4 December 2022
Democracy doesn’t die in darkness. It dies in Congress!
Today, I started the holiday decorating. A cold, wet day, with slashes of sunlight that triggered sleet and hail, this Sunday went by too quickly. The daylight hours whiz by because of the diminishing sunlight, and I’m sure that legions of Americans would blame the U.S. Congress for fiddling with the clocks too much and taking away their time come the winter solstice.
I’m through blaming politicians for anything anymore. It’s become grotesque, this never-ending quest to castigate villains in the personal sphere. Perfection is boring; so is a chronic litany of complaints aimed at the distant gigolos of government.
Who do I hold responsible for whatever ails me and my life? I refuse to use the word “blame”. It’s juvenile and has become the modus operandi of, yes, the Politicians.
I hold myself responsible, for the most part, regarding whatever unpleasant or unhappy state of affairs surrounds me. That bar is high, of holding me, and only me, accountable for whatever goes on, or doesn’t go on, in my world. Yet I, alone, am not the prime mover. My Maker is. I’m supposed to figure out His will and do it, as best as I can. Happiness can then have a chance of finding me.
There are days when I’m right in tune with the Master Tunesmith; and there are days when the melodic sounds are hard to hear. The noise outside intrudes into any sense of solitude.
I wall myself off from the blaring bombastic “headlines” that are now click-bait. I shut out the onslaught of ads and promos, trying to sell me things I don’t want. I then look to the heavens, and realize I’m asking too much, too soon, too often — for the way of life in this nation to change from chaotic and venomous to calm, contented, copacetic, even reliable, right-feeling, and sound.
I remember when going about my own business involved just me and my business. Twas a decade or so ago, before the intrusion of slyly crafted online personas to lure me into their world of propaganda and pop culture, merchandise peddled as high-quality that turned out to be junk, moronic scribblings posing as “journalism”.
I’ve long moved past that phase of finding out what a con job the Internet became. I’m traveling steadily to the phase where all of the hype and hooey in the world can’t entice me to look at hogwash that’s been washed countless times and still has the smell and look of hogs being washed.
Democracy once upon a time protected the Little Guy from the Big Guy, but the Little Guy was expected to do due diligence where his life was concerned. The Welfare State and the Nanny State then came along to offer to do those duties for you — at a very steep price to your liberty.
That delegation of personal functions and tasks was sold as “a helping hand” from the G-Man and G-Woman, and Big Brother and Big Sister looking after You, the lowly but worthy citizen of democracy.
The people who got roped the most into that flimflam were the lazy Americans, filled with resentment over not “winning at life’s lottery” — to quote a has-been Congressman who has been, thankfully, gone, mostly likely to a lucrative lobbying job.
Those of us who haven’t been lazy, or shackled by malice, have worked our jobs, done the right things, obeyed the laws, paid our taxes, played by the rules. We don’t seem to have gotten ahead as much as we’d wanted to, and perhaps it’s not our fault. Perhaps the heavy hands of the leviathan governments — everywhere — have kept us down.
You must, however, play the hand you’re dealt. That hand has been calloused and it’s appallingly callous toward us, the rugged individualists. It’s hard to say how life would have been the other way for us, during the past few decades, when protectionist rackets were set up for special groups, special industries, special people, special friends of the special racketeers. The cheaters seem to win, but, really, they don’t.
The people who depend on others to do the cheating for them, to give them a leg up, to always, wink-wink, slide them the answers under the table: those human beings rob themselves of the glory of being human, of fulfilling the ideals that their Maker had intended for them upon birth.
The best way to get ahead in life is to figure out your own way of forging that path toward making your dreams come true; of standing up for your own individual essence, and genius; and of fighting to overcome whatever stands in your way toward achieving your noble goals.
Fighting can take on many forms. It needn’t be with fisticuffs and ferocious energy. Fighting entails the quiet resolve to not let yourself down, in the face of uncertainty, distrust, and the lack of confidence that can, amazingly, become valor within the space of seconds.
Treasure the warrior in yourself, whether it be a demure doer, a scrappy fighter, or a commanding general. The Lord hands you only what you can handle, even though you might not feel at all up to the height of mastering, and prevailing over the hardship. Confront your fears with the solemn vow to yourself that you’re not alone, never have been, never will be.
The tricksters who wish to take advantage of your fears are the truly scared craven cowards, waiting for a person to cave in to his own insecurities, and ever ready to pounce upon his missteps.
Take another step, in the direction of rebellion against whoever would subject you — to subjugation. Take that leap of faith.
The Gospel According to Luke
Chapter 2, Verses 7-11
And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them at the inn.
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them; and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.