Diva Rambling: The Truth Hurts…

We live in a veil of haze world. We do not know if any of the so-called experts are real or who has been bought off. I always tell students when they read anything, to follow the money. Find out who paid for the research, the story or the publicity. This will tell you a lot.

For every story, we hear or read there will be another story that tells us just the opposite. Who paid for this information to get to the public? Our reality and trust become subjective if we do not search further. Discernment and investigation are critical to learning the facts. People, the media, the government all demand that their “Opinion” be taken as fact. Who really knows what the facts are anyway?
Recently someone told me that everyone was as much in the dark as he. I found this odd. I knew that I knew a good deal of what I was speaking. However, when it comes to knowledge, you can dismiss anything anyone else knows that doesn’t fit your research or study.

You cannot argue in this context based on your facts. Your facts will be disbelieved, or countered by other ‘facts’, fears, or beliefs. You can’t quote statistics, or experts, or even blindingly obvious realities to these people whose story will always tell you, you are wrong.

Those of us who are truly interested in truth and evidence are losing battles on many fronts. We lose to people who are willing and able to assert simple stories and offer apparently simple solutions with no other facts than their stubborn belief mechanisms. It is easier to hear that there is no ecology issues than to deal with them. It is easier to swallow a lie than to swallow the bitter medicine of undeniable, complicated truth. As they say…”Truth Hurts!”

Make no mistake we are at war. The weapons are media tripe and other tales of drama. The landscape is the mind of pliable people. You can see the damage, the bombed-out psyches, and the shell shock. These battles are fought to devastate the inner landscapes of peoples souls and to tyrannically rein over those inner worlds, and change how one thinks.

The evil makers of this war believe in a tyrannical reign over others, amassing wealth, conquering those too weak to resist, and killing those who don’t comply. However, the other side of this war there are those heroes who are trying to fight with truth and evidence as to their weapons. Eventually, they do make headway, and sometimes they look a lot like the superheroes armed with superpowers trying to take on people with technology and light force.

When one’s mind becomes a minefield corrupted with hate, fear, and resentment, we don’t save them from that with the truth. Our truths fall on them like radiation poisoning. Each time we deny their truth, we fuel their hatred and resentment. We cannot restore their mind-scape by further devastation. We do not restore a hate-damaged soul by further bombing. No matter how much you want them to hear the truth they will not receive it.

So, here is where the poetic truth comes in. Poetic truth doesn’t deal with the literal and immediate landscape. It deals with superheroes zapping bad guys. It deals with warriors dying for the honor. Poetic truth doesn’t call for facts that can be denied, because it works to evoke feelings of the soul’s longing.

The stories we are being bombarded with demand we see the evil in each other, to loathe and fear and resent. We are encouraged to tear down and keep on despising and damaging each other until there is nothing left but a field of devastation. A poetic truth doesn’t enter this war zone. A poetic truth can shield a truth and gently enter into people’s minds. A good story about other things is easier to swallow. A story that has too much to say about right now is no a gently received.

If this blog only reaches a few of you and brings solace to one of you we are grateful. The Crones work will always involve making your day better one soul at a time. We hope to travel through your minds as gently, humorously, and wisely as we can. We hope to fill holes in the souls and be kind to the mind (barring our occasional sauntering into sarcasm, setting boundaries and crone humor)
Namaste, The Queen Cronista

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