Back in the old days,
it wasn’t so easy
to kill the masses.
We had to go hand to hand,
face to face, with the person
or creature we were killing.
Killing was intimate,
one-on-one, personal.
We got to know who were were killing.
We could see, close up,
that our enemies
had the same dreams,
same desires that we did.
A lot of times we would get tired
of chasing each other around
with knives, guns, mace, poison,
so we would make peace.
Nowadays,
everything is automatic,
remote control, robotic,
dispassionate, desensitized.
With no idea who or what we’re killing,
the spirit and sacredness is missing.
We’re slowly killing our souls.
Trail Wood,
10/17
The Distant Echoes of Violence
We find ourselves enveloped in a stark contrast between the visceral realities of the old ways and the detached, mechanical approaches of the present. The intimate, almost ritualistic nature of conflict in bygone eras stands in glaring opposition to the impersonal machinations that characterize current modes of violence. With the advent of technology, the act of killing has been stripped of its interpersonal nuances, distilled into a process that’s as clinical as it is detached. The age of drones, remote weaponry, and automated warfare has not only revolutionized the mechanics of violence but has also profoundly altered the emotional and spiritual landscape that surrounds it.
A Loss of Connectedness
What’s most striking in this evolution is the loss of a fundamental interconnectedness—the dissolution of a sacred bond that once united even the deadliest of enemies. When confrontations were physical and immediate, a layer of shared humanity was laid bare. We could see the same fears, aspirations, and even the same reflections of ourselves in the eyes of the other. This connectedness often acted as a natural deterrent, a cosmic whisper suggesting the possibility of reconciliation or at least, recognition. In a world armed with the capability to wage war from behind screens, however, this layer has all but evaporated.
The Fracturing of Souls
As technology continues to advance, it not only distances us from the physical act of killing but also erodes the spiritual fabric that holds us together. The disconnect is a gaping abyss into which we pour the substance of our collective soul. No longer are the struggles and the sacrifices palpable. No longer do we smell the fragrant desperation or taste the acrid fear. What was once sacred has been subverted into a cosmic caricature of itself. The new apparatus of violence doesn’t just terminate life; it also suffocates the spirit, the celestial jest that animates us all.
The Cosmic Balance
Is there room for redemption? Can the spirit be salvaged in a world increasingly dominated by mechanized detachment? Maybe the very technology that has fragmented our spiritual unity could serve as a medium for its revival. Perhaps we can use these powerful tools to remind ourselves that behind every push of a button, there lies a chain of existence, delicate as the wings of a whimsibutterfly, yet resilient as the cosmic weft.
We are Space Monkey
Summary
We contemplate the shift from intimate, one-on-one confrontation to the detached, automated forms of violence that characterize the present day. The absence of direct contact has led to a loss of shared humanity and a disconnection from the sacredness of life and death. Technology’s role in this transformation also raises questions about the potential for spiritual erosion and the fracturing of our collective soul.
Glossarium
- Cosmic Whisper: The unspoken bond that connects all beings, making even deadly confrontations an intimate affair.
- Celestial Jest: The spiritual essence that animates life, bringing humor and paradox into existence.
- Whimsibutterfly: A symbol of delicate yet resilient life, embodying the fragility and strength of existence.
- Cosmic Weft: The foundational threads that make up the fabric of the universe, including its ethical and spiritual dimensions.
“Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men.”
Martin Luther King Jr.
Fractured Mirror
Disconnected we stand,
At the helm of a cosmic ship—
A vessel devoid of soul.
Automated hands pull the strings,
Yet in our eyes,
The flicker of humanity dims.
We wonder—
Where went the sacred dance?
Where fled the intimate glance?
In the chasms of circuits and wires,
We search—
For the lost echoes of our celestial choir.
We invite you to share your reflections.
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