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Politics is a spinning carnival ride of partial truth masquerading as total truth. It’s centrifugal force revolves around inflamed emotions and self-interests. The periphery accelerates by fear and hatred of “the other” causing the dizzy and disoriented to willingly exchange truth for institutional propaganda.

Political action is sold as a winnable war which enlists us into a forced binary whereby a singular perspective pretends to be understanding. Under the disguise of making life better, we agree that “those people” stand in our way.

We can’t see the principality controlling the ride.

A protest is the delusion that immovable strongholds yield to our feelings. Once chained into the ride, our suffering is transferred by inflicting it upon others. We place our sentiments on signs…inebriated with revenge, hatred, and fear. The competing echo chambers gain ammunition by the hypocrisy of the day…the decade…the centuries. We justify our evil motives and obscure our hatred within legislation.

Protestors seek justice not knowing what they seek. We ask but don’t receive. James said: “This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic.  For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.” Any protest which lands so far from loving our enemy means we’ve already inhabited a living hell, we remain unforgiven, because we refuse to forgive. The oppressed who seek relief… end up oppressing. Around we go, plotting out power acquisition, forgetting humility. With the measure we judge, it’s measured right back. We sought justice…behold justice.

Our participation is the cause of decline, not its redemptionOh clever Deceiver.

The political centrifuge becomes a black hole from which light cannot exist. Lofty civilizations transform into rubble as we place our trust in man’s ways and thinking. A protest is a display of faith that our cold, deaf idol is listening. A protest pretends the block of wood has within it power to do good or harm. A blind protestor hits himself increasingly harder with the backhand of his own suffering.

Empty trust has never felt so good. Hatred has never seemed so righteous. Here, drink more elixir.

Everyone wishes this could end...It can. Stop protesting. Replacing self interests with the common good reduces polarities.

Such a stupor! Poverty of soul has come on us like a bandit, scarcity like an armed man. Where are the guides who know better? Why has wisdom left? This wound isn’t healed by policy or candidates.

There are colors our eyes cannot perceive and sounds beyond our range of hearing. Reality extends beyond our perceptions and assumptions and no one possesses the whole picture. Everyone is a partial believer. Equity means we’ve all fallen short.

Escaping the crushing forces of this gravitron, requires each to move toward the Center. True North tells the protestor: “Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword.

Like a lamb led to slaughter, Christ didn’t protest…no wonder so few can follow him.