silverrevolver

I've been thinking a lot about hope this weekend. Yesterday at a wedding the priest was talking about hope, in life, in relationships in the world. I immediately thought about the nature of hope. Hope means it's over, you've lost, you are dead. Hope is a passive word, not a proactive word. It implies just sitting idily by and waiting for some reprieve from the sky, god, governments, from anyone but yourself. Hope is the paralysis of the developed world, and the cancer if the third world.
As I was walking out of Safeway carrying my bag of processed sugary sweets to calm my developed world, pre-diabetic insulin crash, I heard the Mexican woman at the salvation army booth singing, she had a beautiful voice and the melody was haunting, sad. It is the song of the third world, people who once existed in freedom, in the moment. Invaded colonized by the western world and it's concept of hope. One needs the concept of hope to have a concept of poverty. Without hope, there is no concept of future, of a better world, because the world that is all that mattered. They were rich in spirit before we robbed them of it spirit and replaced it with disease. The song was the song of a dying world, infected with the desire to cure themselves, by means of dreaming of a better life, an idea we put into their heads for the sake of cheap labor.
I once had a professor who said, "once you've spent more than a year here (in America), you are contaminated." I know now what he meant, seduced by our ideas, our prison that we call freedom. Freedom is a world that lost it's meaning to the western world long ago, it is a relic, as dead in language as Latin, although freedom was dying as a word and as an idea when Romulus and Remus were suckling the teats of the mother wolf, the old giving way to the new, bastard world in which we now live and teem.