Savage Neighbors Part 3

Control. It's all about control. Missionaries come to my door. They have paperwork. They have handbills and they have the GOP or the Apocalypse to sell me. They have something to do me good, to save my soul or my freedoms.

I tell them I don't believe we have a soul, but each of us are entitled two soles. And my soles, still intact will always deliver me to freedom. This is oftentimes not understood. I don't care for the organized things that come to the door complete with pamphlet or propaganda.

I mean, seriously, what? There are those people, generally on a street corner, who quote passage after passage after passage from the bible and they have a ministry. I like the bible. I mean, who wouldn't? With all that war and rape and murder and double crossing, how can anyone not like the bible? But it's not the end all of books. I really like J.D. Salinger. Now if I stand on the street corner and quote passage after passage after passage of The Catcher in the Rye, I will not have a ministry, I will have date with the county health care workers. The bible. The Catcher in the Rye. They're both books. I fail to see the difference between obsession when it comes to either one.

But we're at my door. We're talking to someone through the screen. They talk about souls. My rebuttals are about soles. They bring up the political ideal of freedoms, and I'm still on about my soles. There are problems here. So many problems. First and foremost, I do not care about such things, and secondly, I am engaged in discussion of such things and there will not be a winner no matter what.

So, here we are. There are so many groups and organizations and they all want a piece of each and every one of us. They all want a sphere of influence larger than the next. I would think that these spheres overlap somewhat, but they are not personal spheres and people are joining up. There are groups and groups of people. And suddenly the group has become dimmer and slower than any single member alone. Now what?

Now what?

I suppose it's nice not to be alone. I suppose it's nice to have an identity. But what about the fabric of our individual beings. How do we compensate for who and what we are once we join up in the ranks of this group or that group. Do our individual freedoms and internal systems break down in the rush and excitement of the group?

But we were at my door. We were in a discussion of soles.

I can't help but to let my mind wander to John C.H. Wu's translation of Lao Tzu's Tao Teh Ching. I consider #38:

HIGH Virtue is non-virtuous;
Therefore it has Virtue.
Low Virtue never frees itself from virtuousness;
Therefore it has no Virtue.

High Virtue makes no fuss and has no private ends to serve:
Low Virtue not only fusses but has private ends to serve.

High humanity fusses but has no private ends to serve:
High morality not only fusses but has private ends to serve.
High ceremony fusses but finds no response;
Then it tries to enforce itself with rolled-up sleeves.

Failing Tao, man resorts to Virtue.
Failing Virtue, man resorts to humanity.
Failing humanity, man resorts to morality.
Failing morality, man resorts to ceremony.
Now, ceremony is the merest husk of faith and loyalty;
It is the beginning of all confusion and disorder.

As to foreknowledge, it is only the flower of Tao,
And the beginning of folly.

Therefore, the full-grown man sets his heart upon the substance rather than the husk;
Upon the fruit rather than the flower.
Truly, he prefers what is within to what is without.

But I will be unable to tell the ministry at my door. I will not be able to combat them nor their literature—pamphlets or handbills or otherwise. Then I realize that it doesn't matter. These people are still people despite what I feel about them. They are conveying their ideas, or the ideas they have been brainwashed to believe. And I have nothing to add. I cannot add to their fire either from lack of care or too much care. I just have nothing more to give or take. I thank them for their time and say goodbye.

Although we are sharing ideas day after day with everyone from a neighbor to an unseen person on the opposite side of the globe, we are too often sharing an organization. And who am I to judge? Who am I to call the joiner of an organization a savage? Who am I to feel free from it? I just want to listen to the quiet of myself. And I would hope everyone wants to listen to the quiet of themselves. It's faint. It's nearly impossible to hear.