainly has heavy metals lodged in his brain, almost certainly shot up there by his inherently-protective flight or fight response after being restrained and injected by a stranger with a needle (unless you have another explanation?) — punch himself in the head as hard as he can whenever he gets frustrated — bang, bang, and again BANG, BANG — perhaps in some extreme form of attention seeking, perhaps because that’s the only way he knows to express/distract from his discomfort, perhaps to get those negative entities in his head to leave once and for all, BANG until he snaps out of it; then: “owowowowowow”.

I think of the world that created this — the normalisation of systematic childhood poisoning and its biological consequences, the coordinated denial of these consequences DESPITE the presentation of no alternative hypothesis for the disability epidemic that is unfolding (muh better diagnosis), not to mention the ritual mockery of those who dare to ask questions — and I wonder whether I could ever see that world as anything but fundamentally inverted.

Was it always like this? Does it have to be like this?

What use are hypotheticals when it is like this.

At first, when I think about all these things — of the souls blessed with fundamentally malfunctioning bodies, or a life of war, or systematic oppression, or rape, or torture, or who didn’t even make it out of the womb — I feel a bit like telling the Love ‘n Light brigade (and my former self, let’s be honest) to fuck off.

But then again… are they wrong? That is their reality, the reality that they are creating and manifesting, where such situations — the challenge to comfortable explanations they provide — effectively cease to exist without your attention. And who am I to deny someone else’s reality, and what they went through to obtain that freedom?

And so, inevitably, I end up thinking of those left behind, still wondering why they have “chosen” to remain. And all I could think of is the most radical wisdom of all:

It’s not your fault.