Enter the Shift

paddling for donuts

Essay by Scott Thomas Outlar ∞ Art by Harold Nelson  

paddling for donuts
paddling for donuts

Random encounters between passing travelers crossing paths at the cosmic nexus lead to long conversations with philosophical overtones deep into the heart of night. Strangers meet near the end of the earth and hash out the best possible way to move forward, coming to terms on evolutionary solutions to the problems that plague this world. Open season declared on the honest form of communication. High above, dancing through the constellations, shooting stars in a crystal clear sky become plastered with the pure intention of truth. Cascading energy flows freely from a source somewhat undefined. Edging out to the periphery. Looking over the abyss. Eying what potential fate awaits us.

Will America go the route of austerity, leading it to riot like Greece in the streets? Or the way of Iceland, auditing the privatized printing press and bringing about the realization that the fiat-created debt belongs to the central bank and not the people it tries to keep shackled with its fractional reserve monetary policies of madness? The main plank of the communist manifesto involves setting up a central bank. Another plank near the top of the list deals with establishing a graduated income tax. Ha! America got the wool pulled over its eyes quite awhile ago when the Federal Reserve was created. In fact, it’s been over a hundred years now since that whopper of a lie was laid on the backs of the population. And the Beast continues to swallow everything in its ungodly path to this very day.

howmarthastewartsapronunfoldsinmylife
How Martha Stewart’s Apron Unfolds in my Life.

Blinding lights flash and burn in apocalyptic rapture as the fiery sun makes its daily appearance, rising on the horizon with a spectacular show of solar fury. Either turn away or let the light wash over. Either choose the cover of shadows and cower away forevermore in apathetic ignorance, or step into the bright awareness of awesome illumination. Sometimes a wound must hurt a little bit first before it can eventually heal. So it goes. The muscle has to be broken down before it can grow stronger. So, too, must a phase shift go through a state of chaos before a higher level of order can emerge. Welcome to the Cycle of the Phoenix. The fire scorches everything in its wake. Naught but a pile of ash remains. The new energy rises from out the decay and forms a more harmonious inclination toward liberty and freedom. An Empire in decline. Personal sovereignty on the rise.

The neat trick that must somehow be pulled off now is to simultaneously erase all imaginary lines of boundary drawn by the creeps that make up the wicked Priest Class while also breaking away from the centralized, command and control, structural apparatus of the ruling elite toward the prospect of bringing about a more tribal, anarchic arrangement of civilization. Global awareness coupled with local government. The two opposites can be cohesive. The yin/yang balance act. The dichotic wholeness of completely dualistic Oneness.

mrskeletondrivesthebus
Mr. Skeleton Drives the Bus

Breathed in through clean lungs. Experienced intimately by a clean heart. Known rationally within a clean mind. Felt intuitively in the core of clean guts. Pushed forward via a clean intention. Seen perfectly with a clear purpose. Razor sharp. Steadfast. Focused in on the zero-point.

Truth rallies strong in the bottom of the ninth. A hail marry pass from the 50-yard line as the clock winds down to the final tick, caught by a leaping wide receiver and tucked away as two safeties smash him to the turf in the end zone. A final second buzzer beater heaved up from behind half court. Nothing but net as it swooshes through. Miraculous for the winners. A crushing defeat for those who had the game in their grasp until it slipped away in the final moments. A lesson learned on seeing things through to the end. Sometimes bitter. Sometimes full of sweet honey. Bear claw in the hive. Sticky substance to coat the teeth. A layer of fat for the winter weather. Cold snap fever induced upon entering the cave.

buildingthemuseumofthecolorwhite
Building the Museum of the Color White

We can only do so much. But then must, somehow, find the will to do a little more. Push the envelope. Bend back the layers of reality. Peel the onion skin until the gaseous irritant makes you weep. What do you see beneath? What is revealed where you never thought to look? How far down the rabbit hole can you stand to go? Is the jump taken as a leap of faith? Or are you fighting the fall all the way to the bottom?

Hands up as the roller coaster dives down. Hearts lift as the conspiracy unravels. A cabal of secrets revealed. A horde of Dark Wizards exposed. Shamans unite to drive out the virus. Gurus on the street come together to fight off the plague. Yogis breathe a new type of ecstatic spiritual energy into the body politic. A Druid Priest Warrior of Light. An Angel Pagan Goddess of Love. Together, hand in hand, they enter the zone where peace reigns.

The inner illumination of greater graceful glory awakens with newfound purpose to shake loose the cobwebs from the kingdom of Heaven which resides within. The right side of God’s throne is centered in the third eye of pure consciousness. The seat of the soul. Nothing can stop an idea whose time has come. Nothing can hold back the wave that has risen on good intentions. Tsunami in the forecast. Big Bang Birth of the oncoming storm. Black ominous velvet clouds release their payload before the sky breaks open and the sunray shines through. It’s always darkest before the dawn.

Umbrellas at the ready shield us with shelter. Smooth and sanctified. Alert and called to attention. Hut! Hut! Here comes the rush. Sidestep and tap dance away. Ballerina feet on the gridiron surface. Logic and emotion tied up with reason. Rational analysis of deep feelings. Science and spiritualism coalesce at a fine point. The Tao of Natural Law emerges in high fashion. Thermodynamic consequences enter a state of entropy. A nuclear ambition stalemate checked on the black and white floorboard. Which piece to move now? Which force will give first? An indomitable inertia puzzles the agenda and counteracts the initial resurgence. Everything gets laid out on the table. Double down and bet the farm. All the chickens are coming home to roost. Karma has a powerful way of equaling out all actions once the final judgment has been rendered.

earthledelightsandthegiantpinkwiffleball
Earthly Delights and the Giant Pink Wiffle Ball
Bio:
See more art by Harold Nelson on hnelsonart.com and instagram

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, and interviews can be found. He has three poetry collections currently available: Songs of a Dissident (Transcendent Zero Press, 2015), Happy Hour Hallelujah (CTU Publishing, 2016), and Chaos Songs (Weasel Press, 2016).
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Global artists and writers dedicated to sharing creativity around the world.

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